[Summary] Mr Rook ties up the last loose end of the Shivargo's nightclub incident. OneShot.

Safe Hands

You always know the knock of a friend at the door. The rhythm is just as familiar as their voice, feeling yourself flood with a sort of static expectancy, warming you inside out, beating out the syllables of 'hello, here I am.' It's secure, it's familiar. Mr Rook knew very well that his knock was not one of those.

He waited patiently as the sound of a dog barking bounced in short, lingering bursts through the street and the curtains twitched with a nervous and hiding occupant. He wouldn't knock again, nor leave. Wait; just wait. He could hear her voice faint and incessant as his watch, ticking to itself - talking to herself, talking herself into opening the door. And she did.

Only a crack. She was thin and white as a Communion wafer, and just as haunted looking as the female saints had been when witnessing grave visitations. Big eyes, a small face and a large but wordless mouth.

Rook's smile creased his features into a business face. "Good afternoon Fiona. Might I come in?"

She did not answer at first, just stared as the silence spread itself thin with the weight of their reluctance and impatience, the dogs still barking back and forth. Her words sounded difficult on her tongue.

"Are you one of the men that've been phoning me?"

"Yes, we made an appointment with you yesterday morning. I trust you haven't made other plans?"

Clearly she had not. His clarity was an insistence that quashed any lie before it had time to form in her mind. Before she could have said another word, she found herself stepping aside, watching him drift into the living room, taking his seat; the magnetic fluidity of which caused her to drop any hospitality and mimic him exactly. No offerings of tea, breaking the ice, clearing the air, no. She let the discomfort fog around them. He did not fit there. Not at all. Surrounded by the loose disorder of student living with his suit so straight-cut, hands so clean, not one hair out of place, exuding the meticulousness of a well-constructed menace. He did not fit into place.

She sat in front of him, lower than him, as the furniture was mismatched. Her shoulders hunched into sharp contorts that shrunk her neck, deepening the shadows behind her collarbones, her large eyes distractedly fixated on her hands. Rook slipped into his usual composure.

"A few days ago you were witness to a terrible spectacle; one which, I am sure has left you quite shaken and confused." she moved to open her mouth but he cut her down, calm and level-paced "You mustn't worry yourself. No one was seriously hurt. Your reaction to this 'abnormal' situation has, in fact, been quite normal. What you saw was so shocking and so terrible because it was not meant to be seen -"

"But what was it?" his eyes sharpened and she froze, wishing her words back into her mouth.

"In its simplest forms, it was a creature; humanity's best kept secret, and nightmare. You were not meant to see it -"

"But I did." Fiona interrupted as if possessed, but she couldn't stop herself, as he continued to look at her with a gaze so heavy that she could feel herself snap inside, cracking open like a cockleshell "I still see it. In my dreams, in the shadows, down the street, it won't go away. Every time I close my eyes… I…" she hung her head and checked herself "I don't know what to do."

Cases like this could be rather tiresome. This was just the sort of thing men like him sought to avoid. Yet another piece of evidence to show that the populous was not ready for the knowledge that they were not alone. That the great chain of being extended in front of them as well as trailing behind them, with others between them, the angels and God. He could feel her fear - and curiosity - pulsing inside her head like a great swelling tumour, stronger than her little frame and hot as a growing fever. If somewhere there was a subjunctive pity within him, this sight was enough to stir it - though, there was none in his voice. Strictly business:

"You were not to blame -"

"Of course I'm not." she beat his words away "Who the hell made it? Who let it loose?"

"No one. It, and monsters like it are older than man's ability to manipulate genetics."

"Then why does no one know?" the slackness the shock lent her face was almost comical "People need to be warned. No one anywhere is prepared, are they?"

"We are." Rook said firmly, though still even and calm "Men like me work to suppress the evils of that monstrous world so that people like you can sleep soundly, safe in the knowledge that your nightmares are the worst demons you will face. Events such as you have experienced are rare, and we promise to keep it that way. The matter is, as they say, in hand." he smiled smoothly as if to say 'you're in safe hands,' but she did not feel safe and her mute face spoke as much "It is my understanding that you captured video footage of the creature."

"I did." her voice was small, almost guilty "On my phone, but it's really bad quali-"

"We will need to take it for our database, nonetheless."

"But I deleted it."

"That is of little consequence; these things can be retrieved and recovered. We can compensate you for the cost of a new phone."

There was nothing there to argue with, not within reason. Fiona reached into her pocket with an unnatural stiffness and handed over the phone. As it slipped from her hand to his she felt his finger just touch upon her skin and shuddered, giving an abrupt jolt as she withdraw her arm. Her eyes were fixed downwards as if weighted as he examined the phone with a sort of easeful care, before dropping it into a sealed bag.

"You informed my colleague over the phone that you had made no copies of the video clip. Can you assure me that that is true?" she did not answer properly but nodded stiffly, not allowing her eyes to meet his as though in fear of petrifaction. He continued in the same authoritative manner "I trust that I do not need to impress upon you the severity of your actions, if you are lying to me. Exposure is not something we can risk to the world; it would be like subjecting it to an incurable infection. These creatures are a sickness, they are a plague to our society - they must be kept separate, and contained, quarantined from the minds of 'the uncorrupted.' Exposure would only invite them. Humanity would be as an open wound. And we cannot allow that." he paused until she lifted her gaze "If it is necessary… we can, and will sever the darkened and infected cells to ensure the safety of the healthy ones. Is that quite plain to you?"

