Summary – Reporter Richard Castle is rescued during a mugging by a mysterious masked woman. AU, set pre-season 1, and Caskett.
Iodine Sky
Peace rarely found him. Sleep often eluded him, leaving him alone in the dark hours, with only his thoughts for company. When his dreams did come, they were plagued by that night. That fateful night that changed everything.
The storm raged on from the world outside. The rain blotted against glass, bouncing off the windowpane. He sat at his table in front of the window, the city streets bustling below. Sounds of pen scratching against paper filled the empty, white room as he worked.
The drugs the doctors gave him dulled the pain. They numbed and suppressed his memories but they never erased them. He was thankful for that. He had promised her that he would never forget.
That fateful night played again in his mind. He didn't want to forget her; didn't want her to become nothing other than a myth whispered and written about, but never honoured.
He'd promised that he would honour her. And he had every intention of doing that. His hand moved furiously to capture every detail that took shape before his eyes. The glow from the lamp filtered across his pages, bathing her in golden shine.
Harmony came to him, blanketing his tarnished soul, when he brought her to life all over again in the dead of night.
Chapter 1
Richard Castle hunched over his desk in the large, open-plan office. The silver computer screen illuminated his space in an otherwise dimly lit and quiet room. Most people had gone home long before.
The reporter's fingers lightly skimmed across the keyboard. A woman had disappeared from her home in Brooklyn. She was twenty-five years old, and mother to two boys. She hadn't been seen in over two weeks after failing to return home from a trip to the grocery store. This kind of thing happened all the time in New York City, and no one would necessarily miss the struggling waitress who moonlighted as a hooker to help make ends meet. That was all except her young twins and mother.
Sherilyn Flynn was the third prostitute to disappear from the same area they frequented in the last month. The police seemingly had very little to go on, or at least they weren't willing to divulge intricate and important details with the crime beat reporter. But Rick wouldn't stop there; he needed to know the full story, why it had happened, whether it would happen again, and how it would end. That tenacity earned him both praise and irritation from his editors.
Reading over the notes he'd recorded from an interview earlier, he strangled a yawn in the palm of his hand, before reaching out for the last remains of a cold latte.
Time to call it a day. He set the takeout cup down, and leaned back in his chair. Stretching back, his eyes fell to the picture of his then-eight-year-old daughter. The photograph last Christmas of Alexis beaming at the camera, proudly clutching a blue light-sabre in her hands. A smile graced his lips; playing make-believe with his little girl were the most savored moments of his life.
Still musing at the memory, he shut down the laptop. Alexis would just be heading to bed and he plucked up his cell to type a good night text. A soft bleep echoed from the phone seconds later. 'Love you too, dad. There are leftovers in the fridge.' He grinned at her response.
Dumping the empty coffee cup in the trashcan, he slung the laptop bag over his shoulder, and grabbed his jacket from its place on the back of the chair. The office plunged into darkness with a flick of a switch and he headed into the hallway. When the elevators' doors closed behind him, he rode to the ground floor.
"Night, Lou," he called to the security guard manning the front desk. The fifty-something-year-old man sat reclining with his feet propped up on the table, with a newspaper and pen in hand. His beloved folk music rang out from the small radio.
"Good night, Rick." Lou peeked up from the crossword puzzle. "Hot date tonight?"
"You know it," he jokingly replied. Though the self-professed ladies' man hadn't played the scene much since his divorce. Most of his time spent bringing up Alexis, and working at the paper to make alimony payments.
"All work and no play…." The older man drawled wisely.
"…Make Ricky a dull boy."
Lou chuckled from the back of his throat. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
With a nod and a smile, Rick left the news office behind him and set out into the night. The rain from earlier had ceased leaving the fall evening mild and pleasant. His apartment not far away, he decided to walk. He crossed the street, mingling in among the crowd of sports fans spilling out from a nearby bar. He made a mental note to catch the highlights.
The busy bustle along the sidewalk soon began to thin out, and Rick left the bars and restaurants behind him. He rounded the corner, the golden-red leaves crunching beneath his feet. He walked by the park he still visited with Alexis every Sunday morning after brunch.
The happy grin soon died from his lips. He couldn't mistake the hooded figure exiting the park and heading purposefully toward him. With the street deserted, Rick astutely decided to cross, in the hope of evading any trouble.
He never made it.
The man lunged for him. A beefy fist connected with Rick's brow, the brute power catching him by surprise. Rick stumbled back, falling against the park's iron fence. Stinging pain erupted from his foot as he landed awkwardly. A low groan escaped from the depths of his throat.
"Don't make a sound," the attacker instructed in a cold voice. The hood he wore partially concealed his face. He pointed a knife at Rick. "Keep your hands up where I can see them."
