AN: I've been thinking about this for some time now. I have long since held onto hatred for Christian's first abuser and while I've both written and read with glee the many, many ways we've all chosen to kill the bitch troll – It always troubled me that this horrible bastard got away with what he did. So here goes my one shot. For those who are squeamish – this NOT for you. This one shot is EXTREMELY VIOLENT though I think much too good for this bastard.

Eddie Clayton POV

I know that sound, funny how your other senses are heightened when you take one away. I don't know how I got here or for that matter who grabbed me. Hell it could be anybody, maybe some bitch who wants revenge, I bet that's it.

I've had my share of girls, they all start out so naïve and attention starved, looking for their fucking prince charming – the hospitality and ultimately the stupidity of women never ceases to amaze me, the saying should be the stupider sex, nothing fair about those bitches, except a fair price for an hour with them.

"Fuck!" This bastard must have ripped off most of my eyebrows yanking that duct tape off.

"Who the fuck are you?

This slight man in front of me with an expensive looking haircut just smirks, but doesn't answer. Fuckin' boy scout. I notice the blow torch on the table behind him, like I said, I know that sound.

I realize where I am, not the geographic location, I mean, but I know what kind of room this is. Hmph.

?POV

Eddie Clayton is a big guy, an imposing figure even. But really how big does a man have to be to beat up, whoremonger women and torture helpless children. I purposely taped his eyebrows because I wanted him to understand right away that he was in deep trouble.

"Hello Eddie."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm a nightmare Eddie, a monster just like you, only I use my powers for good." I spin his chair around to reveal photos of his victims. I had to blow up the photos of the children so that he could see the detail of his carnage.

I was doing some research on a woman that was found floating in the bay near my home and I realized she was one of six women associated with one pimp who met an untimely demise. There are three more missing, also associated with this asshole in some way. If there's one thing I know for sure, when it comes to dead bodies and missing people, common denominators are never coincidence.

Eddie here has been a busy boy, he doesn't just kill prostitutes or beat the shit out of them he also hurts children, one might say he has a special and creative hatred for children. Two of the children of his working girls disappeared without a trace, it was almost as though they never existed – throw away children, on the fringes of society, no one ever even looked for them as they were never even enrolled in school. No one cared, just line items on a police report that got filed away never to be seen again, no follow-up, no interest in missing and abused poor kids.

One of his women died of an overdose, it was merciful compared to what happened to the other women he…employed. She had a son who was found before he starved to death, just barely actually, fortunately he was adopted by a good family. He was one of the lucky ones, though I'm sure the physical and emotional scars that probably still exist make him feel decidedly unlucky. Both mother and son had horrific injuries, most of which had healed by the time they were found. The boy had been burned repeatedly by cigarettes, his tiny little body the deranged canvas for a mad man – the police file photos from that time are heartbreaking. I am determined to find out what happened to him – I need to know he's okay, I won't stop until I do.

"They were nothin'." He says looking at me with dead eyes, having taken the time to look over all of the pictures, no doubt savoring his brutality.

"You think I give a fuck? I'm supposed to cry about it?"

"No. You will cry, but not about them."

I stuff a dirty rag into his mouth stretching his mouth and making the corners bleed in the process. I then wrap his mouth with duct tape. That's certainly enough from him. I pull his arms taught which are secured by chains on a pulley above his head, forcing him to stand. I kick the chair away from him and cut his clothing from his body.

For the next three hours I use that blow torch he couldn't draw his eyes from once I ripped that tape from his eyes, to tattoo his entire body. I was right, he did cry, passing out when I melted off his dick and balls. I leave him one eye, because I don't want him to miss even one second of the show.

After I removed his fingers and toes I poured vinegar over his head, this woke him as he had passed out from what I can only imagine is excruciating pain. I allow myself to wonder idly if he's changed his mind about his victims, so I remove his gag for the last time. Perhaps having his balls barbequed has softened his resolve a bit.

"Those children were innocent, what happened to the missing children? Tell me and I swear I'll make it quick."

"Fuck you." he barely whispers. It's been weeks since I've had work as this job took a lot of preparation – I had to be sure. I had to prepare mentally as well because generally I'm not into torture – too messy, but Mr. Clayton was a special case. Children should never be touched – no this send-off could not be swift.

"No, fuck you." I say as I stand behind him yank his head back by his hair and slit his throat, just grazing the carotid then I quickly stand in front of him and look him in the eye as I watch him slowly bleed out.

