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Title: Black Edelweiss
Series: Zeitgeist
Follows: One Giant Leap
Wordcount: 2,116
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 details in main post.
PREV: Chapter One // MAIN // NEXT: Chapter Three
Chapter Two: Rope Enough
"Life for a punctual person is like a roller coaster. All kinds of things are going to happen to you! Sure, I can see the whole roller coaster you're on. And sure — I could give you a piece of paper that would tell you about every dip and turn, warn you about every bogeyman that was going to pop out at you in the tunnels. But that wouldn't help you any. Because you'd still have to take the roller-coaster ride, I didn't design the roller coaster, I don't own it, and I don't say who rides and who doesn't. I just know what it's shaped like."
— Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan
They picked up a late, last minute breakfast on their way into Mid-Town. Normally Javier would have been much more on-task, but he was unsurprisingly reluctant to rush ahead and tackle this one. Not that he had felt much like eating, but he figured it might help settle his stomach. And, as his partner watched him pick distractedly at the food he'd insisted on stopping for, he was certain yet more details were being filed away in Kevin's head. Sooner or later, he knew, Kevin would insist on asking what it was that was really bothering him. When that happened, Javier didn't have a clue what he was going to tell him.
They were only just finished when Kevin answered a call on his cell. From the way he whipped out his notepad, Javier assumed it was Kate and didn't interrupt.
"Uh-huh. Is that with— With a 'D' and a 'T'? Okay."
As they pulled up near the building, Kevin tore a sheet out of the booklet and handed it to Javier. It was the page with the address and apartment number. Familiar with Kevin's brand of tunnel vision when he was jotting down details, Javier exited the car, confident his partner would follow. Sure enough, Kevinkept up as he navigated the building for the both of them.
"That was Beckett," Kevin clarified needlessly, ending the call as they entered the elevator.
"Turns out our Dr. Zimmerman was a geneticist," Kevin supplied. "German-born, living in the country since the early '60s. Kate managed to confirm that Barbara is his daughter, adopted. She's his only family living in the States."
As he punched in the floor, Javier could see an amused light enter his partner's eyes.
"Also, Lanie's still processing the body, but she wanted Becks to give us a heads up regarding our murder weapon. Some sort of very long, thin blade or similar object. From the shape and angle of the entry and exit wounds, she's thinking some kind of sword."
"A sword?" Javier asked, caught off guard.
"Yeah." Kevin confirmed with a grin. "Poor Beckett. Apparently Castle's theories are becoming a little less Indiana Jones and a lot more Highlander."
That actually managed to make Javier laugh a little.
"They've only managed to do a rough translation on the letter so far. I guess the daughter wrote her father about having seen some guy he used to work with here in Manhattan, uh," Kevin rechecked the name off his notes. "Konrad Reichardt."
The elevator doors opened. For a moment, Javier couldn't get his legs to work. He caught the doors before they closed again, and took a step forward. Kevin followed, still focused on his notes. This time it seemed his lapse had gone unnoticed.
"It sounds like there was some kind of grudge between the two of them back in the day," Kevin continued, "Some dispute over medical ethics that got Zimmerman fired from the company they worked for. I guess this Reichardt spent some time in Auschwitz—yeah, Castle had that one right, believe it or not. She hints that the grudge wasn't personal so much as Reichardt's history with Mengele colored his perceptions of her father. Can you believe that?"
Javier listened, but the details seemed to fall through his fingers.
Half-remembered, Javier hadn't been sure of the name DiNozzo had spoken—through the door it had sounded like it could have been Richards, Richter, or possibly "Riker's", in reference to the prison. Or it might have been something else entirely. All that he'd known for certain was that, whatever it was, it had hurt Kevin, cutting so deep that eight years from now he still bore the hidden scars. Destroyed him, to use Kevin's own words. The bitter pain that had so transformed his partner's voice had remained one of the most vivid elements in his memory. While Javier had been slow to accept that a stolen kiss might conceivably be something his mind had manufactured on its own, there was nothing he could imagine to explain that hurt.
Now, he recognized Reichardt's name for what it was. He knew next to nothing about this man, Konrad, but whoever he was, both he and this case were bound to have a devastating impact on their future.
Unless Javier managed to stop it. But how could he even begin to try when he knew so little? Not for the first time, he was left questioning his own motives—or rather, those of his future self. He wished he knew what he was meant to do. If eight years from now, Javier's double had had some sort of plan in traveling back and meddling in his life, so far he couldn't see any benefit to it. He needed information, but all had were questions. Here he was, in desperate need of better ammunition to protect him and his partner, but it seemed like all his future self had handed him was enough rope to hang himself with.
