A/N: This is my newest Castle creation. The idea for this story comes not from me, but from the lovely people on the Television Without Pity Castle message boards. Someone proposed this idea, and I couldn't help but run with it.
Summary: Castle hasn't been seen at the precinct for days. Beckett goes to the loft to discover what is wrong, and the answer surprises her. One-shot. Complete.
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Marlowe and Co. The ideas belong to the people under the monikers LogicalMe, Danny Franks, and NoWillToResist. My aim was not to offend by using the idea, and the execution of the idea is mine alone.
Down to the Wire
There was no coffee waiting for her on her desk.
That's not right.
There was no coffee on her desk, and that meant that Richard Castle had not been to the precinct yet this morning, even though it was well past nine.
"Ryan, have you seen Castle?"
"He hasn't been in yet." Javier Esposito answered for both them, leaning back in his desk to shrug in Beckett's direction as Ryan shook his head. "Maybe he took the day off."
Kate Beckett mustered a smile and changed direction, heading for the break room. It felt weird getting her own coffee. It had been literally years since she had done so. "Maybe I'll actually be able to get work done today."
"Did Castle get off your leash?" Kate rolled her eyes at Lanie and leaned against the cool slab of metal that made up the morgue's examination table. The body from the latest case lay there, marked with bruises and the bullet holes, but both women ignored it.
"Nope," she answered flippantly, "he apparently took the day off."
"Without telling you?" Lanie's dark brows rose and she flipped her hair off her shoulders. "Huh. I thought he didn't do things like that. Did he run off to the Hamptons again?"
Kate's brown eyes met hers with a sudden sharp interest. "Why? Did you hear something?"
Smothering a grin, Lanie shook her head. "No, you know he would tell you before he told me. It's just, the last time he took off like that and no one heard a word from him was when he disappeared to the Hamptons." At this she couldn't suppress her grin. "Does that really bother you?"
Kate realized that she had been tensing, waiting for some sort of bad news, and she forced herself to relax. "No, it doesn't bother me," she retorted, wincing when her voice came out a bit too sharp for a casual response.
"Really?" Lanie didn't seem too convinced, so Kate changed the subject, shifting away from her friend and her smug expression.
"Have you seen Alexis today?"
Lanie shook her head, hating to banish the hope in Kate's expression. "Nope. Got an email from her this morning, said she had a school project she had to work on and had to skip today."
"Well, then, at least one Castle is alive," Kate grumbled as she turned and exited the morgue without even asking for Lanie's results.
Turning to the body, the medical examiner grinned and addressed the corpse. "I know you can't see it, but she's going to drive herself crazy worrying about him."
Kate stood at her desk, jacket draped over her arm. The day had come and gone, a case had appeared and then had been solved, the murderer behind bars, and yet there was still no sign of Castle. Kate had missed his presence beside her at the murder board, and after all this time, it was odd to be working solo again.
"I'm out," she told Ryan and Esposito, who were both lingering as if they too were waiting for a sign that Castle had not forgotten about them. "If Castle calls, tell him that he overslept and we went to work without him."
The words were spoken in jest, but Kate could not mask the undercurrent of worry. Where was Castle?
On the third day, Kate deliberately set down her coffee and rose, only a half an hour after she had come in. Both Ryan and Esposito watched her, unable to mask their curiosity. "Tell Gates I'm taking the day off," Kate ordered, ignoring their grins. "I'm going to make sure Castle and Martha and Alexis haven't been murdered."
As they watched her stride towards the elevator, Ryan turned to Esposito. "What are the chances that she kills him for making her worry?"
"I don't know," the other man mused as he watched the elevator doors close with a ding. "It won't be a pretty sight."
"Man, I wish we had a camera," Ryan sighed. He stared at the elevator door wistfully, like a puppy denied a treat, then frowned as something occurred to him. "Hey, why do we always have to make excuses to Gates?"
