kenopsia
n. the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that's usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet—a school hallway in the evening, an unlit office on a weekend, vacant fairgrounds—an emotional afterimage that makes it seem not just empty but hyper-empty, with a total population in the negative, who are so conspicuously absent they glow like neon signs.
The prevailing word of Richard Castle's consciousness this morning, the small cluster of letters tracing pathways through the vastly rolling landscape of his brain, is ugh. Banks in general bore him - too much seriousness and the expectation of adult behaviour and he hates having to justify his impulse purchases - and once you throw his mother and her stubbornness into the mix he is rapidly losing any and all sense of duty that may have convinced him to join her for her trip to boredom central this morning.
"This is outrageous, sir! You are nothing but a well-dressed loan shark." His mother is saying, and really. He knows she's an actress, but this is an entirely unnecessary amount of melodrama. Especially for this time in the morning.
Over coffee at the kitchen island, she had asked him to come with her to the bank and he had grumbled and groaned, stared desperately out of the windows of the loft as the sun struggled its way up and over the horizon, but he had agreed nonetheless.
Annoying as she may be, he does love his mother. Although he truly doesn't understand why she asked him to come if she's just going to shoot down his every suggestion.
For his part, the bank manager looks just as world weary as Rick himself feels. Mr Davenport is a good man, didn't judge Rick when he had to explain that the 'anomalous purchase' that cropped up in his accounts was his own slice of the moon to call home, but even his patience is wearing thin. "Ms Rodgers, I assure you, this is a very competitive interest rate considering your financial history. However, if your son co-signs-"
"Yes." Rick blurts out, sitting up straighter in his chair. Please, let him cosign and have this be over.
Yeah. That's mostly wishful thinking. "No, no, no, no. This is my loan, not his, to pay for repairs to my acting studio, not his."
"If you could just let me co-sign the loan, or I could just give you the money." He pleads with his mother, half wanting to take her by the arms and shake her.
"Richard, I'm a business woman now. I do not want your money, I do not want your signature, thank you very much. It's the principal."
"No Ms Rodgers, it's the interest."
"And I've just lost mine; excuse me." Rick says, standing up from his chair and heading for the door with a wry grin circling at the corners of his mouth. He's pretty proud of that one, it must be said.
He debates for about half of a nanosecond, and then he tugs his cell phone free from his pocket and does what he always does when he's bored or lonely or - embarrassingly frequently lately - overwhelmed with love. He calls Kate Beckett.
It rings once, his heart swelling right along with the dial tone just at the prospect of speaking with her. He is truly the most pathetic being on the planet, but he can't help himself. And then she answers, her voice in smooth layers of deliciousness.
"What do you want, Castle?"
Oh, so many places he could take that. He wants them. He wants to kiss her, every morning. To open his eyes and face the day with her plastered against his side. That seems a little much for over the phone though, so he decides he can make his point - please rescue me - and also mess with her just a little bit.
"Tell me you need me."
There's a pause, a barely audible gasp, and he imagines the way her eyes widen and her lips part and how is it that she can take him apart with desperate need even through a phone call? "I- yes. I need you, Castle."
She. . .what?
"I just meant that I was hoping there was a murder we could be solving to rescue me from being at this bank with my mother." He says into the phone even as he strides towards the frosted glass doors of the building and bursts through them into the brilliant sunshine of a day where Kate Beckett needs him. "But I'm on my way, Beckett. I'm coming."
"Oh, no, Castle. It's just paperwork. Not any less boring." She hastens to explain, but he hardly even hears it. Leaning back against the concrete edifice of the bank, he closes his eyes and presses his phone even tighter against his ear, wanting to finish up their conversation before he heads for the precinct.
Oh, he should stop for coffee too. "You need me, Kate. I'll be there in twenty minutes." He moves for the step, lifts his foot to descend onto the first one when there's a strange clanging sound from behind him, like an iron bar striking against the door.
