Chapter Text
Ashes tumbled from the tip of cigarette to the ground in a less than graceful fashion. Before he was fired and his license to practice was revoked he would’ve gagged at the thought of smoking a cigarette. But now he has so little to live for, who cares what happens to his lungs?
They had fired him for ‘an abundance of unexplained casualties during operation’. Or, he had killed too many people with the blade of a surgeon. He’s honestly more disappointed that they didn’t figure him out sooner. Nearly fifteen years of occasionally nicking an artery here, stapling the wrong part of an organ there. One time he had even just outright sliced the person’s heart open, then closed them up. No one had taken notice.
He figures it all came down to Glassman. That Aaron Glassman had sensed something was off and he couldn’t figure out what it was. So they let him go. Took away his medical license and put him on the short black list of doctors no longer allowed to practice.
Almost immediately after he left they appointed a new doctor to take over for him. His name was Coyle and he knew the stories about that man. He was overly touchy, overly friendly, especially to the female staff. Neil was a killer, but he wasn’t a pervert. He wouldn’t tolerate for his residents to have to go through such blatant disrespect. Coyle’s death would go very noticed, but he figures no one would truly miss him.
It’s his first time killing someone out of the hospital and his hands are shaking with excitement. He can’t wait to put his hands around Coyle’s throat and squeeze.
Claire comes walking out of the hospital, still in her scrubs, with Jared at her side. They look miserable. As he figured they would be. She’s waving a hand around as she speaks to Jared. A head pokes out from between them, brown hair curly and ruffled. This one is also wearing scrubs. Neil wonders if they hired a new resident. He remembers Glassman discussing something about a new resident a few months before he was fired but ultimately nothing came up from it.
His two old residents seem to know whomever this is and chat with him for a while, soon enough dumping him off at the bus stop. Neil looks around, it’s fairly dark, not many people are outside. He looks back to watch Claire and Jared head towards the parking garage.
He waits for a few more minutes, just watching the hospital, waiting for Coyle to walk out. But he gets bored. His hands are steady and almost all the adrenaline is gone. And that’s not good. He rubs his mouth, cursing to himself, before taking a few strides towards his car. Neil’s about to drive away when his eye catches back on the young resident sitting at the bus stop. Who’s starting to look worried. Neil checks his watch. Half-past nine.
The bus is late. Neil inwardly fights with himself. Whoever this kid is, he probably doesn’t deserve to die. But neither did many of his patients. And Coyle isn’t here to take the fall. And the kid is an easy target.
He pulls up next to the bus stop, hands shaking again, and rolls down his window. “Need a ride?”
The resident looks at him, for only a moment, before looking away. “No thank you.”
“Come on, I don’t think the bus is coming. It’d be wrong of me to just let you sit out here in the cold.”
“It’s not that cold…” He fiddles with the strings to the backpack between his feet. “Dr. Glassman will get off work soon. He’ll give me a ride.”
Neil can’t help but grin, full-toothed, wide, predatory. He’s found an in. “Aaron sent me. He said he didn’t want you outside by yourself.” The resident frowns. Neil knows from experience that it’s probably something that Dr. Glassman would not say, but he’s hoping he can be convincing enough. Melendez leans over his passenger seat, opening up the door. “Get in, before it gets too cold.”
In all honesty, he’s surprised the man actually stands and gets into his car. He was expecting maybe a little more reservations. But alas, this man is ever trusting. Neil introduces himself, reaching over to give the resident a handshake. He’s denied when the kid shrinks into his seat and away from Melendez. “I’m Dr. Shaun Murphy, I’m a surgical resident here at St. Bonaventure.”
“I knew that,” he didn’t. But Shaun Murphy doesn’t need to know that. “How’re you liking it so far?”
“If you’re Neil Melendez then you were fired a few weeks ago. For disorderly conduct.”
