AN: I have a compulsion to write spec fic. I don't know why. I've never been inspired to write a post-ep but if you give me some spoilers, my mind runs wild. I know enough spoilers for Hunt to know that this is not how it goes down but come with me on this adventure anyway, won't you?
She's absolutely no use to the boys. None. Castle left for France twelve hours ago and her mind is on nothing else. They took most of the paperwork from her, left her with a few easy sheets but she's just staring at her phone, tapping an uneven staccato on her desk.
This is ridiculous. He'll call when he has something. She sighs and pushes her hair off her face, turns focus to the forms that demand attention. The ink hasn't even touched the page when her phone vibrates, the pen clattering from her hand. Ryan and Esposito look up from across the bullpen but she ignores them, grabbing the phone and rushing to a back hallway for some semblance of privacy.
"Castle?" she breathes as she lifts the device to her ear. She hears the desperation in her voice but isn't even ashamed.
"If I give you a name, could you get me some information, known associates, last known address, that sort of thing?" There's no preamble, no niceties, just the request. Which was directed at her as more of a demand.
She's thrown off, stunned into silence at his clipped words, flat tone.
"Beckett?"
"Yeah." She forces the word out, gives him the only answer she could imagine giving in this situation. "What's the name?"
"I'll text it to you, I've been warned not to say it where people can hear."
"Okay. How'd you get the information?"
"It's probably best that you don't ask me that."
Who is this man? This isn't her partner on the phone, not her friend, her lover. He's cold and dark and kind of frightening. She suddenly wonders if this is what everyone saw in her when she was drowning in her mother's case. It makes her understand why they pushed so hard for her to move away from it.
There's nothing to push Castle away from though. He needs his daughter back, that's the only way the light will reclaim the darkness that has overtaken him. So she doesn't push.
"Are you okay?" she asks instead.
"I will be. She's here, I know she's here."
"She is. You'll find her." She presses the phone against her cheek in some kind of attempt to feel closer to him, to feel like there's not an ocean between them. Literally.
"I have to go." There's regret in his voice and she's so grateful for it, that little sliver of light sneaking through his dark. "Email me what you find?"
"I will. Stay safe."
"I'll do my best." And then the line cuts off.
She keeps the phone up a minute longer, wishing that wasn't the end, wishing that she would have said more, would have told him-
There's a buzz against her face, the name Castle needs checked shining on her skin. She pushes off the wall and goes to work.
It's bad. Alain Sauvageon is on every watch list that exists, is wanted in multiple countries for everything from gun trafficking to murder. And this is the guy that he wants to find.
What was she thinking letting him go over there alone? He's her partner and despite any romantic entanglements, she should have her partner's back.
She reads over the information again, worries her bottom lip between her teeth, doesn't even notice that she's tapping her foot on the floor until the chair beside her desk is suddenly occupied.
Her foot stops its movement. His chair is occupied. But not by him, of course not by him. Doesn't stop her heart from skipping for a moment though.
She slides her eyes over to find her captain staring at her. No, not staring, Castle stares. Watches her with casual interest as he mentally files away little bits of her. Gates' eyes are boring holes right through her.
"Sir?"
"I know what you're doing."
Shit. "Sir?"
"Did you forget that all inquiries are reported to me? Especially when that search hits Interpol and foreign countries?"
No, she didn't forget. She just hoped that it would go ignored like so many things about this case have. Gates has been incredibly accommodating lately.
"Castle needed-"
"I know why you ran the search, Detective. What I don't understand is why you're doing it from here and not calling them-" she inclines her head towards the other end of the bullpen "- from Paris yourself."
Beckett freezes. Is she really saying what she thinks she's saying?
"We have no open cases now that Hasim Farouk's murder was handed over to the feds. Why don't you take a few days?"
Has everyone in her life gone mad? She's gaping at Gates, gaping, and the woman raises her eyebrows at her.
Right, waiting for an answer.
"Yes sir, thank you, sir." The words tumble from her mouth inelegantly.
The captain nods and stands. "Just let me know when you know you'll be returning. I trust you to not take advantage of this offer."
"Of course not, sir," she assures her.
She turns to leave but when she's just at the back of his chair, turns back. "Oh, and one more thing."
Beckett looks up from where she was gathering her things. "What's that?"
