DS Louise Gardiner (AU) [Ashes To Ashes (BBC)] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doomed_copper) wrote2012-11-14 01:02 pm
doomed_copper) wrote2012-11-14 01:02 pm
Contra Naturam, Chapter 7: Respice Finem.
The next afternoon, Louise found herself in the archives, sent by Keats under the pretense that he needed her to dig up records on a serial rapist who had escaped from prison just days before. Keats had actually shuddered in revulsion as he placed the evidence for her to find. As much as he enjoyed the thrill of their horror, of all those who had come to pass before her, he'd almost hesitated with Louise. Still, he shook it off quickly; this was the only way he could regain control of the situation, and the only way he could be sure she would be bound to him forever. He couldn't think about semantics.
In Louise's mind, part of her found him familiar and strangely comforting; she could never place why she felt so drawn to him. Sometimes she'd look at him, much like she did the night before, wondering where her feelings came from or who exactly he was. She hadn't expected to become this close; physically, Keats wasn't her usual 'type', and it was very uncharacteristic of her to get involved with someone with such a chaotic, yet tightly-wound personality. But he had tapped into something in her subconscious that she didn't even know was missing, and soon found herself hanging on his every sentence. Keats had a way of doing that to people; it's what his ilk do.
However, those of ‘his ilk’ do not come equipped with a fail-safe; well, not one by design, anyway. Alex Drake had nearly destroyed him to the point that he disintegrated before all of CID in a fit of schizophrenic hysteria before trying one last time to snare her; however, he'd already laid all his cards onto the table and Alex was not a gullible woman. He'd thought he had won; the moment those ceiling tiles disappeared and only space remained was the most triumphant he'd felt in years. But it had been an empty act of showmanship as he made an utter fool of himself, dissolving onto the pavement outside, his serpentine hissing and growling putting to shame his tightly-buttoned exterior. As Gene Hunt stood watching Keats writhe on the ground burning from the inside out, Hunt caught flashes of the demonic presence in his visage. Brief, terrifying flashes of the beast inside obscured his human 'mask' and the pungent odor of sulphur emanated from his pores, nearly overcoming Hunt in their monstrosity. And then, as suddenly as his breakdown had occurred, Keats was re-absorbed into the dimension which claimed him, leaving Gene in the darkness to stare endlessly at the doors of light which had just welcomed Alex.
Sadly for Louise Gardiner, no matter how she'd tried to pass herself off as a talented, commended, rational officer, she was no match for Keats. There had been a time when even Alex had nearly succumbed to his impossible charm, but ultimately her heart was never to be his. Louise, on the other hand, was a slave to her own heart and her own desires, and as such, there was no mystery as to how she'd wound up here instead of following Alex through the light.
Wandering through the file cabinets and piles of papers littering the old desks inside the archive room, she walked over to the place where Keats had told her she would find the essential paperwork he needed. As she reached out to grab the folder, she was taken aback by the odd collection of Betamax tapes on this particular wall. Each one had a name affixed to it along with a date; it was eerie, and yet it was like watching a train wreck. Her stomach lurched as she read some of them---some of them were even dated 20 years from now. How could this be possible? she thought to herself. These are events that, chronologically, shouldn't have happened yet, couldn't have happened yet---but have they? she wondered.
Then, it was as if the final piece of a complicated puzzle suddenly clicked into place, and a lost key turned slowly, unlocking the Pandora's Box that had remained untouched for almost 14 years. Her hand instinctively reached out to touch the titles sitting side by side on an adjoining shelf:
LOUISE GARDINER----15 April 1983
LOUISE GARDINER----31 December 1999
What did these dates mean? She tried to think back to the two years prior, but suddenly found that she had no memories of them; that was odd. She furrowed her brow and rubbed her temples with her fingers----why couldn't she remember? It was as if at some point since she'd been here that her life had rebooted, almost like a computer, and had erased all that was prologue to this. She violently shook her head as if to shake loose some fragment of a memory, but nothing happened. Numbly, she picked up the one dated '1983' and inserted it into the player, sitting down.
The tape whirred statically for a moment, and then suddenly an image of Terry Stafford lit up the screen. She cocked her head to the side almost robotically, the memory slowly returning. Then, she saw herself. Her head tilted slowly to the other side. What was this? Why did Keats have video of her and Terry? Had there been CCTV cameras at that car park? Unrelenting, the tape continued, much like a screenplay unfolding:
Terry. Gene Hunt. ALEX. Louise wielding a firearm, pointing it at Gene's skull and Keats telling her to drop her weapon, all the while having a curious smile on his face as if willing her to continue on. A brief glance in the other direction; a green van. Was that Danny Stafford behind the wheel? Why....?
Everything was happening at lightning pace. She felt out of her own body in that moment as she watched her life unfold before her; but nothing prepared her for what came next.
