A/N: Don't you just hate it when people you really care about don't do what you want them to; don't react like you'd expect them to? But relax folks because this chapter and the one before it are just the tip of the iceberg. Certainly not expecting anyone to be convinced that this is the big turn-around. It appears that I've set the bar higher than I realized for writing a convincing plot turn to get the Caskett relationship back on track. Yes, I mean to do it realistically – not with some literary sleight of hand. But we're far from done yet.

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle – all credit goes to Andrew Marlow and the writing team for ABC's Castle; my thanks to them for providing a foundation for this little exercise.

Chapter 10

Esposito awoke first. It was a slow painful process. He had no idea what they had used on him; or how much of it they had used on him, but it was darned slow to wear off. It had been midday when he entered the building; and now it was nearly dark. The first thing he remembered was getting hit by someone, and now, the terrible thirst he was suffering. He worked for another few minutes to free himself of the gag placed over his mouth.

"Ryan!", he called out in a hoarse voice.

Ryan began to stir. He finally lifted his head, still groggy from the sedative, and let the image of Esposito come into focus. Their situation was not good. He and Ryan, sitting not too far away from him, had been bound at the wrists and ankles to metal chairs, using the ever-popular duct tape, many layers of it had been placed between them and their freedom. They spent the next few minutes wiggling their chairs into a back-to-back position so what little movement they had with their wrists and fingers could be put to good use in one attempting to free the other.

"Hey, this is just like Castle explained it to us", remarked Ryan as he remembered how Castle showed them how he got out of a similar self-inflicted simulation when doing research for one of his books. He had been so proud of his escape that he had described it them in detail numerous times.

"Don't need no novice advice bro. I didn't go through special ops training for nothing" hissed Esposito in reply, which made him work all the more diligently at the task.

As they worked, they collectively remembered the details. It had been about investigating that body found on the first floor; it had all been staged to lure the whole homicide team into a trap because they had been all over the first floor and found no such body. And just as Esposito was about to contact CSU as to why they had not shown up yet, four individuals appeared seemingly out of nowhere and got the drop on them. They had been detained in the same building as Kate Beckett and later Richard Castle, but were on the sixth floor for some reason. The muggers probably figured that was sufficiently far enough away from the other two to ensure no verbal communication in the event that the gags were removed.

Once free, the partners began a diligent search for their equipment, taking advantage of what little natural light was coming through the windows. The upper hallways, on the other hand, were very dark and going was slow as they made their way downstairs.

"Kate?", murmured Castle.

"Hmmm, can't a girl even take a short nap?", Beckett murmured back.

"Hey, what if they don't find us? You know how Gates hates me so much, maybe she won't care that her troublesome homicide partners are ever found."

"Easy Castle, she'll begin the search. She may not be very fond of you, but I'm pretty sure she'll have half the uniforms in the 12th out canvasing for us just as soon as she knows something is up. Besides it's her job, and she's very responsible, not to mention way too politically correct, to not do everything humanly possible to find us. Although, if I were you, I'd be ready for a serious Gates-style verbal beating about this being all your fault, when this is all over."

"I don't know which is worse, not being found in time, or being found in time and hauled back in front of Gates to face the music so to speak."

"I know what's worse . . .", remarked Kate.

"What's that?"

"Letting this opportunity go by where the world doesn't know where we are and not discussing our relationship; since every time we start discussing it, the world or the universe, or possibly even space aliens seem to interrupt the conversation."

"You're calling Captain Gates a space alien . . . not a very good way to relate to your superior officer . . . but I am inclined to agree." You of all people actually wanting an opportunity to discuss our relationship . . . oh, that's a good one. . . or is it an opportunity to say we're gonna discuss it and then feeling like you don't want to talk about it. But then, there was that moment that Gina stole just before we left the precinct to go to the Hamptons; that looked like it was going to be a serious moment – she' probably referring to that. Sure wish we had taken it.

Instead all he said was: "Touché." And with that, he leaned in her direction and gently kissed her on the cheek.

"Richard Alexander Rogers, you know I love you, don't you?"

"Really? Because you sure have a strange way of expressing it. You've got me about as confused as a tipsy teenager stuck in the house of mirrors at the amusement park . . . and I'm not all that amused. And what's more, you don't seem to want to acknowledge your favorite writer, Richard Castle."

"It's that Castle guy that occasionally gets on my nerves", she replied evenly, not wanting to start a confrontation with him.

"Well, for the record, it was that Castle guy you met at the final Derrick Storm book launch party; and it was that Castle guy who helped you and the department solve that case . . . so I kinda like that Castle guy myself. Listen Kate, I do truly love you, and it's been for quite a while. We've gone though this before. I don't think it gets any more clear than that. I remember sitting in my office one afternoon, when things weren't going all that smoothly between us, and feeling so alone, so left out of everything, and realized that a day gone by without seeing you at the precinct was a day incomplete. That's when I realized it wasn't just about the books anymore, and it wasn't about going to the precinct to pretend I was a homicide detective or getting to run around Manhattan in a patrol car with Detective Kate Beckett. I wanted more for us. Hey, by the way, why were you so secretive about your case in Central Park when we met at Remy's?"

Oh Lord! What is it with this man-child? Is there any way to cure his attention deficit disorder? came the questions in her mind as he finished speaking. She held her tongue although a terse and sarcastic comeback was threatening to leak out pertaining to something about a female spy marked for termination.

"Castle! Can't you stick to one topic for just five minutes? The reason I didn't want to talk about the case is that we were supposed to be eating lunch, and a description of the crime scene wasn't the kind that would have bolstered anyone's appetite. And besides, there were stab marks on the vic that looked way too similar to those found on my mother, so that was why I really didn't want to talk about it, ok?"

"Yeah, well that's just it, isn't it? You don't want to talk about something . . . just move on and cover it over . . . deal with it later, maybe, maybe not. You know what? The great time keeper doesn't care . . . the universe doesn't care if you want to talk about it or not, but time keeps passing nevertheless, and one these days there will be no time left to talk about all those things you keep sewn up in the lining of that vest of yours. Tempus fugit. Need I say more?"

Kate said nothing as numerous visions of her conversations with Lanie flashed across her mind. All of them had at least touched on the subject of Tempus fugit. Yeah, how long are you going to keep circling until the fuel runs out? She thought about how much time had passed between her first yearnings to be more with her favorite writer, yeah that guy Richard Castle, than just a verbal sparing partner in the 12th precinct office; and the night she had shown up like a half-drowned rat at his apartment and presented herself to him 'as is', defects, scars, humiliation, and yet he took her in. And now, something like three years and going on four months since that first offer to visit the Hamptons, which she missed, and this past Labor Day at the Hamptons, which she had also missed. She tucked her head between her knees and let out a deep sigh.

"No, you needn't continue . . . I know", she finally said. "Shhh, I think I hear movement out in the hallway."

Well, when are you going to do something about it?, he shouted mentally, but then focused on listening for any clues as to what might be going on outside of the room holding them prisoners.

A/N: To be Continued.