Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: The origin of this story is actually kind of interesting. It started with just a few text messages between Savannah and I, then it snowballed into this huge beast of a fic. Believe it or not, we called it 'Sparring' for several months before I started posting it and gave it a title. You'll eventually understand why we used the word 'Sparring'. Also, this story takes a few wild turns so keep an open mind. ;)

The passenger seat is never as interesting as being behind the wheel. She's bored after just a few hours. She's already munched her way through a small bag of Doritos and gulped down the pathetic excuse of coffee they'd found at a convenience store along the way. It was strong. It's still burning in her belly, making her search through the bag of snacks for something with more weight. Something that will calm the storm the coffee has caused in her stomach.

She's never seen so much junk food in one bag. Snack cakes, muffins, jerky, a variety of chips and there's dip too. She doesn't want any of it but she settles on opening up an individually wrapped muffin. Banana nut. She'll admit it smells delicious. And when she takes a bite, the flavor matches the scent. An explosion on her tongue that has her dropping her head back against the seat.

"As good as this tastes, we'll need actual groceries soon." It's something she's thought about along with the fact that they probably won't have much cell phone service.

It worries her. Makes her question if they'll ever get this solved, if they'll ever get to go home. The lump tries to form in her throat, but she's already swallowing it down. She misses home. She misses their loft, their bed with the sheets that smell fresh and like Castle - though he argues they smell like her. It's a mix of them both and she misses it.

She's mid bite when she catches something in the side mirror. In the middle of a road riddled with curves that lead to steep drop offs and her mind in between missing home and being glad she's not behind bars, her cop instincts start buzzing.

Something makes her watch the few cars behind them, her gut tells her something is back there. She wants to call it paranoia, wants to chalk it up to being on edge. She's watched the news, she knows they're several steps ahead of the cops, the FBI. She even checked in quickly with her boys to make sure things were still relatively the same.

She gives it a little while, thinks she's seeing something where there's nothing. She lets him continue to drive, doesn't mention anything and swallows down the last bite of her muffin. But she keeps her eyes peeled, keeps checking the mirror.

Castle's quiet. He's only fiddled with the radio twice and it's playing something relaxing now, a soft melodic tune. It doesn't do a damn thing to ease her, to stop her from being on alert. Every mile they drive, she checks the mirror and one by one the vehicles behind them disappear. Either turning off to a gas station or another road, another direction.

But when she catches the shine of silver, tinted windows, and the subtle rev of an engine, the alarm bells ring.

"Castle," She knows he hears it, the fear in her voice. The tremble of it. Without even looking at him, she knows. "We're being tailed."

The how doesn't even register in her brain yet. The fact that they're supposed to be ahead of everyone and how the hell has someone found them when they've been so careful, she doesn't know.

"I know." And that soft reply stuns her, has her questioning her own skills. "You were being twitchy, checking the mirrors so I looked too."

"We need to lose them before we get any further." She checks again, watches as they come up fast on their tail. Not police, not FBI. She knows from the way her stomach churns that it's something worse, someone else that must have been watching her from the moment she stumbled around covered in the senator's blood.

How else would they know? It chafes her skin, gives her goosebumps. They've been tailed this whole time. And she didn't know. It doesn't make sense. She would have noticed. She's a cop. Was. Was a cop but the instincts don't dissipate just because her job has been compromised. So why is someone following them, who is following them. They've switched vehicles a few times, kept low. Nothing makes sense about any of this and it brings back the headache she's been chasing off for days.

She reaches for Castle's hand, threads her fingers through his and gives a squeeze. Hoping for the best, she gives him a nod. The road curves heavily up ahead. Just within visible range and that's their chance. With her heart racing and a vehicle on their tail - truck now that it's close enough - she gives him a soft smile.

"Whoever that is...they're going to shove us off the road. It's steep, Castle, we'll go over the rail."

