DS Louise Gardiner (AU) [Ashes To Ashes (BBC)] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doomed_copper) wrote2012-11-14 12:00 pm
doomed_copper) wrote2012-11-14 12:00 pm
Contra Naturam, Chapter 4: Idus Martiae.
He stole them for the same reason Gene Hunt held onto them to keep them safe. Perhaps the last vestige of humanity Keats possessed was the inability to be alone; however, here, in his world, it was entirely self-serving and ego-feeding. The darkness is a barren and desolate dominion, and it suited Keats to build himself an arsenal, especially after crossing paths with Hunt for the very first time. It was a hatred he would never forget--a childish vendetta that he would carry to its last moment. One soul was useless alone, but the psychic energy of a hundred could overpower Gene Hunt’s paltry, pathetic ‘team’. Though the faces and the places would change hands many times over the years, Hunt’s following remained strong. Thus, Keats’ end goal remained the same: each time a soul was absorbed into his own, his power would grow just that small amount more. Time and space were all too small for both of them to fit neatly within it, and he was megalomaniacal in his pursuit of the upper hand.
Charming, with enough detachment to keep them moving towards him and wanting his approval, he would use every means at his disposal to win them. With the men, it was one of two things: for the ones who knew their fate, it was the promise of life on their terms, of love, success and hedonism beyond their wildest dreams—-and all for eternity. For those who didn’t, it was the promise of promotions and wealth—-much like he had been at the hands of his former mentor. And in some cases, he just took them without consent, especially when he was desperate and feeling his power diminishing. He didn’t care who they were, or even if they could benefit him in some way---they were simply batteries to keep him going. The women were another story. Beneath the scholarly, sort of unappealing ‘headmaster’ guise, there lurked an incredibly sexual, primal undercurrent. It emanated from within—-from the way he walked and the nuances of his speech to the heat smouldering from his dark eyes. Many of them would grace not only his department but his body, and it was a pleasurable way to spend what idle moments he had. Some of them were talented enough that he thought he could conform them into proper fortifications to carry out his work; however, most of them were vapid sluts that were nothing better once discarded.
He had almost had perfection in the form of Alex Drake: highly intelligent, perceptive, pragmatic, and an even more envious form, and the fact that he lost her to Gene Hunt nearly did him in. This was more than a mere ‘missed opportunity’: this was an equal, a partner, and the last piece of a very tangled puzzle. Together they would have been magic. The envy drove him to madness; he couldn’t even seek solace in the other souls from CID he’d managed to swallow. Her soul was the one he would never conquer, and the loss was so insanity-inducing that it made him lose the plot and drop his carefully-constructed, cool exterior, allowing his true self to be known. As he watched her enter the Railway Arms, never to return, he vowed to kill him, to wipe him away from every surface his feet had ever touched. It wasn’t enough to best Gene Hunt any longer; he wanted him dead.
When Louise Gardiner came into his life, he had seen a lost little girl who needed to be found, and he was utterly satisfied with how she bent to his every whim. He saw her as a plaything he’d probably soon tire of. He’d not paid her much notice until after that chilled, black night when Alex walked out of his life forever. When he finally did, she went from being a mere distraction, much like the others, to something much more. It soon electrified him to watch her and took every shred of self-discipline not to come simply by hearing her groan with both trepidation and need at being tormented by his touch. She began to get him off nearly as much as Alex had---but this time, the soul was his. The fact that she was seeming to shift in character puzzled him, to say the least. What was happening to her? More importantly, what had he done wrong?