He smiles. So that’s what it officially went down in the books as? Couldn’t very well write ‘one of our senior surgical attendings was a killer’, could they? “There were, extenuating circumstances.” Shaun nods. Accepting that as an answer. Neil thinks this couldn’t be an easier.
He asks for Shaun’s address, just to string the man on for a little bit longer, and starts driving in that direction. The ride is fairly silent. Shaun doesn’t talk much and Melendez isn’t inclined to push him to do so. When they get close to Shaun’s apartment complex, he takes a few wrong turns. Winds down roads he’s never been on until he finds an empty alley.
Neil shuts his car off, putting it in park, and sighing. “I hate to make this so cliche,” he gets out of the car as he talks, leaving his door open so Shaun can still hear him. “But I really hadn’t planned very well for this. I watched a few episodes of that Dexter show, and I think after you I might just have to do this kind of stuff like he did. No muss, no fuss. But I’m not sure where one gets that much plastic wrap. You got any ideas?” He slams his trunk closed, scalpel in hand. He plays with it as he walks up to Shaun’s door.
Before he can open it, it opens on its own and Shaun just looks at him. Neil can’t move as the resident steps out of the car, seemingly unphased by what he had said. And where they are. “Thank you for the ride,” he says softly. “But I think you got lost. I’m going to call a cab.”
Needless to say, Neil is a little confused. Blade still in hand, heart still set on killing someone, he watches Shaun Murphy walk down the empty alley to the street. Hail a cab. And leave. It happens so quickly he still feels like he could thrust his scalpel forward and dig it into the man’s chest.
The anger overtakes him in one swoop and he slams the passenger door shut, going to get into his car. He drives towards the part of town he knows is infested with what he considers to be lowlife. He parks, half on the sidewalk, and stomps out of his car. The first person he sees is an old man, sleeping. Grabbing his hair, he wakes him up, throwing him to the ground. He sees red, can’t control himself, and he starts plunging the blade into the man’s face. Again. Again. There’s only a few seconds of screams before the homeless man is dead.
But Neil Melendez can’t stop. He keeps going until his arm is so tired he can’t lift it anymore.
He looks down at his masterpiece. The old man’s face resembling chopped up beef. Wiping sweat and blood from his forehead he does his best to clean up the crime scene. Making sure he doesn’t leave anything of his own. It was a crime of convenience. Passion. But he has to get back in his right mind if he wants to do it again.
Draping a moving blanket from his trunk over his driver’s seat, he climbs into his car, exhausted. If he looks just outside his window he can see the man’s dead body. He feels nothing for it. But he feels something. Something that’s gnawing at his brain. People were supposed to be afraid of him. He looks at his blood covered hands, wiping them on his face. Afraid of what he could do. They weren’t supposed to thank him for rides to the bad part of town. They weren’t supposed to trust him. Not anymore.
>>>>><<<<<
There’s nothing on the news about the dead homeless man and Neil isn’t surprised by that. He’s a little frustrated. Wishes he could have a little recognition. He doesn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it however, as he sits back in the hospital parking lot for the second night in a row. He’s ashing his third cigarette of the hour against his boot, waiting for his residents to exit.
Coyle is the first outside, followed closely by a puppy dog-eyed Jared and a cringing Claire. He can see that Shaun is even further back, clearly looking unamused. He smiles. Figures. Part of him wishes he could’ve been Shaun’s attending. But he thinks he might get a little annoyed with the kid. As an outsider, however, he can admire his way to see through all of Coyle’s bullshit.
As they did the night before, Jared and Claire head for the parking garage. Coyle sits with Shaun at the bus stop. The two are deep in discussion. Well, Dr. Matt Coyle is in a deep discussion with a distracted Dr. Shaun Murphy. Neil wonders if he could get Shaun into his car two nights in a row. He shakes the thought when he remembers exactly why he’s here. To give Coyle exactly what he deserves.
The bus comes a few minutes later, Coyle reaching out to place his hand on Shaun’s back. The resident ducks and flinches away, mumbling before running onto the bus.
