Author's note: Okay, one more. But that, seriously, is it until I get back from vacation. Yesterday, my dog finally had enough of cancer and, after I got back from the vet, this is what I did instead of…well, anything really. So, you'll forgive the dark nature of the piece, I hope? Thanks, again, to lacy curtains, for her assistance and her compassion. See you in August.

The Castle Oubliette

Castle awakens in darkness so profound that he actually lifts his hands to his eyes, checking that they're really open and not covered in any way. Still wondering how the hell it can be so dark in a city that never sleeps, he gingerly pokes a finger in one eye until he sees swirling colors. Okay, so his eyes are working, it's the world that's at fault. He's lying on what feels like a concrete floor and is bereft of his jacket and, somehow more ominously, his belt and shoes. Of course, his pockets have been emptied. Nervous of moving about without further information, he squirms around until he finds a wall. It, too, is concrete and, given that he can hear nothing except his own breathing, probably soundproof. Worried that he already knows the answer, Castle lies flat on his belly and crawls towards what he assumes is the middle of the room. His worst fears are confirmed when he feels the very slight breeze coming up from the pit and his next thought is to wonder if he'll get the chance to tell the detectives that he was right; the suspect is a Poe fan.

Knowing that her anger was justified doesn't stop Beckett from feeling bad about blowing up at Castle like that. After all, he was only trying to help, in his own way. But, still, she shouldn't have left it like that; yelling at him in the middle of the bullpen, ordering him to go back to his fiction. She's startled out of her reverie when Ryan says, "You know; you could call him."

She's already fighting a smile when Esposito then says, "Yeah, and, I dunno, maybe…apologize?"

Beckett gets her phone out as she says, "Maybe I could." It eventually goes to voice mail, so she hangs up and says to the guys, "No answer. I guess he's sulking. I'll call him later."

Not long after that, Lanie calls to say that she's finished the autopsy. When she doesn't continue, Beckett says, "And…?"

After another moment's hesitation, Lanie says, "And maybe Castle was right."

Silently cursing her luck, Beckett says, "I'm on my way."

At the morgue, overlooking the body of their victim, Lanie says to Beckett, "He was severely dehydrated when he died and also hadn't eaten for a few days. I've confirmed that he was bound with canvas straps. After Castle's insistence that this is a reenactment of The Pit and the Pendulum, I did a little reenacting of my own; every single ligature mark could have been made by one, long strap."

Still skeptical, Beckett says, "Could have been, not was."

Lanie nods and says, "But there's more. Only his left arm was free when he died, as evidenced by the lack of ligature marks and the horrific injuries to the limb. I think that he couldn't stop himself from trying to stop the blade. It cut his arm to the bone, almost severing it, even as it sliced open his chest."

Nervously swallowing at the idea of such a horrific death, Beckett says, "Still; hardly conclusive."

Lanie offers a small, self-deprecating shrug and says, "Not yet." She points to the victim's chest, unusually still open, as it would be during the autopsy, and says, "Something about these cuts to his chest seemed a little off, a little too…perfect. So I asked a colleague of mine to consult. He is, quite simply, the most skilled surgeon I've ever met." She pauses for effect and then says, "And he's absolutely certain that no human could have made these cuts. They can only have been made by a machine-operated blade; an oscillating blade, probably suspended above the victim's prone body, given the lividity."

Finally ready to accept Castle's theory, Beckett sighs, nods and says, "An oscillating blade…like a pendulum?"

Lanie purses her lips and simply nods.

Since time is all he has, Castle spends a fair portion of it exploring his, as it turns out, small cell. When he then sits down with his back against the wall, unable to ignore the symptoms of his body's increasingly urgent demand for water, he wonders how long he's been a captive. Given the hollow emptiness in his stomach, desperate burning in this throat, thumping headache and dizzy spells, it has to be more than a day and he knows, with absolute certainty, that the NYPD and maybe even the FBI are looking for him. When the dizziness again recedes, he carefully gets to his feet. This time he slowly moves around the wall, reaching as high as his tall frame can reach, and eventually finds the surveillance camera. Surprised, given how dark it is, he realizes that it must be a night vision camera. Risking stumbling into the pit, Castle stands on his toes until he's achieved a decent imitation of pointe and gets a good enough grip on the camera to rip it from the wall. Finally able to find something to smile about, he throws it into the pit and summons just enough moisture to spit after it.