Rick held up his hands, all thoughts turned to Alexis and getting out of this alive and unharmed. "Look, I don't want any trouble."
"That's good. That's good." The thief inched a little closer, he tightened the grip on the knife. "Give me the laptop and your wallet."
Rick's hands moved to the laptop bag, and he lowered it from the shoulder. He nudged it with the toe of his shoe to the man. His eyes never leaving the blade directed at him.
"Hurry it up," the mugger barked, darting in closer, looming dangerously. "The wallet! Hand it over."
The person was so close now that Rick could smell the assailant's fermented breath. The black tattoo etched across his left eye became visible. Rick knew enough, had researched the underbelly of life on the city's streets, to suspect this man ran with a gang. He'd written countless pieces on street violence. Knew what happened to the unfortunate people who crossed them.
The silver blade edged nearer still. Rick shakily brought his fingers to the inside pocket of his jacket. He took out his wallet and the man snatched it away quickly.
"Smart!" The criminal struck and Rick's head snapped back. He sagged against the fencing; the copper taste flooded into his mouth.
"Hey! Drop the wallet!"
Rick looked up from the soggy ground as he heard her voice. His rescuer was a woman. Though his vision was blurry, he strained his neck to get a better look. He could see flame-red hair illuminating in the darkness.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" The man's attention left Rick sprawled on the floor, and moved to the new arrival. "Halloween's not for another month, baby."
"I said drop it!"
"Why don't you come and make me, sweetheart." His eyes swept over her body. His mouth creased into a leering smile. He tossed Rick's laptop bag aside and beckoned her forward. That knife was now pointing in her direction.
Un-fazed, she stalked closer, her boots clacking purposefully on the ground. She advanced closer, brandishing two bronze daggers.
"Come on then, little girl," the sneering thug goaded her. "Let's see what you got."
Without warning she kicked out. The heel of her boot landed squarely on the goon's face. Rick hadn't expected that, and the tattooed man clearly hadn't either.
"You bitch!" The man staggered back a couple of steps. "I'm gonna cut you up and throw you out with the trash." Dropping the fingers from a bloodied lip, he rushed forward again.
From his vantage spot, Rick could only stare on in fascination. She dodged the man's shots, landing a carefully placed kick there, an elbow here. She calculated her shots, and wielded the two bronze daggers expertly. She'd clearly studied martial arts; all her weight balanced on the balls of her feet, creating fluid and graceful moments. She was spectacular.
She never used the daggers, never needed to; the man was outclassed, and Rick suspected he knew it.
The exchange was over as quickly as it had begun. Exercising a spinning back-kick, she struck the mugger's knife hand. The weapon clattered to the ground. She kicked it aside. She pressed the tip of her left dagger to the centre of his chest, the right held slightly behind, but ready and waiting to strike if needed.
Immediately the man froze up, all his cockiness had vanished into the light fall breeze. His dark eyes stared searchingly into hers.
"Drop the wallet and go."
Without a word or a moment's hesitation, the mugger handed over the wallet before sprinting away into the night.
"That was awesome!" Rick called out excitedly from the floor.
The woman emerged from the shadows, and he got a first proper look at his rescuer. She was wearing leather pants and a biker jacket. She'd completed the badass look with impossibly high, spiked boots. Her hair was long, feathered, and a deep shade of red. She wore an eye-mask, and it served to accentuate her fine cheekbones. She was quite literally smoking hot. And coupled with her unpredictable athleticism, she could have featured in the pages of a comic book.
"I believe these belong to you." She presented him with his wallet and laptop bag. "You okay?"
"You're a superhero!" Rick whooped gleefully. "That is so cool!" He could barely believe what he'd just witnessed. No one was going to believe this.
"Are you okay?" she repeated, crouching down beside him.
"Those were some kickass ninja moves. Where'd you learn to fight like that?" His eyes flickered to the shiny bronze daggers now safely tugged into the holsters on her belt.
"You're bleeding," she continued to dodge his questions and interest. Rick thought he caught a hint of bridge and tunnel mingled into the twang of her voice. He felt her soft, gentle touch on his brow, but it still caused him to wince. "That's going to need stitches."
"I'm fine. It's just a scratch. I can barely feel it." He immediately shrugged off her concern. It wasn't like he met a superhero every day. "Do you know, you have gorgeous eyes?" He stared into the beautiful depths of hazel-green pools. For a fleeting moment she stared back, her fingers light and delicate against his injured skin.
She broke the gaze all too quickly. "You could have a concussion."
"I feel fine."