Melendez is quick on his feet, stalking behind Coyle before the bus is even out of sight. He follows closely behind the other man, careful to not get seen.
When they reach the doctor’s car, Coyle gets in the front seat, Neil quickly jumping in the back. The other man only has a second to get out a, “What the hell,” before Neil is pressing a knife to his throat.
The shaking is back. He’s so excited he can barely contain his laughter. He leans into the other man’s ear, getting close enough to feel the tickle of Coyle’s hair on his nose. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Coyle attempts to turn, Neil presses the knife deeper, drawing a little blood. The scalpel from the night before had been a decent nod to his past life, but it didn’t go very deep into the skin. It was disappointing to say the least. A kitchen knife would prove more satisfying. “You really need to learn to respect your fellow peers Matthew. Claire is better than a lousy invitation to fuck at your apartment. Jared is better than the incorrect advice you’re giving him on how to get through his residency. And Shaun Murphy is better than a pat on the back.”
“Melendez?” Coyle rasps. “How do you even know Murphy, he came in after you were,” Neil digs deeper, cutting the doctor off. “Please, you don’t want to do this.”
“Drive. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Originally he had planned to take Coyle to the bay by Santa Clara, but the man sure had a mouth on him. He begged for a while, bargained, cried a bit. Neil couldn’t handle it anymore. It was all getting under his skin. Pissing him off. So, he orders Coyle to pull off the side of the highway, into a dirt road. It’s far from the hospital, too far to walk, but Neil came prepared.
He’s wearing a raincoat, two sets of gloves to keep his fingerprints from getting on the outermost set, and cab fare. As he’s slitting Coyle’s throat, slow, watching the blood squirt onto the windshield, he wishes he would’ve done something a little more drawn out. Maybe some torture. Cut out the man’s tongue. Something like that. But the deed is done and Coyle’s stopped breathing a few minutes ago.
Neil removes all of the outer layers that may have gotten blood on them and walk them out into the field. Burning everything. Except the knife. He decides to keep that, shoving it in his jeans so no one would see it.
It’s only a short distance back to the highway and he manages to flag down a car that’s willing to give him a ride into the city. From there he grabs a cab to the hospital. It’s almost two a.m. and there are flashing lights outside. The rational part of his brain knows it's not what he thinks it is, but the irrational part wins and he fumbles to his car, speeding towards his apartment.
>>>>><<<<<
When he lost his job, he lost everything. His nice suite style apartment, a good amount of money, most of his friends, and his fiancee. He had nothing, and no one. Except the knife in his hand and the bloodlust in his eyes.
It had been two days since he ended Coyle’s pathetic existence of hitting on women and drooling over porn and no one had found his body. Sure, he’d been reported missing, the hospital made sure of that, but no one had come across his car just yet. He wonders who will be the one to finally see his handiwork. A police officer most likely. Maybe a journalist? Or just some random citizen strolling in the middle of the desert of the highway. Although two days in he’s starting to get a little jumpy. He wants to go find the body himself and call the cops. But he knows he can’t do that. The hospital already suspects him of being a cold blooded killer and all this would do is seal his fate. So, he waits ever so patiently.
Until the third day, when the nine o’clock evening news is on and Neil has to sit up in seat. They’re talking about a body they found on the side of the highway. They’re talking about how it’s a murder victim, a gruesome murder victim. “Who is it? Who is it?” He’s practically yelling at his TV, hand fumbling for the remote so he can turn up the volume.
”It is currently believed that the body belongs to a Dr. Matthew Coyle. No word on suspects just yet.”
He lets out a shaky breath. How long will it take for the police to call him in, he wonders. It’s all so exciting. He drops down on his bed, arms stretched over the back of his head. He knows he can hunt at the hospital any more. No, Coyle was a perfect target. People would suspect him for sure, but Coyle had a lot of enemies. The cops would suspect a lot of people. But if suddenly attending after attending went missing, Neil knows all fingers would start to point towards him.
