For Ched, without whom this story would not have existed; and for ER and Jetpackingpenguin, without whose gentle 'harassment' I could have faded out of the Castle fanfiction world entirely.
Warning: Angst ahead.
Please, God, let them kill Castle first.
Staring at the man before her, she thought the words over and over, her last hope, her final, silent prayer. Thoughts of escape or rescue were long since gone; this time, there would be no one to save them, no lucky getaway.
This time, their luck had finally run out.
Please, just kill him first.
"What do you think, Doug?" the man asked casually, his demeanor completely at ease, the hand that held the gun on her devoid of even the slightest tremor. "Who first? Pretty lady cop or her writer sidekick?"
His accomplice gave merely a slight shrug in response, not bothering to offer an answer. Despite being the larger of the two, he was clearly the subordinate in this particular scenario, and it was evident that the decision would not come from him. Instead, he simply waited, his gun trained unwaveringly on its own target– a point directly over Castle's heart.
Looking back to the man before her, she held her breath as he tilted his head, seeming to ponder over his decision. Then his eyes lifted, meeting hers, and she felt her chest constrict, her whole body going cold with dread, icy fingers gripping at her insides.
No. No please, don't do that to him. Don't make him watch, not again. Don't let that be the last thing he sees–
Her silent pleas were cut short as thin lips curved into a slow smile; narrowed, speculative eyes fixing her with a look that chilled her blood.
"Doug, keep an eye on the writer, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. As for you, sweetheart–" he gestured slightly with his gun– "you come here to me."
For a moment Beckett simply stared at him, contemplating defiance. If she was going to die, she didn't want it to be on his terms, didn't want to go meekly to her death. Maybe somehow she could–
As if sensing her intent, her captor's eyes hardened, his voice sharp as his words sliced through any last thought of rebellion.
"Here, bitch, or I'll put a bullet through every one of his limbs and let you watch him bleed out nice and slow."
Drawing in a long, slow breath, Beckett closed her eyes for a moment. There was no doubting that he meant every word. There was no escape, no choice but to obey; she wouldn't– couldn't– allow Castle to be tortured simply to delay the inevitable.
She had barely taken a step forward when Castle's hand grabbed hers, trying to pull her back.
"Kate, no–"
"Doug," the man commanded simply, speaking over Castle's desperate plea.
One word and instantly the big man was moving, one beefy arm wrapping around Castle's throat, the other pressing the gun hard to his temple. Beckett felt herself rip in half as Castle's fingers slipped from hers, their hands still suspended in midair, outstretched towards one another as though retaining that contact was the only thing left in the world that mattered.
She nearly made the move to follow– her body instinctively acting on the need to be near to Castle– when suddenly her captor was before her, his gun aimed directly at her forehead, his eyes cold.
"On your knees."
Closing her eyes briefly, she forced herself to obey his command, sinking slowly to her knees on the cold concrete. Keeping his gun trained on her, he shifted slightly to the side of her, leaving her line of sight clear so she would have an unimpeded view of Castle's horrified face as she died.
"Best say goodbye to your little girlfriend, Mr Castle."
"No–" Castle choked out, his voice like razorblades and shattered glass. Feeling the pain lance deeper into her heart, she closed her eyes, unable to bear the agony on his face, unable to watch him struggle against the iron grip of his captor as he desperately fought to save her.
Ignoring him, the man simply stepped back slightly, then slowly cocked his gun, aiming point-blank at her temple.
"Don't."
The choked whisper left her mouth without her permission, a last, desperate appeal.
"Don't?" the man mocked, chuckling coldly. "Oh, sweetheart. You're going to have to do better than that. How about you try again, and see if you can give me even one good reason not to kill you."
Because I'm a cop. Because they'll catch you, and you'll go to jail for the rest of your miserable life. Because I don't want to die. Because there is so much I never got the chance to do.
Knowing that he was simply toying with her– there was not a single thing she could say that would stop him now– she didn't even bother with pleas or reasons, with excuses or bargains. Instead, she spoke a single word.
"Castle."
Lifting her eyes to fix onto his– anguished hazel meeting agonized blue– she drew in a slow breath, then spoke the final words she would ever say.
"I love you."
###
I love you.
Like a drug, the three words flowed through his veins and straight to his heart, filling him with a sense of warmth and calm. Moments ago, he'd been terrified, desperate, near-mindless with the fear of losing her. But now, he was no longer panicked and helpless. Now, he knew his fate, and he was ready.
