"Take the next right, and we should be there. I think."
Beckett nodded at his instructions, squinting past the rain pelting relentlessly against her windshield.
It was easier with him navigating. She took comfort in the baritone of his voice calling out directions to her, focused on the familiar inflections of his speech instead of the horrible mangled thing her heart had been reduced to.
Keep talking, Castle, she thought to herself. Keep talking so I don't drown in the storm.
"Not looking forward to getting out in this weather," Castle murmured, as if he heard her. He turned away from the window to smile at her, gentle and reserved. "My perfect hair will be ruined."
Her laugh was a pitiful thing but it made him grin wider and she was thankful for that. He was trying. And it made her want to try too.
She maneuvered the car into an empty spot in front of the bar, put it in park and yanked the keys out of the ignition. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the perfect soundtrack to her state of mind.
She half twisted in her seat, hand feeling for the belt buckle. She released it and her gaze fell on Castle who was peering out the window, GPS lying forgotten on his lap now that they'd arrived at their destination.
Lightning flashed in the night sky and it illuminated his profile, harsh white light glancing against the cut of his jaw. Handsome. It reminded her of a scene from her favorite Disney movie, the lonely, tragic, misunderstood Beast, longing for-
Longing for something she wasn't sure this beast wanted from her anymore.
She sighed.
"You wanna wait here?" she asked Castle, glancing to him as her fingers curled around the door handle. "It won't take too long. We both don't need to get drenched tonight."
He narrowed his eyes at her, the scar above his left eyebrow deepening as he frowned. "What makes you think I'm letting you go in there alone?"
"I'm just saying-"
"I'm coming with you. Partners."
She blinked and he was gone. The passenger door slammed shut. He was already making his way around the front of her car, holding his coat up over his head to shield himself from the onslaught of rain.
She pulled on the handle as he came around, nudging the door open with her foot. Her boot sank into at least an inch of water and she groaned. Altogether this wasn't turning into the best afternoon.
Castle had come around to her side, waiting patiently (always waiting), and she climbed out under the shelter of his jacket held high. She locked the door behind her, ducking under the coat he held up over their heads, protecting them from the brunt of the storm.
His jacket was as broad as his shoulders, but the downpour was heavy. She had no choice but to huddle in close, seeking his protection from the worst of the rain. He was so close, his shoulder bumping against her hers as they fell into step with each other, his warmth. They were still so physically in sync despite how everything else was so fractured.
They had parked on what was the main street of this tiny Connecticut village. The downtown had been revitalized, the buildings packed side by side as they fronted the street, little boutiques and specialty shops, pottery places, curio stores, wine dealers. Even in the rain, she could see straight up the hill towards the old bridge that spanned the river.
They trudged in silence towards the entrance of the bar, the storm so loud around them that it was pointless to attempt conversation. The standing water on the sidewalk was deep and it washed over her boots, seeped through her shoes so that her socks were soaked and uncomfortable.
When they arrived at the door, Castle backed away, letting her proceed first. His words came back to her - about her having to always be first through the door - and it brought a smile to her face despite how nasty his tone had been then. It was a reminder of when being handcuffed together and facing down a hungry tiger was an easier time.
Kate sighed.
The door swung open with a loud creak, two men coming out, and she caught the door and walked in.
Time to get all of this over with. Get him back to his family where he belonged.
(...)
He liked the Main Street vibe of this little town. All of the buildings were right up against each other, striped awnings and blue-painted doors and wrought iron. The bar was housed inside of a former motorworks, and the garage portion had been cleared out for a seedy Friday night bar. The usual waiting room was grouped with chairs and televisions, like a sports bar, while the garage was a mix of tables and bar stools haphazardly arranged around a dance floor.
Not classy whatsoever, but he applauded their attempt.
Beckett led him to the bar with minimal sway of her hips, which was - okay, he was both grateful for her subdued manner on this road trip but also disappointed. She must have been able to tell that he wasn't handling this unrequited love very well, and even if she refused to outright reject him (was that for his sake? because it sucked really), he no longer believed she was being purposefully cruel.
