A/N: In honor of the "Always" deleted scene released today, I'm going to post a new short fic. There are 5 parts.
"You don't need to know my name in order to play; you just need to know the rules of the game, Kate. Didn't I tell you? We're going to play a game." Post "To Love and Die in LA" (3x22). What if Kate had to choose?
One
A thin layer of moisture clung to Kate Beckett's face by the time her boots hit the ground and she stood upright from the driver's seat of her vehicle. The precipitation that evening wasn't solid or steady enough to be called rain or even drizzle. More accurately, a cloud had descended upon New York City and insisted on hovering several feet above the ground, covering every surface with tiny droplets of liquid. Along with the thin fog, the temperature plummeted atypically low for that late in April so that as she walked, her right hand hovering at the service weapon still holstered at her hip, Kate could see the clouds of her exhaled breath in front of her.
Despite the chilled air temperature, Kate felt no cold. In fact, all she felt was heat. Hot, thick blood coursing through every inch of her body as her heart slammed against the interior of her chest cavity, its rate already well above normal speed. Her ears buzzed with every sound; she was on high alert and had been ever since she received Castle's text. Or, rather, a text from Castle's phone; she very much doubted it had been tapped out by the writer himself.
Two weeks earlier, just a few days after she and Castle returned from California, Kate found herself hoping for a few day respite from any cases too strenuous and emotionally taxing. She did her best to compartmentalize and handle each case with the same level of professionalism, but Royce's murder had been an unexpected blow to the gut. She needed time. Just a run of the mill case. Or, better yet, no murder at all. Kate quickly found herself falling subject to that old adage, "Be careful what you wish for."
It started with an email.
During her usual morning scan of her inbox, she came across a message from a sender whose address she did not recognize. The email referenced Nikki Heat and her shimmering alabaster skin. Rolling her eyes, Kate forwarded the email to the department's security unit and moved on with her day. Sad and annoying though it was, she typically received several strange Nikki Heat related emails each month. In the grand scheme of things, that email in particular was rather tame, and so she gave it no second thought other than to note that the email address contained the first five numbers of the value of Pi: 31415
The next day, she had two more emails from the Pi sender, as she dubbed him in her mind. Again, she forwarded them and thought nothing more of them. Until the third day.
The third day, she found seven emails from him, all sent between one and two thirty a.m., each of them with a picture of a nude woman with—alarmingly—her face photo-shopped onto the body. When opening the first message, she had let out an involuntary gasp at her own face crudely placed over the head of a woman with ropes binding her hands and her breasts. Unfortunately, her gasp called the attention of her writer cohort and he too saw what was on her screen.
Kate brushed off his concerns; this was nothing. The tech teams would use his email address to hunt him down, he'd be prosecuted for harassment which would scare him off and they could move on with their lives; it had happened before and, unfortunately, would probably happen again. Castle protested her cavalier attitude as he was convinced something more sinister was afoot.
Two days later, Castle's fears were confirmed when a box arrived at the precinct containing dozens of photos models cut out from magazines with tiny pieces of string tied around their necks. With the box was a note from an individual calling himself "a fan.". The note expressed his desire to meet Kate so that they could—in his words—play a game together.
The package made Kate's skin crawl and her stomach churn in her gut, but she tried not to let it show. She could see the horror written all over Castle's face and, for him, she needed to not show alarm. "It's no big deal, Castle," she told him after passing the box off to a forensic tech. "Just another freak looking to get his rocks off."
Castle protested, inviting her to stay at the loft until the sick bastard was caught, but she refused, turning him down with a gentle smile. She was fine, she told him. Her apartment was secure and she slept with a gun. She was absolutely, totally fine.
Or she would have been if the tech team had been able to trace the email address. Or the package. Or if any finger prints had been left on the magazine cut outs or notes.
But still, it was fine. Until the phone calls started.
Every hour on the hour for seven straight hours she received calls containing only heavy breathing on the other end. Each call lasted no longer than ten seconds.
