Disclaimer: I own nothing of Castle unfortunately, but I can dream can't I?
Spoilers for 2:13 Sucker Punch. This is an alternative ending idea for the ep that's been floating around my brain for a while now begging to written, so I hope you all enjoy.
One Day
Kate looked around at her apartment. There were no books or magazines on the side table, the couch cushions were neatly arranged, the coffee table was free of any mugs or takeout cartons. She'd done all the washing up, wiped down the kitchen worktops, made her bed and emptied the dryer of its last load of laundry.
When Kate Beckett needed to take her mind of something, she turned into a complete neat freak.
And when she couldn't find anything else that needed cleaning, she put her boots and coat back on, grabbed her bag, checking that her keys, phone, wallet, gun and badge were there, and headed out the door.
When she'd got home a couple of hours ago, Kate had locked and double locked the door behind her and dropped her bag and coat onto the floor. She'd stripped off all her bloodstained clothes, chucking them straight in the trash, before washing away the shock and mess of the day with a scalding hot shower. Only when every drop of Dick Coonan's blood had disappeared down the drain and the water started to run cold, did Kate get out.
Once dressed again in jeans and a white tee-shirt, the cleaning and tidying frenzy began; it was the most productive thing she could think of in order to try and stop picturing her mother's killer bleeding out in the corridor of the 12th, his blood soaking into her clothes and staining her hands... and Castle's firm, reassuring touch on her shoulder.
Kate didn't want to think about the way he'd carefully pulled her away from the body, letting her hide her face against his neck while he stroked her hair, whispering to her that it was alright. She'd gotten blood all over his suit – a suit worth probably several month's wages – but he hadn't seemed to notice, let alone care.
As Kate flagged down a cab, she pushed away the replays; Coonan elbowing the guard in the face and taking the man's gun... him jabbing the weapon into Castle's side... the feel of her own gun, cool against her fingertips as she'd reached for it... but not quickly enough. She'd reluctantly moved her hands away, letting her jacket fall back over the gun holster on her hip when Coonan had made it clear what he was willing to do to get out of there.
She gave the driver the address of Castle's loft on instinct, turning to watch the sky darken as his street drew nearer, trying desperately not to remember how hard her heart had been beating when Coonan had pointed his gun at Castle. Kate clenched her eyes shut, the scene replaying across her closed lids; the sound of the shot from her own gun, the blood flowing out of Coonan's chest, the successive feelings of relief that Castle was safe and panic that she'd just put a bullet into the only person who knew who had wanted her mother dead.
When the cab pulled up outside his building, Kate paid and got out, hurrying inside out of the cold. The elevator ride passed in an instant, and before she knew it Castle's door was right in front of her. She raised her hand to ring the bell, but hesitated, not wanting to wake the whole house. Instead she pulled out her cell phone, touching her fingertip to her partner's name and holding the device to her ear before she could change her mind. It rang once before the call connected, and Kate heard his voice.
"Castle."
"Did I wake you?" She asked, feeling guilty at the image of him jolting awake from a much-needed sleep just to talk to her.
"Course not." Castle replied. "Couldn't sleep. Just reading... well, trying to."
"I couldn't either." Kate confided, her voice quiet. She should have known that he wouldn't be sleeping; too much had happened that day for either of them to find much peace.
"What can I do?" He did nothing to mask his concern.
"You could let me in." When she was answered only by the dial tone, she too ended the call and dropped her phone back in her bag.
A couple of seconds later and Kate could hear bare feet on the wooden floor, before the door opened and she found herself face-to-face with Richard Castle. He was wearing faded jeans and an untucked button-down, blue to match his eyes.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Come in."
Kate smiled as she stepped inside, and he closed the door behind her. He relieved her of her bag and coat, hanging them in the closet. They stood facing each other, a few feet apart. Kate looked away when she felt tears threatening. Castle moved closer, resting his hands on her arms.
"Rick." She half whispered, half sobbed, tears escaping now. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him as she cried. Stroking her hair, his other hand was warm on her lower back.
"...so scared..." Kate whispered, her face buried against his neck.
"I know you are, honey. It's okay. You're safe here. It'll be over soon. I promise, one day it'll be over..."
Kate pulled back so she could see his face, her palms flush to his chest.
"No, that's not... what I meant." A pause. "I was so scared I was gonna lose you, Rick. If anything had happened to you I don't know what I would have done..." Her hand caressed his cheek. "Should have been able to keep you safe..."
"You did, Kate." Castle assured her. "But I wish you hadn't had to make that decision. I'm sorry you had to choose me over information about your mom's killer. I feel so guilty-"
"Well you shouldn't. It was never a choice. I'd always choose you. You're my partner."
"And you're mine." Rick hugged her tighter. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest again.
"And your suit must be ruined – I will buy you a new one-"
"No you won't." Castle insisted, groaning as Kate's hands unintentionally covered the bruises on his back and ribs from Coonan's gun. She pulled away sharply at the sound. He inwardly cursed for giving himself away.
"Rick?"
"It's nothing. Really, I'm fine."
"Castle?" Kate raised her eyebrows at him, her tone and the use of his surname demanding he tell the truth, even while her hands were placed gently on his chest again, conveying her concern. "Let me see."
Rick reluctantly let Kate lift up the back of his shirt so she could inspect the damage. There was dark bruising splashed across his lower back where Coonan had rammed the gun into Castle's ribs. She felt sick as she saw how badly he'd been hurt. Her fingertips lightly traced the bruises darkening his skin. Kate squeezed her eyes shut at the images of Rick lying in the corridor of the precinct, bleeding out beneath her hands.
She was glad that he had his back to her, so he didn't see her crying again.
But he knew. He always knew when she was hurting.
Castle turned back around and gathered her into his arms. Kate slid her arms around his neck so as not to hurt him, and they just held each other.
"You could have died..." He felt more than heard her whisper against his shoulder. Rick's only response was to squeeze her tighter.
They stayed that way for a while before Kate spoke again.
"Just want it all to be over."
"I know, I know... One day it will be. And until then I'll always be here."
"You don't know that." He pulled back to look at her; the stain of tears on her cheeks, the fear and raw pain in her eyes. Castle cupped her face, his thumbs wiping away the odd droplet that broke free from her dark lashes as she gazed up at him, her fingers curling into his shirt collar.
"Yes I do. Whoever they are, we will find them. We'll make them pay for everything they did. And I will be right here, always." He told her firmly, quietly, touching his forehead to hers as he spoke, before pressing merely the hint of a kiss beside her mouth. He felt Kate's hands slide back round his neck again as they held on tight to each other.
Castle's words helped, even more than the security of being in his arms or the gentle caress of his fingers in her hair. But three of the words in particular were like sparks, able to re-ignite the fire within her, the burning, all-consuming desire for truth and resolution, the fire that had been all but extinguished after today.
One day. Always.