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Chapter seven

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Cops and Robbers AU (three month time jump), and my entry in to the NaNoWriMo.

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Where there is desire, There is gonna be a flame

Where there is a flame, Someone's bound to get burned

But just because it burns, Doesn't mean you're gonna die

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If someone were to ask her how it all went down, Kate would have shaken her head in bewilderment. She knew that as the car chased them, drew alongside for another try at ramming them, it was going to all come down to luck. Her breath had come in short puffs due to the risk and apprehension of the situation. Sweat beaded on her skin even in the winter air.

The pressure of her idea, combined with her concern over Castle's driving skill meant she had to fight to keep a panic attack at bay. The move he needed to pull off had to be executed perfectly to take them out of harm's way; for them to remain alive. The point, after all, was to remain alive.

Castle had planted his foot harder to the floor, causing the trees out the window to fly past in a blur, the different shades of greens becoming one. Yet through the ordeal she forced her voice to remain composed. Her quiet, soothing tone, as she counted down to one, was everything the situation wasn't. Tranquil, light, infused with a sense of calm that she didn't feel, while she gripped the seatbelt harder.

If the anxiety that sped through her body was any indication of what Castle might be experiencing, Kate knew that she needed to instill in him the belief that everything was okay, that everything was going to be okay, even if she didn't believe it herself.

Time appeared to be stretching, the deadly anticipation leaving her close to breaking point, but finally those in pursuit veered in the direction of the Mercedes. The gap, barely a yard wide, narrowed, and while there was only the smallest movement toward them, it was the moment that Kate had been anticipating.

She had yelled stop; had pushed her head between her knees, and mimicked the position she'd instructed Alexis to make. She hoped that it would reduce the impact to their bodies when… if her plan failed. If Castle couldn't bring the car to a stop quick enough. If the assailants succeeded in hitting; metal against metal.

Suddenly the band holding her fixed to the seat contracted against her body, wrenching tight, her slender frame contained in spite the pull forward. The car screeched to a halt, and she realized that there was no impact. Her seat belt had reacted to the abrupt stop– not to a crash. And then the explosion occurred.

The sound had her head jerking up, had her scanning the interior of their car in a bizarre moment of stupidity, as if somehow the noise had come from inside, but as Alexis met her wide eyed stare with the same petrified look, her frantic search shifted to Castle.

His hands were clenched around the band of the steering wheel; a perfect ten and two that would have had any instructor applauding; yet each finger had been blanched white under the strain, and even through the material of his coat, Kate could see the muscles of his arms straining under the pressure.

Persisting with her check, wanting to ensure that he was okay, her eyes travelled higher. She caught sight of the veins protruding at the base of his neck, the way his jaw held itself ridged, a hard line sculpted from rock, yet it was his normally bright blue eyes that caused a hitch in her breathing. Looking out of his side window, ignoring his passengers, Castle was riveted to the horizon, and she followed his gaze, understanding the reason why horror had infiltrated his expression when she saw flames, intense against a backdrop of greenery.

The car that had been ambushing them was now nothing more than a fireball, flames licking every inch of its sleek lines, steel twisting under the heat. And the people inside- trapped.

Their plan had worked, and while Castle had come to a stop, the other car had continued its trajectory sideways. With nothing to collide into, it had spun out of control and into the trees that lined the country road. Unfortunately, having an idea of what could happen and seeing the results in devastating 3D were two very different things. No matter what their intentions had been- good or bad- no one deserved to die, and no one deserved that death. The crash adds more notches to the tally inside Kate's mind. A tally that is rapidly increasing as each hour passes; another burden to bear.

Starting the car, Castle begins crawling forward, his hands visibly shaking. They need to put some distance between themselves and the crash, and eventually they start moving faster.

Slowly Castle's confidence appears to grow, and with it so do the miles.

Half an hour passes as he drives; not enough time for Kate, though she doesn't know how much can ever be enough. As the three of them continue to sit in stunned silence, Castle apparently has other ideas. Suddenly, he pulls the car into a small bushy grove, and they come to a stand still.

Stopping the vehicle does nothing to alter the quiet inside; the air is heavy with all of the words that aren't being said, and Kate knows she's going to have to shake the numbness which is freezing her thoughts and terrorizing her body.

Opening the passenger door, she takes the first step needed, pushes herself out of the car, yet the movement is too much. A sensation of dread bursts up the lining of her esophagus, and she struggles to manage half a dozen more steps away from the car before she has no choice, has to bend, the meager contents of her stomach rising like the tide, spilling forth.

While a queasy feeling had been skirting the edges of her consciousness for several weeks now, this is her first experience of what is no doubt going to be a daily occurrence. Because as much as she wants to blame the nightmare they just fled, she has spent too many years dodging bullets, eying the scum of the earth, to be able to successfully place the blame on that.

Welcome to pregnancy.

Approaching Beckett hesitantly, Castle eventually finds himself standing by her side, one hand raised, wanting to offer support, to rub the small area between her shoulder blades the way he had done whenever Alexis had gotten ill. It always calmed his daughter; knowing that he was sympathetic to what ailed her, and he wishes he could instill the same trust into Kate, so she understands that he is here, that he feels her pain as much as he can. Yet, the line in the sand that she unwittingly drew on their first night is flush with the toes of his shoes, and one step over may be the one step that has her drawing a new line.

Hearing the car door shut behind him, he senses rather than sees his daughter exit the half-destroyed vehicle; knows that she won't come any closer while Kate is suffering, and she remains hovering awkwardly behind him.

