A/N: Well, after something as stunning as last night's episode, how could I not write about it? I had been anticipating "Cops and Robbers" for weeks, and it surpassed all my wildest imaginings and hopes for the episode! (Well, except my wish that Castle and Beckett would admit their feelings for each other!) All in all, it was an incredible episode, and the moment that Kate found Castle in the vault, I knew I would be writing something about this episode before the day was up.
Summary: Kate has always considered herself a strong woman. Castle has always remained calm in the face of danger. In the aftermath of the bank robbery, Kate and Castle find comfort in each other. Caskett. One-shot. Complete.
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me. If it did, there would be lots of Castle babies running around by now.
Aftermath: For a Single Breath
Detective Kate Beckett has always considered herself a strong woman.
She's had to be; from her first days as a cadet, working her ways through the ranks with a determination that told her male peers that she would not crumble under the pressures of the job. Even before that, when her life was shattered the night her mother was murdered. She had to be strong then—her father was reeling with grief, shaken to the core from the loss, and she was all he had. He couldn't see her broken by the same grief. One of them had to be strong. She had taken up that burden for him.
But now, as Kate steps out of the van and tries to deny the ringing in her ears that can only have come from an explosion, she knows she is not strong. Oh, she may pretend to be, may masquerade as a woman made of steel, a woman that can be harmed by nothing, but that is a lie.
The bottom has fallen out of her world, and she sways where she stands, staring in disbelief at the rubble and dust that filters out of the hole where the front of a bank just stood.
A bank that had recently been the scene of a robbery and a hostage situation. A bank that had housed her partner, Richard Castle.
Oh, God, Castle…the ringing in her ears doesn't fade, but only grows, accompanied by the thudding of her heart. It taunts her, the pounding of her own heart, and she knows, she knows now that if Castle is gone, if he is dead when she finds him, that her heart will break, will cease to beat.
She wonders if this is how Castle felt as she lay on the cool grass of the cemetery, sliding into the comforting darkness of oblivion, feeling him hover over her, her body aching from the gunshot wound she had just received…
Kate, I love you.
The memory of those words—words she has sworn to him that she has no memory of—galvanizes her into action. She doesn't want to see Alexis' tearstained face, echoing her own shock and disbelief. She doesn't want to see Ryan and Esposito, reeling with the same incredulity. What she needs to do now is act.
Action has always been her way of dealing with the unexpected, the things that rocked her to her core, made her doubt herself. When her mother was murdered, she lost herself in the simple action of living from day to day, in the task of making sure that her father ate, that he did not succumb to the pain that threatened to swallow him whole.
When she did not want to face the reality of Castle's words, that he loved her, she was not quite ready to admit the same—not to herself, and not to him—she took refuge in action. The action of returning to work, to returning to the precinct, to murders that had nothing to do with her handsome partner and the way they felt about each other.
She has been a fool. She realizes that now as she straps on a police vest with numb fingers and follows the rest of the squad into what is left of the bank, her flashlight cutting dull swathes of light in the gray air.
Suddenly, she can't bear to be behind the others. She must take the lead, if only to discover the truth for herself, to see the reality of it with her own eyes, whatever that may be. She cannot accept the truth from anyone else.
She is crying his name into the eerie silence of the ravaged bank without truly realizing. Over and over again, she calls to him, as he once did her, waiting, hoping, for a response.
She is praying for a response before she truly realizing what she is doing, prayers that fly thick and fast silently from her mind, nothing more than a simple Please please please please please—I need to find him, please, please, please.
Then, blessedly, she hears a response. "Beckett?" His reply is hoarse, but she feels her breath catch in her throat—he's alive!
"Castle?" She calls desperately, again, her voice breaking. Her flashlight beam catches on them, the hostages, all sitting in the vault. Castle raises his bound hands in a weak wave from the corner, and Kate wonders why she suddenly can't breathe.
"They're in here!" She calls, her voice rough with stress and relief and all the horrors she has imagined in the last awful minutes. He is not dead, his blue eyes are shining up at her in the light of the flashlight beams, and his relieved laughter nearly has her laughing in joy as well.
