Chapter Four

"Why aren't things awkward?" Castle asks her out of the blue.

They're seated on the raised stools next to each other at his kitchen island, a plate of pancakes and a mug of coffee in front of both of them.

Kate arches an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Why aren't things awkward?" he repeats. "Not that I want them to be, but I always thought things would be awkward the first time we…well, you know."

She presses her lips together in a now-familiar gesture of mirth. It never fails to amuse her that suave Richard Castle could sometimes be so flustered by her. Then again, she has to admit that seeing his unsettled reactions is one of the reasons she loves teasing him.

She leans closer, her hand coming to rest high on his thigh and she caresses the tensed muscle lightly. She holds the stare of his wide, blue eyes, then deliberately flicks her gaze down his lips before allowing it to crawl slowly back up again. "First time we what, Castle?"

"Uh…" he lets out, a sound more closely resembling a grunt than anything.

He stares at her unblinkingly, and she thrills in his total absorption of her. She's always had a tiny flicker of fear in the back of her mind that once he'd had her, the lure of the chase would dissipate. She knows that it's unfair to him to think such a thing and that it degrades the depth of his love for her, but it's been there nonetheless.

Even still, the majority of her knows that he would never abandon her just because he got tired of her.

But this—this knowledge that she had him totally under her thrall—it soothes the tiny doubts that linger like a parasite. So she plays up the role of the seductress, even knowing that she doesn't need any tricks to keep his attention fixed solely on her.

She leans even closer to him, using the hand on his thigh to balance her weight, and she lets the heat of her breath wash over the shell of his ear. "The first time we slept together?"

She trails soft, barely-there kisses down the tendon of his neck. "The first time we had sex?"

She lingers at the fluttering pulse of his carotid artery, darting out her tongue to taste the skin there. "The first time we made love?"

She startles when his arms suddenly fly out to snap around her waist, pulling her off her stool and onto his lap. His mouth is hot and dominant over hers and his complete abandon makes her burn. "I don't remember the question," he confesses, lips and tongue and teeth devouring her.

"Who cares?" she sighs breathily, fingers tangling in his hair as she arches her spine to bring their bodies closer together and oh, that feels good.

The last thought she can clearly remember having before thinking becomes completely superfluous is Thank God no one else is home.

…

Kate comes back to consciousness with a sudden blink of her eyes. Her head flies up, gaze darting all over the small room only to find that nothing has changed since her exhausted body drifted off into fitful sleep.

She wonders how much time has passed since Sophia left her with those cryptic words.

Maybe you're not so lucky.

She snorts. As if Kate really needs Sophia to tell her that her luck is utter crap. She figured that one out all by herself, thank you very much.

Her hands have gone numb, and the phrase "hands falling off"is starting to sound a little too close to the realm of actual possibility for her comfort. Her stomach grumbles in protest of the aching emptiness, and she guestimates that her last meal—an awkward lunch with Castle and Alexis at the loft—happened maybe thirty hours ago. That means that she's been held captive for a full day now.

Well, if Sophia and her acquaintance are planning on a slow death, dehydration will do the job in about two more days. Even now, just the thought of water has her licking her cracked and bloodied lips.

Kate has never given up a fight in her life, but as she stares sightlessly at the metal door separating her from everything she loves, she realizes with a sinking pit in her stomach that she truly has no other options but to wait. Wait for either Sophia to return and carry out her sordid plans, or for a slow and painful death.

Kate doesn't even know which one she dreads more.

…

Castle tenses as he stares at the ornate lobby that leads to Senator Andrew Holden's office. His hands clench into tight fists, and it's all he can do to keep his breathing even—partly from the wild flurry of emotions dancing in his chest and partly from the sharp pangs of pain that slip through the strength of his painkillers.

He shouldn't be out of the hospital, much less walking around New York on a hunt for the Dragon, but he'd refused to sit back and do nothing while Kate's fate is still unknown. There was nothing Gates could do to prevent him from discharging himself against the doctor's orders, and Gates knows by now that it would be more productive if Castle does things her way and under her supervision than to mess things up bumbling about on his own.

So it is that less than a day after being shot, Castle finds himself standing outside the double doors leading to one of the nation's most influential men.

"Is this him? The Dragon? Is this him?" he rasps out, emotion roughening his voice.

Gates watches him with that inscrutable expression she's so good at keeping. Then she says, "No, he's not."

"What?" His fists release, and he swings his shocked gaze to her. "I thought you said we're bearding the lion in his den."

"Mr. Castle, there is such a thing as formulating a plan of action before rushing in where angels fear to tread."

He hears the subtle dig at how he and Kate always tend to get into dangerous situations without backup. It almost makes him want to smile. The Gates of the past few hours has been uncharacteristically compassionate, but rather than feeling satisfied that he's finally broken through the ice wall of the captain, her atypical sympathy only serves to make him see all too clearly how precarious a situation Kate is in.

Gates continues, "Senator Holden has been secretly investigating your so-called Dragon for the past decade. But in all that time, he still hasn't been able to gather the necessary evidence to openly convict him of his multitude of crimes."

"Ten years? Ten years and he still can't catch the Dragon? Who is he that he holds so much power that even a US Senator can't take him down?"

"That's a question best left to Senator Holden to answer."

Holden's secretary, a classy, middle-aged woman names Anne Terrence, comes up to them. "Captain Gates, Mr. Castle, Senator Holden will see you now."

Gates nods at her and comes to a stand next Castle. "Thank you, Ms. Terrence."

Anne goes up to the doors and swings the right side wide open for them.

Castle swallows, nervousness suddenly drying his mouth. After four years, he's finally going to find out who the Dragon is. He can finally solve the mystery of Kate's mother's murder and give Kate the closure she's been seeking so desperately for so many years.

And yet…

He realizes that none of this matters—no answers, no name, not even justice. Not a single thing will matter if he doesn't find Kate alive and well.

A/N: Short explanation for why I did what I did.

Everyone assumes that the call Smith places to the Congressional Office was to the Dragon in order to make his deal. Therefore, the Dragon is either a US Senator or a member of the House of Representatives. This is the natural assumption, and a reasonable one. However, I always thought it'd be an interesting twist if the call was placed in order to contact someone who was already investigating the Dragon, but for something much bigger than just Johanna Beckett's murder. This person would be the one to install Gates as Captain at the 12th in order to keep Beckett under control so that she doesn't interfere with and mess up their investigation.

As for who the Dragon truly is, you'll just have to read on. ;)

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