"Huh." He says, mostly to himself. When he turns back around the door is closed, and he can see shadowy outlines moving around inside.
"What?"
He takes a few shuffling steps sideways, enough that he can see in through one of the enormous, full length windows. These are not frosted, offering him a completely clear view of-
Oh. Shit. There are four people in doctor's scrubs, ordering people down onto the ground, and each of them has a gun. Rick shoves his free hand down into the pocket of his jeans, forces himself to stay exactly where he is; even he isn't foolish enough to walk right in to what seems to be rapidly turning into a hostage situation.
"Beckett, I think this bank is being robbed."
"Really? Are you that bored?" She says sardonically, and he takes a few steps closer to the window. Not enough that he can be seen from inside, and not enough that he can see his mother. God, he hopes she's okay. Hopes that for once, she won't try to make herself the centre of attention.
Rick clears his throat and scrubs his free hand down his face, presses three fingers to his mouth. It's completely surreal, watching what's happening inside of the bank through the glass as if it's playing out on a movie screen in front of him instead of here in the real world.
"There are four people, dressed in scrubs, armed, and they have everyone down on the floor." He says slowly, knowing it's important that he give Kate as much detail as possible so that she can pass it on to dispatch.
"Where are you?"
"I'm at the New Amsterdam Bank and Trust on Lex." He says, feeling his knees start to sag.
Through the panicked fog of his brain, he hears Kate calling out across the bullpen, asking Esposito to call dispatch. There are more sounds, the far-off gruff of Sito's voice, and then Kate comes back to him sharp and clear. "Castle, can you see what's happening?"
"Some of it, yes. They've taken everyone's cell phones. And the manager's key. One of them is heading for the back of the bank. I don't- Kate. My mother is still inside."
Beckett makes a strangled noise of terror across the phone line and Rick stumbles backwards away from the bank. If they start. . .he doesn't want to watch. "We have squad cars heading your way. I'm leaving right now, I'll be with you in ten."
"Okay." He breathes out, desperately needing her. Anything. Her hand in his or the scent of her perfume or just the length of her body next to him to keep him from keeling over in front of everyone. "Kate. My mom."
"I know. Rick, listen to me." His first name rolling off of her tongue stops him cold and he leans heavy against the wall, smooth black granite at his back as he sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Please don't do anything stupid. Don't try to play the hero. Cops are on their way, and remember. . .I need you."
"I won't. I won't." He grits out, closing his eyes again. It's all just so very confusing. His mother is a hostage inside the bank (nightmare) but Kate Beckett has said twice now that she needs him (dream). None of it seems real, and Rick holds a hand out in front of himself, swipes as if he could tear through the fabric of his dreamscape.
Nothing, obviously, so he barrels down the steps instead to meet the squad cars that are already pulling up outside of the building. "Kate. Cops are here."
"Good. I have to hang up now, but I'll be there soon. Just sit tight, okay?" She murmurs to him, and it must be rhetorical because she ends their call before he even manages to figure out what components his mouth is made up of, never mind how to actually use them to make words.
His guts are heavy with sick, dreadful fear, but there are also starbursts of relief burning through him. Kate is coming. And with her here, he knows it will all be okay.
Illegally double parking her cruiser, Kate just about topples out of the door and into the flow of traffic that winds past the bank. She regains her composure, glancing sidewards just to check that no one saw, and hurries around her car towards the epicentre of the action. The S.W.A.T team is setting up a perimeter and Beckett flashes the badge at her hip and ducks around the blue barricade, striding across the forecourt.
As a detective, her first port of call should be the S.W.A.T van, to see how she might be of assistance to the captain managing the situation. But technically, she's not here as a detective; there's no need for homicide to be here right now. It takes her maybe half a second to spot Castle, back behind one of the S.W.A.T barriers, and her heart cries out at the sight of him right as he spots her and his whole face breaks open with relief and gratitude both.