But that homeless man hadn’t been enough. There was no rush of danger. No news article about the life he had ended. It had been boring. He needs to figure out whos next. Figure out a high risk target that will get his blood pounding in his ears and his fingers dancing along a sharp blade.
He falls asleep, fully clothed, with the news playing in the background.
>>>>><<<<<
He’s not sure why he’s back at the hospital the night after they find Coyle’s body. He had already crossed the area off of his hunting ground. Any ‘last sightings’ of his future victims being at St. Bonaventure would be dier for him. So, why is he in his car, waiting for his residents? No, not his residents. Shaun Murphy. The one that got away.
Not this time. This time he’s experienced. This time when the kid bares his neck in a sign of trust Neil will take the opportunity to gut him in his backseat.
But he can’t let anyone see him. Can’t let anyone recognize him as he takes a risk most likely not worth taking. So he rolls up in his maroon colored Ford Fusion, a completely different vehicle than the one he used to drive. Jared and Claire had never come out of the hospital and he wonders why Murphy is already outside.
It’s deja vu, telling Shaun to get into his car. Deja vu when Shaun is reluctant for just a moment before standing and getting in the passenger seat. “Something happen?”
Shaun’s hair is greasy against his forehead and his eyes are bloodshot. “I’m very tired.”
“Residency kicking you?” He chuckles. Shaun shakes his head.
“The hospital is short staffed.” Neil nods. He knows why. “It’s very stressful.”
“I can imagine.”
He takes the same route he did the time before, taking the same wrong turns, parking in the same alleyway. Opening up his center console he pulls out his knife, glancing up at Shaun. Hoping to see the fear in those cerulean blue eyes. But he doesn’t. Shaun is fucking sleeping in his passenger seat. Shaun Murphy is sleeping in the car of the man who wanted to gut him.
Melendez groans, putting his knife back and resting his head in his hands. He can’t do this. Not to Shaun. He doesn’t know a lot about this resident, but there’s something about the way he naturally trusts Neil that the other man just can’t get over. He doesn’t want to kill Shaun. No. He wants to protect Shaun. Keep the young man innocent. For as long as possible.
He finally drives Shaun home, lifting the young man out of his seat, carrying him up to his apartment. He digs around in Shaun’s backpack for his keys, letting himself inside, and dumping the man on the bed. Neil does a quick look around the apartment. Not impressive in the slightest. All the furniture is in the center of the room (and is that bus seat?) and the rest of the apartment is bland with personality. He does find one picture. It’s of two kids.
One must be Shaun. The other he can’t pinpoint, but he assumes it must be his brother.
Neil checks in on Shaun before he leaves, pressing his ear to the man’s chest. He’s still breathing. A feeling of relief washes over him. Why would Shaun have stopped breathing? He doesn’t know. But it had worried him. He makes sure to lock the door before he leaves (and checks all windows and the back patio door to make sure they’re all locked tight), and leaves Shaun a note. Letting him know that he fell asleep in his car.
>>>>><<<<<
Over the next four weeks Neil ups his kill count to five. A homeless man, Dr. Matt Coyle, District Attorney Amanda Kirkland, a housekeeper named Martha, and a garbage man named George. He also spends those four weeks lurking outside Shaun’s apartment complex. He watches him, tells himself he’s keeping Shaun safe.
Occasionally he’ll give Shaun a ride home, chastising the other man for taking something as dangerous as the public bus. ”Do you know all the creeps who lurk around on those things? And the diseases you could catch?”
There are moments when he thinks about killing Shaun. Finally pushing himself to go through with it. But then the more he thinks about it, he thinks he would be distraught without Shaun. Without a man he barely knows. Who barely knows him.
One night, he finally takes it a step further. Engages Shaun in more than just polite small-talk. “Where are you from Shaun?”
“Casper, Wyoming.”