Kate stood in front of Castle's loft, shifting nervously, suddenly wondering why she came. She could have just called and made sure that everything was all right. There was no reason for her to take a day off just come and ensure that her partner was still alive.
But no. She had to, and that was exactly the reason. Castle was her partner, and Beckett would always worry about him. These days, she could never shake the feeling that his place beside her would always leave him with a price on his head. She shuddered to remember the nightmares that left her choking back a cry as she woke, sweating and shaking, all with the same image imprinted behind her eyelids: Castle, blood-stained and unmoving, dead with a bullet to the chest. It haunted her, that recurring nightmare, and these days, she needed to know that he was alive. Silence from him never boded well.
Shaking off all her (surely) unfounded fears, Kate knocked.
The alacrity of the response startled her. The door was wrenched open, and Kate found herself staring at the strained visage of Castle's harried mother.
"Oh, Kate, thank goodness!" Martha all but yanked Kate into the apartment, her grip on the detective's arm a surprisingly strong one. "Good, you're here. Alexis!" She called up the stairs, releasing Kate, while Kate resisted the urge to rub the spot where Martha had clung. "Alexis! Detective Beckett is here!"
There was a clatter on the stairs, and Kate looked up to find Alexis rushing down them, her face drawn and paler than usual. Her blue eyes were wide with fear, and she all but threw herself off the last few steps and into the detective's arms. Kate rocked back on her heels, surprised by the sudden affectionate embrace, but she didn't have time to return the gesture before Alexis had pulled away, staring at her gravely.
"We were hoping you would come," she said softly, before moving away completely to take shelter under her grandmother's comforting arm.
For the first time, Kate noticed the state of the apartment. It was a far cry from its normally pristine existence, and Kate could only stare. Coffee cups lined the island counter, standing sentry in small little groups. The couch cushions had all been tossed from their proper positions, and curiously, the apartment was littered with what looked to be…
"Confetti?" Kate questioned as she squatted to pluck a piece of the fluttering scraps from the carpet.
"Paper," Martha confirmed, as Kate turned the slip over in her fingers, noting a smudge of ink, the beginnings of a word on the back.
"What happened to this place?" Kate demanded as she straightened, turning to Martha for an explanation. "Did you have another dramatic reading of your one woman show last night?"
Martha drew herself up, looking slightly affronted, pressing a hand to her chest. "I'll have you know, dear, that I would never leave my home in such a state, and I would never invite anyone who would create such a mess into it in the first place!"
"Well, then," Kate wondered aloud as she took the apartment in again, "what happened? It looks like a tornado went through here."
This time, it was Alexis who provided the answer, her pale brows furrowed with worry. "It's Dad."
Kate stiffened, inhaling sharply. "Castle? What happened?"
"As you can see," Martha said, gesturing to the chaos around them, "he can be a little…dramatic."
"Wonder where he got that from," Alexis commented wryly, ignoring her grandmother's gasp of (false) wounded shock, her blue eyes glinting as Kate smothered a smile.
"Where is he?" Kate asked, registering for the first time that both women where speaking in lower tones, as if to avoid attention. From whom, Kate was beginning to understand.
Martha nodded towards the direction of Castle's study, the door pulled firmly closed. "He's there, but dear, be careful if you do go in there. He's a bear when he's wrestling with a deadline."
"I'll keep that in mind," Kate promised, smiling in spite of herself. "I'll be going in armed, so I'm sure I'll be fine."
With the solemnity of women watching soldiers leave for battle, Alexis and Martha watched Kate cross the apartment and pull the door to Castle's study partially open. They heard her soft, "Castle?" and then the door was shut, and they could hear nothing else.
Martha sighed. "Well, after all that, I need a drink." She turned to Alexis. "You want me to make you something, kiddo?"
Smiling, feeling the stress of the day slide off her shoulders, Alexis shook her head, leaning over to kiss her grandmother's cheek. "No thanks, Gram. I have cookies up in my room. I'm going to finish my homework."
