there's a faint rustling of sheets, sleep forced away as she    watches the sleeping man beside her. sleep it seems brings    a peace and innocence to men's features that daylight steals.    fingers glide across the exposed skin of his chest, lips brush     across his shoulder. funny wasn't it, that love drove people to    idiocy and madness. grief prompted him to ask for a peculiar    gift. for her to take his heart. it was not that she lacked the --    experience, only none had ever asked her.

    her touch is more insistent, lips moving to drag across his     neck, the bite of her fingernails digging into the muscles of     his arms. drawing him from peace into the madness of this     world ---. 

It had taken the  team months to piece  the case together, weeks to  track him down, and a hours to  finally  get close  enough to be able to appre- hend  him.  James Jones was finally going to be headed  for justice.  Steve was  almost smug as he stalked toward the criminal.  The room about them was  littered with  broken wood,  shattered glass, and bloodied bodies. None of it bothered the  Commander  as he stepped  over it  all,  his gun trained on Jones.

            "I hate to break it to you, son, but me and mine were here             first. So, for the benefit of us both, I'd take a step back if             I was you."

     The news hit him like a punch to the gut. Killian knew that James      would go to incredible lengths to remove what he believed was his      suffering, but to cut out his own heart? Eyes the colour of the sea      held nothing but sorrow when the question of the rumour struck him.     ”I’ve not seen m’ son in nigh ten years. Should his heart be void from      his chest, I’d not know.”