Her suit squeaks as she kneels down, the damp air making the leather soft and heavy. Beckett leans over the unconscious man, torn between the desire to slap him awake so she can find out who he is or just leave him where he lays, spread eagle in the middle of the sidewalk. She scrutinizes his face, flipping quickly through assorted memories as she tries to work out whether or not she's seen him before. He looks vaguely familiar but nothing sparks. She rolls him over and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. The worn leather parts easily in her hands and she squints into the darkness, her eyes running over his driver's license.
Richard Castle.
The name is unfamiliar to her. She quickly memorizes the address listed under his name then returns the wallet to his pocket and rolls him back over, lowering him gently to the concrete as he moans.
"Hey!"
Beckett looks up and sees Mr. Kim, the owner of the Korean grocery, standing on the sidewalk in front of his store.
"I call the cops," he yells, making wild shooing motions at her. "Be here soon. You go."
She nods at him and raises a hand before looking back down at the man sprawled before her. He's starting to come around, his groans of pain growing both in frequency and volume. Making a split second decision, Kate moves around to crouch behind his head. Hooking her forearms under his armpits, she hefts his body up against her chest as she stands. His head lolls to the side as she drags him across the twenty feet that separate them from the mouth of the alley.
As quickly as she can while carrying an extra hundred and seventy-five pounds, Kate maneuvers backward down the alley. She keeps going until she crosses the inky black line of demarcation, the point where the sulphur light from the street lamps no longer reaches them. The stench of an overflowing dumpster makes her stomach turn as she lower his dead weight to the ground, propping him up against the rough brick wall. She crouches next to him and steadies his wobbling head with her hands as she scans the alley, making sure they're alone.
"That was hot."
The slur of his voice pulls her attention back and she releases his head, dropping down from the balls of her feet to rest on her heels, the tip of her sheath bumping against the side of her calf. The man stares up at her with unfocused eyes, blinking slowly. "What's your name?"
"Rick Castle," he says, one side of his mouth curling up into a lazy smile. "What's yours?"
He didn't lie about his name. Kate feels a the weight on her chest lighten by a few ounces. Ignoring his question, she asks another of her own, "Why are you following me, Rick?"
"Not following. Looking."
"Why?"
"Wanna write about you." His face morphs into a grimace when he shifts his leg, fingers curled into tight fists. "Fuck, that hurts."
The piercing howl of sirens echoes through the night. Rick jumps, groaning when the back of his head connects sharply with the wall. Kate listens carefully, tries to determine how much time she has to clear out before they arrive. The sirens grow louder with each second and she spits out a curse. She has to get out but she needs answers. Needs to know who the hell this man is and what he wants with her. Sucking in a deep breath, she makes the decision.
"Can you stand?"
Rick looks at her blankly. "Wha?"
"The cops are going to be here in about two minutes. We have to move. Can you stand?"
"Oh. Um, I'm not sure." He shifts away from the wall, leaning his torso over his outstretched thighs. With a muted cry, Rick bends his injured knee and plants his hands on the ground as he tries to leverage himself up. He gets halfway and then falls back against the wall, face contorted in pain. "You're gonna have to help me," he grits out, jaw clenched tightly shut.
Silently, Kate stands and leans into him, once again hooking her arms under his. "On three," she says, planting her feet wide in anticipation of his weight. Rick nods and she fists her hands in the back of his damp shirt. "One, two, three."
Rick groans as he pushes up, his hands wrapping almost painfully around her biceps. Kate breathes deeply as she leans back, her knees bent and back loose. They teeter dangerously for a moment before Rick finds his footing. He hisses when he steps down on his injured leg and throws his hand out against the wall for support. Kate moves around and tucks herself into his side, her arms banding around his waist.
"Come on, we gotta move."
The sounds of the sirens start to fade as they hobble clumsily away, Rick swallowing down grunts and groans every few steps. Kate shoulders her way through the familiar hole in the chain link fence that stretches across the back of the alley, pulling him along behind her. They turn left, squeezing into the narrow lane bisecting two run down tenement buildings.
"Your sword is poking me," he complains, shifting his shoulder away from her.
"Shut up," Kate growls, eyes scanning the shadows.
"You know, for a superhero, you're pretty mean."
They come to an abrupt stop and she lets him go, ignoring his muffled moan when falls into the side of the building. Kate jumps up and grabs the bottom rung of the ladder, landing lightly on her feet as it slides to the ground. "Up," she says pointing at the fire escape.
"Are you insane? You want me to climb a fire escape?" Rick looks at her with wide eyes, waving a hand at his leg. "Not happening."
"It's just two stories," she says, undisguised disdain in her voice. "Suck it up."
"Are you leading me to my untimely and grisly death? Because if so, I think it's only prudent to inform you that I have a daughter. And am kinda famous. I'll be missed."
Kate rolls her eyes and grabs him by the arm. "Just climb the damn ladder."