"Kate -"

"So don't give them the chance. They have more horsepower, we can't outrun them. There's no one around. Nothing but a restaurant a few miles back." He glances at her and she feels something twist in her stomach. This could all go horribly wrong and one or both of them might die. But it's already horribly wrong. She gestures up ahead. "Drive off the edge. This corner, there's a break in the rail right there."

"Wha-"

"They push and we roll. We won't make it, whoever that is has orders. Probably to kill us. Slow down. Drive steady, don't brake. Take your foot off the gas as soon we're over."

"Kate, we - there are trees."

"I know." She grips his hand tighter. Wishes just a little that she were behind the wheel. "They're gonna hit us. Use it."

Her heart slams against her ribs, the truck engine revs behind them just as Castle slows and she waits for the impact. It jerks the car, pushes it but he doesn't brake. He keeps steady, and she knows he wants to gun it, try to get away. But that's just as dangerous with these twists and turns. Her seat belt locks and her body flings forward. She's still clinging to her fiance's hand, not letting go when he uses both of his to cut the wheel. She bites her lip, tears clouding her vision.

Metal scrapes the sides, the guard rail leaving its mark as they go over. She keeps her eyes open, watches the trees rush toward them and berates herself for being silly. The trees aren't moving. It's steep, uneven. The car bounces, tips precariously and she knows they'll roll, she just knows it. She's killed them. She's the one that brought this on.

She can't look. She closes her eyes. Listens to the shattering glass, the sounds of impact and there's a yell. His. Hers. She doesn't know. Pain lances up her arm, through her chest, spreads through her torso.

The car stills. His hand is limp in hers when she blinks, they're still upright and a tree is playing hood ornament.

"Castle?" He's bleeding. It's the first thing she notices. A piece of the windshield must have sliced his cheek and it's dripping red. His eyes are closed, airbag deployed and deflating. Huh. Her side didn't. She nudges him, strokes against his hand.

He mumbles her name, jerks upright and lifts a hand to his head.

"Ow."

"Easy. Pain levels?"

"I'm fine. Chest hurts, head hurts...stings." His cheek. She wipes the blood away. He'll be stiff and achy later and she can only hope there's nothing severely wrong. But he looks pretty good. "You?"

"Fine." Except her arm. And the fire in her chest. "Nice driving."

"Crashing." He corrects with a smirk and she feels the relief swamp her. He's alright.

There's smoke coming from beneath the hood, a hissing sound but she still perks up when she hears something foreign. The crunch of boots. Footsteps. She shushes him, the way he's fussing over her, picking chunks of glass out of her short hair and murmuring about luck. She puts her hand over his mouth.

"Someone's coming." She'd known they would. Just to be sure. Maybe they need proof. Something. But now it's different because it's happening. She eyes the mirrors, the pieces of it and then she peers around Castle. And that's when she sees him, boots and eyes peering out from behind a tree several feet away. "Stay down."

She reaches for the handle on her door.

"Are you insane?" It's hissed at her, his hand wrapping around her arm. The one that hurts and she barely holds back the yelp.

"We're sitting ducks, Castle. Follow out my side." She leaves him gaping as she slinks out. Her hips screams when she crouches low. She uses the vehicle as her cover, takes in the trees that will make this easier or harder. And she finds comfort only in the heat that settles at her back.

Still her partner.

"Kate,"

"Shhh." They'll talk later. She creeps to the tail end, barely peeks over the trunk. A shot cracks through air, a bullet whistles inches away from her ear. She ducks back down. "Castle on my count -"

"No."

"You don't know what I was -"

"You're going to suggest I hide somewhere while you create a diversion that makes you the target." He's right. That's exactly what she's going to do and it's going to work. Because she is the target. But there's fire in his eyes, defiance written all over his face.

She cups his cheek, rocks into him. Her lips pressing hard to his. Quick. They have to be quick.

"Those trees." She nudges his nose with her own in the direction she wants him to look. "Head for them. Please, Rick. Run and I'll be right behind you."