"You need to see a doctor," she insisted earnestly. The masked heroine stood to her full height, offering her hand to help him to his feet. "Come on, I'll give you a ride to the ER."
"Oh, okay." Rick took her hand, pulling himself up from the floor. He silently hoped her mode of transportation would be as cool as the Bat Mobile. Despite his excited enthusiasm, his unsteady legs shook beneath him, and he stumbled. Pain stabbed through his right ankle. He'd probably twisted it during the assault. The woman moved to him swiftly, catching him, and aiding him to stand.
"Take it easy." Her arm came to settle at his waist, her free hand rested on his bicep.
His rescuer came almost to his height in those four-inch heels, and he met her smoky eyes once again. Curiosity fuelled his fascination. He had to know who she was.
"I'm fine. Just a little banged up." He began to tug away from her hold. "I can walk."
"This isn't the time for a bruised male ego," she chided.
She pulled his arm around her shoulders, supporting his weight. Rick limped along beside her. She guided him slowly from the edge of the park, steering toward the parking lot up ahead. The cool air seemed to sober the dull ache in his temple, and the nausea faded from the pit of stomach as they walked.
Breaching the silence between them, Rick asked, "What should I call you?" He had to know her name.
"What?"
"Your name?" he prompted. "You know your superhero name; like Elektra, Bat Girl, or Shadow Cat."
"I don't have one."
"You have to have a name; how about Red Raven?"
"I don't think so," she pulled back a little, meeting his eyes.
"Okay, how about the Scarlet Vixen?"
"Give it up, Mr. Castle."
"It seems like you have me at a distinct disadvantage…." He gave her a sideways glance and caught the mild trace of satisfaction that ran across her red lips. "You know who I am. And I don't even know your name. What am I supposed to call you if we meet again?"
"Who said we'll be meeting again?" she scoffed. "Come on."
Rick tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that filtered through him. They entered the empty parking lot. He soon spotted the solitary motorbike perched in waiting. Not a Bat Mobile, but still in-keeping with the woman's strong, sexy image.
"Cool ride," Rick whistled appreciatively as they approached the 94 Harley Softail. He couldn't resist running his fingertips along the leather seat.
"Glad you approve." The masked woman held out a spare helmet for him. "Hop on."
He took the helmet from her. He held it in his hands, regarding her closely. "Wait a minute. I have to know. Just how big a fan are you?" His curiosity peeked. As well as being a reporter, he had written two books so far, and was working on a third in-between suffering through bouts of writer's block. He liked this woman, and felt an instant spark. The idea that she'd read his work only served to intrigue him even more. When she didn't answer he persisted, "How do you know you I am?"
"I do read, Mr. Castle." Her gaze lowered, landing squarely on the ID resting against his chest. "And besides, it's not much of a secret."
"Oh!" He lifted the tag. "You read my name badge, didn't you?"
She flashed him a little smile. "Just get on. Or do you need a boost?"
"I can manage," he uttered and attempted to quash his sinking pride. He strapped on the helmet and got on to the back of the bike.
"Hold on." She choked the engine to life.
Rick wrapped his arms securely around her slim waist. The sparks flew through his veins as he held her, the scent of cherries tickled at his senses. She was amazing, and now with her in such close proximity, that sensation of attraction surged through him.
The bike peeled away from the parking lot. She navigated the glittering city streets. The night's calm air danced on his skin. She weaved in and out between the city traffic, heading for the nearest hospital.
The large structure became visible in no time and she sped into the parking lot.
"Here we are." She stopped beside the ambulance bay. She didn't cut the engine, clearly intending to leave his life as quickly as she'd arrived. He somewhat begrudgingly untangled his arms from around her.
"Well then, I guess this is goodbye," Rick climbed down off the Harley and slipped off the helmet.
"I guess so."
"Thank you," he said genuinely.
"You're welcome." A flicker of sweet concern illuminated in her pretty eyes. "Take care, Rick Castle."
"How do you know I won't write about this in an article?" He was a reporter after all, and any reporter worth a dime wouldn't be able to pass up the story of the extraordinary masked avenger who walked the night and helped the helpless.
"Because I trust that you won't. One good turn deserves another, writer boy." And with that she peeled away again.
Rick smiled. He'd already vowed to keep her secret. She'd rescued him, saved him from being robbed and beaten, and she'd driven him to the hospital.
As he watched her disappear into the night, he sucked in the breath that he'd been holding since he'd first seen her. His very own superhero. So cool. No one would have ever believed him; they'd have dismissed her as one of the characters he'd dreamed up for one of his novels. But she wasn't someone he'd forget in a hurry.
To be continued….
Thanks to Dmarx for lending her beta skills to this chapter.