"I'm fine."

Kate's words are said with determination, a steel wall that offers no way for him to enter, but underneath he hears the hitch, just a small crack within her armor; the stress of the past few days is causing her to yield and the ductile fracture may as well be real. He has seen what happens to even the strongest of metals when overworked; fatigue leads to fissures and while she has been putting on a front of tensile strength, it is this supposed peak that hides the small crevices that are developing, which leads to complete failure. He can't let her fail at this.

This thought has him shifting forward, closing the gap, fingers sliding along her collar until he can gently cradle the back of her neck, his hand hopefully imparting all of his love, and he stands tall beside her; if she needs to bend, he will be there to prop her up.

It doesn't take long for the dry heaves to taper off and he feels her straightening; breathing deeply through her nose, and he wishes he had enough foresight to throw some drinks into the car alongside his luggage. Dirt puffs underfoot as Alexis takes the steps necessary to reach him, her arm extended as she offers him a stick of gum, and he couldn't be more proud of her than in this moment. That she's helping Beckett, putting his partner ahead of her own desire to hide out in the car; she must be suffering through her own worried and anguished hell, and yet here she is, still thinking of others.

Taking it from her with his free hand, he places it in Kate's line of sight, and she lets out a grateful hum, quickly unwrapping the stick from its paper, before shoving it into her mouth. Her frantic chewing is the only sound for a moment as she attempts to rid herself of the foul aftertaste.

Standing there on the side of the road feels too surreal, odd and eerie; the leaves in the nearby trees rustling loudly, the wind beginning to pick up, and a chill descends; they need a course of action, they need–

"We need a plan."

Beckett's voice cuts across his thought, so often on the same brain wave, and he nods in agreement. But as his daughter steps closer, reminds him that it's not just him and Kate, that Alexis is here and she has no idea why they have found themselves on the side of a country road, having survived a potential hit and run. He has forgotten that she actually has no idea why they are on this escapade to begin with.

"I don't understand what's happening here, Dad. You owe me an explanation, the truth, because this isn't some surprise trip away." Her eyes dart to Beckett for a split second before shifting to focus on the landscape over his shoulder, a sure tell that she is wanting to hide from what she is about to say next. It's always been her little quirk; even as a child she would refuse to make eye contact when she was about to deliver an unwelcome truth.

"I didn't say anything about… whatever is now going on." Her hand waves vaguely in the direction of the adults. "And I didn't say anything when we bypassed Beckett's, or what she said on the phone to Detective Esposito. And I'm trying here, Dad, I am. But we were nearly run off the road, and I'm the only one here that seems surprised by anything that's happened today."

Taking the long stride needed, Rick approaches, arms wide, embracing her completely, squeezing reassurance into her petite frame. The guilt shatters his soul, little fragments scattering in the increasing winds; she should never have had to go through this. Should never have had to suffer through the unknown while he made decisions for the both of them. Decisions that are affecting her life in the worst possible way. She could have been killed if their gamble in the car hadn't paid off, and his arms tighten again.

"Dad, too much," she speaks into his shirt, muffled, and he forces himself to loosen the embrace.

Twisting his head, he gazes in Beckett's direction; her awkward stance, her arms folded around her stomach as if, while he hugs his child, she is attempting to do the same, and the sight splinters him all over again. He just wants to encircle them all, gather up the separate parts of his soon to be expanding family, hold them as one, but first he needs to explain to his firstborn what has happened so they can begin working on their next step forward.

The phone rings continuously against his ear, the two beat noise on repeat, and he resists the urge to throw the damn thing against the nearest wall as he waits impatiently for someone to pick up. The day is becoming an avalanche of disasters, and the cold tendrils of frostbite are threatening his iron like grip on what should be a tightly controlled situation.

He knew in that second, knew as soon as he heard the news of Detective Beckett's pregnancy that he was going to be left holding a hand grenade without a pin. The Beckett family has caused him nothing but stress and ulcers as they went about, continue to go about, detonating his carefully laid plans, rupturing his peace of mind, his political ambitions. And for what?!

Now that there is another generation on its way, someone else to lay his plans to waste, he feels more than justified in ending the deal that had been in play. Except now he apparently has a dead minion who not only failed in his attempt to discreetly shoot the detective in a robbery gone wrong, but there's a foot cop also lying dead in the morgue. Not that that weighs on his mind; he's just a simple man that appreciates tidiness and today a wrecking ball has crashed through his order.

The fire at her apartment thankfully went according to plan, destroyed any evidence she may have had, although in light of the recent catastrophe, he'd like nothing more than the opportunity to turn back the hands of time; would have gone about things differently in hindsight. Death by fire would not have been as poetic as having her slain in an alleyway, but the end result would have been worth it, easing some of the resentment she has caused him.

His hand contracts around the cell once more; the team that had been tracking her exodus from the city was expected to complete their task and report to him by now. Should be regaling him with their success, but the ominous manner in which the phone continues to ring out, triggers a fury that coils around his chest. A thick ribbon of hate tightens as it cloaks him in rage. There will be no place in heaven or hell for her to run to, especially if he is forced to send another team after her today.

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Thank you for all the amazing love that filled my inbox, I truly appreciate all your reviews! The response continues to pull at my heart strings xoxo

And thank you for all the favourites and followers xoxo

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Most of all thank you to Jo who puts up with far too much xoxo

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