Imagine a road in the mountains, very much off the beaten track. Imagine you're in a Jeep. Imagine said jeep at a 45 degree incline on the side of a steep climb with pea gravel underneath its tires.

Welcome to Chapter 9.


Chapter 9: Blackout


The first thing she became aware of was the cold.

The air around her was absolutely frigid, causing prickly goosebumps to sprout on her arms. She was seated on something metal, its iciness seeping through her clothing everywhere she was in contact with it. Every breath hurt her lungs – wherever she was, it was damp as well as freezing.

The second thing she became aware of was sound. She could hear a dull ringing and a muffled, deeper tone. The deeper noise slowly became clearer as the ringing eased away. It sounded like grunting, or muffled speech, and it was sharp and insistent.

The third thing she became aware of was the smell. There was an old, musty smell hijacking the damp, cold air. It smelled like ash, mold, and metal, with just a hint of fuel or acetone.

The last thing she became aware of was the darkness.

At first, she saw dull explosions of light similar to the kind of thing you see when you close your eyes at night. After a few moments, those cleared. She wasn't even sure her eyes were open until the last of those dull light spots focused into a single ray of light off to her left. It was the remnants of daylight coming through what looked like a boarded-up window, and as her eyes continued to adjust, she discovered it cast just enough light in for her to read the outlines of the things in the room.

After a few more seconds, she could tell she was in a basement.

And she could see a man seated in front of her.

"Mrrf?"

The noise was as clear as it would get. It was familiar enough.

"Castle…"

"Mrrf!"

Despite her situation, she felt the rush of blessed relief. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there. The feeling of knowing he was alive after fearing the worst for the better part of a day was indescribable, but combined with the terror she felt in that moment at being tied to a chair in a strnage basement, it was a potentially deadly cocktail.

Desperate cops get scared. Scared cops get dead.

She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and breathed in steadily. When she opened her eyes again, she was in the right frame of mind.

None of it would matter until Castle was free.

Kate could see him more clearly when she opened her eyes again. It looked like he must be seated, probably tied up. The side of her mouth came up in a half-hearted grin.

"I'll guess that, since I'm not gagged and you are, your mouth has already gotten you into trouble."

The noise she received in respond sounded a bit like a sarcasm-laced laugh.

She shivered a bit as the cold continued to get colder. That godforsaken freezer came back to mind, and she wondered if it was their captor's intention to let nature finish the job that freezer had started so long ago. It wasn't nearly as cold, but it didn't have to be. Not for long.

"One grunt for no, two for yes: did Murphy do this?"

Castle's reply was a perfect "Mmm-hmm".

"Do you have any idea where we are?"

He hesitated, then grunted. No.

Her fingers start feeling around in an attempt to figure out what she was bound with, and if there was anything sharp enough to cut it. The way her wrists stuck together, she had to guess duct tape. After a few seconds of searching, her pinky caught a sharper edge on the chair. Beckett immediately moved her bound hands over to that spot.

"We're gonna get out of here, castle. I promise."

She knew she was on a clock: there was no point to kidnapping the both of them if they weren't needed for something. Murphy would be back down any minute. She had to work fast.

Kate hadn't made much progress before she heard a click somewhere behind her. A second later, light flooded the basement from the stairway behind her, and she got her first look at her friend.

His left eye was swollen, and his mouth was covered with tape. He looked exhausted and a little beaten up, but fine otherwise. The blood they'd found in his apartment was, from her quick inspection, not his.

"Well, Detective…how nice to see you again."

She turned her head to watch Colin Murphy descend the last stair. She could make out some fresh scratches on his face and a large bandage on his forearm. Good, she thought, maybe he left DNA at Castle's apartment.

"I didn't think you'd have the balls to do this yourself," she said. "You've been so good about hiring others to do your dirty work in the past."

He came to a stop when he was standing in front of her, blocking her view of Castle. He reached up and pulled a cord. Then he slapped her across the face.

Where she could only see darkness moments before, now she could only see light. And stars.

And a very, very angry Colin Murphy.

Somewhere behind the man in front of her, Castle was struggling and yelling.

"Shut up, Asshole, or I'll hit her again."

At the threat of more violence, he stilled. Kate could now add the taste of her own blood to the list of things her senses could pick up - the slap had not been gentle.

Murphy straightened, then walked to her right. "You shouldn't have rattled my cage, Detective."

Her eyes widened as he neared a pile of items. It's an array of sadistic playthings: a tin tub full of water, a car battery, a hose, a few gascans. He reaches down to grab a moderately wide pipe, then fits it over the hose.

