So I've had this idea for an AU floating around in my head for a while now, and I'm really excited to share it with you guys! I got the inspiration from a prompt on the tumblr blog Awful AUs (which, I'm going to be totally honest, I do co-run - but to be fair I didn't write this prompt). It is as follows:
Awful AU #337
"I've been assigned by the FBI to investigate a series of disappearances in a small rural town and you're the local sheriff who's Very Pissed Off that I'm now in charge of your investigation" AU
I tweaked it a little bit to fit the show better and then things just sort of took off from there!
This is probably going to be fairly long. I'm not 100% sure how many chapters, but I can tell you that I've got the whole thing outlined. The next chapter is completely written and the one after that is about two-thirds written. We shall see.
I don't own Parks and Recreation (though I kinda wish I did) or any affiliated characters/storylines/etc. Also the title is a play on the song Mr. Brightside by the Killers, which I also do not own. I do own Awful AUs. Actually I co-own Awful AUs. Whatever.
Enjoy!
Agent Brightside
Prologue
September 6, 2015
In the darkness of his anonymous motel room, Ben Wyatt perched on the edge of the end of his bed. He reached up with numb hands and loosened his too-tight tie and the pulled the damn thing up over his head. He tried to hurl it at the wall in his barely-suppressed rage, but it just fluttered to the floor two feet short of its' target. Figures.
He sighed, long and loud, and rubbed his face in his hands. Every muscle in his body ached, every joint creaked, but he knew it would be hours yet before he got to sleep.
It wasn't the fact that he'd been living in this motel room for six weeks or that he'd been working non-stop pretty much since the moment he and his partner, Chris Traeger, arrived that had him so exhausted. It wasn't even that his supervisory agent was dogging him about when they would be done with this case and on the way back to Quantico.
It was that they were too late. He took too long agonizing over the profile. By the time they'd identified their unsub as thirty-seven-year-old Brendon Morrissey, it was over. The officers had arrived at Morrissey's house to find the eighth victim's mangled body right beside Morrissey, who was cold and unmoving due to a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. He knew it wasn't his fault; who could blame him for wanting to be as thorough as possible?
The Amity Park Police Department could, apparently. Sidelong glares followed him like his own shadow through the eerily quiet police department earlier that day, out into the parking lot, on the drive home. Even now in the silence of his tiny room, he felt them slithering on his skin.
So maybe it sort of was his fault. Indirectly, of course.
He groaned quietly and threw himself backwards so that his upper body could bounce on the stiff mattress. The ceiling was caked with that cheap popcorn stuff that was so popular back in the eighties. He tried to find patterns in the off-white substance.
He heard a quiet knock on the unlocked door that conjoined his room with Chris'. "Come in," he said without moving.
"Ben Wyatt!" Chris said in his usual cheerful tone the moment the door opened. Ben rolled his eyes. "I just got a call from the boys upstairs. They have another case for us!"
Ben sat up slowly. "Already?"
Chris smiled so widely Ben wondered if his face hurt. "Yes! We're going to drop by a small city called Pawnee, Indiana. Apparently there's been a pretty high-profile kidnapping in their area, and their sheriff's department could use our help."
"Sheriff's department?" Ben said less-than-enthusiastically. They knew what sheriff's department was code for: tiny. The smaller the department, the more hatred they tended to throw at them.
At least Chris had the awareness to slump his shoulders a little in understanding. "I know. But this should be fast! It's just one victim so far."
"So why do they want an FBI profiling team?" Ben grumbled.
"Like I said, it's fairly high-profile. It's a local celebrity that's gone missing. I got the feeling that they're only asking for our assistance due to pressure from the community."
Ben grunted and fell backwards again. "Fine. Whatever. What time do we leave?"
"First thing tomorrow morning!" Chris flashed him a thumbs-up. "Now, I'm going on my night run. Would you care to join me?"
He always asked. And Ben always answered with a resounding "No."
"Alright! See you tomorrow!"
Ben waited until he heard the front door to Chris' room close to release a longer, louder, more tortured groan than before.
Great.
