A/N: Thank you all who took the time to read and review. Some of you review anonymously, so I can't reply to you, or have disabled replies, but I just want to thank you all and let you know I read and cherish each single one of them. Now on to the next chapter.
Chapter 11
She can't believe their luck.
They stay huddled under the office table for a couple of minutes longer after the men are gone, silent and unmoving, trying to blend in with the other pieces of old furniture in the room.
Their pursuers have left. Walked right past without discovering them. She's still unable to comprehend their sheer luck.
Well, technically the men didn't just walk by, but moved their systematic search further down the corridor. But they went past their hiding place. Without spotting them.
She can still hear them, shouting and rummaging in the rooms at the far end of the corridor, but the imminent danger is gone.
Huddled into the tight space in a most uncomfortable position, her limbs are a paradox of sorts. They feel leaden, a deathly mass weighing her down, and yet they're so jittery they twitch of their own volition from time to time.
A loud gasp of air from behind her makes her snap back into reality, a reality where they have not yet been discovered and shot at, but that scenario might come true at any moment. Strangely, it's a reality she has a hard time coming to terms with.
She turns her upper body as best she can, her joints cracking and protesting loudly as she seeks out Castle's eyes in the dim light.
They are still alive.
He seems to have the same problem comprehending the fact as she does. His blue eyes are huge, pupils dilated, a crazy sheen glazing over his gaze. He looks slightly less frenzied, yet still so fearful, and his features are partly empty, vacated with fatigue or fear or some other deeper damage she doesn't want to think about.
She needs to get him out.
She takes a moment first, though, to bury her fingers in his still-wet hair, the pads of her fingers sliding down his face, then the side of his neck, curling around his shoulder and down one of his arms, a silent question in her face.
He answers by letting out a deep, rumbling sigh, surprising her by falling forward and into her, his face – wet and cold and clammy still – burrowing into the side of her neck. His breath is loud and hot and uneven at her collarbone, but still so much alive, and she brings her arms around him, drawing him closer into her embrace as if that could help, as if pressing her lips into the cold wetness of his hair could take all the pain and bone-deep fatigue away.
They don't have time. She knows they don't, and yet she allows them this small moment, this silent affirmation of life, because she needs it nearly as much as he does. Soon enough, way too soon, she's pressing back against him, pushing him away from the safety of her arms.
"We need to go," she murmurs, silent apology spilling across her face.
"I know," he rasps back, a corner of his mouth twitching upward in the weakest shadow of a smile.
Her heart flutters.
It's enough for now.
They crawl out from beneath the table, heavy and uncoordinated, Kate trying her best to help Castle get into a steady position.
"You think you can walk?" she asks tentatively. He gives her another tiny smile.
"My feet are okay," he jokes, that echo of a playful grin still playing over his lips.
She doesn't speak further; she knows that he's downplaying how he really feels, distraction and humor his two beloved weapons in the face of misery.
They both know his feet might be okay. But his lungs aren't, if that raspy quality of his suppressed coughs is anything to go by. There is nothing she can do about that right now though, nothing but to try to get them out and lead them into safety and towards medical attention as quickly as possible.
And that's exactly what she'll do.
She turns her back to him, facing the corridor and bracing herself against everything that might lie ahead. "Stay behind me," she instructs in a whisper, one gun tucked into the belt of her jeans, the other in her hand again, the heaviness of the cool steel a familiar and comforting weight in her hand.
Xxx
She makes them walk back.
It might be a disastrous idea, but there's no other way. They can't proceed further into the corridor, following in the footsteps of their pursuers, but going back to the place where the original blood-bath started might turn out to be an even worse idea. There's an exit there somewhere though, and their enemy is currently eight men short – four of whom she shot and four of whom are currently looking for them on the other side of the building.
So she slowly leads them back into the lion's den again while Castle obediently follows.
They make it out of the corridor and into the large space at the front of the warehouse, hiding behind a corner as Kate's eyes quickly sweep the room. The four dead bodies are still lying there in their pools of rich, dark blood, eerily motionless. The tub stands silent and ominous, the icy water creating a glassy mirror on the surface.
Beckett gulps, forces her eyes away from that hellish sight in favor of scanning the rest of the space, focusing on the five men - wait, four men and one woman – instead, currently positioned to guard the front offices along with what must be the single direct escape from this place. Five.
Seriously, how many people does one need to cover a single exit? And moreover, how many are involved in this shit?
