He put down his glass and turned to take hold of Alex’s hands.  Yes, what he’d just suggested was what most would call insane.  It was highly illegal, sure, but as far as Andreas was concerned, people like that<i>needed</i>to die.  People like that made him into this thing, and he knew he was evil and wrong and broken, but he couldn’t do anything about it.<br/><br/>“The man who hurt me… the man I trusted and gave my entire life over to… he tried to kill me,” he said, keeping his voice down, but also speaking slow and steady.  “He realized that he was losing his grip on me, and that he wouldn’t be able to have me like that forever.  If you stay, if you let him, he’ll do the same thing to you.  He’ll go mad with the thought of losing you.  He’ll<i>kill</i>you, Alex.  He’ll kill you because that will be the only way to keep you from leaving him, and you won’t have the strength or the knowledge to defend yourself.”<br/><br/>Andreas wasn’t sure he was getting through.  There was still too much doubt, too much distrust.  What could he possibly do to prove himself?  In the end, the answer was simple.  He pulled Alex to him, coaxing the frightened blond into his arms and stroking his hair, still a little wild from the ride there.  Then, in a move that might’ve seemed foolish to anyone else, he whispered against that golden hair, “Frank was mine.  He hurt you… and so I took care of it.”