The truth would haunt him more than Alex’s choice of Gene. The more desirable Louise was to him, a small part of him was falling away, only to be absorbed by her: it was entirely unbeknownst to her and entirely unanticipated by him. Put simply, he was losing ground every time he locked the door to her room, every time he possessed her. The answer was easy: he hadn’t encountered someone like her in all the years he’d been here, only Alex, and he never gained the opportunity to snatch her away. Otherwise, this would have happened with Alex long ago and in another timeline. Had he known this would occur, nothing would have stopped him from untangling from Louise (or Alex, for that matter) immediately. He would rather spend the rest of his days settling for mediocrity and at 100 per cent capacity than have to give any of it away. But, as it were, this realisation would not occur, and soon Keats would find himself in a worse power struggle than he ever could have conceived between himself and Hunt. It was both ironic and laughable that the one thing that would do him in was something this base.
Louise walked into SCD the next morning expressionless; there was a strange look in her eyes that even the others noticed and were unsettled by. Focussing her attention as she watched Keats retreat into his office, he felt her eyes upon him and instinctively looked over his shoulder as the door slammed shut, her reflection in the window half-obscuring his. His breath caught for a moment---just a moment---before he shook it off, settling into his chair and opening up a file on his desk. He was going to nip this one in the bud. No matter how much he’d grown used to sleeping with her, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone colouring outside the lines. The day came and went, Louise directing some of the minions of the team to look after this or that while Keats handed down orders for her to complete. At least she was still taking direction, he told himself. She did so, solemnly and obediently, all the while becoming more and more demanding of the other officers. When the day was through and everyone headed to the clubhouse to get pissed, Louise was still at her desk.
“DS Gardiner?” he called from his office.
“Sir,” she replied.
“I just need to see you for a moment before you depart for the day.”
His tone was cold and steely, and Louise quaked for an instant at the sharpness. She immediately rose from her desk and walked into the room. Keats slammed the door behind her and jerked the blinds shut, shoving her roughly against the wall, pinning her wrists behind her. She cried out in pain to no avail. His face was close enough for her to feel his mouth against her cheek as he hissed.
“Don’t toy with me, Louise."
His voice was hushed and shook with intensity, as he pulled away to look at her, his eyes blazing in fury. He moved away from her and she smoothed down the folds of her dress and the back of her hair. Her own eyes settled upon his and she didn't blink. Her hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, and instantly he gripped her wrist, pulling her towards him.
She wrested herself free, retorting:
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He was stunned as she nodded curtly at him and began to open the door---however, he was too quick for her and slammed it shut once more, this time locking it. Louise briefly shuddered; perhaps she’d gone too far. But when Keats whirled her around to face him, she slapped him across the face upon seeing his arrogant, imperious expression.
“How dare you block my way, you fear-mongering wanker?!” Her voice barked at him as if to cut him down like a Katana sword.
He said no words, but the corner of his mouth curled up as he pushed her up against the bulletin board behind her, knocking it completely off of the wall as she struggled against him, taking her foot and knocking a short file cabinet onto his own. They both shook with ferocity as his office quickly became a battleground of littered papers, broken glass, and dented cabinets. Neither one was going to give in. Out of breath, Louise stopped for a second to recover, and Keats took full advantage, grabbing her by the neck and pinning her against the far window, which amazingly didn’t shatter upon impact. She couldn’t go on any longer. She didn’t understand her actions; they appeared to be coming through her from someplace else, as if she was not in control of herself. She whimpered slightly in agony, tired and keen for the alien anger to leave her in peace.
“Jim…”
Keats chuckled throatily; he had won.
“How I love to hear that impatient cry...”
His lips crashed down upon hers and she began to sink towards the floor with his body mirroring hers. The struggle had been a source of arousal for him, although he was pleased with its surprise conclusion. His hand moved from her neck to her auburn strands as he tore away her skirt with the other. Moving only to make haste with his zipper, he finally buried himself within her, a moan escaping from both of them. The slightest hint of a smile turned her lips upwards for a moment, but she could say nothing. His forehead touched hers and his mouth, swollen and wet, covered her once more as he drove into her with force, relentless. As his release began to build, he couldn’t help himself; his hands moved up to the sides of her face, and his thumb began to tentatively stroke her cheek, slowly and gently. The action surprised Louise and her tongue plundered into his mouth even more ardently than before, making him come hot and fast, spilling into her, his breath completely lost. Feeling the fire enter her womb, Louise sighed in desire as she began to press him against her even more fully, her arms encircling his waist. She was so close, so very close; the friction was unbearable. Finally, his skin hit her at just the right place and she began to release, her groan loud as the itch was relieved at last. He didn’t stifle her this time; rather, he was euphoric at the control he thought he'd regained. Her cries were proof that he’d succeeded where she had failed, and when he closed his eyes later that night, he actually slept.