The green van struck her. --This wasn't the way it happened? She screamed inside as she watched herself fall to the ground, all but oblivious to the gunshots fired by Gene at its driver.
Louise then felt a sudden stream of blood trickling from her mouth, threatening to drip onto her designer skirt. Her hand flew to her face immediately, touching the red liquid as she realised it was happening to her on the screen at the same time. She let out a strangled sob; she didn't understand this---what WAS this? These images before her had never set foot into the annals of her mind.
Louise watched as Keats pushed everyone aside and knelt beside her, cradling her in his arms, comforting her....welcoming her. And then, she saw her face go slack and the life extinguished from her pale blue eyes. The sound that emanated from Louise upon witnessing this final visual was nearly inhuman in its fear as she jumped out of her chair, knocking it back into the wall. The tape whizzed to a stop, and Louise continued howling, wiping the blood from her mouth before grabbing the nearest bin and vomiting into it. She shook violently, tears and mucus mixing together as she tried in vain to wipe her eyes.
Keats had been witness to this spectacle all along; hidden in the shadows of a far corner of the room, his heart raced in both adrenaline-fueled, maniacal exultation and unbridled gluttony. Calmly, coolly, he walked over, raising her up from the floor and supporting her with his arms.
"Don't you see? I SAVED YOUR LIFE."
Louise wrested free and pushed him backwards in wild fear, gesturing to the TV screen.
"I'M DEAD!! LOOK AT IT, JIM!! 'Saved me..' SAVED ME?!? HOW?! YOU'RE A FUCKING LUNATIC!!!! KEEP AWAY FROM ME!!"
Undeterred, Keats stepped closer to her once again.
"Don't you want to know how you are alive now, in this place? Don't you want to know the truth? THIS is what they wanted to hide from you, Louise, the truth about who you really are. I'm giving you a gift! Can't you see? This is your REBIRTH."
He smiled broadly, smugly, proud of himself and his creation.
Louise looked vacant as she stared into Keats’ face. He took her in his arms and embraced her tenderly while she sobbed into his chest. He stroked her hair hypnotically, kissing the top of her head and chuckling softly to himself.
"There, now--no need for this, eh? Bloody Norah, there's enough tears in here to flood the Red Sea. I brought you BACK to life, if anyone could. You're HERE, with me now instead of that poor excuse for a senior officer, Hunt. I wanted you. He didn't; don't you remember how they all stood by in shock, not one of them moving forward to help you? If he had really wanted you in his world, he'd have kept you. Don't you understand?"
He tipped her chin up to meet his glance; her tear and blood-stained face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in all his life. It was painted with fear, with sickening pain, and he adored it.
"Don't you feel more alive now? THIS is living; not the paltry dregs he was offering you. No one could ever care more deeply about you than I have; you know that, don't you, Louise?"
He was filled with so much joy and pleasure at what he had just done, and no one could take it from him this time.
In Louise's mind, part of her found him familiar and strangely comforting; she could never place why she felt so drawn to him. Sometimes she'd look at him, much like she did the night before, wondering where her feelings came from or who exactly he was. She hadn't expected to become this close; physically, Keats wasn't her usual 'type', and it was very uncharacteristic of her to get involved with someone with such a chaotic, yet tightly-wound personality. But he had tapped into something in her subconscious that she didn't even know was missing, and soon found herself hanging on his every sentence. Keats had a way of doing that to people; it's what his ilk do.
However, those of ‘his ilk’ do not come equipped with a fail-safe; well, not one by design, anyway. Alex Drake had nearly destroyed him to the point that he disintegrated before all of CID in a fit of schizophrenic hysteria before trying one last time to snare her; however, he'd already laid all his cards onto the table and Alex was not a gullible woman. He'd thought he had won; the moment those ceiling tiles disappeared and only space remained was the most triumphant he'd felt in years. But it had been an empty act of showmanship as he made an utter fool of himself, dissolving onto the pavement outside, his serpentine hissing and growling putting to shame his tightly-buttoned exterior. As Gene Hunt stood watching Keats writhe on the ground burning from the inside out, Hunt caught flashes of the demonic presence in his visage. Brief, terrifying flashes of the beast inside obscured his human 'mask' and the pungent odor of sulphur emanated from his pores, nearly overcoming Hunt in their monstrosity. And then, as suddenly as his breakdown had occurred, Keats was re-absorbed into the dimension which claimed him, leaving Gene in the darkness to stare endlessly at the doors of light which had just welcomed Alex.
Sadly for Louise Gardiner, no matter how she'd tried to pass herself off as a talented, commended, rational officer, she was no match for Keats. There had been a time when even Alex had nearly succumbed to his impossible charm, but ultimately her heart was never to be his. Louise, on the other hand, was a slave to her own heart and her own desires, and as such, there was no mystery as to how she'd wound up here instead of following Alex through the light.