As she watched her granddaughter disappear up the stairs, Martha set about raiding the liquor cabinet. "I swear," she muttered, resolving to stand watch over the study until Beckett emerged, "sometimes I don't know how that girl comes from either Richard or me."
"Castle?" The study was dim, and Kate hovered in the doorway, uncertain about her next move. For all that he had rampaged around the apartment, Castle had kept his private writing space relatively clean. There was little clutter to be found, except for the papers that littered his desk.
There was a large black board in one corner, almost the size of a TV, but Kate quickly ignored that in favor of the man who sat behind his desk, his face lit only by the light from his laptop. The click, click of the keys were the only thing to be heard in the silence of the study, until Kate cleared her throat.
"Um, Castle?"
Startled, the writer looked up. There were dark circles under his blue eyes, deepened by the shadows thrown by the screen of his laptop. He seemed impossibly weary, as if he hadn't slept for the last three days, and Kate could see the tension he kept knotted in his shoulders, the near-beard on his face. He clearly hadn't shaved in the three days he had been AWOL. Martha's words came back to her, and the detective stepped cautiously into the room.
"Castle, are you okay?"
The man was staring right at her, but it was a distant sort of stare, as if he didn't see her. He shook his head, his blue gaze cleared, and he peered up at her in confusion. "Kate? What are you doing here?"
"We've missed you at the precinct." Kate brushed aside a sheaf of papers and perched on the edge of his desk. "What's going on?"
Her concern apparently was enough to make him snap. He surged to his feet, and Kate blinked in surprise as he stepped around the desk and begins to pace. He was wearing an old gray t-shirt that had seen better days, dark blue sweatpants, and was bare foot. It was an odd combination, but one that Kate found endearing. She had only seen it a handful of times, but it's an intimate wardrobe—one few have ever seen. Most only know the well-dressed man who follows her around all day.
Kate was dragged from her perusal of the man's wardrobe by the man himself. "I have to finish this book in thirty-six hours, Kate! Nikki Heat is trapped in a room, and I don't know how to get her out of it!" Castle was running his hands through his hair, and it was evident that he had done this before—it was sticking up at all angles, giving him a slightly tussled look. If men that look like they have just escaped from a mental institution can look tussled.
Castle turned pleading eyes in her direction, and Kate was touched by his sincerity and despair. "Will you help me?"
Kate merely blinked at him, stunned. "You want me to help?"
Castle shook his head, and for a moment, Kate thought he was answering her question, but no, he was simply starting to pace again, lost in his own head. "I need someone to help me figure out what to do, and I haven't seen Alexis or Mother in the last two days."
Kate bites her lip and refrains from telling him that they are still here, just unwilling to disturb him. "Okay, Castle, I'll help." It can't be too different from when he assists her at the murder board, right?
Writing a novel, Kate discovered nearly an hour later, was a lot different from assisting on solving a murder. At least, it was when the novelist in question was nearly stir-crazy and in a panic and kept rejecting all of her ideas because he didn't like any of them.
"And no one can come help her?" Kate asked in exasperation, as Castle shook his head.
"No, I told you, I want Nikki to get out of this room on her own."
Kate growled something under breath and nearly left the room, but seeing Castle slumped over his desk with his head in his hands softened her. Sighing, she reached over to scratch her ribs. As her fingers connect with cloth, an idea began to form. Swiftly glancing over to ensure that Castle was not looking in her direction—he wasn't—she shifted against the desk, tugging at her sweater and reaching up towards her back.
She paused for only a moment. "Hey, Castle, is Nikki wearing clothes in this room?"
The tortured writer doesn't even lift his head to answer his muse. "Yes." Kate raised both eyebrows, pursing her lips in a silent whistle. No innuendo? No question if she wanted Nikki to be naked? Wow, he must be more beaten by this than she thought!
