when the police arrived, they found that Claire had sent them to the scene two days to late, as her mother had already began to decompose. her head had been detached from her body, and it now sits on the kitchen table charred, dressing around it and stuffed inside. dinner? who knows...

the woman's hands were missing, and all of her blood spilled and was soaked by the chair she sat in. the one she always sat in, watching her shows.

on top of the television set, a camcorder with a video tape inside. it was surely evidence and the police knew that tampering with it would surely piss the feds off... that didn't stop them, however. the curiosity got the best of them.

they took the tape out and put it in the VCR. it needed rewound and so they did. the two beat cops, one a rookie, waited impatiently for it to finish, and once it did they played the tape.

a living room. the living room to Claire's mother's house, to be exact. the police officers looked around, then fixed their eyes back to the screen. Claire's mother sat in her chair. well... tied to it really. her mouth taped shut. she was crying.

a figure stepped out of the shadows. it was Danny. he had something in his hand. something that had a little shine to it, but the quality of the recording wouldn't let it be known just what it was. Danny looked back at the camcorder, an utterly evil grin across his face, then back to the woman in the chair.

"Scream, bitch."

he then ripped the tape from her mouth and the woman screamed like she had never screamed before. if Claire were to watch, she'd recognize it as she has heard it before.

walking back toward the television set, Danny showed what he had in his hand. a mini tape recorder...

that went into his pocket. he picked something off the television set, and showed it to the camera. a bonesaw. he walked back to the lady and the tape cut off. the rookie cop was throwing up and his partner had pushed the stop button. he called in the report.

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*Claire's cell rang as she was driving. Her face went white as the cop informed her what they had found at the house. Pulling over to the side of the road, she clenched the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. She'd been dead for a while, so the cops say. That scream she'd heard over the phone was just a recording.

The cops told her about the video, the bonesaw, everything. She could still hear the rookie retching in the background.*

Don't you rent-a-cops know anything? Quit fucking tampering with the crime scene or I will shoot both you motherfuckers right in your goddamn balls! *Without waiting for a response, she hung up the phone and began pounding the steering wheel.*

*Sense and sensibility was flying right out the window, and Claire knew it. She was angrier now than she had ever been, and her whole body felt like it was vibrating, heart pounding in her chest. There had been people she disliked, couldn't get along with, thought were jerks, assholes, whiny babies, but she had never hated anyone before now. She hated Danny Ward with every fiber of her being, and the sheer force of her hatred surprised her. Her Danny-by-proxy was Tim, and he knew it. His back was plastered against the seat as though he was trying to burrow into it and he watched Claire out of the corner of his eye, waiting for her to attack him. But, she didn't. It wasn't because of her training, or some sense of right and wrong, or even the fact that she and Tim weren't alone in the car. She didn't kill Tim because to do so would be wasting more time, giving Danny more of a chance to get away. Her rage was so strong that she didn't even feel sad at the moment, just empty. Without saying a word, she resumed driving to what was once her mother's house, and was now just another crime scene.*

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*They continued to drive in silence as the sun set and darkness fell over the car. At different times in her life, the drive into Springfield held different meanings. When she was a girl, it signaled proximity to home and safety, the comfort of her own things and family. Through her college years, it signified conflict as she fought constantly with her parents over her future plans to join the FBI and move away. In adulthood, there had been a reluctant reunion brought on by the illness and death of her father. She had actually begun looking forward to visiting Springfield again over the past few years. In light of what lay in store for her at her mother's house, she knew in her heart she wouldn't be coming back, ever.

When the three arrived at the home, from the outside it appeared that nothing had changed. It was a simple house, bright blue with white trim and shuttered windows. Her mother had loved the house. Claire doubted that Kitty had even once considered her beloved home might one day become her tomb. As she stood there, looking at it, she wanted nothing more than to burn the whole thing to the ground. Danny had tainted it, ruined it, just as he had ruined her mother's life, Claire's life, even Tim's life with something as simple as a phone call. The worst news always came by phone. It was as if fate somehow knew that a disembodied voice carried over the phone lines could convey horror in a way unmatched by any other form of communication.

If she'd never joined the FBI, she would have read about Danny Ward only in the newspapers and on TV. It was her fault as much as Danny's that her mother lay dead within these walls. Was it because she was the lead agent, because she taunted him, or just for shits and grins that he chose her mother. Undoubtedly he wanted to hurt Claire, to take away her family as his had been taken. Now, just like Danny, she was alone in the world and eager to unleash vengeance upon the one who had committed these atrocities against her.*

*With Tim and Agent Sinclair close behind, she ran up the stairs and into the front door. There was blood, so much blood. Her mother's favorite chair, the chair that had once been her father's was soaked in it. She told Claire that when she sat there, it was as if she could still feel him with her. Claire desperately hoped her father did not abandon Kitty when she needed him the most.

As she stared at the chair, the two cops came into the room, nervously watching Claire. The senior cop cleared his throat, and Claire's head snapped to face him.* I see, you're the ones who don't know how to handle a crime scene.

*The rookie opened his mouth as if to speak, but then quickly closed it when he saw the anger in her eyes. With a deep breath, the senior cop responded.*

(We were only trying to find out what happened, ma'am.)

I think what happened is pretty damn obvious. *She stopped right in front of the two cops.* Danny Ward broke in here, murdered my mother, and recorded the whole scene on tape because he -knew- I would get to see it. *Claire's voice shook with anger as she pointed to the kitchen table.* Her head's right there on the table like a goddamn turkey! She's got stuffing coming out of her ears. *Seeing the scene was almost too much for Claire. Hot tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and she hadn't even seen the video yet. Who knows what lay in store for Claire on the video. It made her sick just thinking about it. After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only five minutes, she raised her head until she could see the cops again. Tim and Agent Sinclair waited nearby.* I want you two out of this room, now.