Blowing out a slow, soft breath, his lips curved into a small, sad smile as he looked down at her, drinking in every inch of her face, knowing it was the last time he would ever see it.
"I know," he answered simply, his eyes holding hers as if the two of them were all alone in the world, his message only for her when he added quietly, "Which is why I'm hoping that someday you'll forgive me."
"Well, that was touching," the gunman snorted, but Castle knew neither of them heard. Beckett's eyes were fixed on his, searching, her eyebrows contracting as she struggled to comprehend his words, to extract the meaning hidden within.
Soon enough, he knew, she would understand all too well.
Holding her gaze for one last moment of love and silent apology, he took a deep breath, his body tensing.
And then, empty of everything but one single thought– save her– Richard Castle performed the act that would cost him his life.
Having already crept close to its target, his right hand suddenly delved beneath his jacket and returned with a gun– hurriedly stashed in one blessed moment of unshakable foreboding– held tightly in his grip, his arm swinging upward so quickly that there was barely time for their captors to register what was happening.
But his aim was not for Beckett's would-be executioner; instead, without thought or hesitation, he swiftly brought the gun around, pressed it firmly to the juncture of his left shoulder, and fired.
And the world went to hell.
The deafening crack of the gunshot drowned out the roar of pain that tore from his throat, the strangled splutter of the man behind him going completely unnoticed in the tumult. He spared no time to think, to stop and look down at the man that had dropped and was right now likely dying by his hand. He had to keep moving; lurching slightly, he whipped the gun around to face the sole remaining enemy, just as the man in question finally recovered from his shock, his own gun lifting rapidly, taking aim.
The two shots exploded in the same moment, and Castle felt the impact like a freight train to the gut, heard Beckett's scream reverberate in his ears. He felt his knees begin to buckle, and he staggered, trying to regain his balance– no, no, I have to kill them, they have to be dead, Kate, oh god, Kate– and then suddenly the pain hit him, his body exploding with agony as his legs gave way, the concrete rushing up to meet him as everything went black.
###
She was by his side before the echo of the gunshots had even completely faded, her body shaking so hard that she could barely draw breath into her lungs. Snatching up the gun that had fallen from his grip, she snapped toward one captor, then the other, cop instinct forcing her to first control the situation, neutralizing any further threat. One glance at each of them was enough to tell her that the gun would not be needed; both lay sprawled in growing pools of blood, each wearing a bloody hole through their chest.
It was only then that she was able to release the gun, to relinquish the protective stance she held over her fallen partner and drop to her knees, her hands clutching at his shirt as the first wrenching sobs broke free.
Dragging him over onto his back, she called his name, her voice weak and desperate between the sobs. His silence was like a bullet wound to her own heart, her hands already slippery with blood as she fought though tears and trembling fingers to dial 911. It was all she could do to identify herself and state the code for officer down before the sobs completely overtook her, the phone already forgotten as she reached again for Castle's shirt, mindless with grief as she gripped hard, giving him a desperate, pleading shake.
A low groan followed her actions, the blessed sound spurring her into movement as her shaking hands began tugging frantically at her jacket, desperately trying to yank off the uncooperative garment. She needed to put pressure on the wounds, to stem the flow, but oh god there was so much blood and she was shaking so hard she could barely see straight and she wasn't even sure Castle was still breathing and–
She jumped suddenly, lightning racing up her already overwhelmed nerves at the sudden pressure of Castle's hand wrapping around her wrist.
Her eyes darted to his face, finding his eyes open, his gaze hooded but sharpening as it fixed upon her. Trying to keep her hands applying steady pressure to both wounds, she made herself talk past the razorblades in her throat, murmuring wavering reassurances that comforted neither of them. His hand tightened around her wrist, his eyes growing intense, but he didn't speak; the words simply wouldn't come.
Finding the words choking her own throat, Beckett felt the tears falling freely, her eyes still locked with his as she tried desperately to save his life.
His grip at her wrist grew bruising, his eyes urgent, trying to tell her what words couldn't.
Choking back a sob, Beckett nodded, her eyes squeezing shut briefly as the pain threatened to overwhelm her.
"I know," she whispered brokenly, answering his unspoken message before leaning down to press her lips briefly against his. "I know."
Instantly his face relaxed a little, some of the anxiety fading. Then suddenly his eyes met hers once more, his expression pleading.
And somehow, she understood.
"They know you love them. They know too, Castle."
