A/N: This is what happens when a character gets dragged into a story by a particularly "compelling" character, like Hannibal Lecter. I've done it before, in Snakebite (also in my story list), but this time she is aware of being the author, but not sure about the character/setting, and has trouble resolving the inconsistencies between this reality and the story "reality" - only Truth will make it real. It parallels the process some fan-fic authors go through in creating their stories, getting into their characters' skins to figure out what motivates their actions.
I envisioned Maggie Gyllenhaal as being the actress used to play Leinney Moorlyn (much prettier than the "real" Leinney, but that's how Hollywood does it... She just happens to be the right height and age with the right eye & (natural) hair color (and she can always wear a wig if it's short). Perhaps the eyes are a little lighter blue (they should be medium greyish-blue that turn aqua when moist).
Prologue
The fan-fiction author known by her penname, Leinney Moorlyn, sighed as she felt another immanent story lurking for the right time to be told. Her long legs itched to run away but there was no place far enough to escape. It did no good to ignore it, for the story would gather strength until the urge to write overwhelmed her. Sometimes stories would come over weeks or months in nightly-recurring dreams or as daydreams that would steal her attention from mundane life. She would find her alone-time thoughts completely overridden by the story until she wrote everything down and finished it. Once, a fan-fic story had been thrust upon her from a character completely outside her usual genre – it had been so strong that betwixt sleeping and waking she felt it was completely and frighteningly real. She never wanted to repeat the experience, but she knew the Muses' pull was strong enough for that still to be a possibility…
Fans and Windmills
Detectives Eames and Goren exited the unmarked SUV, diagonally across the street from the murder scene. Ambulances and patrol cars littered the street directly in front of the brownstone residence, preventing any other vehicles from moving closer. Blond Eames was dressed in a practical pantsuit under her long woolen coat, her petite 5'2" body dwarfed by Goren's 6'3" broad-shouldered frame. Goren was dressed to the nines in his usual professional suit, tie and overcoat. They stood by the car for a minute while Eames pleaded with Goren to behave himself. Major Case squad had been called in to investigate as a special favor to the mayor—one of his accountants in an apparent murder-suicide—and in this politically-charged climate, they needed to handle this discreetly.
As they took stock of the neighborhood, Goren spied a woman sitting on a bench directly across the street, a few doors down from the scene. Late twenties to mid-thirties, the moderately attractive brunette was clad in purple suede sneakers, faded jeans and a v-necked sweater the same shade of twilight blue as the slivers of sock visible between the shoes and jeans. She was watching intently as the officers and medical personnel moved up and down the stoop. Curiously thoughtful, he continued staring until he caught her eye as she glanced away from her vigilance. What happened next was interesting indeed.
Goren's sharp eyesight detected a widening of the eyes in surprised recognition. Then, the woman's gaze roved over Eames, before momentarily freezing fearfully as her jaw dropped to gasp.
"Person of interest across the street. Possible runner," he murmured. He casually stepped into the middle of street, Eames at his side.
As predicted, the woman stood up and walked briskly left along the sidewalk, away from the crime scene. Eames trotted with a "Hey!" and then ran as the woman broke into a sprint, expertly dodging pedestrian traffic between there and the T-end of the street. Knowing the neighborhood, Goren took a shortcut through an alley unimpeded by pedestrians, his long legs eating up the distance. He was satisfied by getting to the end of the elbow-shaped alley a second before their quarry—she was glancing back over her shoulder towards Eames and didn't see him coming.
Static electricity crackled as she thudded into his arms; her chin brushed his badge askew as her long hair flopped up into his face momentarily, before whiplashing back behind her. He caught her wild blue eyes with his solid caramel gaze, and almost instantly he felt her biceps relax; her breathing slowed, although she still trembled slightly. Her pupils dilated as her brows furrowed slightly in puzzlement, and Goren knew he could spin her around like a puppet and place her arms behind her back. Eames got there just in time to see the woman's startled face as she was turned around.
A/N: please review; this is the first piece I have published here and am still learning the ropes of how to edit and publish. I wonder if the storyline is working well enough...