heart so helpless

I really am in awe over the response to this fanfiction. Thank you all so much.


This isn't how it normally goes for her; something about him is different.

Of course, she normally does the whole short, tight dress and come to bed eyes, seduces them into a nice, quiet spot and then strikes when they're alone.

But with this guy- it's different.

She had liked his heated gaze on her body; felt her blood sing when he touched her, and instead of killing him straight away she'd let him kiss her, touch her in ways she hadn't been touched in so long.

Kate drops the heavy rock she'd used to knock him out, staring at his slumped form on the floor. Without checking, she knows he'll be fine, will wake soon and probably only suffer with a mild concussion. But that's not what's supposed to happen, is it? She's supposed to kill him. He's just another paper target.

She reaches down into her bra and pulls out the switchblade she had hidden there before the party. It feels cool and right in her hands as it always does- her weapon of choice, actually- but every time she thinks about rolling Castle over and driving the blade through his heart, her stomach lurches in protest. But why?

Kneeling before him, she brushes the hair that falls in front of his eyes away from his face and studies the careful immaturity that lurks there. What on Earth is it about this man that is so different to the others? She thinks it might be the fact that he's not done anything. And she's not quite sure when she's ever let ethical reasons get in the way of her job, but this time, for some reason, it matters to her.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact her Mom adored this guy.

With a sigh, Kate shoves her switchblade back into her bra and tucks her arms beneath Castle's armpits, tugging him upwards and dragging him along the dirty alley.

She's not going to let him get away from her, but she's not quite ready to end his life yet, either.


When Castle comes around, there's a strange taste in his mouth and a thumping at the back of his mind, heavy eyelids fighting to open. What the hell?

The woman from before- What was her name? Kate?- stands before him, looking completely different to how once did. She's lost the emerald dress, instead wears a casual pair of jeans and a jacket; the kind of clothes a woman wants to wear when she's trying to hide herself in a crowd. Her hair's pulled back, too, exposing the suddenly sharp lines of her cheekbones that look far too harsh in this dim lighting. She looks hidden but severe. Kind of scary now that he thinks about it, actually.

Although he already expects it, the twist of his hands confirms to him that he is, indeed, tied to a wooden chair. So very cliché. His still sleepy eyes sweep the room quickly, but he can't make out much. The room is full of shadows save for one yellow bulb hanging limply from the ceiling, casting a spotlight over the pair of them.

"Mr Castle." Kate says, far too casually for someone who's holding a hostage.

Castle swallows nervously, trying to calm his steadily racing heartbeat. "What do you want with me?"

If he could, he would slap himself for the lame question, and instead opts for sighing under his breath in hopes she won't notice. Seriously? What do you want with me? How many times has he written this kind of scene in one of his books? He really should be able to come up with a better line than that. Something threatening, intimidating. Show he's not an easy target. Then again, he's already shown that he's an easy target with the way she managed to lure him out of that party filled to the brim of uncaring people and knocked him out.

Kate shifts her weight from one foot to another, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, eyes sizing him up differently than before. Her eyes settle for too long on places he knows- he honestly does research for his books- she can kill him instantly. Shame. He misses the hungry look in those gorgeous eyes from earlier.

Snap out of it, she's holding you hostage.

"If it's money you want, you can have it. Any price you name."

Kate smirks sardonically. "It's not your money I want, Mr Castle."

Well, that's… What else could she possibly want him for? His mind searches for something he's done recently to warrant someone wanting to kidnap him (well, actually, why would anyone want to do that anyway?) but comes up with nothing. Unless she's a super stalker? Perhaps he's risen that high in fame that he gets those now.

Except that doesn't quite match. That look in her eyes, it's not crazy. It's lethal, calculated, and professional. Her movements aren't erratic, either, and she's perfectly calm. Doesn't bat an eyelid. No, she's far too well-trained to simply be a woman with slightly too much of a crush on him. Though, to be honest, he really wouldn't mind if that were the case. He's still holding onto the memory of her tongue battling with his, hands roaming through his hair as she slips one leg up and over his hip.

"Look," he says, "If this is someone's idea of a trick, very funny. But please let me go now. I don't know where I am, my publicist will probably wonder I am, and then call my daughter. And I don't want her to worry. So, can we just… Stop this? Please?"

Something changes in her eyes, causes her to stand upright instead of the casual stance that she had adopted. He can't tell what it is until she speaks again.

"You have a daughter?" Kate asks, though it doesn't sound like a question he's invited to answer. The way she says it is surprising, so quietly and curiously, as though she daren't believe it, staring at him with wider eyes than beforehand.