Watching his eyes close in relief, she held back a sob, then finally gave in to the need to touch him, lifting one bloodied hand from the wound on his shoulder to wipe away the tear rolling slowly down his temple, her fingers cupping his cheek. At her touch, his eyelids fluttered, his eyes opening slowly, arduously, as if it were now a task that was almost too difficult for him to bear.
It was then that she knew. She felt it, felt it in the way something inside her was slowly dying, slowly shredding into tiny pieces too small to ever recover.
She was about to lose him. She was about to lose the most important person in her life– again– and again, she couldn't do a thing to stop it.
Sick with grief and the knowledge that she would never see those blue eyes again, she locked her gaze with his, trying to tell him everything she should have told him every day for the last four years.
For a few seconds, he held on, his gaze clouded but focused enough that she knew he understood.
For a few seconds, he managed to fight, and she watched as he gave everything to stay with her.
He fought for her, like he always had...
...but this time, he lost.
She felt it, the moment it happened. Felt the moment his heart stopped, the sudden absence of that beat taking with it everything she had been.
And though she pressed her hands over and over to his chest, abandoning his wounds to try to bring it back, she knew she would never be enough.
He was gone.
And just like that...
...so was she.
###
She hadn't spoken about it since it happened.
She gave her police report, of course– reciting it all in a lifeless monotone, her eyes fixed on her blood-red hands, her heart already chasing Castle's down into that bottomless black hole– but that was duty, and without Castle there, duty was the only thing she knew how to do.
They didn't ask her any more after that. Any of the others. Esposito and Ryan had been there within moments of the squad cars and ambulances, devastation like a tsunami pulling them under.
Drowning them once they knew.
She didn't know who had made the call to Martha and Alexis, the pain spreading wider but not thinner.
She didn't know how time continued to pass, moving along like miles on a road, carrying everyone away.
Everyone but her.
She didn't move, not like they did. For them it was life in slow motion; for her it was high-speed rewind, living only in her memories of Castle because in this future she did not exist. If Castle had stopped then so had she and the world could rotate all it wanted but she was not going with it.
Instead she sat, sat still and silent with clutching hands, and let it all pass her by.
Let them pass her by, the others, those few in her life who had truly mattered. Before. They came and went, there then not, sometimes trying to reach her but though she tried she couldn't reach back, each an opposing magnet that just pushed her further away, an invisible force creating a chasm between her and all she had known.
They were not Castle and without Castle she was not Kate, a broken machine that could not function without its key piece.
If Castle was gone, then Kate was gone too.
So there she sat, and she was nothing. Nothing, existing not in life or death but a twisted combination of the two, her body somehow alive but her heart long dead, its beat having been long tied to Castle's, and when one stops so must the other.
Which is why she was nothing.
There, but not there.
Until the word.
Kate.
Her name, rising like smoke from scorched earth.
Falling softly like snow that blankets the scarred ground.
Kate.
With one word he was back and so was she.
He was the key to her lightless prison, his blue eyes the first glimpse of clear sky as she finally escaped the darkness, returning to the world.
Returning, not as the dark and twisted and broken thing that even time did not know how to reach.
But as Kate, partner and friend and cop and daughter, standing beside a hospital bed with clutching hands and a hand that clutched back.
The world blurred through irrepressible tears but his smile shone clearly through the haze, radiant as the sun emerging after a raging storm.
Kate.
With one word, they both lived again.
You may have noticed the change of writing style for that last part. I don't know why it happened, but it just felt right, so I hope no one found the change too irritating.
Thanks for reading, and remember comments/suggestions for improvement are always welcome.
~A note in response to some PMs I've received:
Yes, in my view of the story, Castle does survive. To me, the final section is Beckett waiting beside Castle's bedside in the hospital, broken and desolate because, though the ambulance crew managed to resuscitate him after Beckett's CPR efforts, Castle's survival is still not guaranteed. As such, Beckett's freedom comes only when Castle regains consciousness- whether that occurs hours or days after the shooting I honestly don't know.
To those of you who think it is impossible he could have lived, I assure you that I did consider carefully the location of the bullet wounds, Beckett's likely CPR training, and the haste at which an ambulance would respond to the call of 'officer down' in order to ensure that his survival- though, admittedly, exceptionally lucky- was in fact medically possible. As a medical student approaching my final year, I believe that my reasoning was sound.
And, well, let's face it- I just couldn't bear to let Castle die (at least... not this time lol). If you have any other questions or comments about anything in (or outside) the story, feel free to PM me or leave a review :)