Norman Stansfield was not a sane man, by anyone's standards. But he did have a sense of morality, albeit a minimal one. He might be dangerous, cruel, maniacal, and a million other things that can't be mentioned, but he was still a human being. He still felt hurt, anger, although that one was obvious, he felt happiness, bliss, and love. Yes, Norman Stansfield, or Stan as he was called more commonly, had once been in love. Still was, actually.
Meagan Finnegan was her name. She had spent most of her time staring at him like he was the best thing that had ever walked the earth. He didn't understand why, personally, but he supposed that he was attractive to some people.
Maybe she was one of them.
She was certainly beautiful, with her cool green eyes and dark brown hair. She was his secretary, funny enough, so that made it real easy for her to be near him. She gazed at him secretly, or so she thought.
Stan was quite aware of her crush on him, although he had his suspicions that it was more than a simple crush. She mooned over him and practically worshipped him, although subtly, for about two years.
And then, all of sudden, she stopped.
Stan supposed that he should've been thankful that the foolish girl had finally got over him, but Stan also wondered why she had stopped and he found that he missed it. He missed her "secret" stares and gazes that he caught every so often, making her blush.
And then one day, Stan found out why she had stopped fawning over him. And the reason made his blood boil.
One day, he had been sitting at his desk, going over some piece of paper, when he just so happened to look up and out his window that connected his personal office to the room where Meagan's desk was situated.
There stood a young man, holding her by her waist, kissing her.
She left me for that prat? Wait a minute what am I saying? Left me? She was never with me to begin with!
The man, who was much younger than him, Stan noted, was rather handsome, what with his blue eyes and black hair and his tall stature. Stan felt his anger level rise as he watched him kiss his girl, Stan's girl.
Hey, whoa, whoa, hey; hold on second there, Stan. She is not your girl, and she has never been your girl. So, uh, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GOING ON ABOUT?
"I have absolutely no idea," Stan whispered to himself. Great, that's just what he needed. People thought he was ready to be carted off to the loony bin as it was. If people started hearing him talk to himself, they would sedate him and strap him into a freaking strait-jacket. No, Norman Stansfield had already been through that, and one time was plenty, thank you very much.
But, upon focusing his easily distracted attention on to the couple, Stan felt something rise up from within him and made him want to kill the idiot who dared to touch his girl; his Meagan.
There I fucking go again. Meagan is not mine, never was mine, and by the looks of it, never will be.
He knew that he had fallen in love with the girl who had been crazy over him. Stan sighed and got back to his work, although now he found it utterly boring…much like Beethoven after his openings.
About a month later, Stan came in one day, and immediately he noticed something was off. He chanced a look at his secretary and noticed that she was crying, or at least she had been crying.
"Hey. Meagan," he said. She looked up at him, surprise written all over her pretty features.
"Mr. Stansfield. Is there something you want me to do for you?"
Stan was a little taken aback at the shocked look on her face, immediately guessing that it was because she didn't think he knew her name.
"Yes, I want you to tell me why you're crying," he said. Normally, Stan wouldn't think twice of a girl crying but she was different. He loved her…even if he didn't want to admit it.
"Oh. Um, my boyfriend, Rickie, dumped me this morning," she said, sniffling.
Stan nodded solemnly, although inside he was cheering. "He's an idiot. Letting a girl like you go, he has to be."
Meagan smiled at him shakily and said, "Thank you, Mr. Stansfield."
He nodded and was about to start walking on when he stopped and said, "You know, Meagan, if you want you can call me Norman or Stan."
She nodded and said, "Ok…Norman."
He smiled and walked on. He decided that she would be the only one that he would willingly allow call him Norman.
Two months after that, a shooting broke out and Meagan was mildly injured. Although she was only clipped by a stray bullet, Stan still shot the guy that shot her in the head and back multiple times for good measure.
You touch her, you die, thought Stan as he delivered the last shot.
The medics arrived to assess the situation and Stan brought Meagan out to them. They sat her down and started to check her over for any sort of injuries, other than the obvious. Stan stood by her the entire time and when the medics left to go take care of the more seriously injured victims, he stood in front of her and helped her stand up.
"Are you all right?"
She nodded and said, "Working for you is definitely isn't uneventful, I'll give you that."
He chuckled and tilted his head at her. "I've got a question for you," said Stan.
Meagan raised her eyebrows as a sign for him to continue.
"Why did you fawn over me for two years?" Meagan averted her eyes as a blush started creeping up her neck. Stan gently, which was surprising for him, placed a finger under her chin so that she would look him in the eyes.
"You noticed that, huh?" Stan nodded and she continued.
"I admired your bravery, and your dedication and loyalty to those who are loyal to you."
"That's it?" Stan asked, slightly disappointed that she didn't say that his looks were a part of it.
"Well, Norman, I mean, not only that, but I thought you were the most attractive man I had ever laid eyes on. I still do," she added quietly.
Norman felt his pride and heart swell and he mentally slapped himself for getting so worked up. "What about that prat, Rickie or whatever his name was, that you dated?"
Meagan got a little confused and said, "Who? Oh him, he was a jerk. I never meant to fall for him. I only started dating him because I knew that you never would return my feelings."
Stan nodded and took her hand and said, "I'm not a good guy, Meagan. I could never give you what you deserve. I'm dangerous and volatile, and, quite frankly, I'm not completely sane."
Meagan looked him right into his light blue eyes, and said, "I know. But I still love you Norman."
"I'm not right for you, Meagan. As much as I wish that I was, I know that. As much as I love you, you wouldn't ever be safe with me."
Meagan shook her head and said, "Norman, we live in New York City; I'm not safe as it is. But I don't care." Stan searched her green eyes for any self-doubt and found absolutely none.
She truly loved him, and Stan found that he was absolutely, entirely, and unequivocally in love with Meagan Finnegan.
Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, waiting for her to respond. She did respond, almost immediately, and Stan honestly couldn't have imagined a more perfect moment. It was like nobody existed except for the two of them. Her arms went around his shoulders and he gently placed his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. When the kiss ended, Stan pulled her into his arms and just held her. I am the luckiest guy on the whole earth. Norman Stansfield, after years of solitude, had finally found his saving grace.