State of Delirium - Chapter 4 [CastleLand Big Bang]
Title: State of Delirium
Author: penelope_ziva
Chapter: 4/?
Rating: PG-13 [Violence, some mild swearing]
Word count: 1,022
Summary: When Detective Beckett receives a phone call from someone claiming to be a character in one of Castle's books, life begins to get rather interesting...
Disclaimer: I still do not own Castle. But I will... MUA HA HA HA HA.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my awesome beta hazel_eyes_86!
16:37
“She was supposed to be in witness protection,” Beckett said to the detective who had organized Amie’s protection.
“She said she didn’t want it,” Detective Michael Lansdowne defended himself. Beckett bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything else.
“Thank you, Detective,” she said, as politely as she could, before heading away. Their one witness who could put Lance Garrison at the scene was dead. Shit. This case was getting worse by the hour. 4 hours, her thoughts intoned in an ominous way.
Arriving back at the precinct, she sat down at her desk and checked the facial recognition. So far, no luck.
“Castle!” she called and Castle tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to jump.
“Behind you,” he commented and grinned at her reaction.
“Do that again and I’ll show you how my gun works,” Beckett warned and Castle laughed.
“Promise?” he smirked.
“I know what we need to do,” she announced and he waited expectantly for her to continue. “We need to play into his delusion.”
“We need to follow the plot,” Castle continued, sitting down on a chair next to her. “We need to put his picture out on the news and put out an APB on him, too.”
“Under the name Niall Coleman…” Beckett thought about how it could work, the details of everything slipping into place. Castle nodded slowly.
“It could work,” he admitted.
“Then let’s do it,” Beckett decided, turning back to her computer and getting ready to circulate the sketch of their ‘Niall Coleman.’
3 Hours Later
Beckett glanced at her watch for, what seemed to Castle, the twentieth time that minute. Standing up, she turned to him.
“You are staying here,” she ordered him and turned to Ryan and Esposito. “Got that?”
They nodded, and Castle pouted but was ignored.
Ten minutes later and Beckett was wearing her bullet-proof vest under her shirt and her gun was holstered were in couldn’t be seen at a first glance.
“Ready?” Esposito asked and she nodded. Ryan glanced at Castle as Beckett and Esposito headed for the two cars that would take the three detectives to South William Street.
“You’re not going to stay here, are you?” Ryan asked, causing Castle to grin.
“Probably not,” he admitted. Ryan chuckled.
“Just stay out the way, Castle,” he advised the author, “otherwise there might be another murder. Yours, by Beckett.”
*
Beckett stood, waiting, on the sidewalk of South William Street. He had said eight o’clock and it was nearing half past by now.
The voice of Esposito crackled in her ear. “He looks like a no-show, Beckett,” he told her.
“Give it another half hour,” Beckett said quietly; just in case he was nearby, “if he doesn’t show by nine then I’ll pull out.”
She crossed her arms across herself, grateful for her thick jacket preventing the cool wind from making her cold. Esposito and Ryan were waiting in a black van on a nearby street, close enough if needed but far enough away so as not to arise suspicion.
“Detective,” said a calm voice behind her. Beckett turned around slowly and came face to face with a man similar in looks to Amie Robson’s description. He had a gun pointed directly at her.
“Mr. Coleman,” Beckett replied, speaking the character’s name equally calmly. “It is nice to finally meet you.”
“As it is to meet you, Detective,” Lance Garrison answered her, gesturing with the gun for her to move over to the right. “Step into the shadows, Detective, if you please.”
Beckett did as he asked and moved into the darker part of the deserted street.
“I did expect you to look different, Detective,” he commented and Beckett raised an eyebrow. Blonde, she guessed, thinking of the Detective in Castle’s novel.
“People change,” she said instead and he nodded.
“They do,” he agreed. “I need to speak to you, Detective. Do you think you will understand me?”
“Yes,” Beckett answered, trying to not get annoyed at his attitude.
“I hope you enjoyed your gifts,” he smiled at her, child-like with happiness, “…did you?”
“You killed a woman;” Beckett spoke softly, “that’s no gift.”
“She deserved it,” Niall/Lance said spitefully. “She stole my money. She took my pride!”
“She wasn’t your ex-wife,” Beckett informed him, trying to break his illusion. “Her name was Daniela Atherton and she was just unlucky enough that you believed she was your ex-wife.”
“NO! Her name was Sandrine Coleman, and she was a cold-hearted, money-grabbing bitch,” he spat her name and the insults out. He put one hand to his head and started muttering to himself; Beckett could only just make out what he was saying. “I am Niall, I am Niall, I am Niall, I am Niall.”
He mumbled the phrase to himself like a mantra, and Beckett noticed his weak spot.
“You are Lance,” she said loudly and his head jerked up. His eyes raged with the burning fire of a madman.
“No!” he shouted, waving the gun and causing Beckett to take a step back. “I am Niall!”
There was a muffled shot and Beckett gasped as hot pain shot through her. Lance Garrison dropped his gun and ran into one of the buildings on the street.
“Beckett?” the voice from her ear piece was distorted, as if the connection was having problems. “Beckett, what’s happened?”
Beckett gasped at the pain as she moved to try to find her phone. It was there somewhere… it had to be! Tears blurred her vision as she fumbled with her pockets to find her cell phone… finally her hand knocked against it and with weak fingers she dialed three digits on the keypad.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
Beckett tried to shape the words but she could feel herself losing consciousness quickly, the pull of oblivion trying to drown her, dragging her down with its iron grasp.
“Hello? Is there an emergency?”
Beckett could feel the hot, sticky pool of blood around her growing. Her blood. Before a black wave of unconsciousness pulled her under she tried to tell the operator, but all she could manage was to whisper:
“Help me.”