"Promise?"

"Go." It's not a promise but some part of him must think it is because he nods. And when she peeks over the tail of the car again, he runs. Her heart hammers, her blood rushing and she stands. In full view. Making the shooter focus on her. The first shot fires and she runs. The wrong direction. Not the one she sent Castle in. Another shot. One after another. She can hear them hit the car, trees around her.

Branches pull at her but she has a plan. And it doesn't include dying.

She circles around when it gets quiet. Keeps the car in view, keeps an eye peeled for movement. She knows what she needs to do. Sneak up. Get it done. But she pauses behind a tree. Watches discreetly as the man searches for her, or for Castle. He's probably just set on killing them both. No survivors. And that makes her stomach roll.

He's out of ammo. She counted those shots and now she's seen his weapon. Not so smart bringing a revolver. He sticks around the car as if they might circle back and that's clever. Because she did but she won't give him the chance to one up her. He could have a back up piece but she's doubting it. He'd already have it out. At least she would.

And then he confuses her. He opens the back door and leans in. She waits a moment more, curious and judging for the perfect moment. Surprise. She watches where she steps, walking as silently as possible. Closing the distance.

As soon as he straightens, she pounces. An error on her part. He's big and he'd made her. Waited just like she'd waited for him. He tosses her against the car easily. Pinning her, making her arm flare with an agony she'd been ignoring. She kicks, nails his knee but he doesn't even stumble. Just smirks at her like she's a game. His hand finds her throat, squeezing. Cutting off her air supply. She pulls at his wrist. Tries to thrash out of his hold.

"Looks like they were wrong about you."

"Who?" She chokes it out, still wanting answers even as the blood rushes in her ears and weight crushes her trachea. Her vision blurs at the edges. Spotting. She can't breathe. And all she thinks about is the man she sent running. How he's next.

And then he's there. Right behind the man slowly killing her and that's not right. Not right. Everything darkens for a second and there's a crack. A split second and she can gasp, can suck in air and gulp it down. It throbs, burns. And she's slumped against the car, holding her neck when she sees him again. Castle.

Standing there, staring down. She looks too.

"You -" She rubs her throat. "Castle."

She doesn't ask where he learned that. Why he knows how to snap a neck like that. Quick and efficient. She doesn't ask because it's already there in his eyes when he finds hers. The disbelief of what he's just done. And she crashes into him, chest to chest, holding his face and ignoring the way her body aches.

"Thank you." It's all she says. Her voice rough.

"I - he was killing you. You lied!" She doesn't mean to. But she laughs. Because of all the things he could have said, he's upset that she didn't follow him. And the adrenaline is pumping, making her nod and shrug a shoulder. "I figured you wouldn't be right behind me. Circled back."

"Good call."

He kisses her, long and deep. As if they aren't standing over a body. As if he hasn't just killed someone. And she lets him. She kisses him back, opening to him, letting him pull her closer. Feeling the rush all the way down to her toes. Because she was so sure they were both as good as dead. He's alive beneath her hands. She's going to keep him that way.

"Castle," She just has to give him a look and he knows. He's helping her lift the body and sliding it into the car. And while he positions it, she's pulling their things from inside. Wiping down every surface that could possibly have their prints.

Neither of them say a word about it. About how this just became more complicated. About how she never wanted him to do that for her, kill for her. But she's glad for the seclusion of the route they're on. Grateful that there's no sounds of passing cars.

And when they trek up the incline and back to the highway, they steal a dead man's truck. And this time, Beckett drives while Castle snoops.

She's waiting on him. She's been waiting on him for hours. Sitting on the porch in the dark and staring at the dirt road that leads to their new home. She can't see a thing out here. She's regretting her decision to split up. Even if it'd seemed like a good idea at the time. They're a wanted couple. Assumed to be together so she'd stopped at a rickety old gas station and made Castle leave her.

After a fight.

