This story will have 4 parts.
Part One
They were together when it happened.
That ordinary Wednesday in the first week of November began as nondescript as any other. With clear skies letting the late autumn sun kiss the earth and a light breeze to dance through everyone's hair it seemed almost idyllic. In fact, the only atypical thing about that day was the weather report: the high temperature that day was predicted to inch towards the seventy degree mark, which was welcome by pretty much everyone in the city. After the end of October brought a fortnight of highs barely reaching the fifties, one last little glimpse of late summer was just what New York needed.
Clad in sandals and shorts, children scurried off to school. Men and women in power suits walked to work sans jackets. Castle and Beckett met at the twelfth, where everyone was abuzz about the weather.
"Maybe Jenny and I should go for a walk after work," Ryan mused as they all sipped their coffee. "You know, to enjoy it while it lasts."
"Aww you going to skip and hold hands too?" Esposito joked.
"You're just jealous," Ryan retorted just as easily as ever.
"Of having a ball and chain strapped to my leg for the rest of my life?" Esposito made a noise of disbelief. "No way bro. Castle and I are single for a reason."
"Hey!" Castle interjected at the mention of his name. "Leave me out of this. I'm single by choice."
"Me too."
"Yeah, but not your own," Castle informed him with a smile. Kate and Ryan laughed while Esposito flipped him the bird.
"Alright, alright—you ready to go, Castle?" Kate asked her partner before standing and scooping up her take-away cup of coffee.
"Shotgun!" the writer called out as he bounced to his feet.
Ignoring him, Kate looked to the other two members of her team. "You guys are going to follow up with Lanie, right? See if there's an official COD for our vic?"
"You got it," Esposito said. "We'll head over their shortly."
The body that they had discovered late the prior evening belonged to fifty-four year old George Michael (not the celebrity, despite Castle's amusement). Due to damage done by hungry sewer rats, Michael's cause of death was not immediately known. As they did not know much about the victim (he, unlike most of the planet's populous, did not maintain a strong online presence) Castle and Beckett were on their way to interview his next-of-kin: a younger brother named Kenneth.
"Hey can we swing by a Starbucks on the way there?" Castle asked as he tossed his now empty take-away cup into a trash bin on the way to the precinct parking garage.
His partner gazed at him, wide-eyed. "You finished yours already Castle?" Barely one-third was missing from her cup.
He shrugged. "Didn't sleep much last night."
"Visions of criminals dancing in your head?" she mused.
He smiled softly at her. "Nah. Was up late trying to work on my outline for the next Nikki Heat book. I'm having trouble with this one…not sure where I wanna take Nikki and Rook."
Kate eyed her partner skeptically. "So you're making an outline? Don't you usually just…procrastinate and then make stuff up?"
He gave her a pointed look with lips pursed. "Ha-ha." Then, they shared a smile before ducking into her unmarked car.
Per Castle's request, Kate did stop at the next Starbucks they passed which, being that they were in Manhattan, was only two blocks away. She waited in the car while Castle popped on his sun glasses and disappeared into the corner shop. A few minutes later he returned with another large beverage and a muffin. "So what do we know about Kenneth?"
"Not too much. He doesn't have any police records, but according to what I found out he owns a pawn shop in Little Italy and lives above it."
"Ooo a pawn shop!" the writer said gleefully in between bites of muffin. "Love those…you can always find something interesting there."
"To be fair, don't you find something interesting almost anywhere we go?" the detective asked knowingly.
He winked at her and nodded. "You know me well, Detective."
They had traveled no more than three blocks before, as they stopped at a red light, Castle felt a tremor roll under the car. Confused, he looked down at the floor of the vehicle and then back up to his partner, unsure of whether he had hallucinated the incident. When he saw her brow wrinkled, he realized he hadn't. "What was that?"
"Don't know," she replied.
"Do you think something happened on the subway?"
"I'm not sure I-" Her voice cut off when another tremor rolled underneath the car.
"Earthquake?" Castle guessed.
She turned to him with even more creases in her brow. "In the city? I don't think so…"
They waited in silence another thirty seconds until the light turned green. Then, Kate inched the vehicle forward into the almost-gridlocked traffic of a New York City morning shortly before nine a.m. They had rolled forward only about a block when the call came over the radio: all available units to respond to Wall Street.
The dispatcher used several police codes Castle didn't immediately recognize, so he turned to his partner. When he saw how tightly she gripped the steering wheel, his heart clutched in his chest. "What does that mean?" he asked. "Those codes?"
As they were once again stopped in traffic, Kate turned to her partner and said, "Potential threat of terrorism."
"Oh god," he responded quietly.
Any thought of interviewing their victim's brother abandoned, Kate flicked on the lights and siren in her vehicle. Though, given the tight traffic, they did little good to advance their progress. A few taxis moved over and she was able to cross into the next block before another all-call came out over the radio. Within five minutes, police assistance was requested near the World Trade Center memorial and the Empire State Building.
