The Illusion of Perfect

Despite having completely different backgrounds and life experiences, writer Richard Castle and his detective partner Kate Beckett have always made their professional relationship work, but a dramatic event could finally be the catalyst for more. Caskett semi-AU w futuristic setting.

A/N: There will be 8 chapters

ONE

"Beckett! Shit! The end if the pier!" The writer shrieked out in a panicked tone atypical to his generally relaxed demeanor, but if there was ever a time for him to lose his cool, it was this one.

"I see it! I—I can't—shit! The brakes—they aren't. God, Castle!" The female detective's tone was equally unraveled as her cruiser, pushed by a relentlessly angry dump truck, moved closer towards the pier's edge—moved closer to the Hudson River.

"Try the e-brake."

Castle watched with frantic eyes as Beckett's left foot stomped down on the sedan's emergency brake. As he could have predicted had he not been in such a state, it did very little to stop their progress, and they were now within just ten feet of the edge of the dock with no signs of stopping. "Okay, okay; I've read about this." He tugged on his seatbelt to make sure it was tight across his body to save him from the impact of hitting the water, which he imagined would be around a three or four foot drop. "Just put the back windows down."

"What?!"

"Do it! We can swim out!"

She moved her hands towards the window control on the driver's side door and accidentally began putting down the two front windows until she corrected, but by that time, the front wheels had crossed over the edge of the pier and their car was tilting precariously towards the murky water below. Kate let out a scream and gripped onto the door handle instead of continuing to put down the windows, but Castle didn't notice; he was too busy having an out-of-body moment as he processed their current predicament. Though in actuality their car balanced precariously for no more than ten or fifteen seconds, for Castle it felt like several minutes—enough time to review the bizarre circumstances that led him to that moment.

The man they viewed to be their best suspect in a double homicide had called the detective and told her he wanted to talk; that he had valuable information pertaining to their case. Of course this man did not know he was their best suspect—or so they hoped. He was heavily rumored to be in the mob thus the duo was treading lightly; wanting to make sure their case was rock-solid before going right at the suspect so as not to spook him away or anger his dangerous cronies. Kate had been so excited at the prospect that he might be doing something stupid like incriminating himself that, as her dutiful partner, Castle had just gone along with her. He hadn't listened to his gut, which told him that their suspect making a random phone call after giving them the cold shoulder the previous day made no sense. As it turned out the suspect had evidently been luring them into a trap for they had not been at the meeting spot for more than two minutes before their vehicle was pile-driven by the dump truck.

As he gripped the door handle with his right hand and the front edge of his seat with his left, Castle thought about his three-and-a-half year partnership with the woman beside him. Their union was, at best, a bizarre one, but it worked for them. They were from completely different social groups, which, in the year 2109 mattered more than ever (sad as that was), but he never thought twice about where she came from or how she was born. All that mattered to Castle was who she was—and that person was extraordinary.

They had been in many tough scrapes before. Many of those had involved flying bullets so, all things considered, he thought a swim in the Hudson was a better option to having flesh severed by small metal projectiles. Then again, it was the Hudson and despite nearly seventy years of eco-friendly government administrations it certainly was not the cleanest body of water, but still, compared to bullets, he'd take it.

Damn, he thought to himself as the underbelly of the car creaked and slid against the piers' edge. Why hadn't the NYPD switched their fleet over entirely to hover-cars? Then they could have swung around the dump truck and saved themselves the impromptu bath. Of course, given how light-weight and unreinforced floating cars were the impact of the several ton truck would have decimated one far more than the workhorse sedan—but it would have had to catch them first!

"Ah shit!" The writer croaked out as the heavy weight of the car's engine overtook the balancing vehicle and the front bumper splashed down into the water, throwing the bodies of its occupants forward with surprising force. After just another few seconds, the rear wheels crashed down into the water as well and they were level for a moment before the front end began to drift towards the sandy river bottom.

Taking a momentary deep breath, Castle looked over at his companion to assess her condition. "Are you okay?"

She pried her right hand off the steering wheel and nodded. "I—I think so."

Looking back over his shoulder, Castle saw that she had only lowered the back windows a third of the way, so he instructed her to continue lowering them, but when she moved her hands back to the controls, nothing happened, as the car's electrical circuits had already shorted out. Panic flashing through her eyes, she began clawing at the door handle, trying to ram it open, but was unsuccessful and began frantically cursing.

"Hey—Kate—look at me; it's okay." Castle reached out and placed a hand on her bicep, remembering the mantra he heard over and over again in the documentary he watched: calm people survive, panicked people drown. "We're going to get out; we just have to wait for the car to fill with water."

"WHAT?!"

"It's a pressure thing—physics. We can't get out until the car is fully submerged, but don't worry; we'll probably only have to hold our breath for about thirty seconds."

She shook her head, her eyes flaring wide. "Castle—I can't swim."