She'd paid cash for a rusted motorcycle while he'd tried to talk her out of it. But after the run in earlier, she'd stuck to her guns and bought a map, repeated the highlighting they'd done on their original. With written directions off to the side. She'd promised him she'd be fine. That she wasn't even sore. But now she's scared.

What if he has a concussion, what if he blacked out at the wheel. And now she wishes they'd stuck together. Cursing her paranoia and the fear that someone else could be lying in wait. And it's been going on twelve hours since she seen him last. It took her seven to get here. She hasn't gone inside. She hasn't looked around at all. She's just been sitting on the banister that wraps around the porch.

It doesn't look so bad from the outside. At least not in the dark. A little creepy and the steps creak and wobble but maybe they can fix that. If he shows up. If he gets here before she has a full blown panic attack thinking of all the things that might have happened. She slaps at another mosquito. She's tried calling his burner phone but she doesn't have service. And when she does it's fleeting. It rings through and he doesn't answer.

What was she thinking? Leaving him when he'd just...killed someone. It's not easy. It's something that chips away at the soul. And she'd been so scared and dead set on the fact that someone else could be out there, that she'd made him venture off on his own. Maybe she was shocky but so was he and it's not an excuse.

Finally there's a flash in the dark. Something up through all the trees and then headlights. Dull yellow headlights. It's not the same truck. The hair raises on the back of her neck, for just a second. But it's secluded. No one for miles. She still steps back into the shadows. Waits until the truck parks next to her bike. Just in case. She watches carefully as the engine shuts off, as the door opens, and sighs in relief when it's a familiar tall frame that climbs out.

She's down the steps in a flash. Running to him, wrapping her arms around him. Every fear, every scenario she'd imagined had her worked up. But he's warm against her, and he smells good. She lingers there, with her face pressed to his neck.

"What the hell took you so long?"

"Called in another favor. Got us a different vehicle for long term use. In case whoever is behind all of this had gps on -"

"That's...I didn't think about that." She pulls back, lets go of him. She should have. Just another thing she's messed up today. She's off her game. Not thinking clearly. And it's costing them. But they're here. Home. Their new little abode that's bigger than she expected.

She lifts her bag from the truck, slips her hand into his and leads him up the steps. She feels him lag, wonders if his back is hurting from the wreck, wonders so many things. She's the one that slides the key in the lock and twists. She'd searched for the key as soon as she arrived and found it taped to the underside of an old porch swing just as his 'friend' had said.

And they get a first look at the place they'll reside until this mess blows over, until they figure it all out. He hits the lights as she closes the door behind them. It's dusty. Obviously hasn't been used. But there's an air conditioner in the window that looks new enough. A plaid couch in the corner, a dark rug covering part of the wood floor. It's not a dump.

It's...not so bad. And she's sure there's a few issues, things like the steps being wobbly or the few missing slats from the banister. But it's livable. And she'd expected nothing more than a shack.

She doesn't even venture into the kitchen, she heads straight back and down the hallway. The bathroom is small but there's a tub. No shower. One sink. Castle is a sink hog. Something she'd learned from the nights spent at her place. At his, she has her own sink, her own area of the bathroom all to herself. Now they'll be sharing again.

There's an empty room on the right, she passes it quickly. Nothing there. And then a bigger room on the left, with a bed pushed up against the wall. No blankets. No sheets. She drops her bag next to the door, turns on the light. Explores a little as she's sure he's doing the same with the front half of their cabin. The furniture matches which is something that maybe most people wouldn't notice but it makes it obvious that this used to be a pretty nice place. Matching dresser and nightstand. There's a desk in the corner and it's the same dark shade. Another air conditioner, smaller than the one in the living room. She heads there first.

Blowing dust off the knob before she twists it. It purrs to life. A rush of cool air slaps her in the face and she stands there, leaning over it for just a moment, letting it wash over her. She'd waited outside for him, she was sweating just a little. She's tired. The adrenaline wearing off, the day catching up with her. And everything hurts. Her hip feels stiff, her hands ache, her arm is heavy and hurting. And her throat throbs when she swallows.

