#crimeunits

. @crimeunits jo asked for cerberus ( theron. ) : ❝  i  had  nothing  to  do. i   wanted  to  hear  your  voice.  ❞

theron's smile touched the corner of his lips when jo's words reached him, quiet and genuine in a way few people ever had the privilege of witnessing. he straightened slightly in his chair, one hand lifting to gesture toward the empty seat beside him. jo, an ordinary human had somehow managed to capture the attention of one of cerberus' heads, and theron still wasn't entirely sure how it had happened.

then again, perhaps he did. of the three brothers, theron felt the most. he simply concealed it better. where asterion burned through emotions and lykan wore them openly, theron carried his carefully, tucking them away beneath duty and reason until they became almost impossible to distinguish from one another. yet jo had never demanded anything from him. she listened, truly listened.

not with distracted nods or half-hearted reassurances, but with the kind of patience that made him feel heard, understood. even his brothers, bound to him as they were, often rushed past the things he left unsaid. ❝ sit, then, ❞ he said softly. ❝ perhaps we can keep each other company for a while. ❞ there was no plan beyond that. no carefully constructed excuse to justify finding himself here again. he had not thought that far ahead. all theron knew was that he had wanted to see her, and now, he had.

he stood far too close to the detective, though, to lucifer, personal space had seemed more like a polite suggestion than an actual social rule. leaning slightly over erin's shoulder, dark eyes flickered toward the suspect as she continued her questioning, carefully studying every twitch, every nervous swallow, every subtle shift in posture. people revealed far more than they realized when they lied, and lucifer had spent millennia learning exactly what to look for. honestly, he was helping. at least, in his mind, he was.

and then the suspect lied again. a knowing smile immediately pulled at lucifer's lips, amusement gleaming in his eyes before erin could even ask another question. ❝ oh, that is a lie, ❞ he interrupted smoothly, pointing lazily toward the man across the table. ❝ you and i both know you're lying, darling. ❞ the soft click of his tongue followed as he shifted closer once more, somehow managing to invade erin's space even further until he was nearly shoulder to shoulder with her. completely unbothered by the fact most people would have backed away by now, lucifer tilted his head slightly, gaze drifting back toward the suspect with visible impatience.

❝ honestly, detective, your questions are dreadful, ❞ he murmured dramatically, though the teasing amusement never truly left his voice. ❝ watching you dance around the point like this is physically painful for me. ❞ his expression twisted into something theatrically pained for all of half a second before he glanced back at her again, dark eyes glinting with mischief. there was no real cruelty behind the comment, only lucifer's usual impatience mixed with that almost childish need to involve himself wherever he pleased.

❝ if you'd simply let me ask the question, we could all go home significantly sooner. ❞ the corners of his mouth curled upward again as he held her gaze, offering her that dangerously charming smile of his, the kind that usually meant trouble for everyone involved. ❝ and i promise i shall behave this time. ❞ a brief pause followed before his grin widened slightly. ❝ well ... mostly. ❞

long gone were the days when hercules had wanted to stand among the gods. whatever longing he had once carried for olympus had been buried centuries ago beneath grief, war, and too much blood spilled in too many lifetimes. the gods had taken enough from him to poison even the memory of worship, and it return hercules had spent years trying to understand what exactly he was supposed to be. half god. half mortal. never fully accepted by either side. for a long time he had fought desperately for olympus' approval, believing that if he served them well enough, bled for them enough, perhaps he would finally belong somewhere. instead, all it had earned him was loss.

so eventually his loyalty shifted. if the gods were capable of cruelty, then perhaps mortals deserved his protection far more. that belief had followed him through every life he built afterward. kingdoms rose and fell around him while hercules learned how to become someone new each time history forced him to disappear again. a mercenary, a traveler, a protector. this time, he had become a soldier. perhaps it was foolish to think no one noticed the things that made him different. the unnatural strength beneath his skin. the way wounds closed faster than they should. the way he could survive injuries that would kill ordinary men. but the modern world had stopped believing in gods long ago.

myths had become stories for books and filmes, distorted versions of truths no one alive could truly imagine anymore. to them, hercules was simply another decorated soldier, strong, stubborn, difficult to kill. a hero if they chose to call him one. if only they knew how much he hated that word. war suited him in ways he wished it did not. there was something brutally familiar about it. violence had followed hercules through every century of his existence, and though he often dreamed of peace, he no longer knew how to live without conflict clawing at the edges of his life. even after returning home, some part of him remained trapped in battlefields overseas, unable to let go of the instinct to protect, to fight, to throw himself between danger and innocent people without thinking twice.

that instinct was what had brought him here. the emergency room around him was chaos, shouted orders, rushing footsteps, blood staining white floors beneath harsh fluorescent lights. hercules sat slumped against the edge of the hospital bed while a nurse pressed trembling hands against the gunshot wound in his chest. another bullet remained lodged near his shoulder, buried deep enough that even he could feel how badly it interfered with his healing. blood had soaked through his shirt long before the ambulance arrived, dark crimson still slipping steadily between the nurse's fingers no matter how much pressure she applied. by all logic he should have looked worse than this, weaker, paler even.