Charming, with enough detachment to keep them moving towards him and wanting his approval, he would use every means at his disposal to win them. With the men, it was one of two things: for the ones who knew their fate, it was the promise of life on their terms, of love, success and hedonism beyond their wildest dreams—-and all for eternity. For those who didn’t, it was the promise of promotions and wealth—-much like he had been at the hands of his former mentor. And in some cases, he just took them without consent, especially when he was desperate and feeling his power diminishing. He didn’t care who they were, or even if they could benefit him in some way---they were simply batteries to keep him going. The women were another story. Beneath the scholarly, sort of unappealing ‘headmaster’ guise, there lurked an incredibly sexual, primal undercurrent. It emanated from within—-from the way he walked and the nuances of his speech to the heat smouldering from his dark eyes. Many of them would grace not only his department but his body, and it was a pleasurable way to spend what idle moments he had. Some of them were talented enough that he thought he could conform them into proper fortifications to carry out his work; however, most of them were vapid sluts that were nothing better once discarded.
He had almost had perfection in the form of Alex Drake: highly intelligent, perceptive, pragmatic, and an even more envious form, and the fact that he lost her to Gene Hunt nearly did him in. This was more than a mere ‘missed opportunity’: this was an equal, a partner, and the last piece of a very tangled puzzle. Together they would have been magic. The envy drove him to madness; he couldn’t even seek solace in the other souls from CID he’d managed to swallow. Her soul was the one he would never conquer, and the loss was so insanity-inducing that it made him lose the plot and drop his carefully-constructed, cool exterior, allowing his true self to be known. As he watched her enter the Railway Arms, never to return, he vowed to kill him, to wipe him away from every surface his feet had ever touched. It wasn’t enough to best Gene Hunt any longer; he wanted him dead.
When Louise Gardiner came into his life, he had seen a lost little girl who needed to be found, and he was utterly satisfied with how she bent to his every whim. He saw her as a plaything he’d probably soon tire of. He’d not paid her much notice until after that chilled, black night when Alex walked out of his life forever. When he finally did, she went from being a mere distraction, much like the others, to something much more. It soon electrified him to watch her and took every shred of self-discipline not to come simply by hearing her groan with both trepidation and need at being tormented by his touch. She began to get him off nearly as much as Alex had---but this time, the soul was his. The fact that she was seeming to shift in character puzzled him, to say the least. What was happening to her? More importantly, what had he done wrong?
The truth would haunt him more than Alex’s choice of Gene. The more desirable Louise was to him, a small part of him was falling away, only to be absorbed by her: it was entirely unbeknownst to her and entirely unanticipated by him. Put simply, he was losing ground every time he locked the door to her room, every time he possessed her. The answer was easy: he hadn’t encountered someone like her in all the years he’d been here, only Alex, and he never gained the opportunity to snatch her away. Otherwise, this would have happened with Alex long ago and in another timeline. Had he known this would occur, nothing would have stopped him from untangling from Louise (or Alex, for that matter) immediately. He would rather spend the rest of his days settling for mediocrity and at 100 per cent capacity than have to give any of it away. But, as it were, this realisation would not occur, and soon Keats would find himself in a worse power struggle than he ever could have conceived between himself and Hunt. It was both ironic and laughable that the one thing that would do him in was something this base.