"When you get back, you, me and Mr. Castle need to have a conversation."
She fights the urge to close her eyes and hide away because there's no doubt what that conversation will be about. They haven't been exactly subtle the last few days. Beckett just nods and the other woman takes that as answer enough before retreating to her office.
She stops questioning the intelligence of the move and sends the email off to Castle, prays that he doesn't do anything stupid until she can get to him. The boys are filled in quick enough, start shoving her out the door as soon as they understand what she's saying and then she's in the elevator, a taxi, at her apartment without knowing how much time has passed.
She drags out a carry-on suitcase, fills it with sensible clothes and toiletries, skips anything fancy or unnecessary. A laugh bubbles up from her chest at the absurdity of the situation. This is certainly not how she thought she would pack for a European trip with Castle. The reason for the trip sobers her and she finishes the task at hand before heading out the door again.
She fishes her phone out of her pocket and dials as she makes her way out of her building.
"I'm on my way over and I have kind of a huge favor to ask."
Martha embraces her in a facsimile of her usual effervescent fashion but Beckett appreciates the effort.
"So what's the plan?" the actress asks as she makes her way to the breakfast bar where a laptop sits open.
Beckett stops by the stairs, twisting her hands together. "I don't know?"
Martha turns around, her eyes wide with surprise. "You sounded so sure on the phone."
"I hadn't thought it all the way through. Emergency international travel? I mean, I have a passport but no travel visa." She moves to the dining table, dropped heavy into a chair. "How did Castle manage it?"
"Well..." The older woman is hedging, drops her eyes and turns towards the laptop.
"Martha? What do you know?"
She only hesitates another moment. "Richard's always been a little bit of a conspiracy nut and writing about a spy for decades only heightened that. He set up contingency plans for getting out of the country if we needed to. I always thought he was crazy for it but now..." She shrugs, palms open to the sky.
"Doesn't seem so crazy," Beckett supplies.
"Exactly."
Her heart has picked up speed in her chest, breaking up the dread she had started to feel when she realized that she didn't know how to make this happen. "So, what's this contingency plan?"
Martha pulls a manila folder out from under the laptop. "Let me make a phone call."
An hour later - only an hour - they're on a private Cessna bound for a small airport in Creil, an hour's drive north of Paris. Martha's already arranged for car service to get them the rest of the way. She knew her boyfriend was a little insane but she's never been more grateful for his crazy.
The fact that she's traveling away from New York City and towards him releases some of the tension in her shoulders and as her muscles relax, her adrenaline crashes, eyelids drooping. She'd scoffed at the pillow and blanket the pilot had got out for her but now sees the wisdom in his offer. She arranges herself as well as she can across a few seats and drops into a fitful sleep.
It's slow going in Paris or at least slower than she'd like. She's thinking too much like a cop, trying to go through the Police nationale and take advantage of their resources. But she has no pull here, no reason for these government officials to help her. When she waves Sauvageon under their noses, the man laughs at her. A stereotypical, snooty French laugh that she thought only existed in movies.
"Il est un fantôme," he says. "A ghost. Your partner will never find him."
She grinds her teeth together and somehow manages not to punch him. She knows it's a good idea to not burn this bridge though and pulls out a card from the hotel, writes the room number on the back. "Please call me if anything about him comes up."
He takes the card and says he will but she doesn't have much hope of anything panning out.
As she trudges back to the hotel, she tries to start thinking like Castle. But she doesn't have his resources, his contacts. She also has no doubt that he'll find Sauvageon. So maybe that's where to start.
She calls up the email, uses some choice details to hit up a few bars, asks around subtly. At the third establishment, the bartender comments that she's the second American to ask in as many days. Blood pounding in her ears, she pulls up a picture of Castle to show him and the man confirms that's who came in.
She's about to ask what he told him when she senses that she's caught someone else's attention. She turns her head slightly to find a man at the end of the bar focusing on anything but her. She looks back to the bartender, cocks her head in the man's direction and is given an affirmative nod in response. Her heart leaps into her throat because finally, finally, she has some traction. She orders a white wine, slides a couple of bills across the counter and murmurs "Merci," before making her way to sit next to the man.
"That seat is being saved," he says in accented English.