"Kate!" He calls out, even though she's already halfway to being at his side. At the barricade, Castle makes to step around it and join her but a uniform splays a firm hand against his chest and holds him back. From the look on Castle's face, it isn't the first time his attempts to join the action have been thwarted so far today.
Rolling her eyes at the overzealous uniformed officer, Kate flashes her badge again and reaches out a hand, her fingers curling at Castle's bicep to draw him close to her. "He's with me."
"Sorry, Detective." The uniform mutters, dropping his head and having the good grace to look thoroughly chastened. Beckett huffs but doesn't deign to respond. Technically her colleague hasn't done anything wrong; in fact, she's relieved that security is so tight, that the cesspit of civilian hysteria is kept carefully back behind the police tape.
Kate tugs her partner with her, a little way away from the noise and the commotion, and she steps in close, smoothes the lapel of his suit jacket down flat with her thumb where it's gotten a little crooked. "Hey. How are you?"
Her words swirl in the space between their bodies, made liquid in a sliver only enough to let the light through. Castle sucks a breath through his teeth, dips his head to avoid her eyes even as thick fingers push their way between her own, a chokehold. "Kate. My mom."
"I know. I know." Beckett says, the gaping maw of total uselessness snapping at her heels. She would give her own self, go into that bank in Martha's place if only to take that look off of his face. "Castle-"
"Don't. Please don't tell me that it's going to be okay. Just. . .how can we be useful?" He gruffs out, peeling himself away from her. Their hands stay knotted together and truly, she's so grateful. Anything she can do, even just the quasi-soothing brush of her palm against his; she will give freely of herself to keep him standing.
"Let's go find the command station. Figure out what's going on."
When they spill through the doors, Castle's body hot and close at her back, the captain looks up at her and already she knows they aren't welcome here. He's a short man, wide-set and something in the hold of his shoulders makes her bristle and stand taller.
"Who are you?"
"Detective Kate Beckett, homicide. This is my partner, Rick Castle." Beckett says, hackles rising. And then Castle's hand comes to her waist, somehow underneath of both her blazer and the soft cotton shirt she picked out this morning. Their walk to the command post made her heart thrash in her chest - the snipers lining the rooftops nearby tracked her and Castle like ants underneath a microscope - and now his fingers are brushing over her bare skin and she truly can't stay standing much longer.
Unfortunately, the captain doesn't give her any time to pull herself together. Kate reaches back behind herself and circles Castle's wrist with two fingers, squeezes tight for just a moment before she tugs his hand away from her. They can't do this, touch like this, in front of the captain. Or, really, at all. There are walls, protocol. A hundred flimsy reasons they have to maintain their aura of platonic affection.
"I'll be sure to call if someone dies. Meanwhile, I need you to step outside."
"No, sir. Castle's mother is in that bank. He was too, right before the suspects locked it down." Kate hastens to explain. She doesn't like this man, not one bit, but she can be civil. He's curt, and rude, but he's also their only hope of getting Martha out safely.
"We had a cop in there?"
Castle grimaces and steps around from behind her, his shoulder bumping against hers as he settles at her side instead. "I'm a. . .civilian investigator. But yes, I was inside right before. Beckett and I were on the phone when they took over the bank. I watched from outside."
"Okay." The captain says, sucking his teeth a moment. "What did you see?"
It's only when Castle pulls out a chair and sinks into it that Kate realises the terror that floods his system. They have this rapport, Castle and his mother, this jovial teasing that so rarely dissolves into real affection, but he does love her. Martha lives with him, for goodness sake.
"There were four of them, dressed in doctor's scrubs."
Beckett takes a step closer to Castle's chair, has to battle with herself not to drop her hand to the top of his shoulder and let her fingertips knead gently at the thick rope of muscle there. Here in front of the captain whose name she still doesn't know, she wants to appear as professional as she possibly can, even if that means comforting Castle has to fall to the wayside.
"Could you tell anything about their demeanour?" The captain seems marginally more interested now, less of that cutting disinterest that came up like a wall when they first stepped inside the command post.