Still reeling from having to put out an APB on Richard Castle, Beckett is back at the precinct. It hurt to leave Martha and Alexis to cope with the news alone, but Beckett is better off here, so she can solve the mystery and find out where Castle is being held. But she's seriously struggling to focus on what few clues they have, when all she can think about is what the victim looked like when they found him; his body almost cut in half by the giant blade. Only, every time she imagines the corpse, Castle's lifeless eyes stare back at her. It takes every ounce of her strength to push the image out of her mind and she says to the guys, "Have either of you read it?"

Esposito shakes his head, but Ryan says, "Yeah." And then he says, "You're wondering what Castle would do?"

Beckett nods and says, "He left here knowing that we didn't believe him. So he'd want to prove us wrong. He'd look for a fan of Poe…a serious fan."

Esposito says, "A rich fan." When they both just look at him, he points to the relevant information on the board and says, "The type of machine we're talking about could not have been put together on a budget."

Beckett nods again and says, "A rich fan." A desperate plea in her eyes, she says, "Any ideas?"

Ryan stares at the board for a few seconds and then says, "He'd buy stuff." At Beckett's confusion, he says, "Castle has that replica walking stick, remember? I'm guessing that's not the only Poe paraphernalia he owns and he'd always be on the lookout for more."

Beckett's eyes light up and she says, "Like first editions, that sort of thing?" And then she says, "So, you're Castle and you know this psycho fan would collect Poe souvenirs and…auction houses!"

Castle knows that he must have passed out only when he wakes. There's an unpleasant taste in his mouth and a lingering fugue, so he figures that he's been drugged again. This time there's just enough light coming from overhead that he can see and he blinks furiously at the incandescence for a few seconds, until his vision settles down. He's strapped onto what feels like a wooden table. He struggles for a few seconds and lifts his left arm, confirming that it's the only limb unbound. Peering up at the high ceiling, he spots the painting of Father Time, holding what looks like a large fob watch. But Castle knows this story, so he stares at it long enough to confirm that the "fob watch" is almost imperceptibly moving. The picture of Father Time is more of a caricature than a portrait and Castle silently gives his captor points for such an insanely amusing touch to the tableau. Next, he spots the fresh surveillance camera and spares a moment to give it the finger. And then he looks around for the plate of meat featured in the tale. But there's nothing and he mutters, "What, no rats?"

Not really expecting a reply, he's shocked when a digitally altered voice says, "Too easy, Mr. Castle."

Despite his heart beating a mile-a-minute, Castle recovers quickly and says, "Well, at least I have someone to talk to." Confused, he says, "Why is your voice disguised? I already know who you are, Straker."

This time the voice sounds more human and Straker says, "Sorry, I set it up like that, in case anyone succeeds."

Noting the phrasing, Castle says, "So, there's only been the one?"

"Well, I'm hoping that will change by the end of the day. But, yes."

Chilled by the man's calm declaration, Castle takes a second to silence his suddenly very loud heartbeat, so that his voice won't fail him and then says, "And, what happens if I succeed?"

"I seriously doubt you'll do any better than the last man. However, if you beat the blade and find a way out of your cell, you're free to go. By then I'll be long gone."

Castle looks around for a while at the concrete walls, devoid of any apparent door, the pit in the middle of the room leading only to blackness and the ever-present blade, now moving in a slightly bigger arc. And he realizes that his chances are not good, so he says, "If you know who I am, then you know the caliber of the people who'll be searching for me. You won't get away with this."

Straker is quiet for so long that Castle wonders if he's still listening and then the man says, "You may be right. It's possible that they'll find you, but not before the blade reaches your heart."

It's a conversation stopper and Castle gives up trying to make his captor see reason, as he's clearly unfamiliar with the concept. Struggling to remember the details of the story, when all he can think of is how thirsty he is, Castle tries to recall how long he has before the blade reaches his chest. But he abandons it as a futile exercise when he realizes that there's no way of accurately measuring the passage of time, anyway. Instead, he puts all his remaining energy into finding a way out of his bonds.

The detectives have been diligently searching through the recent records of every auction house in New York City when Esposito hangs up his phone and waves a slip of paper as he says, "Got somethin' here, boss." When he has their attention, he says, "Mr. Madere Straker recently paid $662 500 at Christie's for a first edition of Poe's first published work; Tamerlane and Other Poems. I checked; Castle was at the auction, but lost the bid. Straker was anonymously represented by a broker, but I'm guessing that Castle could have got the name. The guy lives right here in Manhattan; Upper East Side."

