Close Encounters 6

Beckett's knees crunched into broken glass, grinding.

Chain link fence. Endless brick. The grit of dress shoes turning in the alley behind her.

His father was going to kill her.

She would never have done anything different. Not a moment. Not a breath.

Castle.

If it was always going to come to this, she'd have fought for him in any city or country or plane of existence. In any universe, even if it always was going to come to this moment here in an alley on her knees with a gun to her head - she was always going to love him.

Kate Beckett closed her eyes.

She was always going to love him.

Castle skidded to a halt when he got to the kitchens, saw the bloodied towel on one stainless steel countertop. From Bracken's face? Or more. He had no idea.

Had Bracken killed her? Had-

He heard the slam of an exit door farther back and he took off through the winding, dark twists of the bowels of the kitchen, searching for the origin of that sound.

Were Bracken's fucking goons dragging her body out right now?

Castle's hands clenched and he saw the eerie red light of a side exit. He hurried forward and paused only a moment. He didn't know the situation, had no idea how many of them there were.

Fuck it.

He slammed into the sidebar and as the door popped open, the arc of its swing revealed the back alley and Kate Beckett in its path. On her knees.

On her knees.

And then the open door reached its widest point and he saw the man. And the gun pointed at the back of her head.

His father.

"No!"

Rick slammed into Black and drove him into the ground. The gun went off even as Castle bashed Black's fist into the pavement, slammed his hand into the crumbling curb and drove his head back. A knee to the older man's sternum, pressing deep, a left-handed hook that snapped his chin up and pushed a groan out of his mouth.

The gun clattered out and away. The crunch of bone under the heel of Castle's hand, the crack of his knuckles into the rigidly giving flesh of the man's face. The whistle and bubble of blood through the mangled bits of mouth and nose.

His name. Being called. Hands, the brutal grip of a slender, tensile arm around his chest and prying his fist back.

And then he heard the screaming.

And he knew it was him.

She sucked in a breath and dropped, instinctively, only to feel the ricochet bite brick into her cheek and neck. She heard the animalistic grinding of an attack, the metal slam of the exit door, and she turned raggedly to find her boys standing in the alley, staring.

Beckett twisted back around and saw him.

"Castle!"

She lunged forward and threw herself over his back, an arm curled at his shoulder, the other going for his forearm, and she caught a glimpse of the bloodied man below him, felt her stomach turn over.

"Help me!" she growled over her shoulder, getting to her feet now and heaving backwards. The rage was ripping from his chest; she could feel it as it tore through, and then the boys were prying him off Black, and she was breathless with the weight of Castle and trying to keep them upright.

Black was cursing in a bubble of blood and getting to his feet.

"Oh, God," Ryan swore and the three of them stumbled back even as Castle stood swaying, alone, facing his father.

And then Black collapsed.

Castle watched his father go down and he stood there and he did nothing.

Esposito and Ryan were all over Black and then calling in paramedics, that near-panic in Ryan's voice that somehow always amused Castle and he felt the twitch of his lips upward into a smile and then Kate Beckett slapped him.

He rocked on his heels and his back hit the brick and he blinked at her.

And everything rushed in.

"Oh, God," he groaned, reaching for her and catching her up against him in a crush of his arms.

She panted at his neck and he felt her too-hard beating heart and the slick heat of blood and the pulse of agony in his fists.

"Oh God, what did he do to you?" he rasped.

"Castle, Castle, baby. I have to get you out of here. Both of us have to leave. Espo and Ryan had to call the paramedics but we have to go."

"Kate, God please - you're bleeding."

"It's nothing," she hissed fiercely, pushing on him to let go of her but he could never - he could never let her go now. Never.

"Kate," he whispered, and his fingers skimmed through her blood at her neck in horror.

"Brick - just the brick. A scratch. We have to go. Do you hear me, Castle? We have to go."

