A LIE OR JUST A RIDDLE?
Chapter 3: Beneath the Surface

"There are no secrets in life; just hidden truths that lie beneath the surface."

Dexter Morgan

"Thanks again for coming," Catherine spoke with a wince as the shiny-headed Victor Zsasz sat down across from her at the kitchen table, "I really do appreciate it."

"It's nothing, Barbie," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he took her punctured hand and examined it, "in fact I was surprised to hear from ya - in a good way, of course!"

"I know, it's been a while~" she cooed, propping up her other elbow on the table to rest her face against the palm of her good hand. "Another reason why I hated to have to call you out of the blue like this."

"Gives us an excuse to chat- oh, hold up, this is gonna hurt."

"What wi- ahhh!" She let out a sudden yelp of pain and dug her fingernails into her cheek as Victor pried open her wounds even further, tearing apart the edges that had started to dry. "Cock-sucking motherfucking bitch-ass..."

Her quick mumbling of every naughty word that came to her mind caused him to chuckle. "Always keepin' it classy, eh?"

"Oh shut the hell up, I read an article that said cursing raises your pain tolerance."

"Does it?" He asked with a grin before ripping open the wound on the other side of her hand, and again she shrieked.

"FUCK NO IT STILL HURTS LIKE A FUCKIN' BITCH."

He laughed even louder as he let go of her, reaching over to a box he'd brought with him. "Haha, yeah I bet, and it'll continue to hurt like a bitch. But I gotta freshen it up before I can start stitching you back together."

She ran her free hand through her hair and took a deep breath, her eyes beginning to water. "I swear to every fuckin' god I'm gonna rip his throat out."

"Oh?" His brown eyes glanced up with a morbidly curious gleam. "And then what?"

"And... and then I-I..." With another wince, she shut her eyes and looked away as she saw him pull out a needle and long strands of suture material, trying to force the most gruesome and horrific images of physical torment into her mind so that she wouldn't think about the pain she was about to endure. "Fuck, I dunno, I just wanna... you know, inflict copious amounts of injuries."

"Come on," he rolled his eyes as he threaded the needle and grabbed her hand to hold it steady, blood continuing to seep onto his own hand and the table, "you're more descriptive than that. Besides, you start with throat-ripping, you're gonna have a very limited time span to do anything else."

"Ugh, I know, I just... I don't even know what I'd do to him if I got the chance."

He pierced her skin with the needle and she bit her lip to keep from screaming, leaning forward to bury her face against her arm. "There's always a spot for you in my crew, Barbie."

"Yeah," she hissed with a whimper, "but black leather and whips were never really my aesthetic."

"Then come work for Falcone directly. Trust me, he takes care of his assets, and he doesn't get all short-tempered and stab them."

"Would I get health benefits?" Her voice was shaky and weak and quiet, as he slowly but steadily continued to stitch her open wound closed.

"Oh of course, you get dental, health, the works!"

"Damn, maybe it's time to put in my two weeks' notice."

He laughed, pulling the sutures tight and frowning as he watched her shake and tense up, determined not to yell or show just how much pain she was in. "Seriously though, I think you should consider it. I can talk to Falcone, he knows what you've been doing, he could definitely use another seductive assassin."

That last comment left her no choice but to glance up and stare at him as he gave her a goofy grin. "Heh, funny, but... I dunno. Maroni's got a lot of shit on me, it's complicated."

"The fuck is he gonna do? Once you're under Falcone, he's in all kinds of deep shit if he lays a hand on you. Even he's not dumb enough to do that."

"You really don't think he'd come after me? Send anyone after me?"

"Pffft, no chance. You know about Oswald Cobblepot?"

"Who?"

"Exactly, he's practically a nobody. Or, at least he was until he gave his loyalty to Falcone. Acted as a snitch for Maroni for a short time. Maroni found out, tried to kill him, the little rat escaped and told Falcone, and now Maroni won't get anywhere near him. He knows he's as good as dead the moment he does anything."

"Heh, that easy?" Her brow furrowed, her tone skeptical. "He just, left him alone?"

"Yep." Victor gave another sharp tug to the sutures, pulling the separated edges of her skin closer together, and she pressed the back of her other hand against her mouth to keep quiet, though her eyes were swelling with tears. "So I mean... you'd be in good hands" - he suddenly snorted - "uh, no pun intended of course!"

"V-Vic..."

"Maroni's gonna keep bullying you like this, though, if you-"

"Victor..."

"-let him, I mean at this rate he could try and have you ki-"

"FUCK, VICTOR."

"What?!"

"G-get a trash can..."

"Oh shit." Carefully setting down his impromptu surgical supplies, he ran over and grabbed her kitchen trash can and brought it over just in time for her to lean over and throw up into it. With a sigh, he brushed back her hair. "You know, no one would be afraid of serial killers if they saw shit like this."

