Hello, everybody! It's been a while, I know, but I'm back and excited to be writing again. So here's the latest chapter. It's a bit longer than usual and pretty important to the storyline... I'll have more to say afterwards. Enjoy!

Chapter 10

Castle closed his eyes, took a deep breath. In. Out. Air, life. Peace? He wasn't sure what peace was anymore. In fact, he was sure of very little.

He was sure of the precinct, of the bright lights here that shined so cruelly on the murder board as if they wanted to ensure that Castle couldn't forget how little they had learned about the case. He was sure of the detectives and the cops and the reporters on the street that kept stealing glances at him, whispering things like "it must be so hard" or "do you think he's scared?"

And he was sure of Beckett. Always. He knew that she was beside him at every point, ready to hold him up when he was about to fall, always prepared with words or a smile or a drink to make him feel better. Without her, Castle would be drowning. She was the only reason why he could keep smiling, especially now, as they sat at her desk, at an utter loss for a suspect.

No, Castle couldn't be sure of very much anymore. Not with the deep shadow of death following him everywhere he went.

He tried not to think about it, tried to look at this case like any other. But how could he? How would that be possible? This killer, the "Checkmate Killer" or whatever nonsense the press wanted to come up with, he had it out for Castle. He was hunting him. Him. This wasn't a game. This wasn't some cool crime novel that Castle couldn't wait to write. This was his life. And so Castle held on to his coffee cup and to Beckett in front of him, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough to get him through.

Beckett started typing something into her computer and Castle raised an eyebrow. It was about as hopeful as he could get anymore. "You find something?" He asked.

Beckett looked back at him with soft eyes and shook her head apologetically. "No. Just answering an email."

Castle looked at his hands. "Right. Of course."

Castle was losing it. Sitting here in the precinct, getting nowhere with the case, being unable to go anywhere alone, being bombarded constantly by anxious reporters – it was all too much. He took another deep breath, trying to gather himself. He had to get out of here. He had to be alone, to have some tiny sense of peace.

He needed to write.

It was a stupid idea, he knew. He shouldn't go back to his loft, where his laptop was. Beckett would never allow it. But what else was he to do? Writing was the only thing that could calm him down, his only way to make sense of the world.

No, Rick, he told himself, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. You can't go back there. Go for a walk, clear your head. Don't go anywhere near the loft.

He stood. It was time to leave, now. Beckett looked up at him, a worried expression. Castle was tired of having people worry about him. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"I'm going to get more coffee."

"In the break room?"

Castle shifted on his feet. "Er, no, actually. I was going to walk down to the coffee shop."

"Okay, I'll come with you." Beckett started to stand, but Castle held out his hands, motioning to her to stay still.

"Beckett… I need some time alone. Just a bit of time." She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. She definitely didn't look happy. "I'm sorry, I just –"

"Castle, you do understand how dangerous it is for you to go out alone?" Castle blinked at the pain he heard in her voice. She didn't want to keep him penned here, either.

"Of course I do, Kate. But God, I just… I need some space. Some room to breathe."

Beckett looked at him for a long moment. "You be careful." She said, giving him a death glare. "If anything happens during this 'outing,' I will hunt you down and personally ensure that you will never again have room to breathe. Got it?"

Rick smiled a bit at her threat. "Got it." He grabbed his coat. "Thanks, Beckett. Really."

"You have two hours, and as soon as you get wherever you're going, I want you to text me your location."

"Okay." Castle felt like a little kid again, being let loose for the first time. He gave Kate a weak smile and then turned to leave the precinct.

"Oh, and Castle?" The writer turned around. "You are not to go back to your loft, under any circumstances. Understand?"

"Of course."

Castle wandered down the streets of New York almost aimlessly – he had visited the coffee shop and then had taken some time sitting in a little park. It had been nice, but he was not yet ready to return to the precinct and face the reality of the case. According to Beckett's time limit, he had almost an hour to kill.

And so he walked, enjoying the sound of cars rushing past, the medley of voices all around, the sound of his footsteps on the pavement. It lulled him into a bit of a trance as he traveled down the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of his pea coat. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew vaguely where he was, so he just blanked out and continued forward.

He tried not to think about the case, as it didn't help him relax any. But maybe he shouldn't be relaxed – there was a killer hunting for him. Maybe if he kept more on edge, he would stay alive longer. But he had been on edge for so long, now, and at such intensity that he could not take another second of it. He would collapse right here, on the sidewalk, and then the killer would have no problem getting to him.

So Castle tried to focus on other subjects. He thought about Alexis, but that just made him worried: worried that this killer would get to her, too, worried what would happen to her should he be killed. So he thought about his mother, but the same concerns came to mind. He wondered if Martha would be ready to take care of Alexis should he slip away. And that just made him even more stressed.

So he thought of Beckett. He didn't dwell on what would happen to her if this killer got him – he knew that it would destroy her. He also kept away from the thought of the killer finding her – that would definitely destroy him. A world without Kate… Castle blinked, the thought too disturbing to even finish.

No, instead, he would think about how lovely Kate was, about the way she bit her lip whenever she blushed and about the way her fingers would play with the fabric of her sleeve when she was thinking hard. He thought about her strength and her beautiful eyes, and it made him feel a little better, at least for the moment. And that's all he really needed.

Castle was drawn out of his thoughts when he noticed someone smiling at him. His pulse quickened and he glanced around, looking for a way to run. But then he looked back at the man smiling at him, and recognized the face. It was his doorman. What was his doorman doing here? Shouldn't he be back at Castle's building? Rick looked around, confused. And then he realized where he was standing.