It was around the time of the phone calls that Montgomery became involved. He insisted on giving her a protective detail, but she refused. A packaged mailed to the precinct and a few phone calls were nothing to get too upset about.
A week after the first email came, she received a package via messenger containing photos of herself at a crime scene. Herself talking with Castle and Esposito beside a squad car. Herself leaving the Twelfth Precinct. Herself picking up dinner at a Chinese takeout place near her apartment.
With this new development, Montgomery became serious about the person they now dubbed as Beckett's stalker. An investigation would be opened and they would find this guy, no matter what, Montgomery had said.
Kate hadn't been worried—not in the least—and, perhaps, that should have scared her. She wasn't worried because she was in control. So he took a few pictures of her from a block away? So what? She was armed. She was a cop. The second he came anywhere near her she would take him down with no hesitation. But then, somehow, it all went wrong.
As Kate Beckett sat at her desk that fateful Thursday evening the only thing on her mind was dinner. She was just finishing up the paperwork from an arrest earlier that day. Ryan and Esposito, having plans, had already left. The bullpen was mostly empty. Kate set her pen down, stretched her arms above her head and asked herself: Thai or Italian? She was craving noodles, definitely something carb-heavy and comforting. The Italian place was closer...but it would probably be worth going seven blocks out of her way for the Thai…
As she contemplated, her phone chimed with an incoming message. Seeing it was from Castle, a curious smile crossed her face as it always did when he texted her. They'd parted nearly three hours earlier, after the arrest. He told her he intended to write a Nikki Heat chapter that evening, meaning that he was most likely texting her because of writer's block. Or boredom. Or both.
When Kate looked at the text she found that, perplexingly, it was not a message at all, but an address in Queens. Her brow furrowing, she typed back to him, What?
Perhaps, she considered, setting down the phone, he'd accidentally sent the message to her instead of someone else. His reply was almost instant.
Meet me their ASAP. Got something to show u
Kate's blood pressure immediately jumped several dozen points. She knew. She had absolutely no way of knowing, but somehow she knew. Something was very, very wrong.
For starters, Castle had used the wrong version of "there" in his text, a grammar faux pas the writer would sooner die before making. It had happened before, of course, if he was dictating his texts instead of tapping them out, but he had corrected himself immediately every other time.
Secondly, even if he had missed the their/there error, he would never have typed the letter u instead of the full word. Texting, he always said, was no excuse for poor grammar or punctuation. Only on extremely rare occasion did he use texting shorthand and "u" was never among those he used.
Someone else was texting her from Castle's phone and only one possible scenario had come to Kate's mind. It didn't make sense. The stalker had only shown interest in her, but what better way to get to her than through her partner?
Rocketing to her feet, Kate grabbed the blazer off the back of her desk chair so quickly the chair nearly fell over. She grabbed her gun, badge and phone and sprinted towards the elevator. Thirty foggy minutes later, she arrived at the warehouse in Queens.
She should have called for backup, she thought to herself as she approached the warehouse, but she had a good reason—or, at least, a reason she told herself was good—for not doing so. There was a chance—albeit a small chance—that the writer invited her to the warehouse for a legitimate reason. If she had called in the cavalry for one of Castle's pranks or whims she would never hear the end of it from the boys or Montgomery.
A faint glow could be seen from inside one of the boarded up windows of the warehouse and Kate approached. Though there were cracks in the wooden slats, the window itself was covered with too much grime to see properly. Thus, she would be forced to go in blind.
Thinking it wise to go in armed if she had no idea what lay ahead, Kate retrieved her weapon, gripped it tightly in her right hand and whipped open the nearest door.
Inside the warehouse there was no fog, but the atmosphere felt just as damp. It was dim, poorly lit from only sporadic overhead light bulbs of low wattage, but it did not take long for her eyes to adjust as it was also dark outside. "Castle?" she called out, steeping as quietly as she could so that the heels of her boots echoing against the concrete floor would not disrupt her hearing.
