My Darling Sweetheart

Summary: After the situation with the Artist had died down, Don thought that everything would be back to normal once again. Unfortunately for him, it only took a simple murder case in order to bring everything crumbling down on top of him. Now caught in a deadly game of cat and mouse, can Don escape his fate once more, or will he succumb to the plans that the Artist has for him? - Sequel to "My Beautiful Doll"

Warning: Violence, kidnapping, non-explicit sexual violence (I'll put in any specific warnings on the top of the chapters), swearing.

Disclaimer: I still don't own the show or the characters. Hell! I don't even own my damn life and that's supposed to be mine, let alone a TV series that probably costed hundreds of dollars. I only got broke uni student dollars, not "could probably own a private jet if they wanted to" kind of money.

A/N: Okay, before I start of, I just realized that I've spelt "disclaimer" wrong this entire fucking time throughout most of my fanfics...I am going to cry in the corner now. Putting that all aside, I've decided to give y'all the next installment early because I'm going back to Japan and I don't think I'll conscious enough to post, lmaooo. Although knowing me, my guilt would probably make me post another chapter on Monday anyways but hey, it's the thought that counts. Anyways, that's all from me, have a nice day!

One…

Two…

Three…

His eyes followed the golden bullet as it went up and down, the smooth metal surface shining from the overhead lights. The bullet's surface was well worn due to being constantly carried and held, his own anchor to this world.

He looked out the window of his room, glaring sharply at the building that could be seen over the wave of shorter buildings. The clean and almost sleek building with too many windows and even more people occupying the area.

People that he despised more than anything.

He looked around his room forlornly. Because of recent events, he had to go into hiding. He didn't mind it too much, he had been hiding for years after all. But his current predicament was extremely tedious. He couldn't walk out without looking behind his back, watchful of every uniformed or suited person on the streets. He knew any one of those people could spell the end for his plans.

Every time he went past those people, he itched to run a knife through their chests. He hated every single one of the people who roamed the place. The building that caused his downfall. The bastards inside being the sole reason as to how he lost everything he had. His work, his art, his reputation, his house…

His darling sweetheart.

He was grateful of the fact that he managed to get his camera back from those people. At least he didn't lose everything he had. The pictures and videos that he's managed to gain over the years have helped him get through this most difficult time, a strong motive for his actions.

"God…you're still so perfect," he whispered as he held the bullet up, admiring its beauty. It reminded him of the person who owned it. Strong, deadly, graceful, and effortlessly beautiful. He couldn't help but remember the last time he had him in his arms just as everything went to hell. Somehow they were able to find their little sanctuary despite his best efforts. Nevermind then, life was all about trial and error after all. In the end, he'll find a way to keep his sweetheart with him forever.

"Don't…" His sweetheart croaked out. "Don't kill him unless you have to."

"I knew you loved me in the end." He smiled, remembering the man's last efforts to keep him alive. After all, if his sweetheart hated him that much, why would he keep him alive?

"Dream on you delusional jackass," his little doll growled adorably, his jaw set tight.

He let out a bright laugh at the memory. "Keep on deluding yourself, my angel," he murmured, placing a light kiss on the bullet before putting it carefully into his pocket. He stretched his arms for a moment before getting up to take the binoculars from his bag. He needed to check to see the current situation outside. After his escape, he knew that the place would be crawling with law enforcement. That's why he ran out of town as fast as he could, going back to that wretched place he called home all those years ago. The house was as empty and dusty as he remembered with all the furniture completely withered by time. But after his previously failed attempt at building a domestic life in LA for himself, he figured that it was a sign. While he hated the house for its memories, he loved his angel even more. He had a feeling that with the man's presence, he would be able to dispel all the unpleasant memories that came with the house, lighting up the place like his sunshine did with his own world.

It took a few months of preparation, but he felt like he was finally going to go back in the game. He had no interest in killing right now, not unless it was necessary. No, his entire focus was all on his lovely little doll. His entire mind was consumed by the need. The need to have him, the need to protect him, the need to cherish him, the need to…

The need to hurt him.

He froze for a moment, the feeling bubbling up and becoming stronger than he expected. The negative emotion caught him by surprise. "You love him…" he muttered, gripping onto the binoculars tightly. He did, he always did. There was nothing that his sweetheart could do to make him stay away, no matter how much the man tried. But, despite his best attempts to push all the negative emotion and the need to punish him down deeper, it seems like they only resurfaced stronger than ever.

He didn't really mean to hurt his sweetheart, not at first at least. But then he had his beautiful angel in his grasp and all of his carefully crafted plans were thrown out the window. He was suddenly hit with a tidal wave of emotion, one that was bigger than he could ever imagine, sending everything crashing down on him. He could feel himself drown under the onslaught, swept and tumbled between one powerful emotion after the other, not knowing which is which. It was painful, it was intense…

It was beautiful.

