Title: What Could Have Been, And What Will Be

Rating: T

Summary: Oneshot. Castle and Beckett deal with another near-death experience, in an unlikely setting. Immediately post-Linchpin; Mostly fluff w/ some disturbing imagery and sexual themes.

A/N: I know that I have another story in the works [Bulletproof Hearts and Hollowpoint Smiles], so bear with me on that if you're one of the people that has been following it. This is just a quick oneshot that I couldn't get out of my head after seeing the parking garage scene from Linchpin, which I thought ended beautifully. Thanks for reading.

"No!"

Kate Beckett's cry was lost to the unforgiving roar of the .38 pistol trained on her partner's head, the resulting concussive wave sending sickening trembles through her before dissipating into the cement walls beyond. Weak knees bit into the smooth, chilled floor as she reflexively turned away, shielding her vulnerable front and face from the muzzle blast that already scorched her nose with the sickly sweet smell of burning gunpowder. The ejected casing fell, pinging off of the ground with the slightest 'plink' before rolling in a lazy arch to where she knelt. Golden-pink copper glinted up under the punishing fluorescent lights, daring her to look as she twisted towards him, her voice cracking:

"Cas-"

Streaked blood spatter and sopping red chunks splayed across the ground in front of him as his body hit the cement with a wet thud, the full force of his limp, colliding weight resonating through the floor to where Kate was frozen.

"Ca...Castle...RICK..." she whimpered, falling to her palms and scrambling to his side, uncaring that this woman that he had once loved, his muse – his killer – stood ready to repeat the gesture, but this time with a slug meant for her. Grabbing the shoulder of his woolen jacket, she heaved his weight with the adrenaline coursing her veins, rolling him towards her onto his back. A ragged moan sunk from her lips.

Icy blue eyes stared dully into nothingness as blood leaked from the exit wound between them, gravity etching crimson pathways across the soft creases of his face. Another moan shifted into a sob as Beckett choked for air, her hands frantically smoothing over his face and chest, searching for any sign of life; Any spark that would bring him back to her, to her pouring confessions and whispers of love. All she was met with was an unsettling stillness, and a haunting, dead stare through half-lidded eyes.

"Rick...please..."

The shifting of feet behind her caused her to still, rigid in both rage and primal fear, each equally as intense and deadly as the flames of passion licked at her insides.

"He was hot for you, you know. I could tell the first time you two tripped into that bunker, and trust me, sweetie, I wasn't the only one. If you're really as oblivious as you make yourself out to be, I'm starting to think that Rick here might have chosen the wrong smart-and-sexy piece of tail to follow around like a hurt puppy."

Sophia's voice reverberated off of the thick walls, its shrill echo lingering as silence once again settled around them. Kate's knuckles shone white against Castle's lapels as she gripped them with trembling fingers, her tongue dry with the cool underground air. A tear slipped from the tip of her nose and onto his cheek, mixing with the blood that still flowed from his forehead.

"Cat's got your tongue, I guess. You have nothing to lose – the man's dead on the floor, and you still don't have anything to say. Maybe I was wrong; Maybe this...thing...was a one-way street. I guess you'll have plenty of time together in the afterlife to figure that out." Cold steel pressed against the back of Kate's head, nosing through her hair and pressing roughly to her scalp. Beckett steadied her breathing as she dragged her trembling fingertips gently down Castle's face, closing his eyes to the harsh light above. Her eyes squeezed shut.

"I'll see you in hell."

Beckett lurched upwards, her lungs filling with air as she gasped and grabbed for something - anything to steady herself as her eyes adjusted to the dim room around her.

A bed...she was in a bed, but not her own. It was warm, and smelled of a familiar clean spice. She shook her head lightly as if to clear the mental fog that had accumulated. Pieces to the puzzle were there, just beyond reach, haphazardly adrift in her exhausted mental haze. She and Castle had left the precinct, and then...

Kate's breath caught when a stirring in the sheets next to her groaned with a slurred, "I...huh...? Wha'ss goin' on?"

The top half of Richard Castle's mussed head peeked up from the pillow next to her, his eyes blinking into focus as he stared hazily in her direction. He was lying on his stomach next to her, one arm squeezed around the pillow that enveloped his head, the other thrown lightly across her belly, his skin hot against hers. Her ankle lie crossed over his beneath the sheets, knee arched slightly over him, softly entwining them in an embrace both intimate and distanced.

Memories flooded back to her as she stilled, her breath evening in steady rhythm. Shifting upwards to a sitting position, the skin of her spine prickled as it met the cool wood of his headboard. Castle was here. She was in his bed. He was safe.

Rick's arm tightened around her midsection, which was now nearly level with his face. He was awakening now, eyes and ears becoming more alert as he sensed her nervous movement. Lifting his head from the spot where it had molded into the pillow, he stared up to her face with a brow now furrowed in concern.

"Kate? Kate, what's wrong?"