instead, he remained awake. breathing rough, but steady. his body was already trying to repair itself beneath torn flesh, stubborn divinity fighting against mortal limitations in a way no human body should have been capable of. it was subtle enough that no one had fully noticed yet, though the confusion in the nuses' eyes lingered longer every time they checked his vitals.

the nurse beside him shouted urgently for a doctor, panic sharpening her voice as more victims from the shooting were pushed through the emergency room doors behind them. hercules' gaze followed the movement automatically until he spotted the medic approaching through the chaos. even injured, his attention remained fixed on everyone else in the room first. the civilians screaming in pain. the teenager crying into bloodied hands across the hall. the paramedic trying desperately to keep pressure on another man's neck wound. others needed help more than he did.

that thought settled into him with the same certainty it always had. ❝ i told her i'm fine, ❞ hercules muttered hoarsely, though blood still stained the corner of his mouth when he spoke. his eyes lifted briefly toward the doctor approaching him before glancing back toward the overcrowded room beyond. ❝ there are people here worse than me. ❞ the words sounded calm despite everything, almost detached, as though the bullet in his chest were little more than an inconvenience. perhaps to him they were. pain had stopped frightening hercules a very long time ago.

his jaw tightened slightly when another wave of pressure hit his shoulder, but still he refused to move away from the doctors hands. ❝ help them first, ❞ he insisted more firmly this time, something tired roughening his voice. ❝ i'll live. ❞

months had passed, though aidoneus had long since stopped counting them properly. time had become meaningless after grief settled inside him like rot beneath stone. days disappeared behind the locked doors of his office while the world outside continued moving without his permission, and he had allowed it. allowed the loneliness to swallow him whole because loneliness, at least, had always been familiar. unlike love. unlike hope, unlike the unbearable fragility of mortal lives he had once foolishly convinced himself he could protect.

since the death of his wife and unborn child, something inside him had hollowed beyond repair. even now, he could still hear the silence that followed the doctor's words that night. the silence after failure, after loss. a silence no god should have ever been forced to endure. most days, he blamed jo wilson for it. perhaps unfairly. perhaps because blaming her remained easier than fancing the truth, that death had always followed him eventually, no matter how desperately he tried to outrun what he was. he had abandoned the underworld, abandoned olympus, endless chains for something painfully human, and the world had punished him for the arrogance of believing he could ever live differently.

and jo ... jo had simply stood in the middle of the tragedy when fate finally came to collect its debt. that was why she remained trapped there. not merely because he needed her skills. not merely because she knew too much. but because some cruel part of him could not bear the thought of allowing the last witness to his failure to walk free while he remained buried beneath it.

the mansion itself had become unbearable months ago. too many memories clung to the walls, echoes of laughter in empty halls, soft footsteps where silence now loved permanently. he rarely returned anymore. rarely stepped beyond the confines of his office at all. yet tonight necessity had dragged him back into the world whether he wished for it or not. war had begun circling him like wolves scenting weakness.

another clan had noticed his withdrawal. his silence. the absence of the monster they once feared enough to avoid provoking. men had begun dying because of it. loyal men. men who still believe in him despite the ruin he had become. and aidoneus could no longer heal them himself, not without risking olympus noticing. not without risking zeus dragging him back beneath the earth in chains forged from divine obligation and ancient humiliation. so once again, he found himself standing outside her door.

one hand rested against the handle for several long seconds before he finally entered. guards stationed nearby immediately straightened at the sight of him, but he dismissed them with little more than a glance. silence followed in their absence while he stepped deeper into the room. jo stood facing the window. for the first time in months, he truly looked at her. he had not realized how thin captivity had made her. had not cared enough to ask how his men treated her while he drowned inside himself. in his mind, whatever suffering she endured had once felt justified. a punishment for surviving where his family had not.

now, standing ther e beneath dim light and old shadows, the certainty of that punishment felt less solid than before. still, his expression remained cold. controlled, the grief buried beneath his ribs had long since sharpened itself into something crueler. ❝ doctor wilson. ❞ her name left his lips low and sharp enough to cut through the room instantly. crimson flickered briefly behind his otherwise human eyes before disappearing again beneath calm restraint. even now, weakened by grief, there remained something deeply unnatural about him.

before she could speak, he continued. ❝ before you decided to waste your enegy screaming at me, understand this, you will be coming with me tonight. ❞ his voice remained perfectly composed, almost emotionless in a way that made the threat far more unsettling. ❝ whether you walk beside me willingly or are carried there makes little difference to me presently. ❞ he knew she hated him. knew she likely carried enough fury to burn entire cities to the ground if given the chance.

but hatred no longer frightened aidoneus. nothing she could possibly say would rival the things he had already whispered to himself in empty rooms at three in the morning. every accusation, every cruel truth. he had lived beside them for months now. if he had possessed any other option, he would never have stood before her again, not her, never her. yet that tiredness settles visibly across his features when he finally speaks again, quieter this time. ❝ my men are dying. ❞

the words seem heavier than they should be. there is no pride left in them now, only necessity. ❝ i cannot take them to hospitals. i cannot heal them myself. ❞ his jaw tightens slightly after the admission, subtle frustration flickering beneath his calm exterior. ❝ and despite everything that has happened ... ❞ his gaze finally settles fully onto her again. ❝ you are still the best surgeon i know. ❞ for the first time since entering the room, something in his expression fractures slightly then. not enough to expose weakness completely.