His exultation—relieved and proud—telling the other hostages that yes, he knew she would get them out, see, has Kate nearly laughing again, but this time, she wonders if it wouldn't be slightly strangled by tears.
She is kneeling before him before she registers how she got there, and the smile rises to her lips unbidden. His blue eyes are holding hers, and she is lost in his gaze, lost in the relief and joy at his appearance, whole and unharmed other than his bound hands.
Kate reaches out to trace his cheek before she can caution herself not to, but finds that she really does care at this moment. Castle is here, he is alive, he hasn't been injured, and that erases all ideas she might have of keeping her distance, of shielding herself from him.
In his gaze, she sees that he understands what her vulnerable open gaze means, and he returns it. His relief at seeing her is just as palpable as it was nearly an hour ago—was it only an hour ago? Or less—when she appeared as the paramedic. However, this time, it is not tempered by fear, or stress. This time, it is just simple relief, one that she echoes.
Her fingers wrap themselves around his lapel, and she wants to increase their proximity, if only to reassure herself that he is whole. Did he feel this way, when she was shot? Did he feel this overwhelming need to ensure that she was all right, that she would survive?
The warm affection and deep devotion in his blue eyes tells her that, yes, he did feel that way. There is more there, more that she knows echoes his words that were whispered to her in a cemetery before she lost consciousness, but she refuses to dwell on them now. There is too much still that lies in their way, most of it her own insecurities and barriers she must tear down.
All this passes in a few moments. What would have happened if they were alone, Kate isn't sure. She's not sure she could resist gathering him close and running her hands over his body, checking for further injuries. The look in Castle's eyes tells her that he wants such a thing as well, and perhaps they might have, had Martha not interrupted.
While part of Kate is disgruntled at the interruption, the other part is grateful for it. She doesn't trust that she won't fling herself at Castle, given their heightened emotions and the adrenaline pumping through her veins. With a smile and quick apology, she turns to Martha, pretending not to notice Castle's brief flicker of disappointment.
Afterwards, Kate does not try to hide her joy from Ryan and Esposito, who look as pleased as she does that their friend has survived. While Alexis weeps and seeks the safety of her father's arms, flashing Kate a grateful look, Kate makes sure that the other hostages are tended to.
In time, Alexis is convinced to step out of her father and grandmother's holds, to allow them to be tended to. Other than some smoke and dust inhalation and some raw skin where the ties rubbed them, both seem to be fine.
But Kate knows better. She knows what kind of post-traumatic stress an event like this can bring on, which is why she is currently arguing with Castle.
"You need to go home."
Castle flinches as the medic wrapping gauze around his raw wrists pulls the bandages a little too tightly. "Beckett, I'm coming back the station with you. We have a case to solve."
"No," Kate snaps back, "Ryan and Esposito and I have a case to solve. You need to go home, Castle. You've had a long and trying day. You need to rest."
The medic, sensing that his is in the middle of a lover's spat, wisely makes himself scarce.
Castle glares at her, his jaw firm, brows furrowed, refusing to give ground. "I helped the man out of that bank, Kate. I need to help find him."
Kate sighs, running a hand through her hair, deliberately softening her tone. "Rick, it's been a long day. The last thing you need to be doing is chasing down criminals with me. Go home. Comfort Alexis, make your mother a strong drink, and try to relax. I'll call you when we have him."
"We're partners," Castle growls, stepping forward. "If you send me home, I'm not going to be able to think about anything but how I let that guy get away, that I convinced those mercs to let you come in and get him. I fell into his plan, Kate, just like he wanted me to. I put you in harm's way. I need to help you find him."
There is a deep conviction in his voice, and Kate has no problem reading between the lines. He is blaming himself for putting her in harm's way, for allowing her to walk into a bank for a mercs and wheel out their prime suspect. No matter that she had been able to gather intel, not matter that they had been able to have contact for one brief, sweet moment. None of that matters to him in this moment, haunted by his guilt, and it is useless to try to convince him of that fact.
