Judas: Chapter 1
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DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
This story picks up right where Homecoming left off, so read that story first – this is the 8th story in the Different Road Taken AU.
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9:19 p.m. West Coast Time on Wednesday, April 25, 2012, at the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California
The cool rag alongside her face feels comforting against the sting of the cuts and the deep bruising already festering beneath the surface of her cheeks, and under her eyes. Randall Morris was nothing if not efficient in the beating he gave her earlier this evening.
Correction. The beating she allowed him to give her.
The pain is easily bearable. She has endured far worse. In fact, it is familiar pain, almost friendly. A companion that she is comfortable with. Still, she considers how easily the punches were administered by Morris, and files the experience away for more consideration at a later time. A man who would so easily hit a woman is – at his core – one she normally will not tolerate.
The irony of what she has just allowed to happen, of where she is and why she is here is not lost on her.
For now, she stays in the moment, content to play the role of frightened, battered girlfriend with no place to go, and no family to turn to for help. She dials her natural Ukrainian accent up just a little more heavily, as she speaks to the nurse who is assisting her. Despite her mission, despite her real reason for being here, she finds herself admiring the spirit, the passion and the mission of the people she has met in the past ten minutes at this facility.
It does not change her mission. But it has given her pause. This is the treatment, the welcome that is given to unfortunate women caught between a cowardly bully and the streets? She can see the good being done here in even the few minutes she has been here.
A gauze filled with antiseptic brings her out of her reverie, and to the present moment.
"Rrrr," she allows herself to grunt, then allows a mock sound of pain and fear to escape her lips. Her eyes dart around, fearful of her surroundings, which only sells the performance more deeply to those attending to her.
"Please be careful with that?" she breathes huskily, allowing the pain to seep into her voice.
"It's okay, Miss Markov," Nurse Emily Carson tells her. "I am almost finished here," she tells her as she applies the butterfly bandage above her left eye.
"I think we can keep you from getting stitches above this eye," Carson tells her, and then turns toward Dr. Samantha Peraza, who has been watching from the doorway.
"Give me another minute with her here, Doc," Carson tells Dr. Peraza. Richard Castle's longtime friend simply nods her head in agreement, and walks out of the room, now moving down the hallway toward the admissions office.
"I guess I am lucky I don't need stitches," Markov tells the tall, blond-haired nurse. Emily Carson has been with the facility for less than a month, one of the new night-shift hires made by Mike Monroe in the past six weeks.
"I wouldn't call anything you have experienced tonight to be 'lucky'," Emily tells her temporary patient. "But you will be safe here. You're in a good place, I promise you."
"How is she doing, Emily?" Mike Monroe asks. He, too, has been standing by the door with Dr. Samantha until the good doctor took her leave just seconds ago.
"Do you think we should take her to the clinic?" he asks.
"No," Emily replies. "She is not fine, don't get me wrong. But we have her stabilized now. More than anything else, we just need to get her admitted and let her get some rest. She's been through enough tonight."
"Thank you," Elena replies, interrupting the conversation.
"Not a problem," Mike tells her tensely, clinching and un-clinching his fists as he also takes his leave from the small nursing area to join Samantha in the admitting office.
His tense nature does not go unnoticed by the campus' newest resident.
"Is something bothering Mr. . . ?" Elena asks, leaving the question open.
"Monroe," Nurse Emily tells her. "Mike Monroe. He is the head of security for this entire complex. And what is bothering him is you. He takes this personally. I am relatively new here, but I understand that he grew up with this sort of thing in his childhood. With his own mother."
Elena nods her head knowingly, filing this information about the security chief away for future use. Sure, she is in pain. But this entire admissions process is a reconnaissance exercise for the woman in disguise. Her long-time training in taking in information and data in the most inconspicuous manner possible is on full display this evening.
Suddenly she feels the hands of Nurse Emily under her shoulder blades, and she is being expertly pulled up into a sitting position.
"Okay, Miss Markov –"
"Elena," Elena Markov corrects her.
"Okay, Elena," Emily continues with a smile on her face. "Let's stand you up and get you to admissions. It will be quick, I'm sure, and they will get you settled into your new place."
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9:52 p.m. West Coast Time in Elena Markov's new residence home at the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California
Elena Markov stands at the mirror, leaning over the bathroom sink in the bathroom in her small, new temporary home. She is staring into the mirror at the face looking back at her. The bruises are now pronounced, and the swelling has kicked in. She touches the small butterfly bandage above her left eye.
"You did good work," she says aloud admiringly, talking about the care provided to her by Nurse Emily Carson.
She turns her head from side to side, taking in the damage. Normally she would have to add some additional touches to the bandaging and care, but she realizes that Carson has done an excellent job at not only bandaging her up, but taking steps to ensure rapid healing.
"Good work, indeed," she says aloud again.
She takes a deep breath, then turns away from the mirror, walking out of the bathroom, turning the light off as she departs. She walks straight to the bed, taking in the magnificent décor of her surroundings. It is clear that absolutely no expense has been spared in the creation of this place. It is not an antiseptic, detached 'shelter', as she has seen and heard of in the past. No, this place is something someone with money would desire to obtain.
