Hey, guys. This chapter was a bit of a struggle, but I managed with the help of my friend suz24. After a couple rounds of editing, I think I'm happy with the final result. Hope you enjoy!


They take a SWAT team to the address the cabbie gave them. It's on the outskirts, three warehouses and one abandoned office building, and he could be in any of them.

The team raids the warehouses while a smaller group goes to toss the building. Esposito, Ryan, and she climb the stairs from floor to floor, peering into the desolate offices, dust covering the desks and chairs remaining.

Until they reach the fifth floor, everything looks to be perfectly normal. Creepy, but normal.

"Whatcha got there, Beckett?" She looks up from her crouch on the floor to address Kevin Ryan in his bulletproof vest and helmet, peering down at her.

"Wrapper. Granola bar. Expiration date hasn't passed yet."

"So either I'm never eating General Mills again or…"

"Or he was staying here. Recently."

"Good," he heaves an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Anything preserved that long could not be good for you."

"Ryan. Focus. We can verify what the cabbie said now. Richard Castle was here."

"Coulda been a squatter," Esposito suggests, turning off the light on his scope. "But whoever it was, he's not here now. SWAT cleared the floor. Let's get out of here. Still have a few more to go."

The three of them move onto the sixth floor, splitting up to cover the offices. But then she remembers the wrapper, checks her pockets. Damn. She forgot to bag it.

She goes solo back to the fifth floor, gun tucked back into her belt. She doesn't have a flashlight, had been relying on the SWAT team's scopes to light the way. It takes a little while for her to get her bearings in the dim room, the early moonlight providing shoddy illumination. Then, she spots it, the shiny silver wrapper resting on the floorboards. Beckett bends down and then freezes.

She's not alone.

She feels him there before she sees him; a shift in the air, the presence of another body entering the room so silently makes the fine hair of her forearms stand on end. It's him, she knows it is. She has a hand on her holster and goes to turn around.

"Don't move," he breathes onto her neck. She underestimated his proximity. He's right up against her, his hand prying her fingers from the gun. Shit, shit. The boys are only a few floors down. Maybe…

"And don't think about calling for help," his voice is menacing, sends a shiver down her spine. Be cool, Beckett, be cool.

"You're not going to kill me, Castle."

"Oh yeah? And why not?"

"You're a vigilante. I'm a cop, not a murderer. You wouldn't-"

"Collateral damage." His hand slides from her waist up to her shoulder, and he whispers, "You're in my way."

She reacts on instinct, slamming an elbow into his ribs. He stumbles back a few feet, and she lurches forward, putting some distance between them before she turns around. Her eyes adjust in the darkness to make out the man's form. She grabs for-

"Looking for this?" He's still bent over in pain, but grins, holding up her Sig. Oh, hell. "You know," he begins, straightening his spine. "We do have common interests. We both just want to get bad men off the street."

What a load of BS. She scoffs, "Yeah, bad men. Like murderers. Like you."

"You have to take the life of a human to be a murderer, Detective. Then men I killed…they were no humans."

"Yeah, well, the criminal justice system sees it a little differently." She has to take control of the situation. Quickly. "Now, put down the gun, Mr. Castle. We can get you some help. You just have to drop it."

Richard Castle lets out a bitter laugh. "You think I need help?" he asks. "I used to be young and naïve like you. I used to rely on the law, but the law is just plain unreliable. Now, I help myself. You wouldn't understand."

"Just by looking at me, you think I don't know what you went through? You think I don't know a thing or two about vengeance?" She doesn't mean to get caught up in this conversation, but it's hard not to take some things personally. She understands all too well.

As if accepting the challenge, he does look at her. Through the darkness, with squinted eyes, he looks, and then he says, "Something happened."

"What?"

"Not to you. No, you're wounded, but you're not that , it was somebody you cared about. It was someone you loved."

"My mother," she finds herself confessing to him. And why would she tell him that? As a strategic move to talk him down? To relate to him in hopes that he'll put down the gun and surrender? Or is it the way he saw right through her just now? How he stripped her naked with just a few sentences. "So yes, I do know what you went through."

"I'm sorry," he says, and she thinks that she sees his eyes softening, almost imperceptibly, but it's difficult to tell in the dim light of the room. Then, he clears his throat, resumes the cool stance from moments ago. "And how did that work for you? What did you get from the legal system? Justice?"

She grits her teeth, has to keep herself in check. "Her killer was never caught."

"Is that right? So that's why you became a cop. To catch the man who took her from you."

"Cute trick." She finds herself out of breath. He's observant, good at reading human emotions for a psychopathic killer. Makes him all the more formidable. "But don't think you know me."

He smirks, as if everything is falling into place, as if she's playing right into his hands. "What will you do when you succeed, if you succeed? You'll cuff him, read him his rights, send him off to booking. Maybe there will be a trial. Maybe he'll be found guilty and sent to prison for a very long time. But it won't be enough."

"I put it behind me long ago."

"Well look at you, been telling yourself that for so long, you're actually starting to believe your own lies."

Oh, that is it. She shuffles forward a few steps. "Drop the weapon, Castle. Then maybe we can continue to delve into my personal life. On the way to booking."

"As delightful as that sounds," he lets out a dark chuckle, "I think I'm comfortable right here."

"I mean it. My team will be up here any minute, and they won't take assault on an officer lightly."

"What, as opposed to my multiple murder charges? Besides, you're bluffing. Your men just cleared this floor, and not very well, I might add. Paintings aren't just used to hide vaults in the movies, you know? They won't be coming up here until they realize you're missing. And by then…" He flicks the safety on her gun on and off. He's just trying to scare you, Kate. He won't really kill you. It's not his MO. She takes another stride toward him. He starts to speak again.

"So, your mother. Was she shot? Drowned? Stabbed?" She must have a look in her eyes. But maybe not; it's pretty dark. Maybe she flinched. Either way, he certainly notices. "Stabbed, then? Now, wouldn't it be satisfying to find the man that killed her? To look him in the eye, to raise the knife—maybe the same one he used to kill your mother—and watch as he struggles, as the knife pierces his heart, blood gushing. To hold him there until he takes...his last…breath."

"How poetic," she drawls. "Maybe you should've been a bard instead of a serial killer." He's almost within an arm's length distance. If she can get a little closer, she'll be able to drop him, kick the weapon out of his hand and cuff him before he can blink. Just a little closer.

"But wouldn't it be exhilarating? You can't tell me you never thought about it."

He's right. She can't tell him. But she became a cop to escape all of that. The depression, the vengeful thoughts. "Sometimes you just have to let it go."

He seems to contemplate her words. "Okay." He goes into a crouch, placing her Sig on the ground before standing again. "Okay." The man holds his hands out. In surrender.

What is he playing at? She hesitates for a moment, and then reaches to her belt to grab her cuffs. "Richard Castle, you are under arrest for-"

Suddenly, he's got his hand wrapped around her wrist, and he's shoving her against the brick wall of the room, twisting her arm behind her back, reversing their position from only a moment ago. Damn it. Oh-

She feels his hand close over her mouth, something sharp at her neck. A needle. It's a syringe full of God knows what, and he's jabbing it into her skin.

"Goodbye, Detective," she hears him whisper before everything fades.


Hope this meeting lived up to expectations. Let me know what your thoughts are, and stay tuned for chapter 5!