"And lastly," Kevin was saying as Javier finally managed to snap out of it. "They were able to identify that weird flower pinned to Zimmerman's lapel."
"Oh yeah?"
"Edelweiss," Kevin said. "Grows in the Alps. Italy, Switzerland—Germany. It's supposed to symbolize purity. It's also not a common flower for boutonnieres."
Javier thought about that.
"Someone leaving a message, do you think?"
Kevin made a soft 'hmm' of agreement.
"This Reichardt is starting to look like a promising suspect," Kevin said. "If we're lucky, the daughter can tell us more about him."
They'd had plenty of strange cases since Castle had joined them, but a Holocaust survivor for a suspect was still a whole new one on Javier. Still, anyone could hire a killer, regardless of their age, and suffering didn't mean people became immune to committing acts of evil themselves. Sometimes, he knew, it even became a convenient excuse. And he might just go to hell for it, but with the threat that Reichardt posed to them personally—whether he even knew it yet—Javier wasn't about to cut the man any slack.
It took him a moment to collect himself, remember what it was they had been doing. Looking deliberately down at the scrap of note paper Javier dragged up an exaggerated frown, casting a side glance at his partner.
"So, she's in 407, right?"
"Four-oh-one, Javi," Kevin grumbled. "Don't get cute. I know for a fact you can read my handwriting."
"Not my fault your ones look like sevens," Javier complained with a smirk, the familiar ribbing helping to drive away some of his lingering dread. "And your nines look like little g's."
Kevin's only reply was a faint snort as he approached the apartment. Freeing his badge from his pocket he gave the door a solid knock.
As the door opened, Javier saw that Barbara Zimmerman was a stunning woman—tall, with fine features and clear blue eyes, and light blond hair that fell around her shoulders. Unfortunately, that was as much as Javier could learn about her before everything went to hell. Barbara took one look at him and his partner and her eyes narrowed, lips drawing back from her teeth in an angry grimace. As she started to push the door closed, Kevin put up a hand to halt it.
"Wait, hold on," he was trying to argue.
Javier would have considered that a mistake under most normal circumstances—and this situation, it quickly proved, did not apply.
Barbara lifted her hand, palm out flat towards them. The air...rippled... Suddenly Javier's vision blossomed with an explosion of dazed lights as he felt his head impact with the wall behind him, and his legs buckled uselessly underneath him. He slid to the floor. His eyes were watering and his face stung—nearly everything hurt—and there was something heavy lying across his legs. He was still blinking irritated tears from his eyes when that something started to move, and as his sight cleared he realized it was Kevin. His partner was the first to get to his feet, drawing his gun as he rose. Barbara was halfway down the hall by then.
"Freeze!"
As Javier watched, Barbara raised her arm again. The air in front of her congealed fluidly just as before, rushing forward in a thick wall. It collided with Kevin and sent him flying backward, sailing seven or eight feet down the length of the hallway to fall in a painful looking heap. By the time Javier managed to get his legs under him, Barbara was long gone, and his thoughts were on his partner.
"Kev, you okay?"
Javier was relieved to see Kevin move, rolling over onto his back. His breathing was rough, like the wind had been knocked out of him. Relieved to see that Kevin was indeed alive and conscious, Javier let his abused joints lower him down onto the rug next to his partner. There was a long, shallow gash decorating Kevin's forehead just below the hairline, blood trickling up into his hair as he remained prone.
"Whoa," Kevin said, eyes blinking dazedly up at the ceiling. "That was... Javi, did that just happen?"
Javier snorted. Despite the aches he felt it was difficult not to find Kevin's confusion a little cute—a thought he would blame squarely on his own head trauma for the time being.
"Yeah, bro. That happened."
Kevin laughed then—wincing, though it didn't stop the laughter from coming.
"What's funny?" Javier asked, honestly not seeing much amusing in getting their asses kicked or how badly this might have screwed their investigation.
"Dude," Kevin said, as though it were obvious, "Castle's going to be so jealous..."
(—
=)
Castle was jealous, of course. That much was obvious as Javier watched his partner describe the encounter through the window in Montgomery's office. Between the wide flying gestures and the dopy grin on his face, Javier had to wonder whether Kevin hadn't been lying about not being concussed. He had insisted the cut on his head hadn't needed stitches—Kev could be kind of a basket case about hospitals—but it had taken three butterfly dressings to keep it closed.