"Stay focused," she tells herself. In truth, the entire forty-five minutes she has been here has ignited a conflict within the longtime East European soldier, spy and master assassin.
When Barry Adams asked for her help, it was hard for her to turn down his request, for two reasons.
First, the man showed up at her doorstep. Very few people are bold enough to do so. Fewer still after flying across the ocean for a face-to-face meeting.
Second, Barry is William Bracken's brother. Step-brother, technically, but it doesn't matter. Family is family, and she owes a favor to Barry's departed brother. In the past, she had done a number of different jobs for the U.S. Senator, and he always repaid in kind. His untimely death left her owing a debt, and when Barry came calling . . . well, duty and honor demanded she accept his request.
Barry has told her that he has made some powerful enemies on his quest upward – much as his brother did. That does not surprise her. Enemies are made along every journey. That his enemies are here – in this place? That his enemies built this place?
She is struggling with the dichotomy of the situation. Yes, Barry told her about Richard Castle. Ex-author – no, she did not read his books – and now current philanthropist. He told her about the homeless shelters that Castle had built for battered women. That has been the extent that he has shared with Markov to date.
He has left out the part about his alter-ego persona, Donovan. He has conveniently left out the part about 49 kidnapped women held captive – by Barry Adams. He has left out the assault on the Castles Complex. Those last two items are public news. But his involvement in either has not been made public.
Even Sam the Bastard Carlos has chosen to keep silent on that matter.
He has – however – told her that Castle is a problem, a thorn in his side, because of Castle's connection to Sam Carlos – resident mobster of the Bay Area. He has – additionally – told her about his effort to drug Castle, and how magnificently it has backfired.
He has told her that his wife has disappeared.
"You realize she is likely dead," Elena had told him. He replied that she was the second person in as many days to give him that prognosis.
She has taken this assignment, as a favor, but with reservations. She knows Barry, and – like his brother William – Barry is no angel. Barry has a dark side. She has found this to be true for many of those in political power in America. Still, a favor owed is a favor owed.
"Don't make me regret this, Barry," she speaks aloud as she lays down on the bed, being swallowed by the down comforter atop the bed. She takes out her mobile phone and begins typing.
ELENA: In. I will keep you updated.
The reply comes within ten seconds.
BARRY: Thank you. I look forward to it.
She puts the phone down, closes her eyes, and mentally revisits the entire check-in process, her mind ticking off each of the people she has met.
Stan, at the security gate. More than capable. Clear military training.
Emily, the campus night-shift nurse. Excellent at her job. Empathetic personality. Also with a military background. The field-dressing was a clear give-a-way.
"You've assembled a military cadre, Mr. Castle," she says aloud.
Mike Monroe, the campus security chief. Military. Probably special forces. She can tell in the way the man carries himself.
"You will be a problem, Mr. Monroe," she tells the room.
Samantha Peraza. Campus counselor. A good woman. Compassionate. No nonsense, though. Strong. No fighting skills.
They have promised she will meet more of the team there tomorrow morning at orientation. That will be another opportunity for her to assess the resources here.
She picks the phone back up again, opening her browser. She searches for the assault on the campus, reading the news accounts of the incident. More than sixteen hit men assaulted this place a couple of months ago. Every single one of them died. Brutally. And casualties from Castle's security team were limited to a couple of injuries, but no fatalities.
Which means the people she has met here so far tonight know how to take care of themselves.
"I won't underestimate any of you," she whispers to the air. "And I have all the time in the world."
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1:01 a.m. after midnight East Coast Time on Thursday, April 26, 2012, somewhere over the Great Lakes region
The satellite phone on the small, sleek jet rings loudly, rustling the large man out of his slumber. He glances over at the woman across the aisle from him. Kate Beckett is in a deep sleep, as is Alexis who sits behind her.
Richard Castle smiles, glancing out the window at the dark sky outside. He reaches to the phone that sits on the small circular desk in front of him.
"This is Rick," he answers.
"Hey Boss Man."
Castle smiles at the familiar greeting from Mike Monroe. His smile freezes and then drops immediately as he glances down at his watch. 1 a.m. on his watch, which means it is around 10 p.m. back on the west coast. Mike wouldn't call at this hour if it was good news.
"Problems?" Castle asks.
"No, not at all," Monroe corrects him. "I know you are on the way, and your standing orders are to always let you know when there is a new admission into the complex, no matter what time it is."
"Right, right, gotcha," Castles mumbles, his smile returning.
"Ok, just an admission," he thinks to himself. To be honest, he is on edge because of Alexis' kidnapping. And even though she is fine, she is with them, his nerves are still a bit frayed.
"So, nothing wrong – pretty straightforward?" Castle asks his security chief.
"Seems that way," Mike tells him. "Her name is Elena Markov, from in the city. Girlfriend of some guy named Morris. Seems she caught him cheating, and he kicked her out of his house after giving her a few parting shots," Mike spits out.
"I'm sorry," Castle tells him, and tries to continue, but Mike shuts him off.