Her jaw shook as she clenched it, knuckles rising as she nodded again. He wasn't threatening her. He wasn't even talking about her. She could say nothing to the authorities because there was nothing. His warnings were like a flame without ash, a blow without a bruise, a man without a reflection - they did not exist. There was nothing.

"We would have noticed had you published the footage, so I will ask you again: there are no copies? You haven't dispatched it to others?"

"No." she answered in a voice smaller than herself.

"And you do not intend to? We can trust you on that?"

Her eyes did not meet his but rather the space next to them as she paused, the corner of her mouth flicking in suppressed sort of way "Yes."

The silence rolled between them as he waited for the unasked question to drop from her tongue "What would happen? I mean, if someone tried to tell people… prove to people that 'these things' are real?"

"We would notice them." Rook replied with half a sigh "And deal with them accordingly."

"Deal with them?"

"Silence them."

"Silence…?" she echoed, his darker meaning rising up in her voice. An indignation flashed in her eyes leaving a sad after-glare - a little flicker had lit up in her; a small leaf sized flame stretching upwards and upwards, a burning purpose - all sparked because of his choice of words. Some did this. Not fought exactly but snapped back in a juvenile sort of way. Once they had established an Us and Them inside of their heads - humans and supernaturals. A fierce loyalty flared up in them; that they should rally up their side, prepare, protect, and educate… a formulated panic, like a child overburdened with a terrible secret. For that was what it was. Childish. Unknowing how blissful ignorance could be if they just left well alone - left him to do his job, instead of greedily skirting their fingertips around the opening of Pandora's Box. Thoughtless. Reckless. And dangerous. Eve pulling on the snake's tale like the bell rope of an alarm. He had said too much.

"How many people have you silenced?!" Fiona could feel the blood had left her face. Her skin felt cold with fear, panic, anger, and all those human emotions rushing in her veins, but he didn't even change his expression. His eyes hung indifferent as the curtains watching the hate and hopelessness coarse through her.

"People tend to… 'naturally disappear' when they become overly entwined in such a grim business. We aren't the only ones hoping to keep this world a secret."

His eyes sharpened on her and she almost felt herself grow smaller. It really was pitiful, a scared little girl hunched with her chest to her knees, terrified thoughts babbling behind her eyes. Rook would force his voice to be at least tepid, though the smile was blatantly false: "Forgive me. You look as though you've had the fear of death put into you." that only made her shrink further inwards "Would you like a cup of tea?"

As he stood up Fiona moved back, the shadow of a scowl being suppressed from her forehead. "Thank you." was all she could say.

He stood behind the half-wall separating the living room and the kitchen as the kettle rumbled loudly, shaking as if in a fury with him, his reflection trembling and disfigured as it stretched around the chromed edges. Rook could still see her. He wouldn't let her out of his sight. Her eyes would creep round to her shoulder, but she daren't turn her head to catch him in full view. 'You shouldn't be afraid' she told herself inwardly. 'You can watch whoever the fuck you like in your own home. What can he do? What can he actually do?' The landline phone sat right next to her. Just there. The police. She could phone the police quicker than he could do anything.

"'Sugars?"

"Two." she replied after a moment of almost embarrassed hesitation. Three then. She was ridged, unsettled. The silence exacerbated it. Like a stray feather fidgeting in the dull breeze, she couldn't keep herself still. Her eyes fixed on the phone until her tea was set down in front of it with a small clunk.

"I apologise for any inconvenience caused." Rook smiled with something that looked like sympathy, sipping his tea "This has been a rather dour visit on my part, hasn't it?"

The sun peeked in the sky and spilled into the room in straight, bright beams, rendering Rook's irises transparent as cyanide against their glare and the whites of his eyes. Over the rim of his cup he looked into her, and she felt herself grow cold from the inside out. Taking her tea in both hands she looked back at him and heard the dogs outside again. 'They're barking at him' she thought 'What use are they out there? They should be in here, ripping him to bits…'

She noticed that she was staring - being rude, uncivil. Through sheer awkwardness she mimicked him and sipped her tea, watching him as he watched her, though, not to the same effect.

It wasn't nearly sweet enough.

Rook proceeded to call the relative departments and authorities; his people and their people could easily get this mess cleared away. As deaths go, it was by far the cleanest. There was no blood, or soot, or entrails. Even the pictures were still straight on the walls, ceramics un-cracked. There hadn't even been screams.

It had been as silent and unacknowledged as a mutually embarrassing mistake.

No. Softer than that. Like going to sleep. Most people are not afforded such a peaceful end. Somehow, Rook suspected he wouldn't be as he took the mug from beside the phone and cleaned it of the sweet, shining sludge at the bottom that was more than just sugar.

There was still enough left for him, if the mood so took him and brought his hand into his right pocket. Tasteless, colourless and almost painless enough. If he were guilt ridden, or desperate - yes, desperation would be the one - he'd reuse the dregs of hers… however the sink drank it down eagerly enough.

Checking his watch he realised that this visit had taken longer than expected. Too long, perhaps, but at least the job was done properly. He made one last quick scan of the room; the dog's voices still reverberated in the window's glass, ricocheting between the double-glazing, noting the chalky grey moon blemishing the day-lit sky. They would soon be on their way, and he had dawdled long enough.

[A/N] Thanks for reading ^^

This was writing for writing's own sake. I felt out of practice. I must say it's really nice to see lots of new Rook fics popping up; we had about 4 now we have around 9. It's brilliant. xx