"In here, Detective."
The voice she heard was not Castle's. It was higher pitched, less smooth.
Sweat droplets formed against Kate's brow and her breath quickened. So Castle's texts hadn't been Castle's. And that voice she heard was probably—oh. She hadn't prepared for this.
She had been prepared for the stalker to come after her. Her. She figured one night when she was heading home he'd approach, she'd take him down and that would be that. She never even considered the possibility of him going after anyone else in her life. Her father. Josh. Castle.
Castle.
Kate shut her eyes and took one second to compose herself. She breathed in deep and as she exhaled she opened her eyes and put on the steely face of Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. She raised her arms and gauntleted the gun between both palms. With slow, deliberate steps, she approached the voice in the adjoining room. Oddly, when she entered, she saw nothing. She stood frozen, momentarily confused before she heard, "Up here, Detective."
Kate raised her eye line and her weapon and faltered slightly when she saw the bizarre scene before her.
Up on the warehouse balcony, at least ten feet above her, a section of the railing had been removed. Standing approximately two feet apart were three figures. The room was dark aside from two light bulbs directly in between the gaps in the shadows, making it virtually impossible for her to identify them from her angle; all she could see was their outlines.
Could the stalker have a partner? Were they holding Castle hostage? What the hell was going on?
"Castle!" she called out again, but she received no response from him.
"I'm sorry, Detective, he's a little…tied up at the moment."
Kate could hear the amusement in the mystery man's voice when he said the words "tied up." The bile in her gut began to rise, but Kate fought it down. She was still in control of the situation. "I need to know if he's okay," she called up to the balcony.
"Just him?"
Again, she could hear the amusement, but she didn't understand what the kidnapper meant. Before she could give it a second thought, he continued.
"I'm so glad you could join us tonight, Detective. Or, Kate. I believe I should call you Kate. Is that alright?"
"Sure," she replied, thinking back to all her hostage training. "What should I call you?"
The man chuckled. "I told you in my letters, Kate; I'm a fan."
"A fan with a name?" she countered.
"You don't need to know my name in order to play; you just need to know the rules."
"Rules?" she repeated, gripping the gun a bit tighter as she pointed it northward. "What rules?"
"The rules of the game, Kate. Didn't I tell you? We're going to play a game."
As he finished his sentence, Kate heard the mechanical thud of a switch being flipped. Suddenly, the upper balcony was bathed in light and spots momentarily flooded Kate's vision. She blinked rapidly, willing her eyes to adjust. When they did, she took half a step backwards from pure shock.
The scene almost a dozen feet above her was nothing she could have imagined even in her wildest nightmares. With the light she could clearly see the figures now, the terror on two of their faces. Starting at the far left was Castle, his arms disappearing behind his back, presumably tied there. Duct tape covering his mouth, a small drizzle of blood just above his left eye and, most alarmingly, a rope noose around his neck. The rope looped around his throat before traveling upwards, anchored to something above them she could not see.
The figure in the middle was a man equal in height to Castle, though his frame was slimmer, wirier. He wore jeans and a black hoodie with the hood pulled up. Across his face was a white mask, similar to one a painter would wear if using spray paint. Coupled with the thick rimmed glasses he wore, it made it nearly impossible for Kate to identify him, but this was not her main concern.
Most distressing to Kate was the third figure on the balcony. Like Castle, his hands were presumably tied behind his back, duct tape covered his mouth and a noose looped his neck. Kate stared up into the eyes of her boyfriend Josh Davidson with more horror than she ever thought possible.
"Josh," she exhaled without even thinking.
The kidnapper remained silent for a full minute as Kate observed the scene then, unexpectedly he chortled and said, "Let the games begin!"
His voice pulled Kate from her state of shock and she trained her weapon on him. "Let them go."
"Whoa, Kate," the kidnapper said, laughing and holding up his hands. It was then she saw the black, rectangular object clutched in his right hand. "I have to tell you the rules of the game first."