Castle glances up at her, just for a moment, and she offers him a nod. "They seemed calm, methodical. Professional, even."
"Thanks for the intel. We'll do everything we can to get your mom out safe."
"Okay, so what's our next move?" Kate throws out, her spine straightening out underneath the captain's hard stare. Like hell is she giving up here.
"Well your next move is to leave my command post." Beckett opens her mouth in protest, sees Castle stiffen in his seat, but the captain ploughs right through them like. . .well. He sort of reminds her of a rhinoceros. "You want to help Castle's mom? Let me do my job."
Kate blanches and moves her hand, strokes her fingers through the baby soft hairs at Castle's nape to soothe him. She knows her partner, knows how the desire to be useful must be crushing him, and even though she is so far over their usual boundaries right now, he needs the comfort of her touch. And the captain is no longer watching.
"Get a line into that bank. I want to talk to this guy." The captain turns back around to stare at her and Kate rolls her shoulders back, her feet widening automatically into a defensive stance. "You missed your cue, Detective."
Eyes rolling, Kate scrapes together half of a nod to give the captain - he is, after all, her superior - and tugs gently on Castle's ear to get him to stand. "Come on, Castle. Let's see if we can't be useful elsewhere."
The boys are heading towards them, sympathy and determination in flux between them, but Rick really can't right now. He needs the solace of the love of his life, the cove of her arms, and so as they stumble down the steps of the command post together he reaches out for her and brings her with him around the back of the trailer, away from prying eyes.
Kate stops and quirks an eyebrow at him but he keeps right on moving, momentum carrying him straight into a hug. Both of his arms loop low around her waist and she stills for just a moment, breath caught up in silvery nets before she goes limp and her arms draw tight at his shoulders.
"Shh, Castle." She soothes, her fingers stroking at his ear and through his hair. Hardly any time at all has passed since she said she needs him, but now here he is almost on his knees with how desperately he needs her. "You're okay."
He lets himself have a moment, nose pressed against the crease of her neck where the sweet smell of her gets trapped, and then he straightens up again. "Yeah. I'm okay. Thank you, for coming down here."
"Where else would I be? I love your mom." Kate huffs out, and he can't help but wonder. She loves his mother, loves his daughter. What does that mean for him?
Now is quite clearly not the time to dwell on it, but he finds himself tangled in yearning nonetheless. For a moment outside of the chaos, to frame her face in his hands and strip back the layers of meaning everything is imbued with. "Still. Thank you."
"Come on. Let's go find the guys." Beckett murmurs, curling her fingers into his pocket to lead him out from behind the trailer with her. The boys are waiting just a few feet away, pretend to busy themselves with their phones, and he doesn't recall ever having been so grateful for their delightfully tactless way of giving him and Kate space.
Ryan is the first to spot them, an elbow jarring into Esposito's ribs as he strides to meet them in the middle. "What did you find out?"
"That our services aren't needed." Kate says darkly, and Rick has to bite back an entirely inappropriate bubble of laughter. It's true that she and Gates have yet to find their common ground, but he doesn't think he's ever seen her clash so instantaneously or so brutally as she had done with the captain in charge of the situation in the bank. "Espo, do you still have buddies in ESU?"
"Of course."
"Good. I want to know what they know." Beckett bites at her lip, shoots a glance at him from the corner of her eye. "And let's get a hold of Major Crimes. Find out if there are any other robberies with similar M.O.s. The more we know about these guys, the more leverage we got."
From behind them, someone calls her name and Kate wheels around to see. An officer is leaning out of the open door of the S.W.A.T van and he beckons to her. "Captain Peterson would like a word."
Well. At least now they have a name for the terrifying little man charged with saving the life of Castle's mother, along with all the other hostages. Beckett is heading for the van already and Rick follows right at her heel, wanting so badly to keep her close.
"Tell me Detective, what were you thinking?" Peterson says the moment Kate comes through the door, and she freezes so suddenly that Castle almost walks right into her, catching himself at the last second with both hands falling heavy at her hips.