Wandering through the file cabinets and piles of papers littering the old desks inside the archive room, she walked over to the place where Keats had told her she would find the essential paperwork he needed. As she reached out to grab the folder, she was taken aback by the odd collection of Betamax tapes on this particular wall. Each one had a name affixed to it along with a date; it was eerie, and yet it was like watching a train wreck. Her stomach lurched as she read some of them---some of them were even dated 20 years from now. How could this be possible? she thought to herself. These are events that, chronologically, shouldn't have happened yet, couldn't have happened yet---but have they? she wondered.
Then, it was as if the final piece of a complicated puzzle suddenly clicked into place, and a lost key turned slowly, unlocking the Pandora's Box that had remained untouched for almost 14 years. Her hand instinctively reached out to touch the titles sitting side by side on an adjoining shelf:
LOUISE GARDINER----15 April 1983
LOUISE GARDINER----31 December 1999
What did these dates mean? She tried to think back to the two years prior, but suddenly found that she had no memories of them; that was odd. She furrowed her brow and rubbed her temples with her fingers----why couldn't she remember? It was as if at some point since she'd been here that her life had rebooted, almost like a computer, and had erased all that was prologue to this. She violently shook her head as if to shake loose some fragment of a memory, but nothing happened. Numbly, she picked up the one dated '1983' and inserted it into the player, sitting down.
The tape whirred statically for a moment, and then suddenly an image of Terry Stafford lit up the screen. She cocked her head to the side almost robotically, the memory slowly returning. Then, she saw herself. Her head tilted slowly to the other side. What was this? Why did Keats have video of her and Terry? Had there been CCTV cameras at that car park? Unrelenting, the tape continued, much like a screenplay unfolding:
Terry. Gene Hunt. ALEX. Louise wielding a firearm, pointing it at Gene's skull and Keats telling her to drop her weapon, all the while having a curious smile on his face as if willing her to continue on. A brief glance in the other direction; a green van. Was that Danny Stafford behind the wheel? Why....?
Everything was happening at lightning pace. She felt out of her own body in that moment as she watched her life unfold before her; but nothing prepared her for what came next.
The green van struck her. --This wasn't the way it happened? She screamed inside as she watched herself fall to the ground, all but oblivious to the gunshots fired by Gene at its driver.
Louise then felt a sudden stream of blood trickling from her mouth, threatening to drip onto her designer skirt. Her hand flew to her face immediately, touching the red liquid as she realised it was happening to her on the screen at the same time. She let out a strangled sob; she didn't understand this---what WAS this? These images before her had never set foot into the annals of her mind.
Louise watched as Keats pushed everyone aside and knelt beside her, cradling her in his arms, comforting her....welcoming her. And then, she saw her face go slack and the life extinguished from her pale blue eyes. The sound that emanated from Louise upon witnessing this final visual was nearly inhuman in its fear as she jumped out of her chair, knocking it back into the wall. The tape whizzed to a stop, and Louise continued howling, wiping the blood from her mouth before grabbing the nearest bin and vomiting into it. She shook violently, tears and mucus mixing together as she tried in vain to wipe her eyes.
Keats had been witness to this spectacle all along; hidden in the shadows of a far corner of the room, his heart raced in both adrenaline-fueled, maniacal exultation and unbridled gluttony. Calmly, coolly, he walked over, raising her up from the floor and supporting her with his arms.
"Don't you see? I SAVED YOUR LIFE."
Louise wrested free and pushed him backwards in wild fear, gesturing to the TV screen.
"I'M DEAD!! LOOK AT IT, JIM!! 'Saved me..' SAVED ME?!? HOW?! YOU'RE A FUCKING LUNATIC!!!! KEEP AWAY FROM ME!!"
Undeterred, Keats stepped closer to her once again.
"Don't you want to know how you are alive now, in this place? Don't you want to know the truth? THIS is what they wanted to hide from you, Louise, the truth about who you really are. I'm giving you a gift! Can't you see? This is your REBIRTH."
He smiled broadly, smugly, proud of himself and his creation.
Louise looked vacant as she stared into Keats’ face. He took her in his arms and embraced her tenderly while she sobbed into his chest. He stroked her hair hypnotically, kissing the top of her head and chuckling softly to himself.
"There, now--no need for this, eh? Bloody Norah, there's enough tears in here to flood the Red Sea. I brought you BACK to life, if anyone could. You're HERE, with me now instead of that poor excuse for a senior officer, Hunt. I wanted you. He didn't; don't you remember how they all stood by in shock, not one of them moving forward to help you? If he had really wanted you in his world, he'd have kept you. Don't you understand?"
He tipped her chin up to meet his glance; her tear and blood-stained face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in all his life. It was painted with fear, with sickening pain, and he adored it.
"Don't you feel more alive now? THIS is living; not the paltry dregs he was offering you. No one could ever care more deeply about you than I have; you know that, don't you, Louise?"
He was filled with so much joy and pleasure at what he had just done, and no one could take it from him this time.