Louise walked into SCD the next morning expressionless; there was a strange look in her eyes that even the others noticed and were unsettled by. Focussing her attention as she watched Keats retreat into his office, he felt her eyes upon him and instinctively looked over his shoulder as the door slammed shut, her reflection in the window half-obscuring his. His breath caught for a moment---just a moment---before he shook it off, settling into his chair and opening up a file on his desk. He was going to nip this one in the bud. No matter how much he’d grown used to sleeping with her, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone colouring outside the lines. The day came and went, Louise directing some of the minions of the team to look after this or that while Keats handed down orders for her to complete. At least she was still taking direction, he told himself. She did so, solemnly and obediently, all the while becoming more and more demanding of the other officers. When the day was through and everyone headed to the clubhouse to get pissed, Louise was still at her desk.
“DS Gardiner?” he called from his office.
“Sir,” she replied.
“I just need to see you for a moment before you depart for the day.”
His tone was cold and steely, and Louise quaked for an instant at the sharpness. She immediately rose from her desk and walked into the room. Keats slammed the door behind her and jerked the blinds shut, shoving her roughly against the wall, pinning her wrists behind her. She cried out in pain to no avail. His face was close enough for her to feel his mouth against her cheek as he hissed.
“Don’t toy with me, Louise."
His voice was hushed and shook with intensity, as he pulled away to look at her, his eyes blazing in fury. He moved away from her and she smoothed down the folds of her dress and the back of her hair. Her own eyes settled upon his and she didn't blink. Her hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face, and instantly he gripped her wrist, pulling her towards him.
She wrested herself free, retorting:
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He was stunned as she nodded curtly at him and began to open the door---however, he was too quick for her and slammed it shut once more, this time locking it. Louise briefly shuddered; perhaps she’d gone too far. But when Keats whirled her around to face him, she slapped him across the face upon seeing his arrogant, imperious expression.
“How dare you block my way, you fear-mongering wanker?!” Her voice barked at him as if to cut him down like a Katana sword.
He said no words, but the corner of his mouth curled up as he pushed her up against the bulletin board behind her, knocking it completely off of the wall as she struggled against him, taking her foot and knocking a short file cabinet onto his own. They both shook with ferocity as his office quickly became a battleground of littered papers, broken glass, and dented cabinets. Neither one was going to give in. Out of breath, Louise stopped for a second to recover, and Keats took full advantage, grabbing her by the neck and pinning her against the far window, which amazingly didn’t shatter upon impact. She couldn’t go on any longer. She didn’t understand her actions; they appeared to be coming through her from someplace else, as if she was not in control of herself. She whimpered slightly in agony, tired and keen for the alien anger to leave her in peace.
“Jim…”
Keats chuckled throatily; he had won.
“How I love to hear that impatient cry...”
His lips crashed down upon hers and she began to sink towards the floor with his body mirroring hers. The struggle had been a source of arousal for him, although he was pleased with its surprise conclusion. His hand moved from her neck to her auburn strands as he tore away her skirt with the other. Moving only to make haste with his zipper, he finally buried himself within her, a moan escaping from both of them. The slightest hint of a smile turned her lips upwards for a moment, but she could say nothing. His forehead touched hers and his mouth, swollen and wet, covered her once more as he drove into her with force, relentless. As his release began to build, he couldn’t help himself; his hands moved up to the sides of her face, and his thumb began to tentatively stroke her cheek, slowly and gently. The action surprised Louise and her tongue plundered into his mouth even more ardently than before, making him come hot and fast, spilling into her, his breath completely lost. Feeling the fire enter her womb, Louise sighed in desire as she began to press him against her even more fully, her arms encircling his waist. She was so close, so very close; the friction was unbearable. Finally, his skin hit her at just the right place and she began to release, her groan loud as the itch was relieved at last. He didn’t stifle her this time; rather, he was euphoric at the control he thought he'd regained. Her cries were proof that he’d succeeded where she had failed, and when he closed his eyes later that night, he actually slept.