Beckett is already standing, jacket in hand and says to Esposito, "Let's go." To Ryan, she says, "Have ESU and a warrant meet us there, let the captain know and then stay by the phone."

Obviously disappointed, Ryan nods his compliance and says, "Okay."

Despite being assisted by the siren, lights and Esposito's driving, it seems to take forever until they reach Straker's address. By then, the warrant has been served and the house searched. But the only suspicious thing found is a housekeeper of dubious citizenship. Beckett is about ready to punch something when Ryan calls her and says, "Straker owns a lot of real estate. The only one that stood out is a commercial property in Brooklyn. He's done extensive renovations on it in the past few years, using several different contractors. But I couldn't find any record of him applying for a business name. It's nice and isolated, too, with most adjacent buildings being torn down long ago. Captain says it's enough to proceed."

Beckett signals to Esposito that it's time to go, even as she says to Ryan, "Okay, thanks. Send me the address and call me if you get anything else."

This time, when Castle wakes, the first thing he sees is the swinging blade, now only a few feet away and making a barely audible hissing sound as it passes above him, followed by a distinctly mechanical clang at the end of each sweep and his over-worked heart feels like it's trying to leave his chest. Panting with stress and the effects of dehydration, he's almost hypnotized by the slow, steady arc of the blade and then Straker's voice says, "I was worried that you'd sleep through your death, Mr. Castle."

It's a timely reminder that he has an audience and Castle silently resolves to deny Straker the satisfaction of witnessing his growing panic. Summoning every emotional reserve available to him, Castle forces his body to relax and then says, "Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

"Oh, you don't, Mr. Castle. Unlike my first victim, who started screaming long before the blade reached him. Though, at least he didn't fall down the pit, I suppose."

Constantly scanning his surroundings for a way out, Castle says, "You don't even know his name, do you?"

After a moment, Straker sounds genuinely confused when he says, "Why would I?"

Finally angry with his clearly insane captor, Castle says, "You know, this whole intercom thing is not very Poe."

There's a pause and Straker says, "You're right. My apologies, Mr. Castle. I won't speak again unless you address me."

Fighting the urge to struggle, because the effort made him black out last time he tried it, Castle feels around with his left arm for anything that might help him. But there's nothing, and he already knows from earlier efforts that he can't topple the table. The wooden edges are too smooth to cut through the canvas strap, even assuming he had time for such a plan. And there are no conveniently crooked nails poking out of the wood. Trying to think past the pounding in his head and the cramps in his legs, Castle tries for a different perspective on things and closes his eyes to picture what he looks like from Straker's point of view. And then he finally has a plan.

Almost any exertion makes him feel like he's about to pass out again, so it's several minutes before Castle manages to push the straps off his shoulders onto his neck. Then a few more incredibly uncomfortable minutes while he works some slack into the strap over his stomach, letting the bands tighten around his neck. But, he's eventually satisfied that the strap that had been across his abdomen is now directly in the path of the blade. Of course, given that he has no idea whether it will work, it's not an ideal plan. But it's the best he has and now there's nothing to do but watch the glinting blade edge inexorably towards his chest.

Castle wakes gasping, his chest ablaze with sharp agony and he lunges upward, momentarily forgetting the strap now pressed firmly against his neck, aggravating his already inflamed throat. Thankfully, the pain is a remarkably efficient way to clear his senses and he sees the now bloodied blade slowly sweeping towards the apex of its arc. Girded into immediate action by the knowledge that he has only seconds to live, Castle pulls at the remains of the strap until it snaps and then thrashes about until he's free enough to fall off the table, just as the blade descends through where his body had been only moments before.

After ridding himself of what remains of his bonds, Castle tries to stand, but his legs refuse to work and the cramps mean that his efforts are met with a whole new level of pain. Careful to stay out of harm's way, Castle massages his legs for a few seconds while he says, "You better work on getting gone, Straker, because I'm about to come find you."

Straker laughs and says, "Good luck, Mr. Castle and thank you, for the entertainment."

Mindful of the still deadly blade, Castle makes sure that one end of the strap is firmly anchored to the heavy table and drops the other end down the pit. Praying that he'll stay conscious at least until he's a safe distance from the ground, he summons a distant memory and clumsily shimmies down the rope. Unfortunately, the rope ends before he touches ground and the light doesn't extend enough to illuminate the floor. The now familiar dizziness is sweeping over him and Castle knows that any decision on whether or not to jump will soon be taken from him. So he unwraps his ankle from the strap and lets go.