Just inadvertently.
Vales was right where his car's GPS purported him to be. And he'd seen them.
He sat at the end of the bar giving Beckett a look that Castle didn't like. Dead eyes, intense and scary, and one hand played with the rim of his shot glass like it was a movie or something.
So Rick stepped up to the bar and put his body between them, effectively blocking Kate from sight. He had meant his action to keep Vales from looking at her like that, but Beckett huffed at him and stood up, walked around him, and sat on the other side.
Now she was blocking him from Vales's view while the asshole sent serial killer looks her way.
Castle sighed, shoulders hunched, and put his hands on the bar. The bartender came over in an amble, leaned against the wood in silent request.
"Scotch, rocks," he muttered.
"Don't got ice." The bartender pulled a tumbler from under the bear and poured the whiskey straight, and Castle didn't have it in him to question the lack of ice.
What kind of bar didn't have ice?
Oh, right. Former motorworks.
"For you?" the bartender said.
Beckett turned only slightly. "None, thanks. I'm on duty." She flashed her badge, which she'd clipped to the inside of her coat, and the bartender shrank back, lip curling in distaste. "I'm not here about your liquor license. I'm here about him." She pointedly gestured to Vales.
"Maybe you ought not to be pointing," the bartender muttered, only speaking Castle's mind.
"Has he been giving you trouble?"
"Honey, he is trouble."
Castle bristled (it was all getting to him today), but Beckett plowed ahead. "He's trouble alright. I've already run him out of my city." She unfolded her business card from the sleeve of her coat, and while Castle always appreciated Beckett performing her magic (how was that still so hot?), today it made him want to strangle her.
What she was doing was dangerous, no matter how sly she thought she was. Hounding Vales was a mistake.
"You call me if he's trouble," she was saying. The bartender was steadfastly not taking the business card, as that would obviously put him at odds with the ungentleman at the end of the bar who was sending them dead-eyed looks.
Castle abruptly stood, taking the tumbler with him. Beckett spared him an iron look but said nothing to change his course. Nothing at all, actually; she went back to the bartender, evidently determined to push where she wasn't wanted.
Castle stalked off, heading for the grimy windows that fronted Main Street, a spot that also gave him a clear line of sight to Vales. The man was deadly, but he seemed content to eye the front door and give Beckett nasty looks.
The storm was intense. Massive amounts of water was falling from the sky all at once, and the darkness of those storm clouds gave the view from the window a dirty and desperate tinge.
Castle knocked back the last of his Scotch, feeling the burn down his throat and in his sinuses. He sniffed to clear the sensation, but it went on, buzzed at his ears. It was good whiskey despite the lack of ice.
Was she really courting danger like this? He knew she was armed. But picking a fight with a gang leader was a seriously bad idea. It was supposed to have been a draw - Vales got out of New York City, and Beckett had her life. So did Castle, come to think of it. But chasing down Vales like a dog didn't bode well for their future.
Her future.
Theirs was not a together kind of future. If she wanted to flirt with disaster, then it meant she wasn't flirting with him.
Which was fine. Which was-
"Holy shit," he croaked, stepping up to the glass. The storm- "Beckett!"
"Castle, hang-"
"Beckett, right now." The storm had overrun the riverbanks, the sewers, everything. The rain had backed up and now a massive tunnel of water was roaring down the chokepoint that was Main Street.
And wiping out everything in its path.
"What?" she gritted out, finally at his side.
He could feel her irritation but all he could do was point as the land-tsunami barreled down Main Street, lifting cars and tearing chunks out of buildings. "Flash flood."
"Oh my God," she breathed, stepping up to the window where now a crowd had gathered.
The water was like a wall. He winced as it reached her car, about two blocks up. "Oh no-"
"Shit!" She jerked forward, bolting for the door. "People - there are people-" Being swept away.
Castle dropped the tumbler and rushed out after her.
(...)
She didn't manage to get very far.