"I'm sure this'll be familiar to you. But then, it's a very effective way of getting people to talk."

He walks back to her and pinches her nose closed. She tries to shake her head free of his grasp as he pulls slowly back. Finally, she has no choice but to gasp for air through her mouth.

That's when he shoved the pipe into her mouth and let the water flow.

Even if the pipe were flexible enough to bend, it was too wide to leverage her jaw against. Instead, she gagged on the water, fighting off the inevitable until the very last second until her body took over and inhaled deeply.

The water burned more potently than the cold did, and the need for air matched with the foreign liquid in her lungs set off a horrible, agonizing cycle of coughing and inhaling. In those long moments, she was only vaguely aware of the racket in the background from screeching metal and a loud, terrified grunting. She was mostly aware of how desperately she needed air.

Just when she was sure his intention had been to kill her, after all, the pipe was pulled away. She spent the next several minutes weakly clearing her lungs and gasping for air.

"I need to know what the cops know, Detective."

It took her a moment to catch her breath, to calm herself down. It took her a minute to realize the torture was over. She wasn't dying.

Not yet.

"Go to hell."

Murphy walked back around to face her directly, then squatted down so that they were at eye level with each other. Then he reached out and tilted her chin back up.

"I'll make you a deal, Kate. Can I call you Kate?" He tilted his head to the side, like a gorilla studying an animal it's about to attack. "If you tell me what I need to know, I'll end it quickly. You won't feel a thing."

She took her first clear gulp of air before responding. "There's nothing you can do to me to make me tell you anything."

He sat there for a moment, looking completely unfazed, before he smiled.

It was a cruel kind smile she'd only ever seen on cold-blooded killers.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

She began to mentally prepare herself for more punishment. He lingered a moment, then stood, turned to Castle, and ripped the tape off his mouth.

"Kate! Don't tell him – " His protestations were the pipe's point of entry. In seconds, he was being tortured the same way she had been.

"No! You bastard, he's a civilian! Leave him alone!"

"What, after all you've seen, makes you think I'm not afraid of a little collateral damage? If you want this to end, tell me what I want to know!"

She struggled against her bindings valiantly for a few moments, felt the tape around her wrists give, but not nearly enough. She was desperate for escape. Desperate for a solution.

Castle's gurgling noises and wild thrashing tore at her soul. She couldn't stop the tears from coming any more than she could stop Castle's torture. As he started to weaken, Kate felt the last of her armor crack and fall away, exposing her raw, true self.

She was desperate.

"Stop! I'll tell you! Just please…please stop…"

He pulled the water hose out of his mouth, and Castle immediately started heaving water. His suffering had broken her heart. It had broken her.

And it hadn't taken much.

"Kate…" Castle rasped, desperate to get her attention. "No…"

Murphy lifted the pipe into both his hands, pounding his left palm like a bully with a baseball bat. "Well, Detective?"

She watched Castle carefully as he sputtered and slowly recovered. Murphy grew impatient and pulled his head back by his hear.

"Well?"

"We know about your side business." It startled her how weak her voice sounded, how it cracked over almost every word. "We know you've been hiring mercenaries. We know about Oleksandr Nevorov."

She hoped she could be vague without subjecting Castle to more torture.

"What else?"

"I—" she hesitated. They didn't have much – they'd gotten as far as they had almost completely on guesswork.

He yanked Castle's head back again, eliciting a small "ow" from him.

"Who else knows about this, Detective?"

She shook her head. "Please, just let him go."

"Who knows, Bitch?" Murphy punctuated his outburst with a knee to Castle's kidney.

"Everyone. They'll catch you with or without us."

The last part might have been a bluff. She hoped he didn't know that.

Murphy came back to her. He reached out to her face, her cheek, where tears still slipped away. He took one on his index finger, studied it carefully, then smashed his finger and thumb together as if he were squashing a bug.

"She has feelings for you, Castle," he said. "Did you know that?"

She looked over to him out of reflex. He was mostly recovered, but the look on his face…

Oh, God.

That bond between partners, the one Ryan and Esposito had…they had it too. They could read each other in a look.

He knew. And he had feelings for her, too.

Murphy reached for his belt and lifted his arm. He'd brought another toy: a short billy club that looked just about the size of the bruise across Castle's face. He reached back and smacked her across the face one more time, causing more ringing I her ears. She heard Castle shout her name, the sharp edge of fear breaking his voice.

This time, she had to fight to stay conscious.

