Gonna go ahead and add a disclaimer in here, just in case it wasn't obvious that I don't own Castle.
"Beckett?" he cries, crashing through the front door. He leaves splinters in his wake as he picks his way through the wreckage of the hallway. "Beckett, are you in here? Kate!" The relief is immediate when he hears her raspy coughs coming from the back of the floor.
"Kate, you're alive!" he sighs. "Oh, and you're naked!" He spins around, despite the urge to gawk, as she throws herself back into the tub.
"Castle, turn around!" she orders.
"I already have," he throws back. What had that scar been from? Appendectomy? Kidney transplant? And was that a piercing? He shakes his head – now is not the time. "You know, your apartment is on fire. Now might not be the best time for modesty."
"Hand me a towel," she coughs, holding her hand out of the tub.
"Er…. The towels are on fire."
"What about the robe?" she worries.
"Do you have anything to wear that's not flammable?" he demands, turning to look at her.
"Castle!" she shrieks, curling in on herself. "Give me your jacket."
He rolls his eyes, pulling it off quickly and holding it blindly in front of him. When he's sure her arms are through the sleeves he opens his eyes and lets go, stepping back to help her out of the tub.
She clutches the jacket in front of her, crying out as she almost crashes to the ground at the slightest pressure on her ankle. "Whoa there," Castle grabs her before she falls and wraps his arm around her waist, helping her limp out of the room. "All right?"
"Yeah," she breathes. "I dove into the tub just as it blew – must've twisted my ankle in the process. Just wasn't expecting it, that's all."
They make it halfway to the door before she stops them. "Just a second," she requests, moving to enter what he assumes is her guest room.
"Not really the right time for this, Beckett. Y'know, what with the explosion and the smoke and the fire and all…"
"I know. Just a second," she repeats, putting her hand on his chest as he tries to follow her. "Wait here."
"But I-"
"Please, Castle. For just a second," she begs, actually begs, "wait here."
He lets her go, trying to peak through the opening before she slips through and shuts the door in his face. He catches nothing.
She's gone for far longer than a second but, despite his intense curiosity, he waits her out, keeping an eye on the flames and smoke to ensure that they do not grow close or thick enough to incapacitate them.
When she cracks the door open again he moves aside, holding out his arm for her to fall into. "Thank you," she says gratefully.
"Of course." When he rewraps his hand around her waist he can feel something in one of the pockets. He's dying to ask what was so important but instead he comes out with, "Besides your ankle, are you in any pain?"
"Not as much as you," she smirks, eying him sideways. "It must be killing you, Castle, having to wait this long to tell me how you banged down the door."
"Want me to start from the beginning?" he asks excitedly, mysterious side trip momentarily forgotten.
xxx
They're back in the still steamy, charred remnants of her living room as soon as the all clear is given. "Has anyone seen my father's watch?" she calls out, shifting through a pile of ash.
"I think I have the blast seed here," Agent Shaw mutters, lifting the object in question with a pair of forceps.
Esposito emerges from the end of the hallway as Agent Shaw looks around for more of the bomb. "Bedroom seems all right, Boss. Mostly smoke damage."
"Great," she sighs. "Anyone know if insurance covers dry-cleaning?" She stands up, stretching her arms above her as she takes in the destruction of her couch and, more importantly, the bookcase beside it. All of Castle's books were probably toast. All of her mother's books were probably toast.
Why me? she sighs internally, running a hand over her face. Why does it always happen to me? She allows herself a few seconds to mope before returning to her unfortunate reality. "Hey," she yells, her heart suddenly falling into her stomach. "What are you doing?"
She jogs over to the door that she had disappeared into yesterday and shoves the agent about to open the door out of the way. "Not in there," she orders.
"We have to," he apologizes, moving towards the door again.
"You don't have to do anything," she tells him. "Agent Shaw," she requests, standing her ground.
"What is it now, Detective Beckett?"
"I will let you into this room, and you only." Shaw rolls her eyes, rising from her crouch and brushing off her knees. "What's the matter, Beckett, got a closet full of your hidden past?"
Beckett glares as she opens the door, letting Shaw past and following her through. She almost crashes into the agent as Shaw freezes just inside the room. "Oh," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."
She lets Agent Shaw do her prodding and poking, fighting the urge to curl up and die. Shaw works as fast as she can, disturbing as little as possible and, in the end, taking nothing.
"Is that it?" Beckett asks as Shaw stops in front of her.
"I believe so," she nods.
"I hope that we can keep this between the two of us?" she whispers, brow furrowed and eyes cast on the floor.
"Certainly," she agrees. "As far as I'm concerned, this room has nothing to do with the crime scene. There is no evidence here and no reason for us to remove anything from the premises."
Beckett throws her arms around Jordan, not caring how weak it may make her seem. "Thank you."