Hours later my work done for the night I dock my boat and head home bound and determined to finish my job. That little boy needs closure, and I'll see he gets it, he deserves to know the monster no longer lives, that he'll never hurt another woman or child again.

~~~Four months later~~~

CPOV

Ana is having lunch with my mom, Mia and Kate today – they are making plans for Coping Together, so Teddy is here with me in the office for a couple of hours. Ana decided against going back to GP until Teddy was ready for pre-school and I couldn't be more thrilled. Sometimes I find myself just staring at the wonder that is my son, I love him so much – gone is the fear that I'm not dad material because of my abusive past, I would give my life to protect him from harm. I am not my past, I never was.

The truth is I don't believe Elena believed it when she told me I wasn't husband and father material, it was just her way of insuring I'd be beholden to her forever. Sick bitch. I've also come to terms with Ana and my mom's help with the fact that my mother's drug addiction was a disease and no longer hold hatred in my heart for her or her lack of protection and care. She was ill and in spite of her neglect, I loved her.

I look down at my sleeping son who looks like a perfect blend of Ana and I with is wily copper hair and big blue eyes and feel only gratitude for such a gift, knowing his upbringing will be full of love and family. Teddy and Ana own my heart.

"Sir?" Taylor beckons from the doorway – I didn't even hear him come in. The look on his face tells me it's urgent.

I place Teddy in his pack and play thingie.

"What's up?" I say looking up at him as I settle myself behind my desk again.

"Sir this letter came for you, along with this DVD."

"Okay, let's see it." Taylor gingerly hands me a letter dated just three days ago.

The paper is blank with the exception of five words and the letter D.

Eddie Clayton is no more.

~ D ~

"What does this mean?" I ask looking at Taylor, who instead of speaking hands me the DVD.

The short video starts with a man sitting on a chair in a dimly lit room with his arms chained above his head – then a man wearing a mask steps forward and yanks the tape from the man's eyes and my mouth falls open at the sight before me. It's the pimp. I look at Taylor who has clearly screened this video as is his job, but he remains impassive as usual. I look back at the video and it's clear the pimp is talking but there is no sound.

I was only four years old and so I couldn't tell anyone his name, even if I wasn't terrified to talk, but I never forgot his face, it was the face I looked for in crowds and on true crime shows my entire life. The face that tormented my dreams, the dreams that reappeared once my son was born, only now Teddy was being tortured. I worked through this in therapy, but I'm obsessed with his safety in a way that probably isn't healthy for anyone.

Now the man in the video uses the camera to pan over the room and I see pictures of women and children, stopping on the last two pictures, pictures of my mother and I; my pictures were taken by police in the hospital. I gasp when I see the images, pictures I've never seen before. I'm so frail and broken, my eyes are sad and vacant. I swallow hard and steel myself for the rest of the video.

Next he places the camera on I'm guessing a tripod or stand, pulls the pimp's chains forcing him to stand cuts away his clothing, he then walks to a table where he picks up and fires up a blowtorch. I watch as the pimp's eyes grow wide, the man steps to the camera and the video ends. I immediately pull the DVD from my computer and toss it on the desk.

I sit back in my chair and look up at Taylor who is still standing in front of my desk.

"Christian? Are you okay?" Yes, this is a Christian and Jason moment for sure.

"Yes, yes I believe I am." I say with surprised sincerity.

"Eddie Clayton was a pimp who was arrested several times in Detroit – for crimes related to drugs and prostitution. He was associated with a number of prostitutes who died, including your birth mother in addition to three who went missing and were never seen again." He pauses and looks down as if he searching for a way to communicate something horrible – I've never seen him do this – ever.

"Spit it out Jason."

"Two children also went missing, children of women who either died or disappeared."

The latest woman associated with Clayton to be found dead was found floating in a bay near Miami, Florida. He disappeared about four months ago after a material warrant was issued for him for questioning in the death of the woman found dead in Florida. He has not been seen or heard from since, no bank activity, no phone calls. Nothing."

"What about the missing women and children?"

Jason just shakes his head indicating he and Welch were unable to find anything.

Just then Teddy starts to stir, and I decide some fresh air is in order. Wana go out buddy?

"No!" Not a problem really, he answers no to most questions while nodding yes.

"We have to work on your communication skills, buddy, we can't have you thinking no means yes now can we?"

I grab Teddy's homemade carrot kiwi juice and bag, strap him into his stroller and head to the café on the corner, with Taylor and Reynolds in tow.

We're sitting in the café as Teddy plays with his My Quiet Book – he loves everything but that zipper freaks him the hell out he just usually flips past that page, I guess only button fly jeans are in his future.

"How old is your son?" Says another dad from the counter where he is teaching his son, who is a little older than Teddy I think, about muffins.

"He's sixteen months, how about yours?"

"He's twenty months in a week." Taylor and Reynolds watch from a distance but don't regard him with caution.

"It's so cool seeing everything new through their eyes isn't it? Three years ago I thought my sister and her husband were nuts with all the fawning they did over their kid, now I'm the same blithering idiot I thought them to be."

I raise my hand in agreement. "President of the blithering idiot club." We both laugh, as he turns to pay for his son's muffin.

"Take care, enjoy your day." I notice the tourist type bag with Seattle printed in tacky colorful lettering.

"You do the same. I'm Christian, and this is Teddy." I say extending my hand. Wow! Fatherhood has really changed me.

He steps forward taking my hand.

"This little guy is Harrison, and I'm Dexter. Be well Christian."