"Shut- the fuck up-" she muttered between heaves, before finally sitting up and taking a deep breath. "I'm good... thanks."

"You so owe me for this," he grumbled, pushing the trash can away before taking his seat and resuming.

"I know..."

"So what's ol Maroni holding over your head, anyways?"

Catherine turned her head away from him and her bleeding hand, trying to mentally numb the pain. "Video. He's got video footage, some private surveillance camera, the fuckin' thing captured my entire ritual."

"Your killing ritual?"

"Jesus, everything... Everything leading up to the kill, everything afterwards. It's my signature, it'll link up to every body they've found so far. That one video is enough to get me a premium seat in the electric chair."

"Ugh, come on, Catherine, you know they do lethal injection these days."

Pouting her lips, she glanced back to him. "Even worse, I'm terrified of needles!"

"So... you do whatever he tells you to keep him from turning over that video."

"That's how it works, yeah."

"Hmm..." Victor tilted his head in thought as he finished stitching up the palm of her hand. "I still think Falcone should be able to work something out to keep you safe." Using a small pair of surgical scissors, he snipped the suture thread and knotted the ends together to keep everything tight and in place. "Now for the other side~!"

With a loud smash, a heavy flat-faced hammer collided with the porcelain skull and splattered the white walls with thick red blood.

... well, Edward liked to imagine it was blood, as he loomed over another smashed mannequin head filled with red paint, examining the pattern that had been created on the wall and across the edge of the table from the different angle of impact he'd used.

I wonder how sweet little Catherine would feel about this!

Edward shook his head, lowering his hammer. "This is me doing my job. I told her what I do and she even thought it was interesting."

Oh I'm not talking about that, nitwit. His eyes seemed to caress the crimson mess on the wall. I'm talking about actual blood. What you wish this was, because paint's not nearly as exciting to spill.

He grimaced, moving the smashed head over to the side before grabbing a brand new one and setting it on the table. "She won't find out about that. No one will."

We both know that won't matter. It's going to happen again. From the side this time, he swiped the hammer, crashing it right against the head's temple and red paint spurted out across the table, floor, and wall. You keep acting like everything will be fine if no one finds out you stabbed a police officer-

"Stop it."

-dismembered his body-

"Stop!"

-and bathed him in acid until he was nothing but bone!

His eyes were full of fear and innocence as they widened, his arms slowly dropping to his sides. "No... no, it's over and done with. No body, no crime, right? No one will find out, no one will know, and everything will be okay."

But it won't be. It won't be okay. It's not over, it's not done with. Face it, you're a monster. Spent your whole life putting them away, but now it's your turn. It's fun and it's thrilling and you know exactly how to cover it up - after all, you're the smartest guy here! No one stands a chance against you. Against us.

"I-I'm not a monster..." he whispered under his breath.

I think Catherine would disagree. Can you just imagine?! Those big blue eyes staring up at you in pure horror~

He strained to push back thoughts of her flesh, her soft gasping lips, her widened eyes. He didn't want those images, or rather, he didn't want the feelings those images gave him. He'd broken his own heart pursuing Miss Kringle for the past year, knowing good and well she wasn't interested and didn't even remotely like him - but he'd clung on to some ridiculous naive optimistic hope that maybe she would decide to give him a chance and see all that he had to offer. Now he had a gorgeous and spritely young woman who had danced right into his life, was charming and intelligent and, low and behold, seemed to legitimately enjoy his company! He wasn't going to let himself ruin this chance of genuine companionship. He'd do whatever it took to make sure she never found out his dark little secret, to make sure that he wouldn't lose her. He couldn't lose her. Those are pretty intense feelings to have after what... one actual date? That was right, he'd really only been on one date with her. Their first night was a fluke and he'd chocked it up to her being friendly enough to enjoy his company since they'd both been stood up. Two nights, one date. Is that all it takes to win you over? Haha, god you're pathetic, you realize that, right?

Edward nearly jumped out of his skin when another voice suddenly filled the otherwise silent room. He spun around, holding his paint-spattered hammer, then clutched his chest with a gasp of relief.

"I'm so sorry, Ed!" Lee gave a quiet laugh, holding her hands up with an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to frighten you!"

"Doctor Thompkins," he spoke, now able to chuckle at his own scare, lowering the hammer, "it's alright, I was just, uh, you know!" With an overly animated gesture, he swung his arm out over the smashed heads and paint mess. "Lost in my observations!"

"I see." She took a moment to make her own observations, finding herself rather curious. "So, what exactly are you doing...?" Crossing her arms, she drew closer to him and his work for a better look.