"And I thank you for that." She slides her phone towards him, Castle's face still smiling up from the screen. "What did you tell him?"
"I've never seen that man."
"I don't believe you."
"That matters not." He takes a sip of his drink.
"The information you gave him might have gotten him into serious trouble and I need to get him out of it." Her voice is still pitched low but she allows some worry to seep into the tone.
He finally looks at her and she allows it all to show on her face, her fear, her love, her determination. He sees it, nods in understanding.
"Trouble certainly will follow him if he took my advice."
And then he tells her everything.
The information leads to more shady people, even seedier meeting locations but she finally discerns that Alexis was moved from an office building in the city out to a forest about 45 minutes to the west. The girl has become something of legend in Paris' underbelly, managed to evade her captors enough to scream off the top of a building, though it was that action that precipitated the relocation. Beckett feels a surge of pride at that particular piece of information.
She goes back to the Police nationale with everything that she's learned, drops a few more attention getting names and actually gets some cooperation. They contact the local Gendarmerie, mobilize a team to search the woods. Beckett knows that they're just after the criminals but if it gets them on her side, that's fine with her. She asks to be included and isn't surprised when they tell her no but she pushes and after a call to Captain Gates who confirms everything she's already told them, they grudgingly agree.
She calls Martha before they head out.
"Bring my family home, Kate Beckett," the woman demands. "And that includes you," she adds, voice breaking.
They cry together for a moment, share relief and fear for what's to come.
"We'll see you soon." Beckett's voice is strong, confident and she's not faking it.
They're all coming home.
She's rolling in with cavalry when they come strolling out of the forest, arms tight around each other, an older, bearded man following behind. Alexis has her face tucked against her father, eyes on the uneven ground in front of her. But Castle is looking forward and sees her as soon as they break the tree line. He stops dead, his daughter stumbling, throwing a confused glare up at him. He doesn't notice, blinks, blinks again, shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Beckett holsters her borrowed weapon, tells the commander they can stand down, starts to apologize but the man is already absolving her, telling her he's glad they're okay before moving off to shout new orders to his people, tells them to move in and shoot anything that moves now that they're not on a rescue mission. She takes off the bulletproof vest, hands it and the gun to a waiting officer.
When she turns back, he's still standing there. Alexis has caught on now, is disentangling from her father and pushing him towards Beckett. He's looking at her like he's seen a ghost. Or an angel. She's suddenly scared. Will he be mad that she came? Got the local authorities involved? Her feet are heavy but propel her forward, always drawn to him. He's making his way across the field as well, eyes never wavering from her.
And then he's in front of her. Dirty and sweaty, a gash on his forehead slowly seeping blood. But he's breathing, alive and he's never been more beautiful.
"Hi," she says inanely but the syllable is filled with awe.
He says nothing, his eyes roaming her body, disbelief melting off his face as he takes her in. His eyes finally make it back up to lock on hers and her breath catches. She reaches out to run her fingers along his cheek, days old stubble scratching the pads.
Her touch breaks the dam and he's crashing into her, arms banded tight around her ribs, hers wrapped around his neck. They're both crying, both babbling platitudes, both running their hands over the other, making sure they're really there, actually whole.
"How?" he's asking but she puts him off with "Later" and then "You found her" and he breathes "Yeah" before dissolving in relieved laughter. And then they move as one and are kissing each other, hard, brutal, affirming.
He breaks off breathlessly, presses his forehead to hers. "Can we go home now?"
"Absolutely. I'm going to hug your daughter first though."
Before she can move, a slim arm comes across her back, a head full of flaming hair between them. Beckett lifts an arm to wrap around Alexis, finds one of Castle's already there. She leans her head against the young woman's.
"I'm so glad you're okay."
"That makes two of us," Castle adds.
"Three," Alexis pipes up.
"Four," Beckett corrects. "Martha's back at the hotel."
"Then why are we standing out in a field?" Castle asks. "Let's get out of here."
They unfold, keeping Alexis between them, arms still around her but hands on each other, anchoring them all together.
I'd love to know what you think.
AN: All the thanks to Jennifer for being my Reading Someone and for asking me questions that I had to write answers to. (Even though I didn't answer all of them, sorry.)
Come fangirl with me on tumblr! berkielynn . tumblr . com