black_sluggard | (Fic) Black Edelweiss—Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Man Who Wasn't There (Reply)

Title: Black Edelweiss
Series: Zeitgeist
Follows: One Giant Leap
Wordcount: 1,944
Summary: Two weeks after Claire Bennet's televised leap from the Ferris wheel, the 12th handles it's first case delving into the strange world of specials. Evidence points the investigation toward a former Company Agent, a man Noah Bennet would swear up and down doesn't exist.
Details: Minimal details due to inflation. Full warnings and details in main post.

PREV: Chapter Twenty-Six // MAIN // NEXT: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter 27: The Man Who Wasn't There

The planting of a tree, especially one of the long-living hardwood trees, is a gift which you can make to posterity at almost no cost and with almost no trouble, and if the tree takes root it will far outlive the visible effect of any of your other actions, good or evil.
―George Orwell

Beckett had asked Detective Esposito to step away to speak with her—eager for his account of what had happened on the road, of that Konrad had no doubt. He sincerely wished the detective luck. Konrad still felt a twinge of guilt for his stunt in the hallway. Yet, though he hadn't expected a stolen kiss to upset the man so badly, it would have been impossible for Konrad to truly regret it.

At any rate, his present company made it difficult to dwell on it.

He had to marvel, just a little, at the thought of being left alone in an interrogation room with Richard Castle of all people. Despite the many strange and often alarming things Konrad had seen in his life, it was this exact kind of small, random, and seemingly insignificant event that managed to throw him off every time. Still, all things considered, the distraction was not unwelcome. If for no other reason than because the writer's energy—still nervous and uncertain, but an improvement over both the fear he had experienced around most of the officers and Javier's distraught tension. It was...actually quite refreshing.

Though Konrad noted that the officer they had stationed in the room with them also seemed far calmer than the ones that had stood guard over him before. Perhaps, with their case closed and their comrade about to be returned to them, they were finally beginning to relax.

"So, uh, Mr. Reichardt," Castle began awkwardly once Detectives Beckett and Esposito had left. "Er, Herr Reichardt? Konrad?"

"Konrad's fine," he offered helpfully, though after a moment he added, "though I suppose you could call me Ryan, if it's easier for you."

Castle was quiet for a moment, his expression slightly distant and thoughtful, as if he were examining the offer thoroughly in his head.

"No," Castle said finally, softly, looking Konrad in the eye. "No, I don't think I could."

It was a deceptively simple statement, without accusation or judgment in it. A very slight, somewhat crooked smile ticked at the corner of the writer's mouth. Konrad returned it with an easy grace.

"Fair enough," Konrad said.

The exchange left them sitting in an awkward silence...though thankfully not for very long.

"You know, I've got all these things I want to ask you," Castle said, suddenly and a bit sheepishly. "I mean, when am I ever going to get the chance to—"

He brought himself up short, clearly realizing his implication.

"That is," Castle said after a while, slowly, seeming somewhat reluctant, "there's so much that I want to know about you. And maybe I shouldn't—Kevin is a friend, and I kind of feel like I'm betraying him by even asking. But I've read your files, the ones that Hiro brought, and your life is...it's fascinating. You've done so much, seen so much—you've been so many things. And if it doesn't feel right wanting to know those things, it also wouldn't be right just to let you disappear, not completely."

Konrad was somewhat taken aback, and after a moment he quietly nodded his understanding.

"Can't say I don't have a few questions of my own," Konrad admitted, allowing himself a small smile. "I mean...how does a mystery writer wind up working with the NYPD? Detective Esposito told me it was a long story, but if there's any chance you could shorten it, I'd really like to hear it before I'm...gone. If you'll tell me that then while I'm still here I'll answer any questions you have."

Konrad paused.

"Though I'm afraid I probably won't have time for most of them," he amended, half regretfully.

"I guess not..." Castle said, seeming sobered by the thought, though he readily agreed.

"It all started—" Castle began, "as things so often do—with a murder."

And as they waited for Peter's return, the writer told him about the case that had brought him in contact with Beckett and Esposito—and with Ryan, of course. About finding once again, in Kate Beckett, the inspiration he thought he had lost. He told Konrad about the new series of books that had followed—about it's characters Raley, Ochoa, and Nikki Heat—and even about some of the amusing trauma that had occurred surrounding a visiting actress from the upcoming film. And it truly was an amusing and amazing story. In spite of the choice he had made and the end that he knew was coming because of it, Konrad found his spirits surprisingly lifted...

Though Konrad thought that might still have less to do with the story and more to do with the man telling it. Even as subdued as it must have been because of their circumstances, there was something about Castle's infectious energy that put him at ease in a familiar way he couldn't quite place.

And Castle hadn't been lying when he said he had questions—as it turned out, he had so many that he had struggled at first to decide how to start. For the most part, the writer was interested in Konrad's time at the Company—the strange events he had seen, specials he had fought or fought alongside of. At this point, Konrad felt he had very little indeed to lose by answering—keeping those secrets had stopped being his responsibility a long time ago. Castle also seemed interested in basic information about Konrad's early life, little details about his childhood and his family.

Castle very conspicuously avoided asking about the war. Konrad thought that he was trying to be polite, or else the topic simply made him uncomfortable—it clearly wasn't for lack of curiosity.

"Hey..." Castle asked suddenly, somehow managing to interrupt his own line of questioning. "Isn't that Javier's jacket?"

