Fandom: Simon Spector
Prompt: #15, Halo Effect
Summary: Being a bodyguard isn't easy. Being Simon Spector's bodyguard...
Word Count: About three hundred
They aren't lovers. He's the client, and a good bodyguard never sleeps with the client, period. It also helps that he's insane.
There are good things about the man. He knows more about hand-to-hand combat than anybody should, is as fine a marksman as anybody she has ever seen, and he's a certified genius in about a dozen random things from neurochemistry to forensics.
He's also so full of shit that sometimes Sasha has to work hard not to roll her eyes in front of him, much. He hasn't studied any non-lethal discipline, he says, as if somebody with the kind of control necessary for the martial arts he practices couldn't choose exactly how much or how little to harm somebody, and certainly anybody he could meet when "going out."
Truth is, he doesn't have much to do in what he calls "the outside world," other than hunting down kidnappers and mad scientists. Those he understands. Things like supermarket checkout lines... not so much. It's not that he couldn't -if an innocent life depended on it-, it's just that he has chosen for some reason to live like he does, in an obscenely expensive place filled with dangerous toys, and where the only people he sees are those that come to kill him and those that come to ask his help.
In theory, she and the doctor are the ones he asks for help, but she'll eat her iPod if he will ever truly ask anybody for help. Not after Christos.
No, the doctor and her are there to protect him from something else, and, as impossibly smart as he can be, she thinks -she knows- he doesn't know himself what that is. It doesn't matter, she does know, and while it's not the kind of job she usually does, her first duty is always to protect the client.
Even if it's from his self-imposed solitude.
Author Notes: After writting this, I realized it could be rewritten in less than ten words.
She's his Robin. It's a job.