With Esposito driving, he and Beckett arrive first at the scene. They're already suited up and Beckett is opening her door even as the car skids to a halt nearby. Esposito puts a hand on her arm, gentle enough that she could easily break free if she chose, and says, "We don't know what we're dealing with."

Beckett knows he's right, so she takes one unsteady breath, nods and says, "Tac team first."

Satisfied that her need to see Castle safe won't make her foolhardy, Esposito releases her and kills the engine before exiting the car to stand with her. ESU arrive within seconds and, after the obligatory pep talk, fan out towards the building. They're almost to the only apparent door when it suddenly opens and Castle limps into view, blinking against the light. For a moment he's confronted by raised automatic weapons, but the misunderstanding is almost immediately cleared up and Beckett is almost to him, wondering how the hell he managed to get free when Castle forces enough air past his tortured throat to say "Magic," just before he passes out yet again.

So he's unconscious when Beckett lunges and sort of catches him, forced to her knees by the impact. And he sleeps through most of the ride to the hospital, as yet another IV tube is inserted in his arm and a dressing is put on what turns out be a superficial wound on his chest. But he wakes in time to see Beckett wiping away tears and he rasps, "Straker?"

The paramedic checks that Castle is aware of his surroundings and then opens a bottle of water and says, "Slowly, okay?"

When she's satisfied that Castle is all right, Beckett says, "Straker wasn't in the building. But we'll find him. Just get better, Castle. Let us worry about the case now."

Castle nods and relaxes, periodically bringing the water bottle to his lips. He notices the IV and looks at the paramedic, who says, "Just saline. You're dehydrated."

Castle frowns and ponders aloud, "How long was I missing?"

Beckett says, "It's been over forty-eight hours since you left…" Suddenly overcome with guilt, she takes a deep breath to gather her courage and then says, "Since I sent you home." With a wry grin, she then adds, "Clearly, you didn't listen."

Castle discerns that she's deeply regretting her angry outburst, so he smiles and says, "Sorry."

So Beckett knows that he's already forgiven her and offers him a dazzling smile of gratitude before she says, "Yeah, well, just make sure it doesn't happen again, okay?"

Castle smiles and lifts the water bottle to acknowledge her words before taking another drink.

After passing an electrolyte and kidney function test and then enduring a few x-rays on his right ankle, Castle is permitted to leave the hospital in a wheelchair; his sprained ankle strapped against further injury. Of course, Martha and Alexis are with him by then and they bully Beckett into coming home with them. Settled in the back seat, between Martha and Alexis, Castle says, "Can we stop for a burger on the way? I'm starving."

Beckett laughs from the front passenger seat and says, "They fed him at the hospital."

Indignant, Castle says, "That was not food."

Alexis laughs and gets out her phone as she says, "How about I order pizza and have it meet us there?"

Castle puts and arm around her, kisses her cheek and says, "You're a genius."

Much later, when even Castle's appetite is satisfied, he limps to the sofa and rests his pained ankle on the coffee table. Martha and Alexis have said goodnight and retreated upstairs, leaving Beckett and Castle alone. Beckett hovers nearby for a second, until Castle wearily says, "Don't make me chase you, Beckett."

Beckett smiles a little at the ridiculous notion and sits beside him, then takes a deep breath and says, "Lately, it seems like all I do is apologize to you."

Castle smiles a little, then leans his head back and, with no trace of bitterness, says, "Except that you haven't."

Though he can't see the gesture, Beckett nods and then says, "I'm sorry, Castle, for venting my frustration on you like that, for doubting you and for…forgetting that you're very smart."

Those last words get his attention, as she's never intentionally made such a declaration, so Castle turns his exultant gaze on her and says, "You're forgiven." They sit in a companionable silence for a few seconds and then he says, "So…you're not upset with me for pursuing the case? Obviously, I didn't expect Straker to drug my coffee, or I would never have gone to his house alone."

Beckett smiles and says, "No, I'm not angry, Castle. You're clearly more than capable of looking after yourself." And then she laughs and says, "Which is just as well, if you're going to keep doing stupid stuff like that."

Smiling, Castle nods his agreement and then says, "Upside; I got to live a Poe story."

"Only just. Please don't do that again."

Castle offers to shake hands as he says, "I'll try. And you'll listen to me next time?"

Before accepting the gesture, Beckett says, "I'll try?" At his nod, she shakes hands with him and says, "Deal."

The End