only enough for her to glimpse the man buried beneath the skin, the monster, the grief. ❝ i would not be here if there were any other choice. ❞

he remained concealed within the shadows at first, allowing the darkness gathered along the edges of the room to hide the shape of him from her eyes. even now, after years spent among mortals, shadows still clung to aidoneus as though they remembered what he once was. as though the underworld itself refused to release him completely. the dim light above barely reached the corners of the room, leaving him half swallowed by blackness while he watched jo wilson slowly begin to wake. it would take her time to understand where she was, time to remember.

the former god remained silent while she stirred, his gaze fixed carefully upon her with the same cold patience he had once reserved for souls arriving at the gates of the dead. this situation was unfortunate, though perhaps inevitable. mortals always forced complications into his existence eventually. especially the ones foolish enough to stand too close to him.

the attempt on his life had changed everything. the bullet itself would never have harmed him, not truly. human weapons were insignificant against what rested beneath his skin. but if he had stopped it openly, if he had allowed instinct and power to surface in front of witnesses, zeus would have known immediately. the olympians always knew when divine power disrupted mortal balance too violently. and aidnoneus had not abandoned his throne beneath the earth only to be dragged back there like a disobedient exile. so instead, someone else had bled for him. someone he had learn to love, to cherish to care for even in this mortal land.

and now jo wilson was here because she was skilled enough to keep that love alive. even if bringing her here against her will would undoubtedly complicate matter further. his men had handled things poorly. brutally. predictably mortal in their methods. aidoneus disliked unnecessary panic, though fear had always followed him naturally no matter what name he carried. in the underworld they had feared him because he ruled the dead. here, among mortals, they feared him because empires built on violence always demanded monsters at their center.

perhaps nothing about him had truly changed after all, only the kingdom. jo finally opens her eyes fully then, confusion beginning to settle across her features while she tries to understand the unfamiliar room around her. aidoneus waits a moment longer before finally stepping away from the shadows themselves. darkness trails reluctantly across his coat as hands though unwilling to release him into the light entirely. for the briefest seconds, his eyes gleam crimson, ancient, inhuman.

then the color fades back into an ordinary shade of blue before she can fully question it. another mask carefully restored. ❝ doctor jo wilson. ❞ her name leaves his lips low and composed, cold enough to immediately command attention without ever needing volume. he watches her carefully while approaching movements measured and impossibly calm for a man standing at the center of a kidnapping. there is something deeply unsettling about him even in stillness. not because he appears violent, but because he appears utterly in control.

❝ i apologize for the manner in which my men brought you here, ❞ aidoneus says after a moment, voice smooth enough to almost sound sincere. ❝ the circumstances demanded urgency rather than politeness. ❞ his gaze drifts briefly toward the closed door before returning to her again, thoughtful now, calculating beneath the surface. ❝ you were not harmed. that was the only instrusction that truly mattered. ❞

there is a pause then, subtle but deliberate, as though he is considering how much truth she can survive at once. ❝ i require your skills, doctor wilson, and unfortunately for both of us, discretion is no longer optional. ❞ the shadows around the room seem to deepen slightly as silence settles between them again. not enough to expose what he truly is, only enough to remind the world that something ancient still breathes beneath the skin of the man standing before her.

“ well, the more you shoot people, the harder it is to sleep, i guess. ” from @crimeunits / spencer

they don't get to be in the same town often enough.  his cases are endless, all over the place, and post her coma maeve never seems to stay in one place long  -  guest lectures all over the country, unable to settle without the overwhelming feeling of drowning kicking in all over again.  it never means she doesn't care,  never means she doesn't wish there was more time for them to just... be normal,  simple people together.

@crimeunits sent “ sshhh, come here… “ dana gives great hugs

He needs a break. Just one fucking break before he loses his shit on everyone in here. He manages to escape to an empty room before he actually loses it on someone, before he snaps like an injured dog afraid to let someone get too close. 

After losing a patient and Robby having to give the death notice, things started spiraling from there. Everything is too loud, everything is too much. He just needs a moment to calm the anxiety and force back the tears. That’s all. Just one moment. One fucking moment. 

Except it’s longer than one moment, he hides away in here, ignores the rest of the world. They can manage without him for a moment. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s in this dark room by himself, doesn’t care much either, if they need him they’ll page him. 

For about ten minutes, no one comes looking. He can breathe but it’s not doing much to hold back the tears. He has to blink multiple times to stop it. It’s too much, everything is too much, he doesn’t want to be here. Not just at the hospital but in general. 

He almost doesn’t hear Dana at first, but turns his wide eyes to her. He doesn’t need to say anything; his eyes have always been way too expressive, much to his dismay. 

Shh. Come here.