The Rookie

Disclaimer: Don't own Victorious

Chapter 1 (Tormented)

Waves crashed against a red painted hull as a large yacht rested fifteen miles off the Los Angeles coastline. A man of roughly thirty attempted a strong stance on the deck as the boat swayed left to right, his dark aviator shades reflected the sun high in the cloudless sky. Before him stood an old man with wispy grey hair and deep blue eyes shrouded by wrinkled cheeks.

"Have you ever been out to sea, Officer?" The man smiled wryly, his thin eyebrows lifting into the air. Not wanting to pull his gaze away from the senior to look out at the waves, the officer cocked his head to the side and swept his fingers cooly through his thick brown hair.

"Once or twice," He answered. A heavy wave struck the boat, causing it to jerk to the right. With it, the officer's stomach lurched and he swallowed the heavy lump forming in his throat. "I'm placing you under arrest."

"Are you sure you don't wish to wait until the tide passes through? I have no doubt you would be able to take an old seaman like myself, but you don't look too well."

He could have made this arrest elsewhere, waited for the man to dock his boat; but of course he hadn't wanted to risk the man escaping farther out to sea. Even if it meant fighting off a bit of seasickness. Shifting his gaze towards his right he questioned where his partner was in the moment.

The elder walked sideways almost seamlessly, causing the officer to snap his gaze back on the man. "Don't move," he barked. The man raised his hands slowly and let out a light chuckle.

"Now, now, Officer-what was it?"

"Oliver. Officer Beck Oliver. You're wanted for questioning regarding the murder of Sabine Grant."

"Okay." There was a bucket on the platform beside the elder, whatever was inside carried a strong smell that was giving off a foul stench that wasn't helping Beck's current sickness. "So let's talk about my granddaughter."

"We can do that at the station." Just as Beck started to reach for the handcuffs at his belt, he watched as the elder's mouth twisted into a virulent scowl just before he dug his hand into the bucket. Freezing on the spot, Beck's stomach dropped as an unidentifiable sea muck found a new home on his face and in his hair.

Bile shot up to his mouth and his cheeks started to expand as the man turned to run. He tried to cough out an order for the elder to stay put, but found it impossible to ignore the stinging stench filling his nostrils.

The elder didn't get far as he was soon tackled to the ground by someone jumping out from behind a nearby pillar. "Officer Vega, you're under arrest for the murder of Sabine Grant." The woman pulled the man's thin wrists behind his back and slapped her handcuffs over them. She pulled him to his feet and turned to face Beck, her brown eyes narrow with judgment.

Beck frowned at her, sighing heavily as he slapped his arms in the air to flick off the muck that covered him. He wasn't sure how to feel about the way this arrest went down, especially since it was one of his first homicide investigations and he truly wanted to impress the chief. After all, it was the chief that got him the job so fresh out of the academy; but the man's daughter, Katrina, didn't seem to enjoy being partnered up with him.

He couldn't blame her, she'd been on the force for over five years and grew up learning much about police work from her father. Here, Beck barely made it out of the academy and also dropped out of college after failing his first couple criminal justice courses. Of course she didn't think he had the chops; and neither did anyone else at the station. He had a long way to go to earn the respect of anyone there, especially since the Chief decided to take a chance on a college dropout and near failure of a police recruit.

It had been a long time since he was an adored high school kid, and the real world was kicking his ass time and time again ever since those years. "I almost had him," Beck muttered as Trina marched past him.

"Only if you were prepared to chase him into the ocean, you almost let him get away because of a little sludge. Come on, let's get to the squad car."

Beck followed after her, shaking his head slowly and mentally cursing himself for nearly allowing the perp to get away. After all, he hadn't even had the gun drawn and wasn't able to keep stable on the boat.

While en route to the station, Beck let his mind wander to just a few months prior when he officially joined the force. Sitting in Chief Vega's office had been far more intimidating than he planned. "I'm taking a big chance on you, you do realize that," spoke the silver haired man seated across the mahogany desk. "You've been drifting ever since high school."

Beck trembled while gripping his sides with his fingertips, his head was bowed and his eyes closed. "I won't let you down Chief Vega, honest. I…I feel like I need to be here."

"How will being on the force help at all, young man?" The chief leaned forward, his silver curls bristling as they past the vent blowing out cold air. "The case is colder than a block of ice in the Artic. If my seasoned, veteran officers haven't been able to find answers, why should I expect a young officer that barely passed academy to do any better?"

"Because a pair of fresh eyes are always better?" His voice quivered as the man's stern gaze remained unwavering and stoic. Thinking better of his choice of words, he cleared his throat and tried to speak up as honestly as he could. "Because I can't sit around and do nothing anymore. I can't be idle, going insane and not being able to focus on anything else. I have to try, and this is the only way."

Seconds passed as though they were years, the tension was no more tortuous than the past decade had been for him. The drugs, the hospitalization, never knowing his left from his right was unbearable.

"I haven't thought about anything else in over a decade. Never knowing, never being able to be a part of the search…it's too much."

The chief leaned back with a weary sigh, his grizzled hand curled over his eyes. "Do not tell me I am about to have to order you a psych eval right when I hire you."

"No sir. I'm just begging you to give me this chance."

"You will need a lot of practice, and the case you want to work on…like I said, my best officers have yet to find so much as a lead. Still, if you are insistent I will put you on; but you will be assigned to partner with Lieutenant Vega."

His eyebrows rose sharply. "Are you sure? Pretty sure she has never cared much for me."

"Exactly, so I don't expect you'll be given special treatment." The man folded his forearms over each other on the desk. "At the very least, she may question my judgment far less than some of my officers on staff."

"Understood. Thank you sir."

"Don't thank me just yet. Just follow orders, learn, and be sharp. You can't afford to be unfocused in this line of work."

"Understood."

The memory faded as Beck heard the car's engine shutting off, he turned his head to see Trina giving him a sideways look. "Will you get the suspect out of the car?"

He quickly gripped the car door, nodding fervently. "Yes ma'am." There was no time to let his mind wander in the clouds, he had to be focused. Or at least, redeem himself from the most recent muck-up.

Several miles away, in a dark location lit only by the soft flicker of a burning torch, was a person who could've been mistaken for a skeleton. Long, wispy black hair reached the ground and swept against bare feet like a brush. Her lips, thin and withered, trembled as one word creaked from them.

"Water."

A few feet from her was a bowl, nearly dry. She moved her thin arms as much as they could in their shackles until her bony fingers caressed the steel bowl.

Her fight was almost gone. Why she held on, she wasn't sure. Her muscles had decayed to almost nothing, her vision was fading and she prayed daily for the torture to end. The last time she'd been allowed to see daylight, she honestly wasn't sure; it felt like a dozen lifetimes had gone by and yet the captors never seemed satisfied.

Captors, she thought while raising the bowl with trembling hands. Was it one captor or was it many? Did it matter? Was anyone out there looking for her?

They hadn't all survived down here, and with each passing day she had to wonder if she would be the next to die. After all, she was sure nobody was truly looking for her; or if anyone ever had been.

Well thoughts, I suppose?