Dammit.
She weighs her options, Castle still eerily silent, obediently hiding behind her back.
She can take aim and take out at least two of them before the third and fourth and fifth one notice and duck, and maybe she'll even be able to take a third one quickly in the confusion as they try to figure out where the shots came from. But even if she takes out three of them – and Kate knows that's a highly optimistic scenario as it is – there'll still be three too many men left. Yet they can't stay behind this corner either; they'll just be sitting ducks here. Trapped and stalling. Even if the searching men don't come back looking for them, there is no other way but to return back the way they came - and surely walk straight into the hands of the men sent to look for them.
She feels a desperate kind of panic press down on her lungs, a heavy, achy weight she fights against with everything in her power. She's got to gulp it down for now. Just for now, just a little while longer.
Her eyes scan the room again, assessing the open spaces and the obstacles in it. She might use them to her advantage, as shields for herself and Castle. Especially for Castle – until the shoot-out is over. There are a couple of wooden crates, a pair of metal shipping containers, and an open door on one side, leading apparently into an office she didn't notice before. She won't use that one however, because she has no idea where that leads, or even whether the room is truly empty.
The containers, though smaller than average, are still large enough for a person to squat behind and look able to withstand bullets, but she won't have a clear aim from behind them, nor a good range for shooting. Also, they are a bit further down the room – there is no way they'd get there unnoticed.
The wooden crates will have to do, then.
She takes the second gun from behind her belt, considers it. She can either keep it and use it for additional ammo, leaving Castle completely defenceless, or she can give him the gun so that at least he'll have something in hand if they come for him. There's a risk that he wouldn't be able to use it at all whereas she might find herself in need of those bullets later.
This decision is even harder to make, but in the end, she switches the guns in her hands, keeps the one with the full magazine – about seventeen rounds should be enough to end this gunfight, one way or another – while silently handing the half-empty one to Castle.
"Here," she murmurs, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "Just in case," she adds on a whisper.
She is a coward. She doesn't have it in her to look him in the eye. Still, he takes the gun silently, giving a slight, grim nod in her direction.
She points to the wooden crates, watches him nod again in comprehension and silent agreement.
She meets his eyes then, can't not meet them, and she finds desperate determination staring back at her. Then her eyes fall on the wetness of his shirt, the slight shiver in his shoulders, the redness of the popped veins in his eyes, and her stomach rolls with nausea at her own cowardice and feelings of misplaced togetherness.
She doesn't utter a single word.
xxx
She was right. She is able to drop two of the five people dead before anyone has even the slightest idea what's happening.
She takes her aim at a third one – the woman – but she ducks behind the metal tub just in time for Beckett's bullet to ricochet off the frame.
She curses under her breath, scans the room for the remaining two men.
Somehow Castle has split from her when she wasn't looking and disappeared around the corner behind another bunch of crates to her right, probably on his own quest to take somebody down.
She grits her teeth, hoping that in the shape he's in, with his blurry vision, he doesn't succeed in dropping her.
Another gunshot blasts through the space, followed by the distinctive heavy thud of a body dropping to the ground, and Kate's head whips around in panic, her eyes desperately seeking Castle, her heart hammering in her chest.
Her eyes are quick enough to spot a familiar arm tightly gripping the gun she gave him retract behind a crate, part of him shadowed as he ducks behind its side as the reciprocating bullets fire and swish through the air around him, splintering the wood over his head.
He dropped one of their kidnappers. And she had wondered whether to hand him a gun.
She uses the momentary distraction, Castle's diversion suiting her well. Peeking around the corner to assess the situation as the gunfire aimed towards Castle's cover continues, her eyes try to spot the hiding place of their two remaining enemies.
Her stomach plummets when there is a sudden halt in the firing, then the distinctive sound of hurrying feet – lots of hurrying feet – coming closer from all directions, in front as well as behind.
Men. Armed men everywhere.
She shoots a panicked look in Castle's direction, sees her own despair mirrored back at her, despair and something worse, the painful hint of resignation.
"Lower your guns and come out at once you two fuckers or I swear to God I'll make you regret the day you were born!" It's the Boss's voice, cold and calculated.
She holds Castle's gaze, her breath coming in short, desperate pants, and her vision blurs. She blinks the moisture away just in time to see Castle break their eye contact in shame before lowering his gun as his feet give in and he slumps to the ground in tired defeat.
This is the end.