"Everyone knows your story, how your mother's murder steered you into becoming a cop. If you hadn't been wearing it on your sleeve ever since you were a rookie, it's plastered all over your record, and for those who really weren't paying attention the Nikki Heat novels are very explicit."

She coughed a little, still not quite together enough to follow his ranting and formulate appropriately quippy responses.

"So now you know who handled your mother's hit. Now you know how your great quest ends. How do you feel?"

He lowered the club, held it out in front of her lips like that reporter from Vogue had held out her microphone two years ago.

"We know there are more of you."

It was a gamble. She watched his face for an expression, for anything that might betray that she was right. It was a hunch, one she couldn't even articulate yet…but there was something about the way he'd phrased her taunt that made her think she had missed something all along.

And it was so subtle she almost missed it, but she found what she was looking for: a nervous swallow.

"Who do you work for, Murphy? It's not too late to work out a deal. I can't speak for Castle, but if you help us bring them down I won't press charges. I just care about the truth."

She didn't dare glance away, even if she wanted to read Castle's reaction. She stared up at the ex-cop in equal measure for the way he glared down at her.

He never responded. Instead, he took the club and stepped back, swinging as he went. When he stepped forward again, the club connected viciously with her stomach.

"Never gonna happen, Detective. You'll never touch my brothers."

Despite her exhaustion, despite the torture, and despite the lingering danger, she spat her words at him with all the feral power half a lifetime of pain could deliver. "I'm gonna take you down you smug son of a bitch. All of you. I'll rip you off your pedestal and deliver you straight to hell."

His eyes widened a bit in shock, as so many eyes did when she delivered such heartfelt promises, buthe recovered too quickly. She knew she wasn't in a position to deliver such threats.

And so did he.

"You can go ahead. I'll catch up later."

The club fiercely collided with her right side. She tried not to cry out, and was successful for the first two tries, but on the third hit she felt bone shatter, and every blow after caused deeper damage and jagged agony. Her world was condensed into bitter flavors of hurt. She could only dimly hear the Castle-shaped sounds of shouting through her own.

Murphy stopped suddenly. He grabbed her chin roughly and forced her to look into his eyes.

"You're going to die down here, Detective. And I lied – it won't be quick. There's no white knight out there that can save you now."

He turned off the light, reducing the sources of illumination to just the light from the cellar door. Her vision tunneled out, then flared back into color, then tunneled out again in time with her heartbeat. She knew she had to stay awake, but with every heartbeat her field of vision grew darker. She could hear Castle's terror-laced shouting.

Through her clouded vision, she watched Murphy grab the gas cans and start pouring them out on the floor. When he was finished, a new source of light flared alive: he held up a single match.

She jerked in her chair one last time. The tape came loose, and her hands came free.

A second later, Colin Murphy dropped the match.

Where their world had been darkness, suddenly there was light.

The fire wasted no time spreading across the floor, burning the surface of the still-spreading gasoline. It grew bigger, burned hotter, and continued its slow approach toward their tied feet.

"Beckett!" Castle screamed, jumping in his chair, inching toward her. "Kate!"

He watched her hand come loose, falling to her side for just a second before it slowly started working on the tape around her chest.

"Come on, Beckett! You can do it!"

He glanced over at the fire, growing closer every minute.

"But…maybe you could do it faster!"

She looked up at him. Despite the fact that there was a nasty-looking bruise developing over her left eye, she was still glaring daggers at him. Nonetheless, she managed to free herself, then stumbled over to free him. Once she got his hands, he helped with the rest.

By the time he stood up, she was falling back down.

"No, Kate. Stay with me!" He reached out to steady her.

"M'okay," she mumbled.

He knew better.

"Come on. The window. We'll use the window."

He half-helped, half-draged her over to the boarded-over slit in the wall and quickly yanks the boards away with strength he didn't know he had. He used the last of the plank to pull in what was left of the rotted window frame, causing the leftover glass to break on the basement floor. It was small, just big enough for someone to squeeze through. He lifted her up, pushed her through it, and then looks up at her.

She wasn't in any shape to pull him through that window…and he wasn't in any shape to fit through it.

"Listen, Kate, go on. Get out of here."

Her reply was weak, but firm. "Not without you."

He smiled up at her sadly. "We both know I can't fit through that window."

She gets up and limps away. For a second, his heart fell. He was prepared to die for her, but…maybe he was expecting a little more protest.

Off to the side, he heard creaking wood. The fire was in the house - the building would start collapsing any minute.