"Sir," Javier said, dragging his attention back to the conversation. Argument. "I really don't think this is a good idea."
To qualify the statement Javier added, a little belatedly. "Do we really want the Feds stomping all over this?"
"That's really too bad, Detective Esposito," Montgomery said. "You know that local law enforcement has been heavily encouraged to involve the FBI in any specials-involved crimes that arise in their jurisdiction until a national policy dealing with the issue can be developed. It may not be mandatory, but I for one am not going to be the man to skirt that recommendation and risk some sort of crisis."
"Politics, sir?" Javier accused, a little nastily.
"Politics, Esposito," Montgomery answered evenly, leaning over his desk. "But also lives. I'm sure you're aware of how precarious the climate is right now where the topic of specials is concerned. The last thing we need is that balance being thrown by mishandling what I shouldn't have to tell you could be a precedent-making case. So I expect you to deal with it and keep your wounded sense of professional pride in your pants where it belongs."
Javier clenched his jaw against the impulse to correct him. His ego was the last thing on his mind at this moment, and having the captain think that was his concern stung just a little. Still, Javier wasn't ready to explain his reluctance to work with the FBI on this case. As long as he kept his silence he had to be prepared to let others draw their own conclusions.
Javier had a feeling that was a problem he was going to have to get used to.
"And anyway," the captain continued simply, "I already made the call. Fortunately for us, the FBI's Specials Affairs liaison happens to be here in Manhattan. Agents Bennet and Strauss are already on their way."
Javier closed his eyes, hoping at the very least to stop the dread he felt from turning into full blown panic.
"Sir—"
"I'm hope I don't have to tell you to make them feel at home, Detective." Montgomery's tone made it abundantly clear that the discussion was over, even before his short. "Dismissed."
Bennet, Javier thought unhappily as he left the office.
This was it, then. This was the case which would land him on Bennet's radar, and eventually under his thumb working specials-involved crimes in Washington. Another piece of the puzzle shifted firmly into place, and Javier could all but feel that noose tightening around his neck. At this point, it was just a question of how much longer he had before the ground beneath him began to tilt.
PREV: Chapter One // MAIN // NEXT: Chapter Three
Series: Zeitgeist
Follows: One Giant Leap
Wordcount: 2,116
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 details in main post.
PREV: Chapter One // MAIN // NEXT: Chapter Three
Chapter Two: Rope Enough
"Life for a punctual person is like a roller coaster. All kinds of things are going to happen to you! Sure, I can see the whole roller coaster you're on. And sure — I could give you a piece of paper that would tell you about every dip and turn, warn you about every bogeyman that was going to pop out at you in the tunnels. But that wouldn't help you any. Because you'd still have to take the roller-coaster ride, I didn't design the roller coaster, I don't own it, and I don't say who rides and who doesn't. I just know what it's shaped like."
— Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan
They picked up a late, last minute breakfast on their way into Mid-Town. Normally Javier would have been much more on-task, but he was unsurprisingly reluctant to rush ahead and tackle this one. Not that he had felt much like eating, but he figured it might help settle his stomach. And, as his partner watched him pick distractedly at the food he'd insisted on stopping for, he was certain yet more details were being filed away in Kevin's head. Sooner or later, he knew, Kevin would insist on asking what it was that was really bothering him. When that happened, Javier didn't have a clue what he was going to tell him.
They were only just finished when Kevin answered a call on his cell. From the way he whipped out his notepad, Javier assumed it was Kate and didn't interrupt.
"Uh-huh. Is that with— With a 'D' and a 'T'? Okay."
As they pulled up near the building, Kevin tore a sheet out of the booklet and handed it to Javier. It was the page with the address and apartment number. Familiar with Kevin's brand of tunnel vision when he was jotting down details, Javier exited the car, confident his partner would follow. Sure enough, Kevinkept up as he navigated the building for the both of them.
"That was Beckett," Kevin clarified needlessly, ending the call as they entered the elevator.
"Turns out our Dr. Zimmerman was a geneticist," Kevin supplied. "German-born, living in the country since the early '60s. Kate managed to confirm that Barbara is his daughter, adopted. She's his only family living in the States."
As he punched in the floor, Javier could see an amused light enter his partner's eyes.
"Also, Lanie's still processing the body, but she wanted Becks to give us a heads up regarding our murder weapon. Some sort of very long, thin blade or similar object. From the shape and angle of the entry and exit wounds, she's thinking some kind of sword."