People had clumped in the doorway, panic stricken, unable to move as they watched the devastation. Beckett elbowed her way through, her heart pounding in her ears. Her shoes didn't fare well against the slick concrete, sliding dangerously as she pushed outside.
The water level was rising fast, hurtling down the street in a steady roar, smashing through glass windows and wooden structures. She heard screaming in the distance, behind the blanket of rain and thunder, and she couldn't see through the sheets of rain to figure out where it was coming from.
She swallowed, the magnitude of what she was facing only just hitting her.
A woman just outside the doorway cried out as she was yanked off her feet by the gushing water; Beckett didn't hesitate, her arm flinging wide to grab the woman.
Her fingers closed around the woman's wrist, but momentum yanked back. Beckett stumbled, on the verge of being dragged away, but then her whole body lurched, jerked backwards by strong arms around her waist. She was being hauled back to the relative safety of the bar's front stoop, even as she clung to the woman by a wrist.
Castle.
He took two staggering steps backwards until they collapsed against the wall, out of the rushing river of water, a tangled heap. "Hell," he panted. "Be careful will you?"
Castle. On her six, as always. Saving her. Again.
"Yeah, too close," she admitted.
The woman was thanking them profusely, tearful and relieved. But Beckett merely nodded, still catching her breath, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat. Castle had a tight hold of her, her back flush against his chest, his arms banded around her midsection. He was making no move to let her go, seemed not even to realize he held her still.
Kate allowed herself a moment to enjoy the warmth, the strength of having him stand with her. But they couldn't stay like this.
"Get inside," she told the woman, moving to peel herself away from Castle. But he only loosened his hold. The rattled, water-logged woman was being handed back inside the bar, and hands reached out for her and Castle as well.
He still wouldn't quite let her go. She turned in the circle of his arms, knew her gratitude was spilling out in her eyes, but she pushed herself off him. "We need to get above the water line," she murmured, tugging on his arm.
He came with her, back to the steps of the bar, huddled in the doorway with the rest of the onlookers who could do nothing while the water still ran. Castle's shoulder pressed in against her own, and she squeezed water out of her jacket.
She glanced at him, saw the worry etched deep on his face. "Saved my life. Again." She ran a hand through her hair, flinching as her fingers caught in the tangles.
His large hand gave her waist a quick squeeze, like he was trying to convince himself she was still there - alive - and then fell away.
She knew the feeling. Wanting so much, but being brought up short when she remembered she couldn't have.
"That's what partners are supposed to do," he said finally, echoing her words from when she had helped him with Slaughter's case. He studied her. "You're okay?"
"Yeah, I've lost the shoes though," she said as she glanced down at her ruined boots. "They're not made for this."
"Yeah, this is bad," Castle muttered, ducking his head out from under the awning. He jerked back inside again. "The rain isn't letting up, and the water is still roaring down the street." He gripped her arm and squeezed. "What's the plan here?"
He knew her too well. She was a cop, protect and serve, and of course she was already trying to formulate her next move. She would not be content to stand here and watch as a flash flood wreaked such terrible destruction. But the water rushing through was deafening and she found it hard to concentrate, especially with his proximity.
"I'll coordinate with the local police," she said finally. "See how we can help." Kate halted, biting her lip as she realized what she'd said.
We.
Lately, there hadn't been a we.
She cleared her throat. "Actually, it's going to be a lot of chaos at first, and one more person-" She didn't say untrained; she wouldn't do that to him. "I'll mostly be coordinating resources, and I know that's not really your thing." She was backpedaling inelegantly, but she couldn't stop the words from coming out of her mouth. Panicked little bursts of excuses. "Plus it's safer inside, and I want you away from the water. I'm sure this has hit the news cycle; you need to call Alexis. Tell her you're all right. You should stay here."
She noticed the hesitation in his eyes that a year ago hadn't existed. He scraped a hand down his jaw. "Yeah. I think I'm better off here, Beckett," he finally said. "I'm good with people. Keep them calm, you know?"
Right.
Okay then. She could do this alone.
It had been her idea to split up after all.
(...)