Chapter 12

The situation is eerily familiar. They are both pushed down to the ground with their hands bound behind their backs by a rope wound so tight it's cutting into their flesh. The crack of her knees as they hit the ground reverberates throughout her whole body, sending a trembling pain up her legs and torso.

She's aching all over her body, and she's so physically and mentally tired she could sleep for days.

There must be another fresh bruise on the side of her head, though Kate doubts she would be able tell which one was there first. The blows and wounds to her face and head simply keep adding up, one on top of the other.

Her pulse beats thick, heavy, and pounding inside her skull, and her vision is sluggish, like her brain can't keep up with the movement of her eyes, like she's trying to run underwater, all far too dark and deep. Her head is spinning and she has a hard time keeping her head and shoulders straight.

At least Castle is relatively unscathed at her side—well, as unscathed as he was before the two of them tried to escape. But there are no fresh wounds added to his body and face, at least from what she can see.

She wishes she were in a state to appreciate this small favor, but their prospects look grim and there is no silver lining to find.

The Boss is standing in front of them, towering over their hunched, kneeling bodies, his posture radiating calm and coolness. He almost looks amused by all the commotion the two of them created, but Beckett knows there must be a raging man somewhere underneath that layer of cool, and it's only a matter of time before he shows his true self.

"I have to say, I didn't expect you two to be such a handful. I certainly underestimated you." He gives a pointed look to Castle.

"You two alone killed seven of my men," the Boss states coldly. He might appear calm, but one look around the room at the rest of his goons tells another story.

"So I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say that it's only fair to pay you in the same coin.

She jerks her head up, her scull pulsing with a fierce, urgent fear, making her vision double. Despite her previous haziness, all the tiredness and fatigue, her senses strike on high alert.

Castle stirs in his spot, shuffling rather pathetically, struggling to do even so much as raise his head properly. But the Boss disregards him completely, has eyes only for Beckett. Which is bad, so, so bad.

"And we both know who that one will be. Don't we, Detective?" He snarls the word, puts as much contempt into it as he can manage.

And indeed, his last words put a final seal on his decision, leave no room for discussion.

The only reason they are still alive is because this crazy dick thinks they know stuff, possess potentially valuable information. Police information. Information a writer can hardly possess.

The weak link. The useless ride-along. Her plucky sidekick.

A claw seizes her heart, stopping it for the shortest of moments before it starts to beat again, in an erratic, feeble, desperate beat.

"Get her in the car. We need to move."

"NO!" she rasps out, the only word that makes it past the tight fist in her throat, but it's to no avail.

It all goes so fast.

Two pairs of hands brutally seize her up by her arms, nearly yanking them out of their sockets as they roughly haul her up when she tries to stay put at Castle's side. Her legs buckle underneath her and she doesn't care.

"No, please!" she begs. "Don't!"

She pleads. Honest to God, she pleads with them.

Her eyes are wild as she struggles against her captors, but it's no use, they drag her away anyway, always further and further from Castle. She jerks her body, trying to turn around even as her arms stay in the tight grip of the two gorillas holding her, her neck and head twisting towards Castle's hunched form, silently, resignedly kneeling on the ground, in pain yet still trying, always trying, to keep his head high.

Her eyes are already filled with tears when their eyes finally meet, and God, she sees it all there, the fear, the confusion, the love, and finally, the acceptance.

Fuck, no! Anything but acceptance!

They keep dragging her away, shoes scraping the concrete floor, manhandling her between them like a sack of flour — if any sack of flour ever tried to fight back, that whips her head towards the Boss, all of her tough exterior gone, all the bravado leaving her body.

"No! Please!" she begs him, openly and unashamedly begs for Castle's life, putting her heels down and locking her dragging feet firmly to the ground to come and stand before the man who has the power to break her. "Don't do this, please! Don't hurt him! It was me, I shot your men. He's just a civilian, he has nothing to do with this! He's famous, they'll never stop looking for you. Please, don't-" Her voice breaks upon the wild sob, racking her body as they drag her away, her pleas falling on deaf ears and having no effect whatsoever on the man in charge.

She tries to twist, turn, fight, stay. Just stay.

"God, Castle," she sobs, the gap between her and Rick ever growing. "Please!" she screams, and the voice is nothing like she knows, the sound breaking free from her throat almost inhuman, but she doesn't care, just doesn't.