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Author: penelope_ziva
Chapter: 4/?
Rating: PG-13 [Violence, some mild swearing]
Word count: 1,022
Summary: When Detective Beckett receives a phone call from someone claiming to be a character in one of Castle's books, life begins to get rather interesting...
Disclaimer: I still do not own Castle. But I will... MUA HA HA HA HA.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my awesome beta hazel_eyes_86!
16:37
“She was supposed to be in witness protection,” Beckett said to the detective who had organized Amie’s protection.
“She said she didn’t want it,” Detective Michael Lansdowne defended himself. Beckett bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything else.
“Thank you, Detective,” she said, as politely as she could, before heading away. Their one witness who could put Lance Garrison at the scene was dead. Shit. This case was getting worse by the hour. 4 hours, her thoughts intoned in an ominous way.
Arriving back at the precinct, she sat down at her desk and checked the facial recognition. So far, no luck.
“Castle!” she called and Castle tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to jump.
“Behind you,” he commented and grinned at her reaction.
“Do that again and I’ll show you how my gun works,” Beckett warned and Castle laughed.
“Promise?” he smirked.
“I know what we need to do,” she announced and he waited expectantly for her to continue. “We need to play into his delusion.”
“We need to follow the plot,” Castle continued, sitting down on a chair next to her. “We need to put his picture out on the news and put out an APB on him, too.”
“Under the name Niall Coleman…” Beckett thought about how it could work, the details of everything slipping into place. Castle nodded slowly.
“It could work,” he admitted.
“Then let’s do it,” Beckett decided, turning back to her computer and getting ready to circulate the sketch of their ‘Niall Coleman.’
3 Hours Later
Beckett glanced at her watch for, what seemed to Castle, the twentieth time that minute. Standing up, she turned to him.
“You are staying here,” she ordered him and turned to Ryan and Esposito. “Got that?”
They nodded, and Castle pouted but was ignored.
Ten minutes later and Beckett was wearing her bullet-proof vest under her shirt and her gun was holstered were in couldn’t be seen at a first glance.
“Ready?” Esposito asked and she nodded. Ryan glanced at Castle as Beckett and Esposito headed for the two cars that would take the three detectives to South William Street.
“You’re not going to stay here, are you?” Ryan asked, causing Castle to grin.
“Probably not,” he admitted. Ryan chuckled.
“Just stay out the way, Castle,” he advised the author, “otherwise there might be another murder. Yours, by Beckett.”
*
Beckett stood, waiting, on the sidewalk of South William Street. He had said eight o’clock and it was nearing half past by now.
The voice of Esposito crackled in her ear. “He looks like a no-show, Beckett,” he told her.
“Give it another half hour,” Beckett said quietly; just in case he was nearby, “if he doesn’t show by nine then I’ll pull out.”
She crossed her arms across herself, grateful for her thick jacket preventing the cool wind from making her cold. Esposito and Ryan were waiting in a black van on a nearby street, close enough if needed but far enough away so as not to arise suspicion.
“Detective,” said a calm voice behind her. Beckett turned around slowly and came face to face with a man similar in looks to Amie Robson’s description. He had a gun pointed directly at her.
“Mr. Coleman,” Beckett replied, speaking the character’s name equally calmly. “It is nice to finally meet you.”
“As it is to meet you, Detective,” Lance Garrison answered her, gesturing with the gun for her to move over to the right. “Step into the shadows, Detective, if you please.”
Beckett did as he asked and moved into the darker part of the deserted street.
“I did expect you to look different, Detective,” he commented and Beckett raised an eyebrow. Blonde, she guessed, thinking of the Detective in Castle’s novel.
“People change,” she said instead and he nodded.
“They do,” he agreed. “I need to speak to you, Detective. Do you think you will understand me?”
“Yes,” Beckett answered, trying to not get annoyed at his attitude.
“I hope you enjoyed your gifts,” he smiled at her, child-like with happiness, “…did you?”
“You killed a woman;” Beckett spoke softly, “that’s no gift.”
“She deserved it,” Niall/Lance said spitefully. “She stole my money. She took my pride!”
“She wasn’t your ex-wife,” Beckett informed him, trying to break his illusion. “Her name was Daniela Atherton and she was just unlucky enough that you believed she was your ex-wife.”
“NO! Her name was Sandrine Coleman, and she was a cold-hearted, money-grabbing bitch,” he spat her name and the insults out. He put one hand to his head and started muttering to himself; Beckett could only just make out what he was saying. “I am Niall, I am Niall, I am Niall, I am Niall.”
He mumbled the phrase to himself like a mantra, and Beckett noticed his weak spot.
“You are Lance,” she said loudly and his head jerked up. His eyes raged with the burning fire of a madman.
“No!” he shouted, waving the gun and causing Beckett to take a step back. “I am Niall!”
There was a muffled shot and Beckett gasped as hot pain shot through her. Lance Garrison dropped his gun and ran into one of the buildings on the street.
“Beckett?” the voice from her ear piece was distorted, as if the connection was having problems. “Beckett, what’s happened?”
Beckett gasped at the pain as she moved to try to find her phone. It was there somewhere… it had to be! Tears blurred her vision as she fumbled with her pockets to find her cell phone… finally her hand knocked against it and with weak fingers she dialed three digits on the keypad.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
Beckett tried to shape the words but she could feel herself losing consciousness quickly, the pull of oblivion trying to drown her, dragging her down with its iron grasp.
“Hello? Is there an emergency?”
Beckett could feel the hot, sticky pool of blood around her growing. Her blood. Before a black wave of unconsciousness pulled her under she tried to tell the operator, but all she could manage was to whisper:
“Help me.”
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