This comment did not disrupt his calm any as it did not shock him; not many lower-class city-dwellers could those days, but they wouldn't have to swim very far; they would barely be ten feet from the pier when they surfaced. Thanks to his boarding school days—not to mention the fact that he owned a beach house—he was actually an above-average swimmer and had full confidence in his ability to bring his partner safely to shore. "Don't worry, Beckett; I won't let you drown."

"Castle…"

"Hey." He squeezed her bicep and shook his head. "Trust me, okay? It's totally going to be fine." He had watched the documentary and read about escaping from car sinking in water for a Derrick Storm idea he'd ended up scrapping, but as he lived on an island, the knowledge had always stuck with him. True, he had hoped to never use those skills in an actual dire situation, but his knowledge was sound. Timing their last breath with the dwindling supply of oxygen in the car would be tricky, but then all they'd have to do was open the back door and—

Oh; the back door.

He was in a police cruiser, and no police cruisers had rear doors that could be opened from the inside to prevent criminals from escaping. That certainly did make their escape a bit more difficult, but not unmanageable. They would simply need to exit one of the front two doors and then they'd be fine.

As the water rose up to his mid-chest, Castle didn't even feel how cold it was; he was too focused on the plan at hand. He moved his right hand to the seatbelt latch at his left hip and pressed the release button while asking, "You have a flashlight in here, right?"

"Y-yeah." The detective, whose fingers were once again gripping the steering wheel with a vengeance, told him. "Glove compartment."

"Thanks." He popped it open and the lid splashed down into the water. Fortunately, being the organized person she was, the only objects Beckett stored in that location were the car's registration, the flashlight, and two spare magazines for her service weapon. He took out the flashlight, shut the door, and then turned to his partner. "Just relax, Kate; it'll only be a few minutes and, look on the bright side—they're not shooting at us."

Judging by her expression, she was unable to see a "bright side" in their situation and he couldn't blame her. Even if they were able to open a door at that moment and swim back do the dock, they would still have a very long, very cold walk to find assistance as both their phones were surely too water-logged to work, but that was okay—maybe they'd be able to huddle for warmth while they waited, and he certainly wouldn't be mad about that. Plus they weren't being shot at and given how the Mafioso perp they'd tried to meet had clearly planned to lure them into an untimely demise, he remained quite grateful for the lack of bullets to complicate their escape.

"Go ahead, take off your belt, and we'll climb into the back where the water's lower."

With a look of great reservation, Kate peeled her hands from the wheel and moved them to the seatbelt latch on her right side. He watched her tug, tug again, and then tug a third time while her face flushed white and she said, "Castle! My belt's jammed."

His brow furrowed and he reached under the water to see if he would have more success; he did not. "Do you have a knife?"

"In my bag…which is in the trunk! Castle!"

"Hey—it's okay. We'll just shoot the belt off," he suggested. Then he moved his hand from the belt buckle to the leather case on her right hip just a few inches away. When he realized the case was empty, his heart rate spiked. "Were…were you wearing your gun when you got in the car."

"Yes! Yes of course I—shit—maybe it was knocked out when we were hit?"

He nodded his head, his worry disappearing again. "No problem; I'll find it."

He flicked on the flashlight, sucked in a deep breath, and then dipped his head under the water, expecting to find the gun on the floor near her feet, but it wasn't there. Nor was it on his side of the floor or trapped somewhere between the seats and the console. Even when he moved to the back seat and groped around on the floor he still did not find the weapon.

"Castle! Castle!"

Her frantic tone hit his ears as he surfaced for another gulp of air. When he looked in the front seat, he could see that the water had risen to the point where it lapped at the bottom of her chin. A wave of uncertainty coursed through him and he dove back under the water again, feeling over what he thought to be every inch of the car, only to be unsuccessful once more.

Surely no—no! It wouldn't end like this. They were still in the prime of their lives. And their perp? He was, at best, a low-level member of The Family and Castle refused to be taken out by someone who had lured them with such annoying ease. "I—Beckett—just hold on…" There had to be another way; they had to come up with a second plan—and quickly, because their time before the vehicle was fully submerged and Kate was trapped was quickly running out.

"It's okay." She promised him, her voice alarmingly calm and steady. She reached her hand back and grabbed on to his arm, giving it a solid squeeze. "It—it's not your fault. Just get out when you can and-"

"No!" He poked his head between the seats so he could better look her in the eye. "Never. We're partner's and-"

"No." She corrected firmly. "You're not going to kill yourself for me; I'm not worth it."

As he whole-heartedly disagreed with her statement, the writer set his jaw just as the water began to crest his partner's bottom lip. "We're getting out of here—both of us. I promise you." With that, he sucked in a deep breath and sunk down beneath the water, more determined than ever to find the weapon that would save their lives.

A/N: I've said it before, I'll say it again: I don't know where these ideas come from...they just happen.

As for the #castle28 challenge from tumblr - I actually kind of adapted this idea to have that required part in it so you won't see it until the final chapter, but I promise it's there :)

Thanks for reading!