Wish Fulfillment
An AU story set in mid to late season five.
A/N: I have no excuse for this little mini-story. It was just another of those ideas that came into my head.
All standard disclaimers apply.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
It was a moonless night, with a significant cloud cover that foiled most of the stars that might feel the urge to shine down on the quiet scene. It was a nice home. One that spoke of a comfortable living by the owner. It held a privileged position at one end of the small gated community, such that none of the other domiciles were too close to the boundaries of the fenced in, immaculately groomed lawn.
There was a pond with a fountain, of all the useless things to have. And to complete the stereotype, it was filled with those ugly Japanese carp called koi.
The large backyard contained a heated pool, a flagstone patio, a large screen house, a tennis court and a Grill Master 4000 gas grill with all the bells and whistles. In other words, every chance to flaunt the home owner's successes was taken.
The ten foot stone wall that circled the small community of extravagance had not turned out to be much of a challenge. There seemed to have been a disconnect in the evaluation of the wall when balancing the visual impressiveness against its actual ability to provide security.
The motion sensors had been placed too far apart to make sure that there would be overlap in the coverage. And the lights placed strategically along the top of the wall, weren't. They provided some pleasant looking views of the massive stones used in the walls construction, but left a lot of dark, shadowed areas all along the wall.
It seemed that the form over function attitude of this restricted, secluded community was rife everywhere. The most fortunate, or most unfortunate depending on your point of view was the placement of the groundskeepers equipment shed. Well, obviously it wasn't a shed. It was a well-constructed building that fit in with the ornate colonial style of all the homes of the rich and infamous who lived here.
A lone figure dressed head to toe in black stood on the roof of the equipment building staring at the extravagant home across the fancy circular drive that wrapped around the koi pond. White teeth momentarily came into view as the figure with the blackened face smiled.
The decorative parapet surrounding the roof on the building was perfect for the evening's work. It afforded protection against being seen, and a perfect view of the reason for being there in the dark of night.
As the figure picked up the heavily padded leather case a tendril of long dark hair fell out from under the tightly fitted stocking cap. A hand quickly moved and tucked the wayward lock back behind the ear. Another loose curl found its way onto her cheek. The cap was pulled off and the mass of long dark hair was twisted into a loose knot and stuffed back into the cap.
The figure's attention was refocused on the leather case, and fingers quickly undid the straps, allowing access to what was in the case.
It was pulled out with care and recognition was immediate.
It was the sniper rifle that had been used to shoot her in the chest at Roy Montgomery's funeral. She was very familiar with the weapon. Esposito had shoved it in her face several times to help her deal with her PTSD by showing her that by itself the rifle could not hurt her. It was merely a tool.
She lifted it and smoothed her hand along the well-worn wooden stock. There was a certain scary beauty to the weapon, but as Javi had emphasized, it was a tool. And tonight it was going to be the tool that gave her the vengeance she needed against the vile creature who resided in the temple of excess procured through the destruction of so many innocent lives.
She lifted the rifle and placed her eye at the scope. The upper right window jumped into her view. It was almost like she was right next to it rather than a hundred yards away. She pulled a small sandbag from a pouch she had strapped to her belt. She placed the sandbag on the parapet and rested the barrel of the weapon that almost took her life on the canvas bag.
She sighted through the scope again. It was perfect. Now all she had to do was wait for her target.
She had always been a marksman level shooter with her hand gun, but she'd never had any reason to learn the use of a rifle. She had the basic training all NYPD trainees got while going through the academy but had never kept up the training.
So she had 'borrowed' the weapon from the cold case lockers, and had spent hundreds of hours practicing with it at various gun ranges in the outskirts of the city. Practice makes perfect, but she wouldn't make that claim. Practice made her good enough for the task at hand. She couldn't hit a quarter at distance, but she could definitely hit the man-sized target she needed to.
She checked the old watch with the leather band on her wrist. It was close to time. The window was one for the master bedroom in the house that Bracken's illicit wealth had built for him.
The curtains were drawn, but they were just flimsy lace drapes. The roller shades were left up to allow for a bit of the breeze to come through the partially opened window. It had been a warm day, but not anything that would require the full A/C.
She knew that Mrs. Bracken was out of town, which meant he'd either be going to bed alone, or he'd have a bed partner that didn't matter. There would be no mistaking the silhouette that she would be targeting.
She had been planning this for a long time, and she had used some connections she had to find out Bracken's schedule and she knew that he would be home tonight. He had committee meetings in the senate tomorrow afternoon, so he wouldn't be traveling.
She was confident that her exit strategy was sound. There were no patrols. They were confident in their walls and fencing. She knew that a local police squad car would do a drive through sometime between two and three a.m. She would be long gone by then.
She expected that she'd be out of there by midnight.
She reached out and pulled the foot long cylinder from a pocket in the gun case. With a calm that almost surprised her, she screwed the suppressor to the end of the barrel. She rested the rifle on the sand bag again. She got comfortable as she lined her sight up with the window. Now it was just a matter of waiting.
It didn't take long before the window became a bright square of yellow when a light was turned on in the room. She could see a shadow moving back and forth in the room. She noticed a second silhouette crossing paths with the other one. This one was shorter and had longer hair. Apparently Bracken had decided to find someone else to warm his bed, with his wife out of town.
The woman made some gesture toward the window. It seemed that the breeze might be a bit much for her. She watched as the larger shadow, which would be Bracken, moved toward the window. A smile creased her face as her finger curled around the hair-trigger.
A dark silhouette filled nearly the whole window frame. She could tell he was closing the window. Once he'd finished, he stood up. She had the perfect target. She could almost see the target rings overlaid on the dark silhouette.
Deep breath, hold it, squeeze.
"No!" Castle suddenly sat up in his bed.
Kate, having been startled awake turned to her partner. "What's is it, Rick?" She placed a calming hand on his chest.
She was surprised to see he was breathing hard and he had a thin sheen of sweat on his chest. Kate gave him a worried look.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
Castle stared at his hands, then shook his head. He turned to see Kate, with her sleep mussed hair sitting up next to him. A look of deep concern on her face.
"Are you okay?"
Castle ran his hands through his hair. "Tell me, is there any way that you could get your hands on that rifle the Maddox used to shoot you?"
Kate felt a chill go through her. She shook her head vigorously. "No, it's locked up down in records. I'd need a written order to be able to get it released." She placed her palm against his cheek. "What's this about?"
Castle reached out and pulled her close and snugged her against him. He began to play with her hair and he caught his breath.
"You are not going to believe the nightmare I just had."
Fin.
A/N: I make no excuses for the things that come to my underused mind.
All Readers are Appreciated, Review if you wish.