Hearing those key locations, only one thought entered Castle's mind. When he saw the pallid expression of his partner, he knew she had to be thinking the same thing. "Another 9/11?"
She glanced at him briefly and then turned back to traffic. "I don't know," she replied honestly.
Throughout their partnership, they had only had one serious, lengthy conversation about the day etched into American history. It had been just a few months earlier in the weeks leading up to the tenth anniversary of the day. As a decorated cop, Kate was invite to participate in the ceremonies which sparked the conversation about where each of them had been on that fateful day.
At not quite twenty-two years old, Kate had just begun her final year at NYU. She had returned from her summer abroad just a few weeks earlier and was both excited and disappointed to be back on American soil. She'd been up late the night before celebrating a dorm-mate's birthday and thus was still sleeping when the attacks began. Soon, she was awakened by her roommate and, with classes canceled that day, they watched the entire event unfold together on their small dorm-room television.
Castle was not in the city that September day. He was on a book tour on the west coast and was therefore also still asleep. He recounted being awoken by a phone call from his mother saying that she had retrieved Alexis from school and they were making their way home. When he asked why, she told him simply to turn on his television. Though he wanted to return home immediately, due to the disruption in air travel it ended up taking him several days until he reunited with his family.
Like all New Yorkers, they had been affected by the tragedies of the day. True, not as much as those directly involved, or those who had lost immediately family members or friends, but they still lived and worked in the city in the aftermath of the tragedy. Castle saw the terror and fear on the faces of his mother and particularly his daughter, who was only seven at the time. Kate had a classmate whose father died in the South Tower and knew dozens of others with lost or injured loved ones.
As they traveled south on the island, Castle thought back to that September day ten years before. Ironically, it had also been a beautiful, clear-sky day. Now, that bright blue canopy seemed to mock him as one terrifying thought pulsed through his mind: many of the victims that day had been first responders. Police, fire, and rescue crews trying to save innocent victims. People just like Kate.
Though she was zigzagging across various blocks with her sirens on trying to avoid traffic, Castle quickly realized they were not headed towards Wall Street. At least, not directly. When he pointed this out to her, she responded simply, "I'm taking you home first."
His protest was immediate. "What? Beckett, no."
"Castle."
Her tone was not one to argue with, but he did so anyway. "I want to help."
"You can't."
"But I'm your partner!"
"Not today you're not."
Her words hit him like a knife to the heart. He wasn't sure what bothered him more: the chill in her tone or the way she refused to look at him as she said it. He could hardly think of four other words that would have been more offensive to him.
Three and a half years! Three and a half years he was by her side through shootings and chases and even a bomb. In his mind, he had more than proved his value. He was an asset and for her to even think about saying that he was not her partner was an outright insult.
Too furious with her to even speak, Castle seethed in his seat for another half block until she jerked the wheel to the right, pulling the car over just a block away from his apartment. She slammed the vehicle into park, popped the trunk and climbed out. Not a moment later, he chased after her.
"I am your partner Kate and-"
"No, Castle," she shut him down again. That time, she turned to face him when they stood behind her car. "Every other day of the week, you're my partner. I look forward to sharing this car with you—sharing my cases, but not today. Not when they're talking about terrorist threats. I'm sorry, but when it comes right down to it you don't have the training. I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to find down there and…and I don't want you getting hurt."
Her eyes pleaded with him as she spoke, and Castle felt the unpleasant sensation of guilt settle into his gut. Though he loathed admitting it, he knew she was right. He was a smart, quick on his feet, and a fairly decent shot. Over their partnership, he had picked up no small amount of knowledge regarding police procedures and safety, but she was correct in saying he had no formal training. Most days, he liked to think that didn't matter, but that was not turning out to be one of those days.
He knew that every law enforcement officer—Kate included—went through hours and hours of training on responding to suspected terrorist action, which they did for both their safety and for the safety of the citizens of New York. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was put cops or civilians in danger. More so, he did not want to put Kate in any danger.
As Kate pulled out her bullet proof vest from the trunk, she said to her partner, "I want you to go into your apartment and stay inside. Your mother, too. And Alexis—get her home from school."
Castle nodded at her instructions, but felt a led weight form in his gut as he watched her strap on her vest. "Do-do you really have to go down there?"
"Of course," she replied; that wasn't even a question.
He swallowed hard again. He didn't want to say it, but knew it had to be said. His voice a bit weaker, he continued, "But…on 9/11…cops and fire fighters…" He didn't need to finish his sentence. Just looking to her eyes with his fear on display was enough to finish the thought.
Immediately, she pulled her gaze from his. She couldn't look at him looking at her that way; it made her stomach flip even more violently than it already was. Instead, she merely turned back to the contents of her trunk and said factually, "It's my job, Castle."
Fighting the almost overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her, hold her, he said, "You have to be careful, Kate," letting the tone of his voice finish the thought: I need you to be careful.
"I will."