"Not until I hear if they're okay—from them," Kate insisted.
The kidnapper sighed exasperatedly and turned to Castle. Using his left hand, he yanked the duct tape free. "Castle, you okay?" she called up, keeping her eyes and gun trained on the masked man.
"Oh you know," he said his voice a little raspier than usual, "just hanging out."
Kate blinked up at the kidnapper. If the writer was in a joking mood he was, indeed, safe—for the time being. "And Josh?"
The kidnapper removed Josh's duct tape and the doctor grunted before saying, "I'm fine, Kate."
"Excellent. Now let's talk about the rules," the kidnapper said.
Kate adjusted her grip on the weapon. "Let's talk about letting them go or I shoot you."
"Ah, ah, ah, Kate," The kidnapper said warningly, displaying the object in his right hand. "I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of a dead man's switch, yes? If you shoot me, you'll ruin our game, and I really don't want you to ruin the game, Kate. I worked so hard! So very hard!"
By the end of his speech, the kidnapper sounded like a whining child. Kate half expected him to stomp his foot on the ground, but he didn't. "Okay," she relented, "What's the game?"
"Oh good!" the kidnapper's eyes crinkled and, much to her dismay, Kate realized he was smiling. "The game is really simple and really fun. You get to choose."
She shook her head in confusion. "Choose what?"
"Choose them. The writer," the kidnapper said, gesturing to Castle. "Or the doctor." He gestured to Josh. "Or, if you'd rather: your partner or your boyfriend."
"I-I don't…I don't understand," Kate stammered, her heard slamming so hard against her chest she wondered if it was possible to get a bruise on the inside. The kidnapper couldn't mean…? Surely, no. No. It wasn't possible.
"It's very simple Kate. This switch I have here in my hand? Well, let me give you a demonstration. If I push this button…" He pressed on the button and, much to Kate's horror, Castle began to slip forward, the noose around his neck tightening. It was then she realized that both Castle and Josh stood on platforms that overhang the balcony by a little more than a foot. The button on the kidnapper's receiver evidently controlled a hydraulic mechanism holding the platform flat.
Castle's platform only tilted a few degrees before it stopped, enabling him to retain his footing, but she could see the terror in his eyes.
"And then—and I'm sure you've guessed this by now—but if I press this button," the kidnapper pressed another button and Josh's platform angled just like Castle's.
"So Kate, do you understand the game now? Because the timers about to start. You'll only have about thirty seconds and then….well, I'm sure you can figure it out."
The kidnapper's laughter ignited new fury within Kate and she gripped her weapon tighter despite her sweating palms. "Let them go. We can talk about this; it doesn't have to end this way."
"Oh, I'm afraid it does," the kidnapper told her, pressing both buttons simultaneously so the platforms began to tip. "And remember what I said about the dead man's switch, Kate. Tick-tock. Tick-tock."
Kate watched with pure horror as the platforms above her tilted at increasing angles. Her breath came in short bursts as her eyes jumped from Castle to Josh and back again. Their shoes were beginning to slip against the platform as the angle became too steep to hang on. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. So far outside her comfort zone as a cop was this scenario, her grip on her weapon actually began loosening as pure horror took over her body.
"Stop! Please!" she called out, unsure of what else to say. "We-we can talk about this. Just stop."
"Sorry, Kate; we can't stop now. Not until you call out a name. Just one name; you can only save one of them."
The kidnaper's mocking tone did nothing to assist in Kate's mental state. Borderline hyperventilating now, she called out as best she could, "No! Stop this! Stop!"
"If you don't choose, Kate," the kidnapper warned, "you'll lose them both. So, actually, I'm kind of hoping you don't choose."
Kate shook her head, her hand beginning to tremble. She needed time. Just a few seconds to collect herself; figure this out, but the scenario did not afford her the luxury of time. Each second ticking away was one less second Castle and Josh would remain standing on the tilting platforms.