And Konrad actually had to look down before it even occurred to him that— Oh. Right. Konrad reached down, slowly pulling the zipper to inspect the damage. When he looked up, he was entirely unsurprised to find the writer staring, looking somewhat pale.

"Yeah, there was this thing where he...kind of shot me," Konrad said with a wince. "A bit. Do you there's any chance I could get a clean shirt before...you know. I'm sure your friend would probably appreciate it."

Castle stared silently for a few seconds before he finally nodded his head.

"Uh...yeah. That'd be best." With a blink the writer turned to address the officer, who had been observing their conversation in silence. "You'll be okay on your own, right?"

The cop favored him with a raised eyebrow.

"I think I'll manage," the officer said, an amused smirk on his lips.

Once Castle had gone, Konrad removed the jacket and inspected the inside of it carefully. He was relieved to find it wasn't a total loss. Probably. With a sigh he folded carefully, setting it on the table.

"They don't think you'll run," the officer observed suddenly.

Konrad turned toward him with a puzzled frown.

"I guess they figure I had my chance," Konrad offered carefully in reply.

To be honest, Konrad had half forgotten the man was there.

When he had first entered the room, Konrad had been sure the officer hadn't been one of the ones guarding him before—he had a good eye for faces, and the experience of an armed escort was profoundly memorable. The officer was stocky, muscular young man in his early twenties, his dark-blonde hair shaved close to the scalp in a military style that was common among members of law enforcement. "Watts" was the name beneath the badge on his uniform. None of this rang any bells to Konrad, and until the officer had spoken he had thought nothing of it— Now, however, it seemed as though there was something familiar about the man...some detail that Konrad couldn't quite put his finger on. It wasn't the nagging, disembodied tug of recognition that he had felt upon confronting Javier the first time—that strange, disarming feeling of knowing, deeply, a stranger that he had effectively never met—nor even the similar but less intense sense of simple ease he felt around Castle.

No, Konrad was sure that he had met this man before—as himself, not as Ryan. But in an ironic and irritating reversal, the memory eluded him.

"You didn't have to come back," Watts said, his inflection neutral, if slightly curious. "Why did you?"

"Why does it matter?" Konrad asked.

And if Konrad had found the man's line of questioning unnerving, it was just as clear that the officer wasn't any more eager to answer than he was. Watts seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing briefly at the room's mirrored wall. Konrad didn't know if anyone was watching them from outside the room, but he felt it was profoundly likely. In fact, he wouldn't have been at all surprised to learn that Bennet was back there right now, and if that was the case then Konrad could hardly fault the man his uncertainty.

Still, after a long moment of consideration, the officer seemed to come to a decision.

"I was the one who talked Detective Ryan into letting you out," Watts said. And Konrad thought that he might be struggling with some doubts about making that decision. "But he was given that choice. I just wanted to make sure you got the same courtesy."

And Konrad knew, in that instant, that whatever the man's appearance he wasn't a police officer, at least not from this station. Yet his words hinted at some deeper involvement in events. A former agent, perhaps? If the man had worked at the Company, or if his file had come across Konrad's desk prior to his desertion, that might manage to explain the recognition he felt.

"Have we met before?" Konrad finally asked.

Watts seemed somewhat surprised by the question, though he quickly threw it off. His lips quirked in a sly smile.

"You wouldn't recognize me if we had."

And when Konrad watched the man's features twist and reform only to find himself staring into his own face—Ryan's face—he actually thought for a split second—

But no, the real answer came to him quickly enough.

"A shapeshifter," Konrad observed with interest, shaking off his disquiet.

Then, after a moment it clicked.

"That was how you guys caught Adam," Konrad realized. He couldn't help help but admire the trick. "Bennet's idea?"

"Peter's," the man answered with a slight smile.

Though somewhat surprised, Konrad was forced to return it.

"He takes more closely after his mother than I thought," Konrad said with amusement. Though, after a moment that thought gave way to another, less pleasant one. "I guess for some of us there really is no escaping the shadow of our family."

Konrad found himself thinking with deep regret of Samson, and of the fate he had suffered simply for being Konrad's son. And as painful as his parting with Martin had been, it was difficult now to begrudge him the freedom he had won from Konrad's shadow. Whatever his step-son chose to do with the rest of his life, Konrad wished him luck.

"I guess not," the other man said quietly, his own smile turning quite unpleasant.

And if Konrad had to guess, he would have said the other man likely knew what it was to be tainted by a family's darkness. But guessing was all he could do, for soon after the doorknob rattled, signaling the writer's return. Just as quickly as it had first happened—and before Castle had the chance to see—the other man's face changed, recovering the guise of the police officer that he had adopted.

After that, Konrad was given privacy—or a fair illusion of it anyway.

As he stripped himself of the bloodied shirt, the task struck him as painfully symbolic—in a very few minutes Angela's son would return, and Konrad would become Ryan again. In spite of his decision, it would have been a lie to say he wasn't struggling with the idea. Still, knowing now that Ryan—Kevin—had come into this same room and willingly handed over the reigns to his life, it would have been genuinely shameful if Konrad lacked the courage to do the same.

Looking in the mirror, Konrad carefully straightened the buttons of his shirt. With effort he managed a smile.

"Also dann... Bis nächstes Mal, Herr Reichardt."

PREV: Chapter Twenty-Six // MAIN // NEXT: Chapter Twenty-Eight