"I'm serious. If there are bombs or collapsing buildings…" He could see it in his mind's eye. The raw videos from that fateful day that the news channels tactlessly played over and over again. Chaos in the streets. People running everywhere. Clouds of debris overtaking panicking, fleeing pedestrians. Soot covered officers carrying the wounded, some of them bleeding themselves.
To say that the image of Kate as one of those individuals filled Castle's nightmares would be a grand understatement. If he was home in his apartment and saw her battered, wounded face on his television screen, he was sure he wouldn't be able to handle it. And what if her face was among the bodies on the ground? What if this conversation was the last they would ever have?
Suddenly, he was transported back to six months earlier, standing in a graveyard on a warm spring day just moments before the shot from a sniper's rifle rang out. He'd almost lost her then, and what had come of it? They'd spent three of those months apart, and the next three rebuilding their partnership. Not that he regretted any of this. After their conversation on the swing set and subsequent cases together he knew they were stronger than ever, but he couldn't predict the future. He couldn't know what would happen that day. His move would be risky, but it was one he had to make; he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.
"I'm sorry," he began after several moments of silence.
She glanced up at as she checked the clip in her weapon. Her brow creased. "Sorry? For what?"
He took a step closer to her. "I'm sorry because there are a million better ways for me to tell you this—a million ways I should be telling you this. Less dire. More romantic. More thought out, but I can't miss another opportunity. If something happens to you today and I don't tell you this, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
She stared at him, not blinking, so he took a deep breath and prepared himself to make a heartfelt confession for the second time. At least this time he could be certain she would remember it.
"I love you, Kate. I've loved you for a while and I need you to know that along with my mother and daughter, you're one of the most important people in my life. I need you to stay safe today. Okay? Please, please stay safe. Because I love you."
For almost a solid minute, Kate stared up at her partner. She couldn't move or speak. She wasn't even sure she was breathing. She was, however, acutely aware of how violently her heart was pounding in her chest.
All her brain could think was: Now!? He's telling me this now?!
But how could she blame him? Technically, he had already told her once (though as far as he knew, she still did not recall that incident) and it wasn't as though his feelings for her would have changed. Or would they have? After their summer apart, she wasn't convinced, but now he had provided cold, hard proof. But what was she supposed to say? She wasn't sure she could have formed the words to respond if given a whole day, but with only minutes to spare she surely could not even begin to appropriately explain to him how she felt or the confliction and confusion in her mind. Fortunately, she didn't have to.
Before she could even open her mouth, another call came over the police radio, that one sounding more desperate than the last.
"I…" she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I have to go…I'm sorry."
"Yeah," he said, taking a step back from her. "I know."
"Get inside, Castle; please."
He nodded and stepped up onto the side walk. Before taking more than a step away, he turned to her and said, "You'll call me when you can, won't you? I mean, please. So I know you're alright?"
She nodded to him and then hurried back to the driver's seat of her car. She turned over the engine and put the car in gear, watching him walk away until he'd disappeared around the block. Only then did she let out a long exhale and let her head roll back against the headrest.
She could not think about Richard Castle telling her that he loved her. Again. In another time of crisis.
Damn. Why couldn't they just be honest with each other in a normal situation? Oh, that was probably partially her fault. Well, the fault of her walls, anyway. But she didn't have time to think about that. She had to compartmentalize her feelings, lock them away, and focus on the task at hand.
With the sirens on her vehicle at full decibel, she raced through the streets of lower Manhattan along with a squad car she joined up with on Broome Street. Due to the chaos and road blocks, she could only drive within a few blocks of Wall Street. So she decided to ditch her vehicle and walk the rest of the way. Trailing behind two uniforms, she hurried her way down the side street, hand hovering above her service weapon. When she rounded the corner on to Wall, pandemonium erupted.
Kate froze, slack jawed on the street corner gaping at the chaos in front of her. It was so unexpected, so out of control, she could hardly process. If she had to guess, she imagined this scene would not have been unfamiliar to those in Baghdad at the height of the war. Fire. Smoke. Screaming people. Gunfire.
God, why was there so much gunfire?
The uniforms in front of her retreated to their squad car to get tear gas and rifles; she decided to do the same.
After sprinting back to her unit, Kate gathered the necessary items from her trunk, but paused before shutting the lid. She retrieved her phone from pocket, unlocked it, and pulled up her chain of text messages with Castle. Her thumb hovered above the "I" key for several moments, trembling more and more with each passing second.
God damn it, why couldn't she just type those three little words? He had said them to her and she felt them, she knew she felt them but… she couldn't make herself do it. Not even in the wake of chaos. Not yet.
A fool. She was a fool and a coward. At least, when it came to matters of the heart.
Compartmentalize. Compartmentalize, she told herself. She moved her finger to the "Off" button, but frozen again. She couldn't say nothing. Not after what she'd seen. Not when facing the prospect that Castle could be right—that they may not see each other again.
Moving her fingers back to the keypad she typed, "Me too."
It wasn't enough, but it would have to suffice.
Pocketing the device, she slung her shotgun over her shoulder, rounded the corner of Wall Street and entered the fray.