"A sword?" Javier asked, caught off guard.
"Yeah." Kevin confirmed with a grin. "Poor Beckett. Apparently Castle's theories are becoming a little less Indiana Jones and a lot more Highlander."
That actually managed to make Javier laugh a little.
"They've only managed to do a rough translation on the letter so far. I guess the daughter wrote her father about having seen some guy he used to work with here in Manhattan, uh," Kevin rechecked the name off his notes. "Konrad Reichardt."
The elevator doors opened. For a moment, Javier couldn't get his legs to work. He caught the doors before they closed again, and took a step forward. Kevin followed, still focused on his notes. This time it seemed his lapse had gone unnoticed.
"It sounds like there was some kind of grudge between the two of them back in the day," Kevin continued, "Some dispute over medical ethics that got Zimmerman fired from the company they worked for. I guess this Reichardt spent some time in Auschwitz—yeah, Castle had that one right, believe it or not. She hints that the grudge wasn't personal so much as Reichardt's history with Mengele colored his perceptions of her father. Can you believe that?"
Javier listened, but the details seemed to fall through his fingers.
Half-remembered, Javier hadn't been sure of the name DiNozzo had spoken—through the door it had sounded like it could have been Richards, Richter, or possibly "Riker's", in reference to the prison. Or it might have been something else entirely. All that he'd known for certain was that, whatever it was, it had hurt Kevin, cutting so deep that eight years from now he still bore the hidden scars. Destroyed him, to use Kevin's own words. The bitter pain that had so transformed his partner's voice had remained one of the most vivid elements in his memory. While Javier had been slow to accept that a stolen kiss might conceivably be something his mind had manufactured on its own, there was nothing he could imagine to explain that hurt.
Now, he recognized Reichardt's name for what it was. He knew next to nothing about this man, Konrad, but whoever he was, both he and this case were bound to have a devastating impact on their future.
Unless Javier managed to stop it. But how could he even begin to try when he knew so little? Not for the first time, he was left questioning his own motives—or rather, those of his future self. He wished he knew what he was meant to do. If eight years from now, Javier's double had had some sort of plan in traveling back and meddling in his life, so far he couldn't see any benefit to it. He needed information, but all had were questions. Here he was, in desperate need of better ammunition to protect him and his partner, but it seemed like all his future self had handed him was enough rope to hang himself with.
"And lastly," Kevin was saying as Javier finally managed to snap out of it. "They were able to identify that weird flower pinned to Zimmerman's lapel."
"Oh yeah?"
"Edelweiss," Kevin said. "Grows in the Alps. Italy, Switzerland—Germany. It's supposed to symbolize purity. It's also not a common flower for boutonnieres."
Javier thought about that.
"Someone leaving a message, do you think?"
Kevin made a soft 'hmm' of agreement.
"This Reichardt is starting to look like a promising suspect," Kevin said. "If we're lucky, the daughter can tell us more about him."
They'd had plenty of strange cases since Castle had joined them, but a Holocaust survivor for a suspect was still a whole new one on Javier. Still, anyone could hire a killer, regardless of their age, and suffering didn't mean people became immune to committing acts of evil themselves. Sometimes, he knew, it even became a convenient excuse. And he might just go to hell for it, but with the threat that Reichardt posed to them personally—whether he even knew it yet—Javier wasn't about to cut the man any slack.
It took him a moment to collect himself, remember what it was they had been doing. Looking deliberately down at the scrap of note paper Javier dragged up an exaggerated frown, casting a side glance at his partner.
"So, she's in 407, right?"
"Four-oh-one, Javi," Kevin grumbled. "Don't get cute. I know for a fact you can read my handwriting."
"Not my fault your ones look like sevens," Javier complained with a smirk, the familiar ribbing helping to drive away some of his lingering dread. "And your nines look like little g's."
Kevin's only reply was a faint snort as he approached the apartment. Freeing his badge from his pocket he gave the door a solid knock.
As the door opened, Javier saw that Barbara Zimmerman was a stunning woman—tall, with fine features and clear blue eyes, and light blond hair that fell around her shoulders. Unfortunately, that was as much as Javier could learn about her before everything went to hell. Barbara took one look at him and his partner and her eyes narrowed, lips drawing back from her teeth in an angry grimace. As she started to push the door closed, Kevin put up a hand to halt it.
"Wait, hold on," he was trying to argue.