They are at the exit to the warehouse now, right at the door she was so desperate to get to for the past few hours, but now all it represents is a portal that will take her away from Castle and leave him all alone.

God, he's alone. And he'll be alone when they shoot him.

She hears the click of a safety going off, the clink of metal. Despite her state of utter shock, and denial, she gives a final jerk, knocking one man off balance so she can twist in her spot, seek out Castle.

So she can see. So he can see. That he's not alone. God, she doesn't want him to be alone.

The barrel of the gun gets pressed against the back of his head, pushing his head forward, his bangs covering his eyes.

Time seems to slow down at this very moment. Kate stares, just stares, completely impotent and helpless. She doesn't blink, she can't draw a breath. The hands gripping her arms are twisting, pulling painfully. She is contorted at an impossible angle, but she doesn't care, doesn't even notice, she just stares with huge eyes, can't bring herself not to look.

There is a moment of eternity, when all movement and time completely stops along the beating of her heart, a single moment when she looks at what she's about to lose. The whisper of his lips against her own, a pair of strong arms pulling her into a warming hug, hiding her broken soul in the sanctuary in the crook of his neck, the caress of his palms against her cheeks, the crook of a boyish smile as he pushes an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

Just a moment.

And then it all goes to hell. A punch in the gut makes her double over, her body curling in on itself. Her feet draw up on instinct, rise a couple of inches above the ground. Her shoulders are killing her, her muscles straining to keep her bones, her arms, attached to her body.

One of the men slams his shoulder against the heavy, metal door and it flies open, the sudden bright sun blinding her. It's midday. She is momentarily confused.

There is the slam of metal behind them as the door closes and her heart drops like a stone in her chest.

She stands in bright light, her eyes squinting against the onslaught of light, but nothing penetrates the thick, black veil that's fallen over her, no ray touches her ashen soul, a deep abyss opened wide inside her chest.

Castle.

The men don't stop. They pull her onwards and away, dragging her limp body along. Her shoes scrape the pavement, all of her body burning with pain in their vice-like grip. She wants to fight them, wants to fight them so badly, but she has no strength left. She wishes she had, she really does, because it's still not over, he's still not-

A gunshot echoes from inside the warehouse. And then another. And another. The sounds are muted, but they still blast loudly inside her head.

"Castle," she whispers, her voice breathless with grief. Castle.

He's dead.

Castle's dead.

Kate keens, gasping, sinks down and collapses completely in the men's grip, letting them drag her wherever they might. She couldn't care less.

She curls in on herself, preparing for the hit of pain once the fact starts to sink in, once she realizes this is happening for real, no close call. For real.

She knows what lies ahead of her, no matter how long she has left to live, knows the kind of pain she'll have to face, a pain worse than any wound she's ever suffered. She is already sinking into it, that wild grief, her eyes full of blinding sun and unshed tears and regrets she'll never have a chance to amend.

There is more gunfire coming from inside the warehouse now, but she doesn't care.

The two pairs of hands suddenly, simultaneously drop her, and she falls to the concrete pavement, her body cracking, breaking. She wants to pull herself together, bring herself to her knees. Please, let them shoot her now, just get it over with.

But her hands are still tightly bound behind her back and she can't find it in herself to push herself up.

So she lies still, hopes it will go quickly and painlessly.

So unlike her. So unlike Detective Beckett. She has a hard time remembering what Kate Beckett would do in such a situation.

Would she face her executioners? Would she stay calm? Could she stay calm in the face of death?

Kate doesn't know. Doesn't care. She's so tired.

More gunfire and shouts. Running feet. Her captors are nowhere to be seen, and in their place another couple of people emerge at the outskirts of her vision. She can only see their feet and even those are blurred.

She doesn't make an effort to stand, even though somewhere in the back of her brain, she knows she's probably wasting a good chance to escape, a one-time window of opportunity. But she can't find the strength. So she simply lies there, crying in a pitiful, broken, aching heap.

Castle is dead.

Oh, God, Rick.

Rick is dead.

More feet coming closer, more voices and shouts. Occasional gunfire.

She should really start to look around, pay attention to what's happening around her. She really should.

Sound of doors flying open, then the slam of metal against metal. That final sound of the metal door closing.

She curls into an even tighter ball and weeps, her forehead touching the ground as it swallows her up, the overwhelming, crippling nothing.

Castle's dead.