A chill runs down her spine as she descends into the basement. It's dark and the air is thick and humid, making it hard to breathe. She tries to focus on her breathing, but it is all beginning to be too much. Her heart feels like it's going to jump out of her chest as the shaking in her hands begins to radiate throughout her body, making her grip on her gun unsteady, the act slightly hidden from the others by the shadows formed by their flashlights.
She keeps her eyes forward; stays focused on the task at hand. She starts to scan her surroundings again when she finds his hunched silhouette on the concrete floor. She freezes for a moment and stares at the dark figure not ten feet in front of her. She feels the damp air brush past her as her team spreads out to sweep the room, raising goose bumps up and down her arms. She can make out Esposito and Ryan untying or possibly uncuffing him from the wall—it's a moot point to her. That means he has been bound for two weeks; 14 days and 8 hours if she wants to be specific. Hell, she has caught herself counting the minutes some days.
She can sense his eyes on her; can feel how her body is just drawn to his, forcing her feet to move her closer to him. It doesn't take long before she's standing over him, his head maybe mid-thigh to her. She is close enough to see that he hasn't looked up at her, but she can feel his fingers ever so lightly graze her covered calf. She stands there for maybe a few seconds, even lets her hand reach for him, not quite touching him, before she allows her legs to give out and she drops to her knees in front of him.
One of the boys find a light source, giving the basement a now dim glow as her team moves around the kneeling pair who are facing each other on the hard floor. No words are said between them, just light touches. Her hand sweeps over his face, strokes his damp hair. While her other hand moves down his arm and then over his chest. She takes in every inch of him. She can feel his stare, immersed in how he can always see right through her (something that used to make her so uncomfortable). His piercing blue eyes that usually render her speechless, eyes that usually make a warmness spread throughout her body are now watching as each flash of emotion plays across her face. She knows he can feel her grasp randomly at him when the thought that this is just a dream forges its way to the front of her mind. She can make out some bruises, a couple healing cuts, and tears in his dress shirt, but nothing seems to be too serious. His body feels tired and weak, the usual life in him is missing; that contagiously excited energy had been wiped from him. It makes her angry, though the feeling leaves her as soon as it comes. She tries not to be so hard on herself for not getting to him sooner. So instead, she mentally promises herself that she will catch the person who has done this and make sure they never see the light of day again.
She feels the heat of his palm on her thigh as she catches sight of some caked on dirt covering the side of his neck. She focuses in on it, runs her thumb over it. Tries willing it away, but it's no use. She bites her lip to hold back the tears that have been trying to make their way out since this morning. Since the moment they found his location and the ever familiar sweep of hope that flooded her body. But she won't let it out yet, so she looks up into his eyes that are still studying her. There is a smile to them, which in turn makes the sides of her mouth falter slightly. They keep eye contact for only a few seconds, but it's enough. So much more is said within their short glances. Just this one look and a sense of calm takes hold of her. She welcomes the feel of her once rigid body starting to relax as she helps him to his feet. She firmly holds onto his arm while walking him to the stairs, finally letting herself believe that everything is going to be okay.
They keep him at the hospital for almost eight hours before they say he is good to go home. He was in and out of tests the entire time, and he hasn't seen her since they parted ways at the ambulance dock. He remembers how he unconsciously had to remain touching her the entire ride from the warehouse to the hospital. The act kept him grounded, a visceral reminder that he made it-that they made it.
All in all he got away mostly unscathed. A few bruised ribs, a sprained wrist and various other bruises and cuts that were already healing. But it really doesn't matter to him. They are all superficial wounds, and he knows he is going to feel as good as new in a few months time. He just has to see her right now. He begins to dress with clothes that Alexis probably brought for him. Hopefully Kate sent her home to get some rest since it was the middle of the night, he thinks to himself, pulling his blue t-shirt carefully over his head.
About a half hour later he finds her crouched over in a hospital chair. Her hands in her hair (probably at some point during the night they were once running through it), her elbows resting on her knees, her body finally allowing itself to be exhausted. She looks so small from where he's standing. This woman who has probably barely slept or eaten while he was missing. Her determination is one of the things he admires about her, but he has always thought it could also be her downfall. Where it would wear her down so much, sucking the energy ever so slowly out of her; blood shot eyes and dark circles weighing down on those beautiful, haunted eyes, just the beginnings of it. He wonders if she drew strength from thoughts of him, just as he had done. Thoughts of her, and his family, were a lifeline during his disappearance.
He makes his way slowly over to her, mostly not to spook her, but then again, he is extremely sore; his careful steps barely making a noise. She must have felt his presence because she steadily raises her head before he reaches her. She looks pale under the florescent lighting of the hospital, but not in a sick way, maybe more from the wear of worrying more than anything else. She looks as beautiful as the first day he met her though, the first day he watched her walk away from him. He could still see the swing of her hips; her confidence, and he was completely enraptured by the sight of her. He knew from then on he was a changed man; inspired, allured by the story of this complete stranger in front of him. It's surreal that he really had no idea back then. No way to know what the two of them would go through, that she would one day be his wife.
"Hey, you," he says softly, his voice slightly cracking from all of the emotion boiling its way to the surface.
Hearing his voice must have been the tip of the iceberg for her because tears start to flow freely down her cheeks. "Castle," she breathes.
"I know, I know. Come here," he ushers. He can't take it. He has to have her in his arms.
He pulls her onto her feet and crushes her body to his. He has always loved how she just fits into him, revels in the feel of her head tucked under his chin, her soft curls brushing his cheek. He senses the moment she lets go; silent tears, the slight waver to her stance, her hold onto the back of his shirt tightening.
There's something so cathartic about it; standing in the hospital waiting room was not necessarily a comfort in itself. But having her here, in his arms, her lips at his neck...he takes a deep breath in and then finally releases it all. He lets his body shake with it, the relief finally surging through his system.
He can't help but bring her closer to him; let himself cry in her arms as she whispers, "I love you" over and over again into his ear. His eyes close, soothed by the sound of her murmurs, and for the first time in days, he feels safe.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Thoughts are always appreciated!
I linked the gif that inspired this little story. It can be found on my profile. :)