"Fresh bruises, fresh cuts," Mike remarks. "It is clear that she came directly to us. I guess that we can thank our advertising for that. Seems to be working."
"Thankfully for her," Castle agrees. "We should be landing around two in the morning, your time. John isn't pushing it since we aren't in a big hurry. I guess that will give us time to get home and get six or so hours of shut-eye before orientation."
"Sounds like a plan, if you and Kate are up for it after . . . well, you know," Mike replies.
"9 a.m. start time?" Castle asks.
"As always," Mike replies again. "And Rick, I'm so happy – all of us are – we are thrilled that we have Alexis back. Is she okay? You know . . . emotionally?"
"Surprisingly yes, Mike," Castle admits. She told me she knew someone from the west coast – whether it was someone from your team, or someone . . . else . . . she knew someone would be coming."
"It's good to have friends, Rick," Monroe smiles. "Friends in all walks of life."
"Indeed," Castle agrees. "Signing off, my friend."
"Get some sleep, Rick," Monroe tells him as he hangs up the call.
Richard Castle reaches forward, placing the satellite phone back on the small desk. He turns and glances at Kate Beckett, who he finds staring directly at him. She is beautiful. He is so blessed. That familiar tingle, that no other woman has ever put on him, returns.
"Hey Love," he greets her. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was," she admits with a yawn, "but I could tell you were talking with Mike. A new admission, I am guessing?"
"You have guessed correctly," he smiles.
"So, orientation in the morning?" she asks, although she already knows the answer. It is standard operating procedure at the complex now.
"If you're too tired, you don't have to –"
"Stop," she interrupts him. "You know I don't want to miss any of these . . . any of anything really."
"I know exactly how you feel," he reminds her. "I'm going to get a little more shut-eye. Join me?"
"Give me a few minutes," she tells him, as she reaches her hand, pointing to the satellite phone he has just hung up."
He reaches forward, grabbing the phone and hands it to her.
"Thank you, Babe," she tells him with that smile that he has grown addicted to. He watches as she dials digits into the phone. He has two guesses as to who she is calling. It will be Jennifer, or it will be Sam. At this hour, he is thinking Sam.
He smiles as he hears her greeting.
"Sam," she smiles into the phone, but her tired voice gives away her exhausted state.
"You sound tired, Katie," Sam Carlos greets her. "You are on your way back, I assume."
"We are," she replies. "That is why I am calling. I just wanted to say thank you, Sam. For Willie. For caring. For everything."
"We take care of our friends, do we not, Katie?" he replies affably.
"We do," she agrees. "But this was different, Sam. This was his daughter. This was –"
"This was what friends do for one another," Sam interrupts her. "And Richard made it very clear to me in the past months . . . we are friends. So, there is nothing more to say."
"Well, be that as it may, we both are in debt to you . . . again," she laughs out loud.
"Not for this, Katie," he tells her, and she hears the change in his voice. Even though she knows the man, even though she knows she is one of the few people on this planet he would never harm, she cannot suppress the shiver that runs down her. Chill bumps appear on her arm immediately.
"Alexis is . . . family," he tells her. "Just as you and Richard are family. It would be impossible for me to do nothing at that point."
She is quiet for a few seconds, taking in the words of her good friend, the mobster. She shakes her head once again at how different her mindset is from this time one year ago.
"Thank you, Sam," she repeats. "Let's get together some time in the next week. Just for lunch. Dinner, whatever."
"That sounds good, Katie," he replies.
"And how is Jennifer, Sam?" Kate asks, suppressing the laughter that is right under the surface.
"Oh, Katie, you are a mean one," he laughs, and she laughs with him as she hangs up the call. She glances across the aisle at Richard Castle, who is feigning sleep.
"Stop pretending to be asleep, you know you were listening," she jokes.
"I was hearing one side of the conversation, imagining the other side," he tells her. He glances back at Alexis, who is still sound asleep behind Kate.
"So close," he shakes his head, tears misting his eyes.
"I know babe," she replies. "But all is well, Rick. Look at her. She's fine. She's alive. She's with us. And probably just as importantly – after this week, she is probably the safest person on planet earth," she concludes, with a chuckle.
"That was some message sent," he admits, nodding his head.
The duo is quiet for a couple of minutes, the silence between them that – even a year ago – would have been deafening and uncomfortable is strangely peaceful. He reaches across the aisle, and she replicates the movement. Their hands meet, fingers intermingled.
"So, her name is Markov," Kate finally states.
"Who?"
"Our newest resident," Kate tells him. "Mike's phone call?"
"Oh yes, yes," he answers. "Markov. Can't place that."
"Russian," she tells him.
"That's new," he admits. "But there is a nice little section of Russian immigrants in the city, so that's not a surprise."
"No, not a surprise," Kate agrees. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."
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A/N: As you can tell from the title of the story, betrayal is likely around the corner. Thank you for joining me for this story. I just finished my newest book, and the launch is in a couple of weeks, so all of my writing for the next few months will be focused here.
A slow start, I admit, as we set the stage for Elena Markov's insertion into the Castles Complex. God bless you all, as Thanksgiving week approaches.