Chapter 1
Richard Castle left the lovely restaurant where he was recently being tortured by his publisher and agent. Sorry, having dinner with his publisher and agent.
He wore a navy blue dress shirt along with the maroon tie Alexis had chosen for him when he last wore this shirt and a pair of black dress pants. He grabbed the keys to his Ferrari from his suit jacket pocket. He walked to the parking garage were the Ferrari was currently parked. He climbed in, put the gears on reverse, got out of the spot, put the gears on drive, and drove out of there.
His mind was focused on plotting what he and Alexis were going to do. Should they continue their everlasting battle of laser tag? Pillow fort? Fencing? Poker? Homemade pizzas? He didn't really know. He scratched that last part of his list of options when he remembered the last time they tried to make pizzas. Let's just say that it ended up with his hair on fire.
He turned on the radio since the silence was killing him. One particular song caught his attention. It was by that singer, Taylor Swift. What was it called? Cold as You or something like that. It reflected on exactly how he felt about Kate currently. Kate-no, she's Beckett to him, not Kate. Things have been a little rocky between them lately. He knows it's mostly his fault for giving her the cold shoulder, but he's still pissed off at her for lying to him. It would've been so much easier if she'd told him that she didn't love him a lot sooner so that he could move on.
A small part of him didn't believe that. That small part still believed that he hadn't been reading her all wrong these past months. That small part of him still hoped that she loved him. It was that small part that kept him coming back to the precinct every day. He kept telling himself and his mother that he keeps coming back for the victims, not for K-Beckett. Even he knew that it wasn't true.
Sighing, he tried to block out the tall brunette detective from his mind with thinking about Alexis. He failed miserably. All thoughts were filled with her. Damn, can he ever get her out of his head?
He parked his car in the parking garage to his building. "Good evening, Mr. Castle," the doorman called. Castle waved back as he boarded the awaiting elevator. He pressed the button to his floor. He waited impatiently, drumming his fingers against his thighs.
The doors opened at last, and he walked towards the loft. He noticed a red smudge in front of 8B. He chuckled, remembering the story he told Beckett, Ryan, Esposito, and Montgomery about the guy in 8B during the case with the nanny. Beckett-right, he wasn't supposed to think about her right now. No more memories. He reached for his keys and was about to unlock the door when he noticed that it was opened.
Being the murder mystery writer he was (and his wild imagination), worst case scenarios popped into his head. His panic level spiked up a bit, but he still remained calm. Remembering what he learned during his ride-along, he pushed open the door and waited. He heard no sound of footsteps or breathing or anything else that might trigger the knowledge of another person in the room. He silently crept into the room.
"Alexis?" he called out. No answer; his panic level went a level higher. He heard something crunch under his shoes. Glass. He then noticed the shards scattered around the back of the couch. Okay, maybe Alexis tripped and knocked over a lamp or something. Nothing to worry about, right? Confirming his assumption, he noticed the lamp (or what was left of it) that was broken. That must've been it. He noticed the picture frame that was also broken. That particular one housed a picture of himself and Alexis at the Hamptons.
That didn't calm his anxiety though; Alexis usually picks up the glass if she broke something. He noticed the small hole through it. Curiosity and anxiety got the better of him, and he picked up the frame. Something clattered to the floor. Setting the frame down, he used his phone's flashlight app to look around. Among the shards, something stood out from them. He knelt down for a closer inspection. It was a bullet.
Panic level rose to almost 100%. He was very close to calling Beckett and the boys right about now. What was a bullet doing there? Simple, his writer mind answered him, someone fired a few rounds. I know that, he told himself, but what happened?
He felt a liquid substance on his right hand that was currently on the floor. Thinking it was just water, he whipped it on his shirt. He made the mistake of flashing the light towards his shirt. It wasn't water that was on his hands. It was blood.
He flashed the light down to where his hand was earlier. A pool of blood lay there. He jumped back, hitting his head against the couch in the process, but he didn't care. His panic level reached 100%. He reached for his phone from his pocket with his non-bloody hand. He dialed the number to Beckett's phone so fast that he didn't even register what he'd done until he heard it ringing. He just hoped his little girl was safe.