“Same as Glassman. You like it in San Jose?” Shaun shrugs. “I feel the same way. Lots of scum walking around out here.” He learns that Shaun’s new attending is a woman, her name is Janet Joreau. She tells them to call her J.J. Neil thinks he might like her, if he ever had the chance to meet her. He also learns that Shaun never told Glassman about Neil. That Glassman had made his disdain for Neil abundantly clear from the get go.
“But I like you. You are very nice to me.”
Neil smiles. He is very nice to Shaun. Shaun is his ‘one’. The ‘one’ that he won’t dispose of.
He drops Shaun off around midnight, having unknowingly taken a longer drive than usual. Neil walks Shaun to the door of his apartment complex, constantly looking over his shoulder as they walk. The resident doesn’t seem to notice his paranoia. “Get some sleep. And don’t let the hospital overwork you.”
“I like working at the hospital.”
“I know. Just don’t let them overwork you Shaun. I mean it.” He does his best to sound serious. To sound threatening. But not at Shaun. For him.
Neil leaves a few minutes later, sitting outside Shaun’s apartment until two a.m.
Three weeks later the police show up at his door.
>>>>><<<<<
They explain that they’re just doing some routine questioning. That the hospital had pointed to him as a prime suspect for the Coyle murder. He agrees to go downtown, doing his best to act offended and completely shocked by the accusations. He tells them he didn’t even know that Coyle died, tells them he’s not a big fan of watching the news.
“You were fired a few months ago,” one of the detectives says, laying a manila folder down on the silver table. Neil leans forward, opening the folder. It has a list of all of his patients that he’d ‘lost’ on the operating table. “Officially it says that you were let go for disorderly conduct. But we spoke to the president of the hospital. Dr. Glassman. He gave us a little more information.” The detective reached down and turned the top page. Below it was a photo of Coyle’s dead body.
Neil is quick to look away, feign becoming sick. The cop closes the folder.
“Quite the weak stomach for an ex-surgeon.”
“Surgeons don’t have to look at lifeless eyes.” He growls, placing his hand on the folder and sliding it far away from him. “What’s the point of having me here? I didn’t do this.”
“Did you get along with Dr. Coyle?”
Neil groans, rolling his eyes. “No one got along with Dr. Coyle. He was a pig.”
The detective smiles, like he’s heard that before. Which he probably has if he’s been asking about Matthew Coyle. He reopens the folder, flipping past the picture of the slit neck and blood drenched shirt, stopping at a photo of burnt cloth. Neil licks his lips. From the photo he can tell that there’s nothing left. No evidence. They have nothing on him. “What’s this?”
The detective sighs. “Nothing.” He stands, heading for the door.
“Does this mean I can go home?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, we’re gonna keep you here as long as we can.”
“Do I need a lawyer?” He does his best to sound terrified. Like he’s actually worried that they might pin this one on him.
The detective laughs. “Do you?”
>>>>><<<<<
They keep him there for thirty-six hours.
He has no money on him when they let him go so he’s offered a ride home in a police cruiser. He takes it.
Neil asks the cop who drives him home if he should be worried. “I mean if you did it, yeah.” The cop taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “But if you didn’t I would just say be prepared to be hounded by police until we find who did.”
Neil thinks, as he enters his apartment, that they may never find out who did it. He wonders if they’ll give up. Wonders if they’ll hound him until he’s so stressed out of his mind he makes a slip up. He vows to not hunt for a few weeks. Makes sure that he’s completely in the clear before he takes his next victim.
He goes to Shaun’s house that night, glaring at the parked car across Neil’s street. He knows who it is, knows what they’re doing, but doesn’t acknowledge them for any more than a few seconds.
Shaun is asleep when he crawls through the other man’s back patio door and into his living room. Quiet as a mouse, he opens the other man’s refrigerator and takes out the last green apple. He munches on it as he watches Shaun sleep for a few hours. After adequately assessing that Shaun was in no danger, that Shaun was alone and with no one but him he leaves.