The feeling was even more intoxicating than he could ever imagine. For years, he was only able to feel a tired numbness to himself, a cold hollow feeling in his chest that never disappeared. He managed to fake a smile of course, to put on a performance for his colleagues but that was it. Inside was nothing more than a black hole of emptiness, a feeling that a part of his soul was missing. Any emotions he had were fleeting, disappearing as fast as they came. They never stayed long enough for him to hold onto. So while he might know and understand emotions, he could never say that he was one to feel them.

His job and art were the only two things that benefited from him and his lack of emotions. His lack of anything going on inside him helped him solve the more 'gruesome' crime scenes and helped him pull the trigger faster than anyone else. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he enjoyed the times that he had to pull the trigger, the rush of excitement that went through him being the only emotion that lasted long enough for him to feel. Although, he did hate the unpredictable nature of everything. That's why he also had his art to help him. He was able to mold a completely perfect picture, one made for him to see. The only thing that affected it was his own skills, ones that with time would be able to consistently create artwork he deemed perfect. It was a medium that he could control fully and one that he used to deal with the chaotic nature of his job.

He thought that he would be doing this forever, stuck in a boring cycle of nothing but the permanent chill and the obsessive control over his work and art. But then, he caught wind of some news that completely shook the foundations of his world. In an instant, all those years of feeling nothing disappeared before his very eyes. He was suddenly consumed in rage the likes of which he's never felt before, a roaring fire blazing inside of him. The ugly feeling clawed from within his chest, eager to be set free to wreck its havoc upon the world. He suddenly understood people's urge to do violence, to hurt and kill in order to get what they wanted.

The urge was almost unbearable with each passing day. After being in the cold for so long, it was excruciating to be thrusted into what feels like the fiery pits of hell. He thought that that was it for him, that he would burn within the embers of his own anger and hatred. Embers that grew larger when he realized how much everyone tried to hide this, how much they're still trying to hide it. Higher up he heard them say, causing him to burn up even more inside. He was lost, confused in the whirlwind of his own emotions. He constantly felt like he was about to crack, to spontaneously combust at that second and take everyone around him with him. But then, something happened.

Someone walked into the office that day.

He remembered it like it was only yesterday.

He got in a little later than usual, the anger still bubbling beneath the surface. His smile was plastered on, but it was clear that it was strained. Everyone around avoided him like the plague, getting out of his way as soon as he walked into the office. He doesn't care, he can't really bring himself to fake it anymore.

He didn't have much to do, no cases that he could take his anger out on so it was truly a hellish day. The day seemed like it dragged on, the slow crawl almost unbearable for the growing burn underneath his skin. If he doesn't let it out soon, he's going to snap right in the middle of the office. From his desk, he could hear the footsteps of people coming in, foreign ones. Probably the people that his boss said would come. Since there was an ongoing investigation on the possibility of someone being dirty within the FBI, he wouldn't be surprised.

He sat there, clutching his pen in his hand as he heard agents discussing back and forth. The boss wanted a subtler approach, which is something that he would've understood if it weren't for the fact that the strategies proposed were terrible ones. It was clear that the boss was intimidated by the suspect and is trying to keep himself within their good graces. He had to fight down a wave of disgust and anger at that, itching to just resign right then and there. He couldn't believe that his own boss was just about to let this man go, a man who…never mind. He was about to completely snap in half when something happened.

A beautiful voice cuts over everyone, firm but no less passionate.

His head shot up as he heard that voice, enchanted. He peeked over his cubicle, eager to take a look at who it was that spoke. As soon as he saw the other man, his breath felt like it was stolen right from him. The man was absolutely stunning, glaring at his boss with righteous fury in his eyes. Everyone else in the room was far away, unwilling to be burned by his anger. He was bent over, clearly shorter than his boss, but the way he held himself makes it seem like he towered over everyone. The light from the window nearby shone on him, casting a soft glow over his form. His jet black hair seemingly swallowed the light while his brown eyes were enhanced by them, turning them into something akin to molten honey. That coupled with the white shirt almost made him seem like an angel. An avenging angel if the anger was anything to go by.

As soon as he laid eyes on the man, it felt like colour had finally rushed into his world. The entire universe seemed to brighten, almost blinding him with its sudden brilliance. A side of the world that he had been blind to in the beginning before he was given his special little sunshine to light his way. The previous chill in his bones that seemed to permanently fuse itself into him had disappeared with a simple cocky grin, the warmth feeling like a hearth had been lit from the inside. All that rush of anger and rage calmed down, like a lion that has finally been tamed to nothing more than a house cat.

But then he heard the man's name and everything came crashing down on him once more.

