The Crucial Twenty-Four.
AN: This is a writing experiment of sorts. It seems in the crime fighting world that the first 24 hours are crucial. This is my telling of those hours from the perspectives of both victim and criminal as well as Castle and Beckett.
The First Hour
The Victim.
Jane's left boot creaked unsteadily underfoot as she trudged along the unkempt sidewalk. She muttered an expletive as her ankle twinged, a shot of pain coursing through her bone with the movement. Expelling a visible breath, the chilly winter air more than evident from her stiff fingers, she carried onwards. Walking really her only option for getting home - well, back to her hotel - as she was rapidly running out of cash in the foreign American currency and didn't see cab drivers too enthusiastically accepting any other form of money. Besides, she was a fearless kind of girl - in a sense - a stranger on the subway had called her brave for traveling overseas alone just the day before. Granted, there was a slight rush of fear driven adrenalin as she wandered the unfamiliar streets alone. She was a mere mortal after all.
The walk passed like most others - she revelled in the strange newness of it all, fingertips numb, music blaring comfortably in her ears. She had read or heard somewhere that killers were more inclined to victimize women on their phones as they were supposedly distracted but that knowledge didn't deter her from letting the familiar form fill her hand from time to time as she moved.
Even with that knowledge at the back of her mind, she would have liked to think she would have ignored the car trailing the street behind her even if her phone had been pocketed. She was generally trusting of human nature in that manner. Logic - to her - stated that people were innately good, only the ones who had suffered some unspeakable tragedy lost their innocence. Call it realism. Call it optimism. Call it Jane's personal philosophical worldview. The label didn't matter. What did matter was that Jane's perception was mere moments from being irrecoverably altered...
The Detective.
"Beckett," Castle whined endearingly - sort of, he was aiming for endearingly anyway, although the less than amused expression on Beckett's face led to the conclusion that he may have fallen short on that account. That was unfortunate.
"Castle," Beckett warned, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she threw her partner a harried look.
"No. It's late, we're going home. Even with my fondness for paperwork I can't stand another five minutes of watching you practically lapse into sleep at your desk. Home. Now. Not negotiable. I will drag you if I have to," he completed his dramatic monologue by swooping her jacket into the air with flourish.
"Fondness for paperwork?" she snorted, a patented Beckett eye-roll coloring her response.
"Phew. That's your takeaway? I really thought you'd have more of an inclination to comment on the dragging part," Castle teased. Taking in her unamused countenance, he hastily added, gesturing to himself, "author, paperwork. Get it?" he chuckled weakly. "Nevermind. Not very punny. Home?"
"Sometimes I count my love for you as one of life's great mysteries," Beckett deadpanned, rising and allowing Castle to slide her jacket over her arms.
"As do I, my dear Detective," Castle winked, spinning her to press a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. "But you do love me nonetheless, which I count as life's greatest miracle."
"So sappy, Castle," she sighed, tracing his bottom lip with the tip of her finger before touching her lips softly to his once again. "Take me home."
The Perpetrator.
Colin snuffed his cigarette underfoot with a satisfying crunch of gravel echoing through the abandoned lot. Serenity at its finest. The night air was brisk, crisp and clean despite the lingering tobacco in his airways. A fine night indeed. It had been one of those days, hell on earth, his boss on his back, his mother moody, a dull yet fierce ache in his stiff leg. Regardless, things were looking up. A smoke to settle the nerves, or at least tamper down the raw adrenalin, and a plan in place. He was seasoned now. She would be his fourth. Whoever she was. There was always an ideal. Blonde. Young. Pretty in that homely country way. He'd find her tonight, or at least an appropriate version of her. None actually equalled her. But the poor substitutes were close enough. They held enough of the pleasure to spark that pure memory. The act, the intimacy, it allowed the past a fleeting gateway to the present. He ached for the past. For her. He was getting better at it too. He was able to block the flashes of fear and pain that crossed their expressions from his mind and hone in on the potent arousal that drove him and lingered long in his veins after he was done with them. That ability certainly increased his enjoyment of the entire act, it made him anxious to experience it again and again.
He was powerful. He was unstoppable. He was the hunter. Tonight he hunted.
The engine of his car coaxed easily to life under the steady twist of the ignition. He cruised the side streets for a while, finding no one suitable. He changed his tactic, maneuvered onto a busier road, satisfied to find it reasonably free from other car traffic.
The beams of his headlights caught the profile of a figure ahead. Her silhouette betrayed her, slim, slender and young. His body hummed in anticipation. He eased closer, trying to make out her hair colour. Beams from a streetlight bounced overhead. Blonde. His grin widened. Perfect. He passed her and doubled back, slowing the car to a crawl as he tracked her movements. He was in for a treat.
Additional AN: Advance apologies as chances are I'm going to absolutely terrible at updating this story... Basically I am the victim, in the currently traipsing around overseas regard (plus I started this as I was walking back to my hotel in the dark...)
Speaking of terrible updating, apologies to those alerted to my Wonderland, The Winter Edition fic, I have intended to add more but have been too distracted living my own winter wonderland!
Lastly, you can thank/blame TheTravelBug for this - it was her home I was walking back from after a day of watching an obscene amount of Criminal Minds that prompted me to start writing this...