But then he hears Beckett's voice through a new, dim lightsource.

"Can you fit through this?"

In the far corner, there had been an outside entrance to the basement. They couldn't see it before – there hadn't been enough light.

He looked behind him: the fire had grown.

There was enough light now.

"Yup," he replied as he ran for the door.

When he gets outside, the world is different than it was her he woke up that morning. First, it was a lot colder. Second, there was snow everywhere.

He found Beckett crumpled in the snow, taking shallow, panting breaths. He'd watched how brutally Murphy had taken his shots, and knew that the ribs on her left side were very likely in a million pieces. Carefully, he picked her up again, wincing in sympathy when he heard her gasp. "I'm sorry, Kate," he whispered, "but we need to get out of here."

They rounded the back corner of the smoldering house, making it out into the side yard. Castle stopped their pace when he saw Murphy make a beeline for a waiting car. He was furious that the man would get away, but that mattered less than the woman in his arms. Let him get away, he thought. It's not like we don't know who did this.

But Colin Murphy took one last look back at the house and spotted them. Then he got out of the car.

Castle started backpedaling, but there wasn't any easy way to do that with such an injured Beckett. Air was a luxury, and her lungs were running out of currency.

His efforts were finally halted when he heard the click of a cocking gun.

"You're like cockroaches," Murphy spat. "All of you! If you would just stop coming out of hiding and invading those cases, you'd all still be alive! And you, Detective…you just inherited the title of queen from your bitch of a mother! Why can't you just die?"

She can't respond: she might have wanted to, but her legs had given out and she'd collapsed to the ground a word or two into his rant. He knelt down in front of her and blocked her body from the bullet trajectory, then turned around to see her one last time.

Her agony couldn't be hidden, but she was reaching upward toward his face. He caught her hand and kissed it.

"Castle…"

The sound of a gunshot echoes through the silent night.

But they were still alive.

He turned. Colin Murphy was still standing, still holding the gun out, but there was a strange look on his face. Seconds later, he fell over, eyes still open.

They never blinked again.

Esposito came across the front yard, gun pointed at the still ex-cop. A few seconds later, after checking the man's pulse, he called out the all-clear and came barreling down the side yard.

"We need an ambulance!" he called out. "Kate's hurt!"

Ryan rounded the corner next, yelling into his walkie for assistance.

Castle turned back to Beckett. Her eyes were fluttering.

"Hey, Becket…we're safe. Stay with us."

He pulled her into is arms, steadying her against his body before she keeled over completely.

"Paramedics are around the corner, Bro," Esposito said, sliding into place in the snow.

"How did you find us?"

Ryan landed at Castle's other side. "Your GPS unit. It led us to a warehouse. We found Nevorov in it."

"We thought it was you for a while, Bro. I think Beckett did, too. She took off in front of the tac team."

"Your GPS tracker was clipped to the lapel of…um…your coat. Beckett picked it up…but then we were hit with flashbangs. When we all recovered, Beckett was gone."

"It wasn't 'till later we realized the GPS unit was gone, too."

Ryan finished the story. "it made no sense for the bad guy to run off with it again, so we figured Beckett must have slipped it into her pocket or something. We hacked back into your account, and it led us straight here."

Castle frowned. "My GPS unit? How did you-"

A rattling from Beckett drew his attention away. He shook her.

"Kate? Stay with us. You have to stay awake."

He tipped her head back, and it came over easily. Her eyes were barely open.

"Kate…come on. Fight. You have to stay with me."

Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Then, her eyes finished closing.

He cradled her head in his arm, pressed it against his chest, and dropped his chin on top. He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.

"Stay with me, Kate. Stay with me. Please…"

He dropped his lips to the crown of her head and left a kiss there.

"Please…don't leave me…"

He could hear the ambulance behind him, the soft patter of boots running toward him in the snow. He could hear Ryan and Esposito shouting.

But only the precious thing in his arms mattered. Only Beckett mattered.

And she was no longer breathing.

/chapter 9


Notes: Another one of my favorites, The Little Things Give You Away by Linkin Park, was absolutely made for this chapter.

One thing to note: the mayor's new name is Robert...because I apparently forgot about that episode. That's the only edit to Chapter 8 I made.

And yes, I'm aware this was an evil thing to do. Keep in mind there are still three chapters left...at least. Some interesting research has got me thinking about the direction of this story, and I'm not sure how long it'll take to resolve these new facts with my storyline.

One way or the other? With three chapters left, nobody died in this one.

Yet.