As soon as he realized who it was, he had to walk out. He ran off, not caring about how everyone looked at him. The only thing he cared about is the unbearable feeling of hot and cold mixing inside of him, making him feel like tearing his skin out to escape it. The rage in his heart grew larger, itching to burn something, anything as a makeshift sacrifice. But he also couldn't deny the calming nature of the man that he saw, the man's own roaring fire being used for good, to light people's way. He felt his head spin, pulling his tie off in an effort to cool off.

He's beautiful, but he caused this.

He's never felt more conflicted in his life. On one hand, he knew he had fallen in love, the only man who was able to make him feel something, to calm down the anger simmering underneath. On the other hand, he was the one that caused this anger to appear in the first place. If the man hadn't dug deep into the case, he wouldn't be feeling this way. Everything he's carefully built over the years was now crumbling in front of him and he had no clue what to do. He dug his hands in his hair, the conflicted sides of his mind screaming at him.

IhatehimIlovehimIhatehimIlovehimIhatehimIlovehimIhatehimIlovehimIhatehimIlovehimIhatehimIlovehimcherishhimhurthimherishhimhurthimherishhimhurthimherishhimhurthimherishhimhurthimherishhimhurthimeverything'stoohotandI'mburningI'mburningI'mburningI'mburningI'mburning…

I need him.

He felt something snap within him, a feeling so deep that he could audibly hear it. The heat settled within him, feeling like it's fusing with his own body. He no longer felt like he was consumed by it. In fact, as soon as he accepted his feelings, it felt like the fire within him had been finally bent to his will. His roaring hatred almost bearable with the thought of revenge. Within that fire though, he could also feel an almost gentle warmth. "Is…is this love?" he asked himself, astonished. He thought of the man and could feel both the gentle warmth and the searing anger rise inside him, making him laugh. He couldn't believe that he had almost forgotten about an important fact.

Love and hate go hand in hand.

He couldn't help but continue to laugh, both emotions bubbling inside him into something wonderfully intense. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to leave him addicted. Finally, he's feeling everything that he missed out on and it was all because of that man. The need started to grow even stronger within him now. He needed the man, needed to love him, needed to hurt him, needed to cherish him, needed to control him. The revelation helped him control his hatred even more, feeling like more of a sword than a bonfire, hurting anyone he pointed it at.

"He will be mine," he growled, looking at his hands. For once, he realized what he was truly capable of. He couldn't help but smile at that, finally feeling peace as he found his purpose.

A sharp knock brought him to the present. He got up to peek at the peephole, only to roll his eyes when he realized it was another one of those annoying telemarketers. No matter, he would ignore them like he ignored everyone else.

He decided to go back to the window once more, taking vigilance. "How do I lure you out?" he muttered, trying to think. His doll was highly intelligent, so any lies or cover stories would be met with scrutiny. But if he came with his signature kills, everyone would be on high alert. No, he had to be discreet. Maybe killing one or two people to catch his attention would be a good place to start, he thought, musing. That's when an idea struck him, an idea so brilliant he smacked himself for almost forgetting it. He could feel the old feelings of love and hate bubble underneath him, causing him to laugh like he did all those years ago. But this time, instead of feeling conflicted, he was in perfect harmony.

"You haven't won just yet, my darling sweetheart. Soon you'll be back where you belong," he grinned to himself. "And this time…" he whispered, looking out the window as he envisioned his beloved right in front of him like he was those months ago in the hospital. "I'll make sure you can never run," he hissed before slamming his fist onto the table, mimicking the motion that made his pretty little doll scream so beautifully. That scream was something he was glad he could revisit in his memory, one of many that accompanied him in his lonely nights.

He looked out the window, observing his surroundings once more. Looking down, he could see a few cars parked in the parking lot of a few stores. He was about to dismiss them when another car pulled in, a black SUV this time. His heart stopped in his chest for a moment when he realized who the owner was. There, stepping out into the world was his darling angel. He clutched his chest, feeling his heart stutter at the sight. His little angel still looked as stunning as ever with his suit and sunglasses, the sun shining on him in flattering angels. He could see his little doll make his way towards the café, the very picture of calm confidence. But the slow steps and constant glances didn't fool him, his angel was paranoid and it was all because of him.

That thought made him extremely giddy.

He caressed the glass gently when he saw him, imagining his pretty little doll looking at him with fear in his eyes as he finally managed to force the fierce man into submission. "Why?" his angel would ask, clearly wondering about the fact that he would easily hurt the love of his life despite adoring the man with every fiber of his being.

He would then smile slowly, a lovesick expression on his face, mirroring the one he has now. He knew that would unnerve the man even more. He leaned on the glass, closing his eyes as he imagined. "Because…love and hate are the same emotion."

And I love you so much, Don Eppes...

My darling sweetheart~

A/N: Starting off with a bang! Not literally this time.