*Nodding, the two cops left to go into the other room. Taking slow deep breaths, Claire turned her attention to Agent Sinclair and Tim.* You two are going to watch the video with me. *Reaching out, she grabbed Tim's tie, and gave it a good yank until his face was only inches from hers.* You, Tim, are watching it because I want you to see first-hand what your -friend- Danny does to people. I want you to be haunted by what he did to my mother the same way I will be. I want you to have something to think about while you spend what's left of your life in federal prison.

~I'm sorry, Claire.~

Not sorry enough, Tim. Not nearly sorry enough. *With Tim sandwiched between Claire and Agent Sinclair, Claire started the tape and waited.*

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Danny approached the woman, slowly, mythodically. she shrieked, bound to her chair. she didn't know this man from adam, but she could see full well the malice in his eyes.

"Tell her you love her."

his voice was low, haunting.

"Tell her!" he screamed.

the woman began crying. her life was leaving her, she could feel it. she would be with her husband soon, and she would never see her only child again.

"I love you, Claire. I love you..."

she had to force the words. not because they weren't true, they were. but she was crying so hard... it was hard to say anything. who could blame her? this is an unfortunate situation to be in.

the woman was alive when he started sawing. her hands were the first to be removed. her left then her right. he sat thim on the arm of the chair as the woman bled. her skin lightened from the bloodloss. her heart failed, as this pain was too much for her frail body. then her head. as Danny started to saw, the vital fluid ran down her body and soaked into her gown and the chair she was in.

he held it by the hair as he turned toward the camera, showing it to whoever would watch.

he went into the kitchen and came back out with a plate of stuffing he had prepared before the camera was turned on. barely in view, Danny could be seen in the background setting the kitchen table. then back to 'center stage'. he picked the hands up off the chair arm.

"I'll be keepin' these, Claire. To help with my work."

he then walked up to the camera and knelt down, so only his face was in view.

"Blood stains the sun, and now you know how it feels."

he turned and left the house, his footsteps pounding the floor, the door slamming behind him. the camera was fixed on Claire's mother. this would be the scene until the tape ran out...

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*Claire just watched the tape silently, wordlessly. Her nails dug half-moons into her palms and a trickle of blood oozed from her lip where she had dug in her teeth until it bled. Those were her only sign of emotion. Her eyes remained clear and cold. Tim and Agent Sinclair watched the tape as well, the whole thing. She died right there, and rather than being comforted by those who loved her, she bled out under the watchful eye of a maniac. The hatred flared within Claire again, but it was wasted rage. He had been gone for two days at least, with her mother's hands. Undoubtedly, Danny would be making another set of gloves to continue his crime spree. He had no intention of stopping, ever. This cat-and-mouse game would continue until she brought him down or he brought her down. Slowly but surely, Danny Ward was killing Claire as surely as he killed her mother, and if she didn't stop him in time, they'd both die. Sighing heavily, she yanked on Tim's tie again.*

You see what your -friend- does, Timmy? He's gonna make gloves from my mother's hands and make it look like -she's- the one killing people now. *He gasped and began coughing as she choked him. Agent Sinclair just stood there and said nothing. Finally, out of exasperation, she pushed him, leaving Tim to stagger backward loosening his tie.*

Start collecting and get it sent off to Annie...Leave the body to me. *Claire didn't want anyone else touching her mother's corpse. Besides, it was the least she could do.*

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*It took hours, but all the evidence was collected and sent back for Annie to examine. They had worked in silence, and that was better. Once everything was packaged, it would be sent back to Annie for analysis. Just another bit of routine, but it gave Claire no comfort. The evidence would provide no new insights. They knew Danny Ward was the murderer, how he did it, even why, as much as one can understand a psychopath's actions. Danny'd never left clues behind to indicate his next destination, and Claire doubted he would do so now, except to lure her into a deadly trap. *

-Ring!- *Claire picked up her cell.* Yes?

/I'm sorry, Claire. I just found out. Your mom was cool./

Thanks, Annie. She liked you too. *They had met when Claire gave her mom a tour of where she worked. Oddly enough the two shared a fondness for Rocky Horror Picture Show. Claire had never quite got the movie, herself.*

*Leaving Tim and Agent Sinclair in the house, Claire walked through the kitchen, and out into the backyard. The swingset Claire had enjoyed as a child still remained. She'd spent a lot of time out here in her youth, trying to swing over the bar itself. That goal had eluded her, and she was damned if she'd let it happen again, not for something she wanted, no needed, so desperately. As the chill of the air began to soak into her bones, she stared up at the moon.* I'm sorry, Mom.. *Then, she sat in a swing, covered her face with her hands and started to cry. Her deep gasping sobs shook her body as she cried for all that had been lost. She cried for every Lucy as she saw their faces in her mind. She cried for her mother, for Danny's wife and child, for Tim, even for Danny himself. For now, she understood him. It was only the thin threads of sanity that were preventing her from pulling a Danny herself, and going on a rampage. It was all so senseless, so fucking senseless.*

*As she cried, Tim and Agent Sinclair watched from the kitchen window. Sinclair turned to Tim with a concerned look on his face.*

|Shouldn't we go out there? She's awfully upset.| *Tim shook his head with a sigh.*

~Nope. She's out there because she needs to be alone. She'll be back, with a vengeance..~