Author's Notes: Post-Knockout from the perspective of an Australian who has not yet been blessed with the final few episodes of season 3. Shocking, I know. I have grasped the general storyline of the final though, so hopefully I'm on track.
This is my first Castle fanfic and pretty much my first fic too, unless you count one I wrote about Lost when I was about 14. Whilst constructive criticism would be appreciated, please keep this in mind as you read my ramblings and don't judge too harshly. I hope you enjoy or are at least entertained by what I intend will develop into a story that sticks relatively close to character.
This first chapter may be a little slow and descriptive but I felt it was necessary in setting the scene so please stick with it! I have a bunch of ideas to lighten the mood in the coming chapters.
Chapter 1
The precinct clock inevitably crept towards 1 AM as Kate Beckett sat hunched at her desk attempting to do paperwork. Shadows sat long and ominous; undisturbed by the rest of the long gone homicide detectives who had more than an empty apartment and haunting memories to go home to.
Three months had passed since they had lost Captain Montgomery. Three months since a bullet had torn through Kate's own body at his funeral. Three months since she had been fighting an internal battle about whether or not Castle had actually said- no. He couldn't have.
Her hand met her hair in an exasperated threading as the paperwork was finally considered to be a lost cause. Johanna Beckett's ring hung low on the chain around Kate's tired neck, residing over the slowly fading bullet wound. That hole had left her feeling even more alone than when she'd first acquired the ring. The Captain was gone. Josh was gone. Castle was…distant. And her father disapproved of her job even more now than ever.
If she was honest, it was this loneliness which had her alone at the precinct at this hour. Of course though, she told herself that it was an attempt to prove to her colleagues that she was still capable of doing most of her normal detective work. Kate Beckett was not a weak woman by any definition of the word. In fact, she prided herself on her strength; a characteristic she'd learnt from her mother at an early age. The doctor's light duty orders had stung almost as much as the bullet itself. Little did she know that they had had 24 hour security surveillance on her since the shooting. Or maybe she did but was stubbornly ignoring that fact because of the weakness it would imply.
With both palms on her desk, the detective pushed the chair backwards before slowly rising to her feet. Every muscle ached and her heels suddenly felt too tight. Slipping each one off, she carried them with her fingertips as she padded in stocking covered feet to the break room. The lights in the room were already off so she sunk into the cheap fabric of the couch before pulling the NYPD issued blanket off the back of it and across her body. It smelt like sweat and aftershave; like most things in her male dominated world. She didn't even want to fathom the last time it had been washed, if ever.
Beckett could admit that this makeshift bed was not as comfortable as her own, but its location offered something that she couldn't get at home. The exhaustion of the day – no, the past three months – finally weighed her eyelids down and sleep came somewhat easily between the four walls of the 12th.
Richard Castle strode into the bullpen with coffees in hand as though he owned the place. Although it had become his second home over the past few years, his entrance was mostly an act for the benefit of the new Captain. They did not see eye-to-eye, to say the least. What right did she have to under value Kate Beckett? She did not know Kate Beckett. He knew Kate Beckett. Her worth. Her extraordinary character. Her hotness.
"Where's Beckett this fine morning, boys?"
"Break room. Asleep." Ryan muttered from behind his computer screen. The air in the bullpen had been tense since the loss of their old Captain and had not eased with the arrival of the new.
Redirecting himself towards the break room, instead of his side-kick seat next to her desk, Castle asked the obvious question. "It's nearly 9 AM, why didn't you guys wake her?"
It was Esposito's turn to offer an answer. "You think we're that stupid, bro? She'd have us for breakfast!"
He chuckled. They were probably right.
The bustle of the precinct was muffled as Castle entered the dull break room. A single square of light slithered through the gaps around the curtained window, casting a soft light on Kate's sleeping figure. As he knelt next to the couch he placed the coffees on the small table and couldn't help but smile at her stocking covered feet peaking out from under the navy blanket. He hadn't seen her look so peaceful since…he couldn't remember when.
Stretching out a hesitant hand to gently shake her shoulder, he whispered softly. "Kate?"
Survival instincts had been running constantly for the past few months. She woke instantly, squinting at the harsh fluorescent light coming in from the hallway.
"Castle? What time is it?"
"9 AM. How many nights have you spent on this couch, Kate?"
Even in her drowsy state, she knew to ignore his question. She sat up a little with her back against the arm of the chair. Crap, 9 AM?
"Why didn't anyone wake me?" She managed to say between yawning and stretching out her body with her arms above her head. It was one of those stretches you do to wake yourself up when you'd be more than content to stay in bed all day.
With her actions, her shirt rose slightly to reveal a thin strip of her lower stomach and at that sight Richard Castle forced himself to turn around and grab the coffees from the table. She swung her feet over the edge of the couch so that she was in a sitting position and he handed her one of the paper cups. He reminded himself that he did not get to marvel at these simple manners of beauty anymore. He was the reason she lost Josh. He should have protected her.
Her hair was a wild mess of chocolate waves as she ran her hand through it, trying to calm the storm inside her head which matched the one in his. With two long sips of coffee, Beckett placed the cup back on the table and levered her heels into the shoes that had been discarded on the floor beside the couch. He offered his hands to pull her to her feet, feeling a brief stab of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach. The inappropriate invasions of personal space had stopped months ago, along with the subtle touches that they had shared for the past few years.
For the moment, her question laid forgotten as they continued the awkward dance they had been doing since the incident. Castle had sat by her hospital bed for hours each day, even when she had protested. He brought her the best non-solid foods he could find and supplied her with a constant selection of books from his own library. He hadn't even brought one of his own novels; a feeble yet determined attempt to show her that this was not an ego boosting act. He was there for her. Always.
Josh had finally snapped a few days after the hospital had discharged her and the visits continued at her apartment. He had returned to her place after a long and stressful shift only to find Writer-Boy there, again. His girlfriend would not accept help from him, yet he had found them with her arm around his shoulders as he assisted her to move around the apartment. The Doctor had exploded with a level of fury which Kate had not seen before. Words were slung high and low from all directions as the men had a verbal fight which neither would admit was over Kate Beckett's heart.
Somehow, the night ended with Kate sitting alone on her bed with nobody left to charade her happiness to. Hot tears had burnt paths down her cheeks as she found herself wondering how she had lost the two most important men in her life on the same night. If she was honest, she knew that one meant a whole lot more than the other and that she was not lament after having told Josh to leave. He had driven Castle away because he could not accept their partnership. She could not love someone who didn't understand her.
Castle heaved Beckett to her feet and, unstable from sleep, she leant into him for a moment. A whole conversation passed between them in the brief second that their eyes met and she suddenly felt nervous with the closeness of him.
Pulling away to once again grab her coffee from where she'd placed it on the table. She nodded, raising her cup to him in appreciation. "Thanks."
Author's Notes: So that's chapter 1. Assuming I have any readers, please leave me a comment and let me know what you thought! I was once told I was a melodramatic writer, so I hope I didn't bore you with my words. I googled gun shot recovery times and 3 months seems to be mostly on par with what I read without having the story start a huge time after the end of season 3. Also, I would never normally say 'couch' (I would say 'lounge'), but it seemed fitting since the show is American…
Once again assuming, if you want to read more please let me know what you want more of. I intend for it to be predominantly Caskett, but how in depth would you like me to write case related stuff?