He stared at the ribbon of red that wound around his fingers and down her collarbones and disappeared under her shirt.

"Rick, baby, please. Please stay with me. You're going into shock, and I need you. I need you."

His eyes snapped up to see the begging on her face and it wasn't the beautiful, ecstatic, frustrated one he loved to see under him when her wrists were bound to the headboard and her-

"Castle."

He jerked to attention, felt the jagged pieces of his brain snap together once more, his vision bright and clear and the world in order.

Black was splayed in the street lamp's glow; he was unconscious and glaringly bloodied, most likely near death. His father was near death, the boys shrouding him, Ryan had started chest compressions. Kate had a brutal grip on his arm and was propelling him back through the exit door and into the kitchen and the plunge into darkness made his body spin and falter.

"Castle."

He scraped a hand down his face and shut it off.

"Exit," he said harshly.

"Back this way," she breathed out, clutching his hand and dragging him at first. And then his feet obeyed and he was running at her side as they burrowed deeper into the hotel's service halls and finally, finally to a stairwell.

She shoved him up two flights and then they came out onto a richly carpeted hall and he found he was shaking so badly he couldn't push the elevator button. She took over for him and then turned and flinched.

"Rick."

He knew he looked bad; he felt like he was going to be sick.

She cupped his cheeks and stroked her thumbs under his eyes and it was then he realized he was crying.

Kate gripped his hand harder even though she could feel his swollen knuckles grind together beneath her fingers. He breathed too loudly as they walked through the front doors of the Plaza and out onto the sidewalk; his ragged wheeze made her mouth dry. He had on those black frame glasses; she'd found them in his coat pocket and figured what the hell.

Seemed to help.

The make-up around his bruised cheek was starting to run and the green concealer was shining through sickly. His hand was hot under hers and she needed to get him somewhere she could tend to him.

He was going into shock.

She found a clear spot at the curb and hailed a cab, startled back when the taxi pulled right up like providence. Castle stumbled at her movement and she reached for him, hooked her arm through his even as she opened the back door.

She had a twenty on her; Castle had. . .wow. A lot of cash. A whole lot of cash. Okay.

She gave the man an address.

Kate didn't know if it was right, but it was the only place she knew to go.

The dog greeted them first; Sasha's tail whipped back and forth as she bounded up against them, not jumping but knocking her whole body into Castle even as Beckett tried to steer him towards the back porch.

Carrie was just coming down the steps and the taxi was turning around in a cloud of dust as gravel pinged off the undercarriage. Castle swayed at her side because of the dog - the dogs now, both - and she struggled to keep them both upright.

She was going to fall apart. Soon. She was going to lose it if she couldn't get him somewhere finally safe.

"Kate," the woman gasped when she approached. "You're bleeding. What-"

"Can we crash here?" she asked in a breathless rush. She felt like she was going pass out and only now did she realize it might be blood loss.

"Kate," Castle said slowly, and his hand was at her elbow and her neck, and then-

Oh.

Oh, she was fading to black.

She had already faded to black.

He caught her in the driveway before she could hit her head, barely, and he struggled to get his feet under him and pick her up.

Carrie went on ahead, leading him through the back porch while Sasha nipped at the other dog and kept him back, away from Castle's feet.

"Good girl," he breathed out, his arms shaking as he clutched Kate tighter. Carrie nodded to the living room and he cracked one knee as he went down, controlling his descent at least. Beckett was already coming around; she pressed a hand to her mouth and he hunched over her, trying to look at the blood streaming down her neck.

"What-" she croaked.

"You passed out."

"The hell you say," she grunted.

He let out a huff of laughter and dipped his forehead to hers, felt his body giving it up. "Kate," he sighed. "I don't know that I can do this anymore."

Her arm wound around his neck and she kept him there, the two of them breathing, caught up in it. Until Carrie interrupted with an ice pack over his knuckles and another on his face that made him yelp.

