Title: False Assumptions
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, but I do fully own up to my obsession with it.
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 4
Author's Notes: This is a WIP. It is both GSR and a casefile. Other than one short challenge fic I posted a few days ago, this is the first fic I have ever written, so be warned that it probably isn't very good. Thanks goes to spunkysquared for her work as a beta; any remaining spelling or grammar mistakes are mine.
Prologue
The arrow was almost silent as it moved through the air; its flight steady, true, and altogether too short as its forward movement became halted upon contact with a resistant solid body.
Human flesh parted under the forceful intrusion of the foreign object. Muscles and ligaments gave way, slowing the progress of the arrow even as they broke under its onslaught.
Coming to a rest, the arrow became like a sponge, its wooden shaft reddening as it soaked up blood freely flowing from torn vessels.
The man staggered back a few steps, his eyes widening in surprise before downturning to see, protruding from his chest, the shaft of an arrow. Uncomprehending, the man stood immobile, watching as a rich crimson stain blossomed outward from the shaft to darken his otherwise pristine white shirt.
Stupidly, the man raised his hands in front of his body, almost as if to defend himself from that which had just happened.
Almost of their own volition, his eyes followed the line of the arrow, out from where it pierced his body and past its cheerfully colored feathers.
Slowly his head rose until he was looking in the direction from which the arrow had come. His still dumbfounded brain slowly processed the fact that there was nobody there.
He blinked.
The shock of not seeing anyone cleared much of the fog that had descended over his mind.
He blinked again.
Looking back down, the man grasped the thin arrow with both hands. He pulled the shaft of the arrow outwards, its smooth surface easily slipping past the torn tissues lubricated with his own blood. A slurping sound ensued, followed by a short lived, low-pitched whine, reminiscent of air leaking from a tire.
The arrow now free in his hands, he briefly glanced at it before dropping it at his feet. Turning around, the man staggered back in the direction from which he had originally been walking.
Making it only a step or two, he was again stopped short.
Pain was exploding from his chest, had been since the shock of the attack had past. But now something was different, something deeper inside himself. Something was changing, or had been changed, and not for the better.
He tried to take a breath. He couldn't.
A sharp coppery taste became detectable at the back of his throat. The taste rose up his throat, higher and higher, before spilling into the cavern of his mouth.
The man involuntarily started to gag before he regained control enough so that he could simply spit out what was in his mouth. A mixture of blood and saliva hit the dry dirt in front of him, soaking into the arid ground immediately.
The man staggered half a step more before dropping heavily to his knees.
His left hand moved up to cover his mouth as he coughed weakly. Pulling his hand away, the man barely noticed it being smearing with blood before he fell headfirst onto the ground. His chest shuttered another few times before all movement stopped.
As the man's struggle for breath and life ceased, silence reigned down over the clearing.
One minute passed.
Two minutes passed.
After a full ten minutes had passed, the crunch of dirt under the unyielding tread of a man's work boots sounded. Closer and closer, the steps approached the dead man.
A hand sheathed in a thick latex glove reached down and felt for the lack of a pulse on the collapsed man's throat. Apparently satisfied, the killer straightened, only to bend down to the dead man once again in order to remove the wallet bulging from the back right pocket of the man's jeans.
The killer paused and thought for a moment. Swiftly coming to some internal conclusion, he opened the wallet and transferred the money contained within to his own pockets. Turning back to retrieve his arrow, the killer absentmindedly dropped the now cash depleted wallet at the foot of its former owner.
Picking up his arrow, the killer carried it several feet away before bending down to stick it point first into the ground. Reaching into a pocket, he calmly pulled out a small container of lighter fluid along with a barbeque lighter. Quickly dousing the arrow with the fluid and setting it afire, the killer stood back as flames consumed the arrow.
Soon all that remained of the deadly arrow was a metal point surrounded by a scattering of ashes. Pocketing the point, the killer casually strolled away, never even glancing back to look at the dead man.
As he walked, a wide grin spread across the killer's face. After all, the weather was warm and the sun was shining.
It was a beautiful start to a perfect day.