It wasn't until Castle caught a glimpse of Kate's hand reaching for a pair of scissors next to him that he finally looked up. (Why did he have those scissors? Oh, yeah, that's right, in a fit of frustration he cut up the last version of this chapter. What did he do with them? He really can't remember, he had had way too much coffee at that point.) "Kate, what are you…"
Castle's mouth went dry as he realized that Kate was calmly taking a pair of scissors to an article of clothing that she had previously been wearing. To be specific, Katherine Beckett was sitting on the edge of his desk, occupied with worming the blade of his scissors into the lining of her bra. (Her black bra, a part of his brain notes.)
"Um…"
Kate didn't even glance over at him. (If she had done so, things could become really interesting, and Kate wasn't ready for interesting.) "You said Nikki was wearing clothing, Castle. I assume that means she'd be wearing a bra." Her mission accomplished, Kate jimmied the wire out of her bra cup and offered it to Castle. "That would pick a lock, right?"
Castle looked from the long wire to the woman offering it in silence. A grin unfurled across his face, and Kate waited, wondering what his reaction would be.
"Kate, you're a genius," Castle breathed fervently, standing to move to her side. From there, looking down at her from his slight height advantage, he could tell that she is definitely not wearing a bra, and he was not ashamed to admit that he enjoyed the sight.
He surprised them both by pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth in gratitude, and neither of them could ignore how she sharply inhaled, how his breathing had become a bit more ragged, the only sounds they ccould hear in the silence of his study.
Kate leaned away first, and Castle tried to ignore how his heart dropped. But he knew she was affected, just as he was, and he turned away to allow her privacy in redressing herself and to give himself a moment to regain some self-control.
"Rick." Castle turned at the sound of his name, and finds Kate standing there, smiling hesitantly at him. He wants to pull her into his arms, still her fidgeting, thank her properly, but does none of that. Instead, he gives her a tired, grateful smile and sinks back into his chair, once again focused on his screen.
"I can finally finish this, thanks to you," he admits, "and then I might be able to sleep."
Tomorrow is Friday, and now that Kate knows where he is and why he had disappeared for the last three days, she smiles at his admission. "You'll be at the station on Monday?"
"I will," he affirms, "and I'll bring you a bearclaw to make up for missing your last three coffees."
Kate tilts him a sarcastic grin as she dons her jacket. "Castle, don't you know that cops like donuts better?"
His answering grin is all she needs, and she leaves him typing away with a renewed fervor, quelling her disappointment. Giving in to her feelings in the dark, intimate space of his study would only leave her regretting it in the light of day, because she knew that still had some things to work out before she could completely take Castle as she wanted him. The weight of her secret crashed back down on her, but Kate mustered a smile for Martha as she stepped out of the study.
The older woman surveyed the detective and seemed unsurprised that she had survived unscathed. "I knew he wouldn't eat you." Both women shared a conspiratorial smile, and Kate pulled her keys from her pocket.
"Make sure he gets some sleep?" She asked, and Martha nodded.
"After what you did, dear, helping him overcome that scene-stopping obstacle, he'll sleep tonight."
"Good." Kate crossed the kitchen and made her way to the door. Her hand was on the knob when Martha spoke again.
"Feel free to come over any time, detective. I know my son enjoys your company. Alexis too."
Kate is saved from answering by her phone, and she waves goodbye to Martha as she lets herself out of the loft. Bringing the phone to her ear, she answers. "Hello?"
"Well? Is he alive?"
She can't help but laugh. "Don't worry, Ryan. It would take more than a few days spent working on his latest book to kill Castle."
"Oh, that's what he was doing? Did you get any details? What happens this time?"
"You'll just have to wait," Kate teases, heading for the elevator.
Ryan grunts his disapproval. "Hey, I was calling because we just found a body on twelfth. You coming, now that you saved the writer?"
"I'm on my way," Kate chuckles, stepping into the elevator and casting on last fond glance at the red door to Castle's loft. A cop's work is never done.
A/N: Thoughts? Reviews are appreciated!