The Haunting Past (A Castle Fanfiction)

Part Twelve: My Lambs to Reap

A.N: Sorry, I know this took a while. I've been uber busy and didn't think I could work on anything but the shorter stories. But thanks for your continued support and I hope you still enjoy. :)
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As Rick climbed out of his car, striding into the library where the others were waiting, he theorized a million different scenarios of what he could be walking into. There were about a hundred different ways this could be something horrible and seemingly less than ten ways it could be a positive find. Yet, as he walked through the door, her repeated to himself once again, "This isn't a bad thing. This couldn't be anything worse than what's already happened." Man, was he wrong.

When he entered through the familiar doors leading to the emptied room that once held bookshelf after bookshelf filled with stories of all sizes, genres and age levels, the evident barren theme pulled his focus straight away. Then, he walked further inside. The walls became the focus for his gaping jaw. Surface after surface neatly covered in image after image. In the back, photos from crime scene after crime scene were pinned, most of them familiar images from fresh views, some of them scenes Rick's eyes had never gazed upon. To the left of the door where Ryan stood with Javi and Valgora was a set of rows almost like a time-line. They were stacked so closely, most were unable to be seen, but their purpose was clear.

Each line held one team member's face. Valgora's, Carpenter's, Harris's and Beckett's were the longest, each starting from what seemed to be around a year ago with Beckett and Burns. Eventually, seemingly around the same point on the time-line, Murphy and Ryan joined the crew. Then, midway through the images, Castle's line began. Shortly after, Espo's joined the listings. Then, two ended before the others. Suddenly, Melissa's picture were halted with an image of her funeral sticking out above all else. Above that image, Beckett's still body lied in a final frame. She was clearly in the hospital as the security footage snapshot was distinguishable. Aside from these two, the rest continued on all the way up to a shot all of their lines ended with. They were in the loft. They were being watched. It looked almost like someone had taken the image through the window, only it was clear, and Rick didn't have a fire-escape.

Yet, the weirdest part of this was was right wall across from their images. There, someone had sharpies a message:

"Take to heart the murals you see, and know that you will each be a photo on our wall. Your blood will coat the cement on which we display you, and your time-line shall come to a close. Story's over for all but my Innocent Lamb.
~DiS"

Rick barely glanced the writing on the wall, however. He was stuck on the time-lines. He was stuck on the images before him of every one of them in their everyday lives for a while now. He was stuck to the thought that he had missed these people for months, close to a year. Everyone gave him the space he needed to comprehend this.

All except Murphy."So, who is the lucky little lamb?"

Rick looked over his should, not facing her, but giving her his profile as he spoke. "What makes you think I know?"

"Well, you're the man of many theories that all seem to be plausible."

"Kaylin," Harris cautioned.

She didn't listen. "I mean, come on, writer boy. If you were writing this plot, who would be your survivor?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he turned his head back toward the images on the time-line before him. His crystal gaze was fixated on a picture of his wife he knew all too well. Seeing her lying in the hospital bed, knowing even there, she wasn't safe, it was all torture to his wounded soul. He would have done anything to prevent this. He would have given anything to be with her in that moment. He needed her and he knew she needed him.