Kate was struggling to sit up but he and Carrie both held her down; Eastman's wife was already washing off the blood from Kate's neck with a paper towel, blotting at it as the jagged edges of her skin were revealed.

"What did this?" Carrie murmured quietly. "And Richard - you beat up the guy who did it to her?"

"Yes," he said.

Kate pressed her hand over her eyes. He took it as his cue to man up and get his shit together, be what she needed now that she'd gotten him this far.

"My father," he said then, and the confession felt both hollow and weighty at the same time. "He was going to kill her."

The air left Kate in a rush and he saw her press her fingers into her eyes. Castle slid up onto the couch, his body aching and popping, and he curled his arm under her head and brought her into his lap. Carrie crouched on the floor and pressed gauze to the wound, but the blood was already starting to slow.

He stroked his fingers through Kate's hair, brushing it back from her forehead and temples, over and over, needing something to do. His other hand was weighted down by the ice pack, while the one that had been pressed to his cheek was left melting on the couch cushion.

He was back now. He really didn't have injuries but for his hand, a bruised spot on his jaw and another at his ribs. Aches. A good fist fight.

But he'd beat-

She lowered her hand from her face, took in a long breath.

"Kate?"

She opened her eyes. That clear-lake green, like the best times at her father's cabin with the spring sunlight warming them, side by side on the dock.

She took in another breath, deeper, calmer.

He skimmed her cheekbone. "Don't ever do that again without me."

She nodded and her hand came up stroke the back of her fingers against his stomach. He caught her hand and squeezed.

"I'm okay," she said finally, and she slowly sat up.

The bleeding had stopped.

Carrie kept the television on, but there'd been no breaking news, so Kate insisted on calling her team. She still had the burner phone in the pocket of her jacket so she pressed it to her ear with her shoulder and kept the bandage against her neck with her other hand.

Castle was in the bathroom, cleaning up. She knew he'd thrown up once, but he'd shaken her off and she'd taken the hint.

Carrie stood at the window and watched the dogs, and the gravel drive, and Kate made her phone call.

"12th Pre-"

"Ryan, it's me."

"You guys okay? Castle all right?"

"He's fine," she said quickly. They'd left the dogs outside because she and Carrie hadn't been to wrestle Sasha away from him. "What's the situation?"

"Black's at New York Presbyterian. A phalanx of CIA guys are crawling all over him, but they don't know who or what. Espo and I gave out the idea that it was something to do with a mission gone wrong. We didn't know what else to say."

She bit her lip and rubbed at her forehead, tried to figure out a good enough story for the CIA to swallow. They had to get back; there was no time to recover in peace. No time to take stock and figure out where they were after all of this.

No time to dwell on the alley and the gun at her head and the cold and clear distinction of her life before and after him. If he couldn't-

"It'll have to come from Castle," she said finally. "He'll think of something to tell them. For now, you guys say you arrived on the scene and found him as is. Bracken already gone."

"Got it, boss."

"We'll probably head to the hospital and coordinate with whoever is running that show. Put out an official story before Black wakes."

"Oh, he's been awake a couple times now. He's in stable condition."

Shit, that man was relentless.

"Okay," she said slowly. "All right. We'll have to do some damage control before he can start telling stories."

"He was going to kill-"

"Yes," she cut him off. "He was. So I have no idea what he hopes to accomplish, what his next move will be. Make sure you guys stick close, will you?"

"We will. Esposito is down there now; Gates has - no idea what's going on, Beckett, but she knows there's something."

"Don't get in trouble," she said weakly, but she knew they would. For her. The things they did for her.

Ryan didn't even bother to dignify that with a response.

"I'll text you when we're on our way," she sighed, and then she heard the bathroom door opening.

She turned around to give him the news.

Castle gripped the door frame at the look on her face and felt the wood digging under his nails. Carrie had disappeared back into the kitchen, but Kate was looking at him like - like the worst.

