Fanfic - Delayed Knockout

[indigoneutrino]

Title: Delayed Knockout
Fandom: Castle
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Things could have turned out so differently when a split second changes everything.
Notes: A rather unusual style of writing for me, so I'm treating this as somewhat experimental. Alternative take on the Castle season three finale.

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Delayed Knockout

A 7.62mm bullet exits the barrel of an M21 sniper rifle at a speed of 853 metres per second. Faster than sound. Faster than the speed at which the eyes transmit to the brain. Too fast to be seen.

When faced with a bullet ejected from such a gun there's no time to react. No chance to duck or dodge or hide. Anticipation is the only defence; to be prepared before the trigger is even pulled, because once the gun fires nothing more can be done.

A 38.70mm long cylinder of lead, streamlined and narrowed at the tip, slices through the air at more than double the speed of sound. It punches its way through the molecules of nitrogen and oxygen obstructing it, barely slowing down, unstoppable until it reaches a more solid target. In the space of a heartbeat it can traverse several hundred metres, and a well aimed shot will find its mark in an instant.

Just a fraction of a second can make all the difference.

A fraction of a second in which sunlight glints off the eyepiece of a sniperscope, photons scattering through the same air the bullet itself is about to penetrate. Light moves far faster than any ballistic projectile, finding its way to the eyes of a man who happens to be looking in the right direction at the right moment.

His retinas capture the image. The optic nerve relays to his brain, travelling just a short distance in a matter of nanoseconds. It takes slightly longer for the information to be processed; comprehension…realisation. A second for him to realise what he's seen. A moment more for him to react.

Neurons fire in his brain, transmitting the message to his muscles to move, while at the same time neural impulses shoot down the sniper's arm readying his finger to pull the trigger.

Castle cries out, calls a name, "Kate!" as the trigger slides back. He's running, trying to reach her just as the hammer strikes the charge, and he knocks her to the ground in the instant that the gunpowder ignites.

It takes a split second for the pair of them to fall. Less time still for the bullet to close the distance separating them from the sniper.

The small piece of metal makes contact with fabric and flesh, cutting through it like a knife through butter. The sudden transition to a new medium saps the bullet's momentum; it slows, crumples. The shockwave from the impact causes a ripple through the organic matter. Blood vessels rupture.

Dark red fluid spills out onto the floor: the grass begins to soak up plasma and haemoglobin and various organic compounds. Kate feels it, the warmth and wetness of it soaks into her clothes as she finds herself pinned beneath the man who tried to save her life. Its temperature and texture fires up the sensory neurones in her skin, their electric impulses jumping across her synapses and up her spine at just a third of the speed at which the bullet had travelled.

A few more nanoseconds for her brain to process what happened, for her to wonder why it doesn't hurt. Then she realises it isn't her blood.

The bullet hadn't found its target. Its trajectory was straight, its course fixed, but given just a moment's forewarning its target had shifted. The time it took for Castle to reach her was shorter than the time it took the bullet by just the smallest fraction of a second. He'd been fast enough to save her, but not fast enough to save himself.