Kate knows Richard Castle. He blames himself for failing to find the man who had targeted her in the cemetery, and now he blames himself for letting "Sal"—aka Ron Brandt—go.
Instead of arguments, instead of sharp words and logic, Kate simply reaches out to him, unable to stop herself. "Hey," she says gently, drawing him to her. "Hey, Castle, it's okay."
Castle seems surprised by her willingness to step into his arms, but he is no fool. He does not argue, but instead allows her to wrap her arms around him, returning the gesture, pillowing his cheek on her hair.
There is nothing sexual about this embrace. While there might be heat passing between them at all other times, it has been exchanged at this moment for compassion, for comfort, for the much-needed touch of two human beings reveling in the sound of each other's heartbeats, in the simple knowledge that they are both alive.
And Kate needs him. She needs him with her. He is her partner, as she told the captain before, and after these last few years together she can think of him as being nowhere else but at her side. Here, holding him to her and feeling his hands radiating warmth against her back, she can only take solace in the comfort they bring each other. It is the same comfort he offered that horrible, terrible night that Montgomery died, when she struggled to be free of his hold, to go racing back into the hangar. Then, he had offered the comfort of his embrace as she did now, cradling her in his arms, attempting to quiet her, taking no offense at the way she struggled against him, understanding her need to return to fight. Still he held her, still he cradled her and attempted to hush her, to comfort her even as she fought the terror that was welling up within her.
Now, she extends that same courtesy, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist as he breathes shakily against her crown. She feels what might be shock, might be sobs shudder through his frame, and she is suddenly grateful that he allows her to see him like this. He cannot allow himself to reflect on the day and give in to his fear and shock and relief with Alexis or his mother near. For both of them, Kate knows he feels he must be strong, that he must be their hero, their protector, their guardian.
With her, it is different. They are partners. They have seen each other at their best and worst, have saved each other numerous times—although Kate is not counting—and she stays perfectly still in the circle of his arms while he trembles, the shock of the day washing over him.
His voice is thick as he speaks above her, his words whispering against her hair. "Kate, there were so many times today…I mean, when you walked in those doors with that gurney…"
Kate tips her face up to his, loosens her hold slightly as she becomes of aware of their proximity to each other. She traces his cheek as she did in the vault, as he once did to her outside a dark airplane hangar in attempt to calm her, and gives him a gentle smile. "Hey, it's okay, Castle. You made it out, Martha made it out, and no one was badly hurt."
He buries his face in her hair again, and she lets him, understanding that he needs her comfort as much as she needs to feel him against her, to feel his heartbeat resonate against her chest, the true proof that he has not been taken from her.
Kate is suddenly very grateful that they are blocked from view by the ambulance they are currently sheltering behind, and none of the onlookers being dispersed by the police behind the barricade have given them more than a cursory glance. The last thing she needs is Ryan or Esposito or Martha to come wandering back here and see them locked in a tight embrace. Kate already has to deal with gossip, and she does not want to set further tongues wagging or give the rumor mill any more fodder. There will be time enough for that in the future.
Slowly, Castle releases her, and Kate relaxes her hold on him as he does. He lets out a long sigh, and tugs his sleeves over his bandages, grimacing when they snag and rub his raw skin. If his eyes are overly bright, Kate pretends not to notice.
"Castle, are you coming?"
Her customary question brings a brief smile to his face, as well as a fleeting smirk that she has capitulated so easily. He falls into step beside her, her partner, once again the cool and confident man who has just braved a bank robbery and can continue on.
As they head towards Ryan and Esposito who are expectantly awaiting their next orders, Kate feels Castle's hand brush gently against hers for a moment, unseen by others.
She glances to find his eyes on her, warm with gratitude and affection that has an answering warmth rushing through her veins. She finds his smile echoed on her own lips before he has even spoken. "Thank you, Kate."
"Always."
A/N: I hope you have enjoyed. Reviews are appreciated!