Well, I never thought I'd be writing a fanfiction again, but I needed the handwriting practice, and I found something truly awesome to write about.
I'm talking, of course, about a fantastic television series starring Nathan Fillion (Browncoats forever) and Stana Katic (who definitely makes my "freebie five"). I've read about, oh, two million words of Castle fanfics in the last three days (as I write this), which is roughly my usual weekly book consumption, and so I felt like stretching my creative bones and getting writing. Here we go...
While I was watching Cuffed and feeling sorry for myself that there'd be no more Castle for the year, I thought about the ending, and wondered just how much Castle and Beckett acknowledge their unspoken commitment. Here's my take, mixed with a few other interesting short story concepts that I picked up.
Richard Castle stepped out of the elevator and into the bustling Homicide squad room as the doors binged open, bearing two coffees and a bear claw for his designated detective, Kate Beckett. He strode around the patchwork maze of desks, avoiding cops hurrying about their duties, before ending up seated beside Beckett's desk.
Detective Katherine Beckett was, of course, dealing with paperwork. There was no end to the stuff, even if it was digital: every fact of every case had to be meticulously documented for the district attorney and the NYPD's own records. She sat, rapidly tapping out woefully boring details. The bull pen, the voices of cops in all directions, on phones, in impromptu meetings, escorting people to and from interrogation rooms; all of it carefully ignored.
Castle placed one of the takeaway mugs on the ever-present ring etched into a now-useless notepad for the insensible quantity of coffee slopped onto it, staining it a mildly distressing brown.
"Morning, Beckett," he said cheerfully.
There was a slight pause before she replied, her voice cracking slightly from the prolonged mistreatment.
"Hey, Castle."
"Paperwork?"
Beckett turned from her display, and smiled. "Would you believe, the same paperwork I was doing yesterday?"
Castle grimaced.
"You could help, you know."
"I'd prefer not to. The shadowing, the shooting, the interrogation, yes, fine. The paperwork? Not a chance."
Beckett rolled her eyes, and went back to typing, and it was only at this point that Castle noted the slightly red rims around her eyes, as if she had been up for hours, or if she'd been crying, and his mind was tinged slightly with worry.
"Are you feeling all right, Beckett?" asked Castle quietly.
She kept typing, ignoring the question, looking somewhat zombified as she stared interminably at the screen while she typed some obscure note from the case file.
"Kate?" Castle said, trying to attract her attention.
"Yes, Castle?" she replied distantly, quietly, almost vaguely; Castle had almost never heard her speak without an incredible quantity of decision and self-awareness, and immediately he knew that something was very wrong. He remained seated, slowly sipping his coffee.
Beckett hadn't touched her styrofoam cup of coffee, but looked to be almost through all the notes in the particular file, and almost exactly on cue, she slammed the folio shut, threw it onto the contents of the case box and tossed the lid on after it, powered down her workstation, and grabbed her coat and bag.
"What, that's it for today?" he asked, and she laughed, drily, humourlessly.
"No," replied Beckett, and only now could he really see the slightly puffy eyes permanently associated with sleep loss as she put on her coat with a few swift manœvures, "that's it for yesterday."
Castle watched Beckett's retreating back into the elevator, then turned and jogged over to the desk of Detective Kevin Ryan, who was currently scrawling notes onto a pad with a look of dedication.
"Hey, Ryan, what's up with Beckett?" Castle asked, expecting no response.
"Insomnia, probably. Duty sergeant says she never left last night," was Ryan's immediate response.
From behind Castle, the voice of Detective Javier Esposito added, "I got here at 6 this morning, and she was still there, dealing with a crap-load of paperwork."
"Something's up, though. She's not been on the ball, I reckon," Ryan added after a moment of thought.
"I'm going to go, see if I can find out what's going on. Hopefully she's not gone too —"
Castle's sentence was cut short by a thunderous explosion from outside the precinct, and immediately, people were running for the stairs, Castle, Ryan and Esposito amongst them. Shouts came from all directions, and Castle noted a voice, tense with adrenalin, call, "dispatch, ten-thirty-three outside precinct twelve, all units deploying to investigate."
Castle thundered down the stairs with the melee of police officers, not bothering to wait for the lift, preparing to face the freshest crime scene he'd ever experienced. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and hit the speed dial, praying that Beckett would answer, but it didn't ring, jumping straight to the out-of-service subscriber notification.
By the time Castle had reached ground zero of the explosion, just outside the precinct, officers were already barricading away the still smouldering wreck of the car, and a fire crew were dousing the flames, before removing a limp, still body from the car, making Castle run forward to the barriers.
"Kate!" he shouted, watching her lifeless, blackened form being lifted onto a stretcher, and loaded into the back of an ambulance. He scrambled to get to her, but hands held him back; two uniforms were stopping him running after the medical vehicle.
Ryan and Esposito had arrived as Beckett's body was being removed from the wrecked Crown Victoria police cruiser, and looked numb with shock to see their squad leader being hauled away in such a mess. They could only dream of what Castle was going through at that stage; they knew how much that Beckett had meant to Castle, and seeing her body being pulled from a burning car could never have helped their relationship.
"C'mon, Castle," said Ryan quietly, breaking their tense silence. "We've got to head down to the hospital.