Chapter 4
Kate covers a yawn and stretches her shoulders. Sometimes mornings are slow. And it's far too quiet. Odd. Castle's late. He said yesterday he'd be coming in today. She makes a mental note to give him a strongly disapproving look when he comes rushing in, see what excuse he makes up this time. If she's lucky, it will involve the CIA. Possibly MI6. If he goes for Interpol or a transdimensional slip, she'll know he's really screwed up.
"Hey, Beckett, we got a body."
Esposito's already pulling on his jacket. She tries texting Castle one last time – still no answer; he is in big trouble when he finally comes running in – and she follows Ryan and Esposito out with a shrug. He can get there himself.
She's a little preoccupied as she steps out of her car, seeing the familiar yellow crime scene tape, flashing lights, uniforms talking to witnesses. Seeing Downing, the uniform obviously tasked to wait for her, she puts away her phone, reaches for a pair of gloves, and heads over. It's almost raining, a fine mist falling from the sky, and everyone's trying to hurry, holding up tarps and snapping forensic photographs and samples before the rain comes down harder and evidence washes away.
"This way, Detective." Officer Downing lifts the yellow tape so she can walk under it. "Male, early 40's, Caucasian, brown hair, average build. No wallet or watch, looks like a robbery. The coffeeshop owner says he's a regular. Didn't realize what was happening until he heard the shots outside."
They turn the corner towards the coffeeshop entrance – she recognizes it as a coffeeshop Castle usually stops at to pick up caffeinated bribery when he's in trouble – and she steps into observation mode.
There are evidence markers on the ground. It takes her a few seconds to connect them with the scene, going piece by piece, clean and logical. Three beside the three shell casings. One beside a crumpled pastry bag. Another one beside a mud-splattered bear claw near it. And one next to a bloodstained coffee carrier with two spilled cups beside it.
Two coffee cups.
Bear claw.
Male, early 40's.
Her blood turns to ice as she sees the sheet-covered corpse. Patches of blood have started to bleed through the white fabric, the pool of blood on the ground seeping slowly outward. The victim's about six feet tall.
Oh God.
Castle.
Her heart hammers so hard her chest hurts, the air suddenly so thick she's suffocating, her ears ringing shrilly. Castle. Castle.
I never told you.
Her teeth start chattering. She can't hear anything, can't hear whatever an oblivious Downing is trying to tell her. Her hands start shaking because she can't stop staring at the sheet. At the body under the sheet. All she can see of the man who whispered I love you Kate and begged her to stay with him are slick bloody patches in a sodden white cloth. Because he's gone.
And he died without knowing that she loves him.
She vaguely feels firm hands on her shoulders, realizes Ryan and Esposito have stepped in and are gently walking her away, around the corner into a more secluded spot, away from prying eyes. "Beckett? Beckett, you all right?"
She swallows, almost choking. She still can't breathe. She's dizzy. Her head is pounding.
"Just take a deep breath. It's okay."
She squeezes her eyes shut because she can't form words because it can never, ever be okay again. Her head is spinning so badly she leans over, putting her hands on her knees and trying to breathe because oh God I have to call Alexis and Martha and oh God Castle just like Mom –
A vision of her future flashes before her, a black-and-white future all cold and lonely and devoid of laughter and love with a red-haired girl sobbing as a casket is lowered into a grave and she can see herself crying alone in the storage room with no one to find her and she feels nausea sweep over her so violently she's afraid she might pass out.
She suddenly feels strong arms pulling her up, folding around her, feels herself wrapped warmly against a broad chest, a hand gently running over her hair. And her heart leaps into her throat because she knows these arms. And she opens her eyes to see Castle, warm and kind and concerned and alive, holding her gently, not knowing what's happened but worried about her.
"Kate? What's wrong?"
She lets out a shuddering breath. Castle.
Satisfied that whatever's wrong is now being fixed, Ryan and Esposito discreetly step back towards the crime scene to give her and Castle a little privacy. She lets herself cling to him because he's not cold or bloody or dead. He's not. It's not him.
He's fine.
Kate finally regains command of her voice, though it's still shaky. The panic attack is slowly subsiding, but her heart rate is still fast. "You – you were late, and you didn't answer your phone, and then I got here and saw the coffee on the ground and the body and I thought – "
"You thought it was me," he murmurs, comprehension dawning. "I'm so sorry, Beckett. I was running late and my phone's been on silent. I didn't even realize."
She takes in long, slow breaths, feeling herself slowly starting to calm down. He rubs her back, watching her, his face still worried.
It's only a few minutes before she calms down enough to do her job, running a hand over her hair and flashing Castle a grateful smile. He lets her go but stays close, as always, and with a last breath to steady herself, Kate takes one last glance back at him to make sure he's really there, and together they head for the crime scene to see who really died today.