Javier would have considered that a mistake under most normal circumstances—and this situation, it quickly proved, did not apply.
Barbara lifted her hand, palm out flat towards them. The air...rippled... Suddenly Javier's vision blossomed with an explosion of dazed lights as he felt his head impact with the wall behind him, and his legs buckled uselessly underneath him. He slid to the floor. His eyes were watering and his face stung—nearly everything hurt—and there was something heavy lying across his legs. He was still blinking irritated tears from his eyes when that something started to move, and as his sight cleared he realized it was Kevin. His partner was the first to get to his feet, drawing his gun as he rose. Barbara was halfway down the hall by then.
"Freeze!"
As Javier watched, Barbara raised her arm again. The air in front of her congealed fluidly just as before, rushing forward in a thick wall. It collided with Kevin and sent him flying backward, sailing seven or eight feet down the length of the hallway to fall in a painful looking heap. By the time Javier managed to get his legs under him, Barbara was long gone, and his thoughts were on his partner.
"Kev, you okay?"
Javier was relieved to see Kevin move, rolling over onto his back. His breathing was rough, like the wind had been knocked out of him. Relieved to see that Kevin was indeed alive and conscious, Javier let his abused joints lower him down onto the rug next to his partner. There was a long, shallow gash decorating Kevin's forehead just below the hairline, blood trickling up into his hair as he remained prone.
"Whoa," Kevin said, eyes blinking dazedly up at the ceiling. "That was... Javi, did that just happen?"
Javier snorted. Despite the aches he felt it was difficult not to find Kevin's confusion a little cute—a thought he would blame squarely on his own head trauma for the time being.
"Yeah, bro. That happened."
Kevin laughed then—wincing, though it didn't stop the laughter from coming.
"What's funny?" Javier asked, honestly not seeing much amusing in getting their asses kicked or how badly this might have screwed their investigation.
"Dude," Kevin said, as though it were obvious, "Castle's going to be so jealous..."
(—
=)
Castle was jealous, of course. That much was obvious as Javier watched his partner describe the encounter through the window in Montgomery's office. Between the wide flying gestures and the dopy grin on his face, Javier had to wonder whether Kevin hadn't been lying about not being concussed. He had insisted the cut on his head hadn't needed stitches—Kev could be kind of a basket case about hospitals—but it had taken three butterfly dressings to keep it closed.
"Sir," Javier said, dragging his attention back to the conversation. Argument. "I really don't think this is a good idea."
To qualify the statement Javier added, a little belatedly. "Do we really want the Feds stomping all over this?"
"That's really too bad, Detective Esposito," Montgomery said. "You know that local law enforcement has been heavily encouraged to involve the FBI in any specials-involved crimes that arise in their jurisdiction until a national policy dealing with the issue can be developed. It may not be mandatory, but I for one am not going to be the man to skirt that recommendation and risk some sort of crisis."
"Politics, sir?" Javier accused, a little nastily.
"Politics, Esposito," Montgomery answered evenly, leaning over his desk. "But also lives. I'm sure you're aware of how precarious the climate is right now where the topic of specials is concerned. The last thing we need is that balance being thrown by mishandling what I shouldn't have to tell you could be a precedent-making case. So I expect you to deal with it and keep your wounded sense of professional pride in your pants where it belongs."
Javier clenched his jaw against the impulse to correct him. His ego was the last thing on his mind at this moment, and having the captain think that was his concern stung just a little. Still, Javier wasn't ready to explain his reluctance to work with the FBI on this case. As long as he kept his silence he had to be prepared to let others draw their own conclusions.
Javier had a feeling that was a problem he was going to have to get used to.
"And anyway," the captain continued simply, "I already made the call. Fortunately for us, the FBI's Specials Affairs liaison happens to be here in Manhattan. Agents Bennet and Strauss are already on their way."
Javier closed his eyes, hoping at the very least to stop the dread he felt from turning into full blown panic.
"Sir—"
"I'm hope I don't have to tell you to make them feel at home, Detective." Montgomery's tone made it abundantly clear that the discussion was over, even before his short. "Dismissed."
Bennet, Javier thought unhappily as he left the office.
This was it, then. This was the case which would land him on Bennet's radar, and eventually under his thumb working specials-involved crimes in Washington. Another piece of the puzzle shifted firmly into place, and Javier could all but feel that noose tightening around his neck. At this point, it was just a question of how much longer he had before the ground beneath him began to tilt.
PREV: Chapter One // MAIN // NEXT: Chapter Three