"Oh, uh, well it's for blood spatter. See, the heads are usually filled with thick synthetic blood - but since the department cut its budget for forensic analysis, I substitute with red paint - and by striking the head in various ways with various objects, you can observe the spatter pattern that's created and thus hopefully being able to more accurately recognize these patterns in the field."

"Ah, how interesting!" Looking from the unsmashed heads to Edward, she bit at her lip and grinned. "Could... I try one?"

His eyes widened as he stared at her for a second, before jumping back to life and quickly handing her the hammer. "Sure! Sure!" With great enthusiasm he grabbed a new head and positioned it on the table. "Yep, just uh, give it a nice little tap wherever you want!"

She lightly swung the hammer straight down against the mannequin's forehead, with just enough force to crack the surface, red paint slowly beginning to seep up through the webbed lines. "Oh god, that was terrible," she laughed, hanging her head in playful shame before perking up and readying herself for another hit. With a harder swing, she hit the same spot as before, this time shattering the forehead open and spattering a good deal of paint.

"Much better!" Edward said with a wide grin, and she returned the smile.

"Wow, that took a lot more aggression than I thought!" Looking back to how many he had already smashed, she turned back to him. "I don't see how you've done so many. I like to think I'm entirely weak but my arms are already feeling it."

"Oh, well uh. You know. Just a-"

"-way to let out your frustrations?"

Again his eyes widened like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and she merely responded to his reaction with a calm, kind smile.

"It's alright, Ed. Everyone gets angry, everyone needs an outlet. And look, yours," she turned to glance again over his work, "is actually helping people."

He couldn't help but smile like a reassured puppy, and soon felt himself beaming under her kindness and wisdom. But then it struck him; was that what she was leading up to all along? Had she overheard him talking to himself? Is that why she'd come in so unexpectedly? "D-Doctor Thompkins?" His own voice surprised him, as he had spoken before even deciding what he needed to say.

"Please, Lee is fine... What is it?"

He blinked for a moment, his gaze averting to the side as he stammered out his undeveloped thoughts. "Uh, I just-ah, thought maybe I could get your advice on something." His words quickly sped up until they were practically bubbling out from his lips as he turned to face her again. "I mean, you're really nice and you're smart and you're a woman so!"

She laughed again, finding his quirkiness somewhat endearing. "Of course, Ed, what's on your mind?"

"Uh... well, I've started seeing this girl..."

"Ah, yes! Jim told me you had a gorgeous date a couple nights ago."

"Yes! But... I don't know. I'm not sure how this is uh... supposed to progress?" His overly animated hand gestures returned as he struggled to push out the right words. "I mean, I think she likes me, and I like her, but do we just keep going out on dates? Do I do something differently? Are we... are we a couple?"

Lee set the hammer down on the table with a gentle smile. "It's okay, Ed, there's really no one right way to do things in a relationship. Everyone is different. You... went after Kristen Kringle in the records annex for a long while, right? But as hard as it may have been to accept, you two just weren't the right match. Good evidence, maybe, but for the wrong crime."

As odd a metaphor as that might have been, it somehow helped the message click in his mind. Trying to get Miss Kringle to find interest in him did feel like trying to match a random piece of evidence to an unrelated crime scene.

"This girl, however, well it sounds like you two get along well enough, and she liked you enough to agree to keep seeing you, right? Sometimes you meet someone and..." Picking the hammer back up from the table, she reached out to hand it to him. "The impact matches the spatter."

He took the hammer from her, but his mind was racing elsewhere, his thoughts already a thousand miles away. Lee smiled and patted his shoulder before walking away, but he hardly noticed her leave. The idea of a sudden yet true relationship was both exciting and daunting to him, and he had no idea what lay ahead or how he should proceed... but she'd crashed into his life like a hammer to a porcelain head. When you find significant evidence at a crime scene, you develop it further - you make implications, you develop its importance, you make it a stepping stone that leads to the great truth. Maybe that's all he needed to do. Catherine was his crime scene, his own personal riddle... and he was determined to solve it.

a/n; A couple questions have come up regarding the timeline of this story in relation to the show, and I thought it would definitely be more interesting if this is all happening after Edward has committed his first murder. However, since Maroni is currently alive, it's obviously before the season finale, so this beginning fits in between the end of episode 20 and the events of episode 22... (except for the fact that Ed has already disposed of the body at this point) Hope that clears some things up! C: Also, yes there will definitely be more interactions with Catherine within the GCPD - including her and Ms. Kringle, which seems to be what everyone is most excited to see! xD

Next chapter... "Motive"

Edward and Catherine come back together with a new enthusiasm for their budding relationship, though they each have a very different motive. Then what, perhaps, could Miss Kringle's motive be for stepping in?