"Stable condition at Pres," she said quietly.

Fuck.

Castle swayed in the heat of the bathroom and let his shoulder take the brunt of his weight, tilting his chin up. He'd cried like a fucking idiot in the shower and he wasn't going back there.

Live or die. Live or die. He didn't know what was better. He wanted the bastard dead, cold dead, brutally dead.

But it tangled up in him and made his ribs into blades with every breath.

He wished he knew what to say to her. He wished he knew what fixed having your father put a gun to your wife's head with the complete and final intent of ending her for good. Forever.

For life.

And then Kate was there, pressed up against him, his damp chest ruining her shirt - oh, well the blood had already - fuck, she was - she had to shower or something because he couldn't stand here and take this, smelling her blood on her and knowing how close it had been.

"Just tell me we're okay," she said tightly. "Tell me we're okay, Castle, and everything will be fine."

"Me?" he rasped, felt his arms clutch around her shoulders. "Me? I - what about you?"

She had her face pressed against his neck and her fingers were digging hard into his bare shoulders, her nails piercing his skin. "Tell me. Tell me we're okay."

"We're okay," he said automatically. "We're okay. We're okay, I swear."

She choked something out into his skin and he felt the claw of her nails as if to draw him tighter, as if to break him open and dig her way inside, and he was so fucking okay with that - let him bleed. Let him be gutted open and fit around her like a second skin.

Fuck, he was morbid. Everything was twisted in a way that wouldn't untwist.

"Kiss me," she groaned and her teeth were at the cords of his neck like a vampire, sucking, her moan barely held back.

He gripped her hair in his fist and shoved his mouth to hers, bit her tongue as she battled for more, groaned into a long and panicky attempt at easing them both, but it didn't work.

She had him up against the door and her booted foot locked around his bare leg, her heel wicked at his calf, and he growled and hoisted her up, slammed the door shut and dropped her on the bathroom counter.

She was glittering and dangerous with grief and he wanted to maul-

"Don't stop loving me," she choked out.

Fuck.

Fuck, he had to do this right. He couldn't just take. He had to make her know, make her certain of him, of them. He cupped her cheek and leaned his forehead against hers and breathed.

"I love you," he murmured. "I love you, I love you. Nothing will ever break us."

He breathed it out with every exhale and soon she breathed it with him, that love, and then she was slumping into him like she had no bones left to hold her up, and he cradled the back of her head in his hand and held her while she cried.

Kate shivered and watched his eyes as he stroked the hair back from her face, the water running down her cheek and bringing up goose bumps.

His eyes always gave him away. And his were calm.

She found it easier to breathe, easier to assert some sense of her own personhood again, to crawl back out of that alley and stand on her feet once more. But she didn't move a muscle; she just watched him clean the blood off her skin.

The bathroom sink was cold under her ass, and she had to counterbalance with her foot pressed into the cabinets below, but he had one hand at her hip to hold her in place while he washed her skin.

The cloth was soft, the slide of soap along the slope of her shoulder made her breath catch. He used a corner of the washcloth to rub under her chin and she lifted her head a little and found herself staring at his temple and the wet spike of his hair.

She pried her fingers off the edge of the counter and lifted her hand to stroke through the short strands, curl at his ear. He tilted his head to shake her off and she dropped her palm to his shoulder.

He'd pulled her shirt off of her and nudged down the straps of her bra when he'd started and now he teased the edge of her clavicles with the warm soap and water, brushed down the valley of her breasts.

She felt the smile floating to the surface of her mouth, let it come as she gauged his own reaction in the silver mercury of his gaze.

"It's pink," he murmured and his eyes lifted to hers.

"Pink?"

"Running pink. Almost clean."

Oh, the blood. She glanced down and sighed. At least her bra was black; the blood stains wouldn't be that noticeable. She didn't have much clothing and his place was probably off limits, since it was wired, and she felt her chest tightening but he suddenly pressed down hard over her heart.