So maybe he didn't really catch himself at all.
"I was just trying to help out, Sir." Kate says, dipping her head. He truly hates this apologetic, cringing version of her, and even more so hates Captain Peterson for doing it to her in the first place.
Peterson huffs, shaking his head, and Castle is filled with the irrational urge to step in front of his partner. "I get the bank robber on the horn, but before I can get two words out he's asking for you by name, telling me he only wants to speak to you. You wanted in? Well, you're in."
"No, sir, I don't have any training in hostage negotiations." Beckett stammers out, half turning over her shoulder to look at Rick. For his part, he dismantles all of the usual barriers that he keeps in place so as not to overwhelm her, lets her see the absolute depth of his belief in her.
"Well, I don't have time to give you a seminar, so think of it like this. You do the opposite of whatever your homicide training tells you, okay? So don't yell, don't bully, don't threaten them in any way. It's all about keeping 'em calm." A pause, where Peterson's eyes rake over her in assessment. "Detective, you up for this?"
"Yeah. Yeah, absolutely." Kate says, sliding her jacket off of her shoulders. Castle takes it from her, folding it over his forearm and deciding that, for now, the best course of action is to shut up. If there's anyone in the world he trusts with his mother's life, it's Kate Beckett; he can sit quietly and watch her work her detective magic.
Even if she does look terrified right now.
"Now, it's important to keep 'em talking. You gotta build report. As long as he's busy talking, he's not busy hurting hostages."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Mm-hmm." Kate murmurs, and even Peterson - who has only known her for a half hour - must be able to tell how scared she is.
Beckett settles into a chair and Rick sinks down next to her. The captain's gaze is hard across their shoulders, makes Castle want to curl up into himself, and his empty fingers flutter down by his thigh. And just next to him, splayed at the armrest of her seat, the slender lines of Kate's own fingers twitch too.
The phone rings twice and then there's a click as someone answers, a hard-edged voice coming across the line into Kate's earpiece and through the speakers both. "Who's this?"
"This is Detective Kate Beckett. I understand that you wanted to speak with me?"
"Yeah, I don't like that other guy." Rick chokes on a burst of laughter, manages to keep it mostly silent and carefully doesn't look at Peterson.
"Yeah, me neither." Beckett says, and Castle winces. Jeez, Kate, the man is right there. Peterson lifts his eyebrows, mouth stitched into a tightly puckered seam, and Beckett lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, a hand coming up to cover her mouthpiece. "You said to build a rapport."
Peterson tilts his head in acquiescence and Kate drops her hand, refocuses her attention on the bank robber on the other end of the phone line. "So, what's your name?"
"You can call me Trapper John."
"A M*A*S*H fan, nice." Beckett says, glancing sideways at Castle. He's trying to be optimistic, really he is, but his mother is currently being held captive by someone calling himself Trapper John and he's really failing to see the humour in it. "So why did you want to speak with me in particular."
"One of my hostages got to talking. Said that her son's partner is a detective with the NYPD. I thought that would be a good place to start."
Oh jeez. Of course his mother would run her mouth about Kate, would bring attention to herself. Martha Rodgers has never been one to give in and go quietly. He just hopes that this isn't her encore performance.
"That's right." Beckett is saying, carefully neutral. "So, anything I can do to help?"
"Oh, Kate, Kate, Kate. You're running that idiot's playbook, aren't you? What did Captain Confidence tell you? Keep me calm. Build rapport. Extract information." Castle glances sideways at his partner, hoping that she's feeling more confident than he is right now. Beckett looks startled though, thrown by the fact that the bank robber knows protocol exactly.
"Here's how it's gonna work. You lie to me, I kill hostages. You jerk me around, I kill hostages. If you storm the bank, I kill hostages. And Kate-" Trapper John pauses, and Rick has just enough time to swallow back the clog of terror and feel it sink into his guts. "I'll start with your mother-in-law."