I know what you're thinking, but you can't possibly be more surprised to see me here than I am. It's been three years (three years!) since I last posted a Castle fic, but this particular story has been waiting a long time (according to the file, since June 2011... jeez) to be set free, and while it was mostly completed by 2012, for some reason I was never quite able to finish the last chapter. That is, until now.

Though I have no doubt that everyone is completely sick of kidnapped!Castle fics (thanks, show, for stealing my idea years after I came up with it lol), I'm giving you another anyway. And just so we're all aware, this story is set somewhere around the end of S4 (yes, THAT far back!), prior the big reveal in 47 Seconds, and is a multi-perspective fic based loosely around the five stages of grief.

I also have to take a quick sec to dedicate this story to Lisa, who has waited patiently for literally years to see it come into existence. It would never have done so without your support!

Anyway, here it is at last. I really hope you like it.

"Okay, okay, I got one," Castle laughed, slowing his stride as he looked down at her. "How about this? Fifteen years old, first time I ever shaved. I may have been just a tad too overeager."

Halting on the sun-dappled sidewalk, he tilted his head, pointing to a spot on the underside of his jaw. "See?"

Cocking her head to the side, Beckett squinted. "Nope."

Castle huffed, lifting his chin a little higher. "Come on, how can you not see it? It's right there."

"Hold on, let me look."

Beckett stepped closer– though, as was their fashion, they had barely been abiding the accepted boundaries of personal space as it was– and Castle obligingly angled himself more toward her, allowing her to bring her face within just a few inches of his neck, her eyes following his pointed finger to the pale, inch-long scar that was now clearly visible along the stubbled line of his jaw.

Feeling the warmth of his body so close to hers, Beckett inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, then bit her lip to hold back a smile.

"I think you're making this up," she informed him, fighting to keep her the trace of mischief out of her tone. "There's nothing there."

"What?" Castle asked in surprise, his fingers tracing along the underside of his jaw. "It's right there, I can feel it!"

Shifting to face her, Castle grabbed her hand in his, lifting it and guiding it to the scar to feel its presence for herself.

"How could you miss that? Seriously, I–" suddenly seeing the mischievous grin she wore, he cut himself off, then narrowed his eyes at her. "You're messing with me."

Beckett laughed, a familiar lightness filling her chest, one that she only seemed to feel around him. "Sorry, Castle, but you're just too easy. I couldn't resist."

Feigning displeasure, he attempted to frown down at her; but soon failed, his lips twitching until he simply gave in, his grin mirroring hers.

Neither of them seemed to remember that they were standing in the middle of a public sidewalk, her fingers still resting lightly against his jaw, almost like a lover's caress. Lately, it seemed like more and more of their interaction was coming to fit comfortably under that description: almost like a lover. In truth, anyone who saw them now would probably think them as just another love-struck couple, strolling down the street together on a sunny Monday morning.

And right now, Beckett couldn't bring herself to care.

Grinning up at him, she raised an eyebrow, lightly tracing his scar with her fingertips.

"So, you really think your little shaving scar can match the coolness of my bullet wound?"

"Hey, now, no way," he objected earnestly, "The rules specifically stated that all scars must have been both accidental and self-inflicted to qualify. On-the-job injuries or attempted murders are off limits."

Beckett gave him a sly smile, ready to play her trump card. She could already picture the excited, eager light that would come into his eyes the moment she mentioned the word motorcycle. "Well, in that case–"

She never got a chance to finish the sentence. There was no warning– or rather, her mind realised the warning far too late. There was only the squeal of brakes from the road to her left, the shriek of a heavy door being rolled forcefully open, the slap of several feet on asphalt.

In that split second between the collision of one reality and another, Beckett saw Castle's eyes lift, widening reflexively as they focused on something behind her– and something within her reacted instinctively, her body starting to turn, her hand dropping from Castle's face as the other went for her gun.

But not fast enough.

The blow to her temple felt like a speeding freight train crashing into her skull. The second blow came from the sidewalk; she wasn't entirely sure she'd even been conscious for the fall, but the impact of her face on concrete was certainly enough to bring her sharply back to reality. Scarcely noticing the low, pained moan that rumbled from her throat, Beckett pushed hard against the concrete, knowing that she had to move, to get up and fight, because the next hit could mean her death.

Or Castle's.

The thought spurred her on, sending a flood of adrenaline through her veins.

Twisting, she lifted herself to her knees, drawing her gun in the same fluid movement, her aim fixed directly where their faceless attackers had been, preparing herself for the worst.

She wasn't prepared enough. In the blink of an eye, she saw it all; the narrow, deserted street blocked by a white van, its engine fired and a black-masked man behind the wheel, shouting to two others who had just shoved something large into the back and jumped in after it, already yanking on the heavy roller door. In the single second it took for the door to slide home, Beckett saw their cargo, her heart constricting so painfully in her chest that she couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could only stare as Castle's eyes met hers from the depths of the van, wide with terror and desperation, the pained shout that left his lips– Kate– drowned out as the door slammed into place and the van sped off, tyres squealing.

"No!"

Throwing herself to her feet, Beckett stumbled to the center of the street, knowing that giving chase was useless; her car was more than a block behind her, and pursuit on foot was impossible. Instead, she leveled her gun in a swift motion, then grimly sighted up, keeping her aim low. She couldn't– wouldn't– risk Castle getting hit, couldn't even let herself think about the possibility. Instead, she thought only about her target, her entire being reduced to the squeeze of her finger on the trigger.

The first two bullets fell short, kicking up miniature dustclouds as they buried themselves in the asphalt just behind the speeding van. The third, however, struck home; the van's rear left tire all but exploded, causing the vehicle to fishtail wildly, and for a fleeting second hope flared bright in her heart– but the driver somehow managed to regain control, her fourth and fifth bullets flying wide as the van made a sharp, screeching turn around a corner, abruptly vanishing from sight.

Yanking her radio free, Beckett called it in, mechanically recounting the attack, giving a description of the assailants– three, including the driver, by her count– and of the vehicle, ensuring the operator noted the blown tire.

Once done, she lowered the radio and simply stood there, all alone in the middle of the deserted street, her eyes staring unseeingly at the corner where she had last seen the battered, fleeing van.

And as she stood there alone, radio in one hand and gun in the other, she finally felt the weight of reality sink in, the truth more painful than any physical injury.

Castle was gone.

Her vision began to blur, all background noise simply fading away until there was nothing left, nothing but her and the silent emptiness that spread through her, a chill that froze in her veins.

And then, right there in the middle of the deserted street, her mind empty of all but the image of Castle's shocked and frightened face, Kate Beckett slowly sank to her knees.

Castle was gone.

Thank you to everyone who gave this a read. I remember Castle readers as being the absolute best at reviewing and interacting with writers, and so I would honestly love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and the story as it progresses. I'm fairly certain this story will be about nine chapters, and I'd be honoured if you guys would join me for all of them.

Cheers,

Laura