Castle nods enthusiastically. "And, look, she's all I've got and I'm all she's got, so this isn't the kind of shock I want to give her. I always tell her where I am, you know? She's only 17. C'mon, let a guy off the hook."

Kate takes a hesitant step towards him, hands falling from the pockets of her hoodie, twitching now. Her eyes are locked on to his and he can tell that she doesn't quite believe him by the way she keeps staring for confirmation. Clearly, she's not a fan like she originally thought that she was. Boy, is he wrong sometimes.

"This isn't a trick, is it?" Castle asks slowly in defeat, feeling a sense of nausea creeping up on him that he doesn't have the heart to attempt to shake.

"Castle," Kate steps towards him once again, and there's something less cold on her face now, and he really cannot figure out what's going on. At all. What reason would anyone ever have to steal him away for any reason other than his money or being a seriously deranged fan? "Do you have any idea why anyone would want to hurt you in any way?"

Castle startles, surprised. There's something- desperate, in her voice. And she calls him Castle. Nobody calls him Castle. It's kinda hot, though.

Focus, Castle.

"No, no, I don't know why- Are you going to hurt me, Kate? Because you look like you weigh 100 pounds of nothing and-"

His ramblings earn him a sharp twist of his ear, which he yelps at and arches his back, causing the chair to rock dangerously close to falling over. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. For, whatever."

Kate releases his ear but she's suddenly inches away from his face, and despite the adrenaline bursting through his veins to hide the fear, he has the strangest urge to kiss away the diluted desperation on her face.

"Trust me, I could kill you in an instant." She hisses, and his heart only pounds louder in his ears. "Now tell me, Castle, do you have any idea? Any at all?"

"I just told you I don't know." He grinds out. "Now are you here to hurt me? Because please stop dragging it out and get it over with."

It's the wrong thing to say again, apparently, because Kate practically growls and lurches away from him, half out of the spotlight now. She's still staring at him with curiosity, though. Despite her face being hidden in the shadows, he can make out the shine of her hazel eyes, dimmed brightness lying in their depths. Something bad- something really, really bad- is going on here. And he can't figure out how this beautiful woman is involved with any of it at all.

"Are you… Have you been ordered to hurt me?" He asks, stunned.

Kate scowls at him. "Nobody orders me to do anything." She snaps, shuffling back into the spotlight again. "I chose to take on this job."

"What job?"

Kate's still scowling at him. "What job do you think that is, Castle?"

"Honestly, I have absolutely no idea. One minute you're all come to bed eyes and shoving your tongue down my mouth," she flushes at that, "and the next you've tied me to a chair in a stereotypically dark room but don't want my money. So, no, I have no idea what job it is."

Her hands curl into fists by her sides, flexing slowly. And then suddenly she's lunging forward and he closes his eyes because shit he does not want to see the moment death arrives for him.

But there's… no pain. There's a tugging on his wrists and he can feel her breath fanning over the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

And then his hands are loose and she's shoving him from the chair, pulling a blindfold over his eyes and tugging him along by one arm as he stumbles behind her, protesting.

"Hey! What are you doing? Kate? Where are you taking me? Kate?"

He wonders if that's even her real name.

There's a blast of cold air on his face and he freezes, but she pulls him along further, and he follows her around every turn and down every road because he honestly doesn't feel as though he has any other choice. Besides, this is slightly more appealing than the claustrophobic room and being tied to a chair.

Kate whips the blindfold from his eyes and he finds himself standing in an ill-lit, dodgy looking street, alone with her.

"Go."

He stands and stares at her in disbelief.

"Go, Castle. Go. You never saw, me, okay? This never happened."

She's letting him go?

He takes a step backwards, but some part of him wants him to stay. For her. Which is ridiculous. But he wants to know more about her, about this job, why she's letting him go. He wants to know how one minute she's ridiculously sexy and mysterious and the next dangerous and cold. He wants to know how her mouth tastes again; he wants to smell that distinct scent of cherries lingering in the air; he wants to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. Most of all he wants to know why she's doing all of this in the first place. Such a beautiful, and rather intelligent, woman. Why is she doing this sort of thing? She doesn't look rough, she doesn't-

"Go, before I change my mind." She hisses, breaking through his thoughts.

He goes, runs in the opposite from her despite having no idea where he is, only allowing himself to look over his shoulder once to see her staring right back at him, a shadowed figure alone beneath the half-light of the broken streetlamp.