Her fingers brushed his forehead, smoothing away the rogue hairs that had splayed across it in his slumber, or perhaps were still stuck there from the activities that had caused them both to slip into sheens of sweat and ecstasy. The corners of her mouth twitched at the memory.

Castle had insisted that she accompany him to his loft the night before; He was concerned for her, and rightly so. Nearly being killed three times over the course of a few days had taken its toll on both of them, and the insinuation that Castle's own father may have been involved served only to double the emotional weight that he carried. Moreover, the repeated sights of one another, disheveled and frightened, had worn them thin. Since the incident at the docks, they hadn't been apart, as if each feeding a desperate, unspoken need for contact and reassurance that the other was still by their side. When it was ended – when yet another day had been saved, nearly at the cost of their lives – the tension inside them had finally reached its breaking point.

In the dark safety of his silent loft, hands and mouths flew over hot skin, grasping hair and clothing in an insatiable frenzy. No matter how close they got, even as slick skin melded together in their primitive dance of hunger and lust, it was never close enough. They needed their release, but more than that, they needed each other; Safe, tangible, and theirs. After falling into his bed, each equally as spent and contented, they had fallen asleep to their own purrs and whispers of quiet bliss, entwined in one another. They drifted off in the security that this was real; They were here, now – and neither of them was running.

Now, Beckett's thumb rubbed slow circles on the skin between his eyes - the skin that was still whole, covering and protecting him, unbroken by the tear of a killer's bullet. She willed herself to push the forbidden imagery from her mind.

"It was just a dream. Go back to sleep."

Pushing himself to his elbow, he angled to face her, neither of them ever breaking contact. Neither of them wanted to.

He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, trailing the fingers of his free arm in lazy, reassuring patterns around her navel. "You wanna talk about it?"

Kate softened as she stared down into his face; Into his eyes that shone not with superficial interest or underlying lust, but rather with genuine concern and what she knew was love to a depth that slowed her mind and her tongue. She shivered – not entirely certain if it was the chilly air of the blue-grey dawn or the unexpected intensity of his gaze – and slipped down to him, curling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. They lay there, for how long she wasn't sure, eyes shut, nose-to-nose, unmoving save for the soft, gentle strokes of hands against skin. Her timid voice broke the stillness of the empty loft:

"We were in the parking garage. Everything was the same as it was yesterday, except..."

His rough fingertips left trails down her jawline as his eyes searched hers, almost pleading for her to continue.

"...except this time, there was nobody to rescue us. She shot you, point-blank. She killed you, Rick, right there. It was..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to continue her recollection. Castle nuzzled into her hair, the tip of his nose grazing her ear as they took eachother in.

"But that's not what happened," he whispered, smoothing the thin curtain of hair that had fallen from her ear away from her face, "we're here, now. I'm okay...we're both okay."

Pulling away, her gaze became more stern as she spoke, "But it just as easily could have happened. It could still happen, just not -"

Silenced by his lips on hers, she exhaled the breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. He lazily pulled away from her, his hand sliding from her shoulder to trace invisible paths along her arm.

"And you know what? I could just as easily accidentally step in front of a bus tomorrow, or fall into the Hudson, or be trampled by that NYPD horse that I rode around naked who is still seeking just revenge."

He barked a laugh as she punched at his shoulder, pushing him back onto the bed. He pulled her to him, silencing the protests that she slung behind a thinly-veiled grin.

"Or maybe I'll just be victimized by you before I even get a chance to leave the house this morning," he chuckled as they both calmed, Kate's head settling in the crook of his neck.

"You didn't seem to mind it last night," she countered, smiling against him and giving him one last poke to the chest.

Castle squeezed her arm, resting his cheek against her hair, "I know what you mean, though," he murmured, almost as if to himself, "I think about it every day we're out there, fighting the bad guys. Sometimes, the bad guys win, and that scares the hell out of me, Kate. I get this sick feeling that maybe one of these times, you won't come back, and call me crazy after last night, but I think that the feeling might be at least a little bit mutual."

Beckett bit lightly down on her lip, recalling that day in the cemetery. He had watched the life drain from her through whispered confessions and teary pleas, and she could only imagine the living hell that he had trudged through with that humorless grin and broken disguise, always stoic and strong for the people that needed him the most. They had never really talked about it, of course; They never talked about anything. But, maybe someday soon, that would change. She pressed further into his neck, savoring the warmth and vibrations of his husky, early-morning voice. He continued:

"We can't be slaves to that, Beckett. Not anymore. We're alive, and we're here, and last night? Last night, there wasn't fear. Just...us. We've cheated death enough times; I want to live."

Normally, Kate Beckett would have been shocked. Normally, such a raw, unhindered confession would have left her reeling and scrambling for the nearest emotional exit – but this wasn't a normal morning. If the past was what it meant to be normal, she wanted to be decidedly abnormal, preferably with the man who had quieted beneath her, apprehensive of the damage that he may have caused with his words. Planting a kiss where she lay near his collarbone and trailing to meet his lips, she opened her eyes to meet his.

"Then let's live."