She rubs her hand over the back of her neck, hoping to ease the pain that resides at the base of her skull. But the only thing it does is remind her that her hair is different. That it's short now and she's no longer the same person. She drops her hand and heads for the closet. Two doors that slide open but one sticks. There's a comforter and sheets folded on a shelf, pillows stacked next to them. She pulls out just the blanket and pillows. The rest will wait. All of it needs washed but she's not even sure there's a washer or dryer on the premises. So she shakes out the dust, makes sure there are no bugs lying in wait.

She tosses the pillows on the mattress, silently claiming the side that's against the wall. It's closer to the air, cooler probably. They'll worry about putting away clothes and things tomorrow. She just want to curl up with Castle and not move for a solid eight to ten hours. Days of hiding, of worrying, of constantly moving. She's tired. And now they're here. In the middle of nowhere down a private dirt road. And a man is dead. The one that could have followed them all the way, killed them out here where no one would find them. But he'd tried to run them off the road instead.

It doesn't make any sense. There's too many questions.

She shuts it down for the night. Tomorrow she'll use that extra room and build theory. She'll tape the photos and case notes to the walls, spread it out. But not right now.

Kate hears him before she sees him, his footsteps heavy and dragging. And then he appears in the doorway and their day is written in every line of his face. He's lost the shock, he's drained of the adrenaline, of the need to get here and make sure she's okay. She feels the same way. Except she didn't kill a man. He did. Up close and bare handed. And that's something she's never wanted for him.

He left his stuff somewhere. Living room maybe, all she knows is he doesn't have it with him. And his shoulders are sagging from an unseen weight.

"Found some blankets and stuff. We can rough it tonight and deal with the dust."

"There's a washer. No dryer." He's been exploring. Probably trying not to think about everything that's happened.

"We'll make do. Lie down with me." She kicks out of her shoes, hoping that he'll follow her lead. He doesn't. Not until she's barefoot. She doesn't care if it's a little dirty, she strips out of her pants. The room isn't cool enough to sleep in pants and she gives him the barest of smiles when he finally starts moving.

She climbs on the bed and leaves the blanket bunched at the bottom for now. Castle's shoes find a home next to hers. And his pants fall too. He leaves the light on and crawls in. The mattress is big enough. Queen size. Tomorrow she'll clean. But tonight, she presses her back to the cool wall and reaches for him. He comes easily, wrapping around her. Wincing a little when she nuzzles his cheek. She feels his breath rush out, warm against her ear. Hears the strangled noise he makes.

"Oh, Castle." He touches her neck, pulling back to stare and she knows it's bruised. Probably looks awful. "I'm fine."

He doesn't believe her. And she doesn't blame him. Now she knows why he left the light on. He wants to see. She shifts, her arm aches but she reaches for the hem of her shirt and lifts so he can check. Fingertips skim up her stomach, over the bruising across her chest. A perfect outline of the seat belt. She does the same to him. Pushing the fabric out of the way to see that he's okay. He has a mark matching hers, striking over the opposite shoulder.

"Where do you hurt, Kate?"

"My hip is stiff, my arm, my neck and head. Nothing feels unbearable." He seems to accept her answer, letting go of her shirt and scooting closer. His knee nudges her thighs and she opens, lets him slide his between. "We got pretty lucky. Minor injuries. Right?"

"Yeah. I just ache."

"Good." She touches his cheek softly, the laceration there. "You did what you had to."

"I know."

Neither of them get up to turn out the light. They stay curled together on the bed and Beckett runs her fingers through his hair when he buries his face in her neck. That's where he stays. Clinging tight as she holds him. Or maybe they're holding each other.

a/n: Okay so I know this chapter pretty much leaves you with more questions but that was my intention. And the story is just beginning. ;)