Rick looks at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. She knows he can't see her face through the mask but still has to resist the urge to shy away from his gaze. The hair on the back of her neck prickles as they stare each other down.
"Fine," he huffs at length. "But if I fall, it's on you. Which, by the way, is also where I will land."
She follows him up the stairs, their progress slow and laborious. She can see his knuckles turning white around the rusty railing as he climbs and she does feel badly about forcing him to do this when he's in such obvious pain but she has to. She has to find out who the hell he is and what he wants from her and she can't do it in the middle of the street. Not tonight. Her stomach pitches and rolls with the thought of letting this man into her home. She scoffs inwardly. Home. She hasn't had a home in years. Not since she was forced out of her job and became what she is.
"Stop," she says when they reach the landing outside the window. Rick falls into the wall, panting, his face pale and sweat beading on his forehead. Kate slips her fingers into the casement, popping the latch with a practiced move. She slides the grimy pane up and gestures through the opening. "In."
"Gimme a minute," he says, agony evident in his tone.
"The longer you stand there, the more it's going to hurt when you move. Just climb through the window, Rick."
"I like the way you say my name. So much disgust in just one little syllable." He pushes off the railing and plants his hands on the window sill, sliding his good leg through first. "It's sexy."
Kate slips in behind him and shuts the window. She strides down the hallway, not bothering to wait for him. He catches up to her by the time she's dug her keys out of the hidden pocket of her suit, flipping open the multiple deadbolts with an efficient hand.
"Where the in the hell were you hiding those?"
Swinging the door open, she ushers him in before her, pointing at the couch. "Sit," she commands, turning back to lock the door, the security bar sliding into place with a satisfying click.
"Holy shit," Rick breathes, his injured leg stretched out in front of him. "Are you paranoid or what?"
Kate ignores him and moves to the kitchen, reaching into the freezer for an ice pack and snatching her first aid bag from the counter. She doesn't get injured often but finds it better to be prepared. Pulling a bottle of water from the refrigerator, she crosses back over to the couch. She wraps her hand around his right ankle and lifts, swinging his leg up onto the couch before spreading the ice pack over his knee. She tosses the kit and water into his lap and then backs into the middle of the room.
"This is your lair?" Rick looks around, hand holding the ice pack in place as he twists his body. "Kinda lame."
Kate crosses her arms and stares him down. "Why were you following me?"
"I told you, I wasn't following you. I was looking for you." He looks up at her, the blood on his cheek starting to crack as it dries. "Are you going to take that mask off?"
"Okay, then why were you looking for me?"
Rick sighs, falling heavily back against the arm of the couch. "I heard about you a month or so ago," he explains, the pain seeping back into his voice. "I decided to track you down so I could get your story. I want to write about you."
"I'm not interested in press."
"I'm a novelist, not a journalist." He fumbles with the first aid kit, hands shaking as he tries to pull open the zipper. "I just killed my last character and possibly my career because I was bored and uninspired and then I heard about you and was no longer bored or uninspired so I decided to track you down which led to me getting my ass kicked twice and now here we are. Why the fuck can't I get this open?"
The bag rattles as he shakes it, a box of bandages falling out of the side pocket. Taking pity on him, Kate unfolds her arms and steps over to the couch. She pulls the bag from his hand and crouches down, unzipping it as she sets it down on the floor.
"Seriously, are you going to take off that mask?"
"No." She pulls out an unmarked bottle and pops the lid, pouring two large, white pills into her open palm. "Here," she says, holding her gloved hand out in his direction, "take these."
"What are they?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
"You've dragged me into a hovel and are handing me unmarked pills. I think questions are warranted."
"It's hydrocodone."
"Why isn't it the bottle labeled?"
Kate stares at him mutely.
"Oh, right. Superheroes don't get prescriptions. Got it." Rick takes the pills from her hand and puts them in his mouth, cracking open the water and taking a healthy gulp. He lets his head fall back, the curved arm of the couch cushioning his neck. "This couch smells."
"Sorry my hovel isn't up to your standards."
Rolling his head to the side, he looks at her through suddenly cloudy eyes. "You're prickly. I like it."
Kate watches as his eyes roll back, the adrenaline wearing off as the medicine starts to kick in. His body goes slack and she finally relaxes, her own muscles releasing the tension they've been storing for the last hour. Quickly, she strips off her mask and suit, eyes flicking to the unconscious man on her couch every few seconds. She wants a shower but the idea of leaving him alone for even the five minutes that would take makes her stomach churn. He's relatively harmless, she's decided, but the paranoia still sits coiled at the base of her spine.
Quietly, she pulls open the first aid kit and cleans his wounds, wiping down his face with a wet washcloth from the kitchen before slathering antiseptic ointment over the open cuts and bandaging them. She wraps an elastic bandage around his injured knee and replaces the ice pack with a fresh one. Backing away, she slides down the opposite wall, knees pulled up to her chest as she watches him sleep.
Thanks for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated.