How had he come to be right in front of his loft? He hadn't been paying attention to where he was going, and apparently his feet went on autopilot and brought him here. Castle wrung his hands together nervously, unsure of what to do. He wanted to go up. He couldn't deny that sitting in his loft, even if for just a few minutes, sounded wonderful. But he shouldn't. He couldn't. It was too dangerous, not to mention that Beckett would kill him.

But there were police outside, right? There were people watching his hall, watching his door, watching outside. There were officers posted all over the place, hidden, a couple of them out in the open. They were protecting him. He would be safe enough for a few minutes.

And so Castle took a deep breath and smiled to the doorman, walking into his building. The familiarity of the elevator greeted him as he pressed the button for his floor, hearing the dinging sound and closing his eyes, taking it in. Home. This was home. How had it become such a hostile space?

Castle clicked open the door to his loft and stepped inside. He shouldn't be doing this. He knew he shouldn't be. But as he looked around, all he could see was the friendly image of his loft, as it had always looked. A vase of flowers on the counters were wilted, now, and there were a couple dirty dishes in the sink. It was clear that nobody had been here in a few days, but it didn't make the sight any less welcoming to Castle's weary eyes.

He walked slowly through the living room and made his way to the study, leaning against the doorframe for a moment and looking around before taking a seat at his desk and booting up his laptop. It looked like he would get a chance to do some writing after all. He opened up his latest Heat draft and reread the last few pages of text. He looked at his watch – he had about forty minutes before he had to be back at the precinct. Plenty of time to get some writing done. As he began to type, he felt a sense of peace come over him almost immediately. Yes, this was exactly what he needed.

Rick wrote in silence for about ten minutes, and then he paused for a moment. Something felt… off. The peace he had felt had slipped away, somehow, and now he felt like…

He felt like he was being watched. Castle glanced up from the computer screen for a split second, and his suspicions were confirmed.

There was someone in his apartment.

The hairs on Castle's neck stood on end as he stared at the bright screen in front of him. He wouldn't stop typing – he didn't want the figure in his doorway to know that he had noticed him. Not yet. He had a few things to write down. He swallowed hard, trying to keep breath flowing in and out of his body. Why was that so difficult? He felt a thin trail of sweat drip down his brown, and he tried to contain the terror. He stole another glance back at the figure leaning against the doorframe. It was a tall man, thin, dressed in all black. He was smiling, staring at Castle.

Suddenly, the fear ebbed away. It was replaced with a sort of resignation, a weary acceptance. Seeing the face of this man who had been hunting him, Castle finally understood.

He was going to die.

Castle greeted the fact as if it were an old friend. He shook hands with his fate and continued to type, hoping that the words he was writing now would tie up any loose ends. There were so many things he never got the chance to say. He blinked several times and his fingers stilled. He would accept his fate, sure, but he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

He looked up to the man in the doorway.

"Who the hell are you?"

The man's smile got a little brighter. His arms were crossed across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. It was a casual pose, and it infuriated Castle.

"I figured you would already know, Mr. Castle."

Rick narrowed his eyes. "Get out of my apartment."

The man gave a little chuckle. "Nice try. Really, I can hear the hatred in your voice." He stood up and took a few steps forward, until he reached the corner of Castle's desk. He leaned against it with the heel of his hand and inclined his head a bit towards Rick. "But you see, I came here for a reason. And frankly, your hatred is not at all frightening to me."

In a fit of rage, Castle lashed out, punching the man square in the jaw. He was seated, though, so by the time he had stood to continue his fight, the man had recovered and had grabbed a hold of Castle. The Checkmate Killer lowered his face towards Castle's, leaving very little space between them.

"Now, that was inappropriate, don't you think?" He rubbed his tender jaw with his free hand. Castle tried to squirm out of his grip, but it was ironclad. "Mr. Castle, let me tell you something. I'm not the kind of person who fails. Ever. Especially in matters such as this. Now, don't get me wrong, you and your pretty friend have put up a fair fight. You really have." He raised his eyebrows as if considering something. "Well, except for maybe the fact that you had not the slightest clue where to find me, and also the fact that you're bringing your beloved Precinct a great deal of negative press. Oh, and there's the fact that I've got you now. So maybe you and your detective aren't the best chess players. It's no fault of yours. And I'm fine with that, really. The game was fun while it lasted, but I'm happy to let it go. I've got you now. Though it's a shame I couldn't snag the girl, too…"

At that statement, Castle summoned all of the strength he could muster and crashed his forehead into that of the other man. Sharp, shooting pain spread through Castle's head and he winced. Perhaps not the best idea in the world. The pain was echoed in the other man, though, as the killer staggered backward, eyes shut tight in agony. Castle moved forward to attempt to pin him down, but the killer's eyes snapped open and he surged forward.

"That's enough of you."

Castle felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and then the world went black.

And there you have it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was a very odd one for me to write. It's the first time (in this story, at least) that I've written from Castle's point of view. Though I wanted this story to remain entirely from Kate's perspective, I'm sure you can understand why I had to write this chapter from Castle's. Also, I hope you can take the leap of faith with me that Castle returned to his apartment. I know that in all likelihood, he would never be that stupid. Not to mention Kate would never let him. But it was an important advancement of the story, and I hope that I made it believable enough. And don't worry! Castle is not dead, and the story is not even close to being over. The next few chapters are going to be pretty angsty (as if the rest of it hasn't been angsty enough), but we'll be back to the normal pace of things soon. Well, as normal as they're going to get. I'm still not quite sure about this chapter, so if you could leave a review with your opinion, I would love you forever. :)