"Kate," Josh's warning voice pulled her eyes in his direction. He was taller than Castle by just a few inches, so his rope still had a little bit of slack. "Shoot him Kate; shoot the bastard."
His voice returning strength to her hands, she turned her gun towards the kidnapper, but could not will herself to pull the trigger. If he was bluffing about the dead man's switch, possibly she could—no. No! She couldn't risk it! Oh god.
"Tick-tock Kate," the kidnapper taunted.
"It's okay, Kate; it's okay. Just choose and-" Castle's words were lost to a cough as he fought to keep his feet high enough on the angled platform so that his windpipe remained open.
"No!" The word came out as an almost sob. She watched his black loafers scrape against the ground, fighting a losing battle against gravity. "Castle!"
She could see it when her eyes shifted upwards. His face was growing red, the rope cutting into his neck under his jaw. He opened his mouth. His chest heaved. He was gasping, but he made no sound; no air was getting in.
"Stop! Castle! Please!"
"Is that your choice? Is that your choice Kate?" The kidnapper's voice was eager as he edged nearer to the gasping writer.
"Yes please! Stop! Stop it!" She blurted out, her eyes never leaving Castle's strangled, terror-filled face. She was certain in that moment that even if she lived a hundred more years she would never forget the way his face looked as he was being hung.
The tears burned in her eyes, threatening to fall, but she couldn't let them—wouldn't let them. She needed to remain focused. Her eyes sharp. Once Castle was safe, she would empty her clip into the bastard and end this.
"Very well," the kidnapper said.
Kate's eyes darted towards him just in time to see him toss the remote he held over the edge of the balcony and vanish from sight. A strangled, "NO!" escaped her lips but it was masked by the sound of the plastic-and-metal box connecting with concrete and shattering into a dozen pieces.
Simultaneously, both platforms pitched to a ninety degree incline and dumped their occupants into the center of the room where they dangled precariously from their necks. Kate stood, frozen in horror. She couldn't even bring herself to fire her gun. No more than on second later, the slither of rope across metal could be heard and Castle dropped hard to the concrete about six feet from her. Instinctually, Kate ran to him.
"Castle? Castle!" she called out, dropping to her knees in front of him. Releasing her gun, she shot both hands to his neck and yanked the rope free. He gasped in violently and then chocked for several moments before beginning to nod his head.
Ten second had passed before he was able to rasp out his first word. "Josh."
"Oh god!" Kate exclaimed. Due to her horror at Castle's near suffocation, she had nearly forgotten about the second hanged man. She grabbed her weapon and whipped around where Josh dangled perilously in the middle of the room, his feet kicking about four feet above her. She stepped back and aimed firing one, two, three shots before the bullet nicked the rope, fraying it enough that Josh's weight tore through it and he dropped, crumpling against the ground.
Kate rushed to his side, leaving her gun in the middle of the room and pulling her cell from her pocket. She pressed 9-1-1 and then the send button before dropping the phone to the warehouse floor and shooting her fingertips to her boyfriend's throat. Due to the fact that he hung for longer than Castle, the rope was significantly tighter and thus more difficult for her to loosen.
"Oh God, Josh; oh god!" She clawed at the rope, her nails scraping at the flesh on his neck, for several moments before it finally pulled free and he breathed in a gasp of precious oxygen.
"911, what's your emergency?" a voice said thought her phone.
Kate scooped up the object with a trembling hand and gave the woman her badge number and their location, requesting that she send immediate medical attention.
When she ended the call, Kate noticed for the first time that her cheeks were damp. She was unsure when she began to cry, but did her best to rub her fists against her cheek to remove any evidence. She looked to her right and saw that Castle was sitting upright, the rise and fall of his chest slowly returning to normal as he stared at the battered figure across from him. Turning her eyes left, Kate saw that Josh had yet to move, but he was still breathing, which was a better outcome than she anticipated not five minutes earlier.
Kate could think. She couldn't speak. She couldn't even move. All she could do was stand there, in the middle of an abandoned warehouse in Queens and listen for the sound of sirens.