"Don't think about it right now," he said.

She lifted her eyes to him and the pressure eased. "Yeah. Good idea."

"Dr King would probably disagree," he added. "But maybe just until both of us can get back to see him, huh?"

She let out a startled laugh, like a bird taking flight from a bush, and she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders, pressing skin to skin, her bra straps restricting her movements.

He embraced her, slipped his hand down her spine and over the bullet scar, and then he was easing her bra apart. She huffed and lifted her head to see how pleased he was with himself, and she let him take the bra off of her.

"Maybe you should take a shower too," he said, his head ducking down to trail a kiss like fire along her jaw. "Hm? I don't think I can get it all with just the washcloth."

"Oh, really? I thought you were doing a great job."

"Play along, Beckett. I want to see you naked."

She hummed and reached between him for the button of his jeans. "You first."

"Hey there, Chuck Norris," she said softly.

He lifted his eyes to hers and gave her back a smile, something more genuine this time, something she could hold on to. Kate wrapped his hand slowly in gauze from Carrie's first aid kit, wearing nothing more than a towel as the bathroom's steam slowly dissipated around them.

"Chuck Norris wishes he were me," Castle said then.

She laughed at that, a relieved thing that seemed to do the last of it for her. They'd be okay. They were already okay. This wouldn't come between them.

"Tell me about Bracken," he said softly.

She nodded and kept a gentle touch on his poor hand, the battered and split knuckles, the still swollen fingers. Bracken seemed so far removed now, such a minor inconvenience after everything that had followed.

"I confronted him. I told him we had the file and that if he kept coming after us, I'd let the CIA do whatever they wanted to him."

"Really?"

She tucked the last of the gauze into his bandage and leaned over to kiss his fingertips. She felt his hand flex and the skimming touch along her jaw, and then he was lifting her chin to look at her.

"Kate."

"I can't have you killing people for me."

It was the closest she was going to come to speaking about any of what had happened, and he knew it; she saw that he knew it. She didn't want him to have to carry that, didn't want him to put himself at risk for that. There were other ways.

"I had to come up with another option," she said finally. "You seem to have two ways of dealing with people. If they're a threat to the mission, eliminate them. If they're not, then work around them - ignore them. It's on or off with you guys."

And then she flushed, realized that she'd just inadvertently lumped Castle in with his father. That's exactly what Black had done to her - she'd become a threat, and he'd moved to eliminate it.

She swallowed and kept hold of his hand, drew him closer. "I'm talking about Bracken. Okay? This is only about Bracken. We won't touch on - any of that now."

He nodded tightly, and she saw the narrowness of his eyes ease a little.

"Your training tells you there's no other option, Castle. But mine tells me there's always something else. Another story to tell, a different way of looking at things. I guess it comes from having to look for someone's motive for murder. That there's a reason. And so I needed to come up with a reason - another option."

"What did you do to him? His face was bruised."

"I hit him with the butt of my weapon," she admitted. "A way to - make him keep his word. Show him I wasn't. . .I did it for my mother."

His fingers flexed at her neck and skimmed the bandage. "And then?"

"And then we came to a deal. He leaves us alone, he doesn't come after me or the people I love. And I keep him alive. If he doesn't abide by it - then I let the CIA rain down on him and I leak the file and it all goes to shit."

He sighed. "Mutually assured destruction."

She shrugged.

"You do know that's insane, right? It can never last."

"Worked in the Cold War."

"I'm not looking for a Cold War, Beckett. Deterrence and appeasement don't work with evil dictators. I want freedom."

She shivered and pushed her body into his. "But we live in the real world. It was the best I could do, Rick. You'll have to live with a truce."

She held her breath, but he didn't disappoint. Castle wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, tighter and tighter.

"No, I know. I know, Kate. I just wanted to finally be free of him."

"So did I," she whispered. And now she knew they were both talking about Black.