The splash of cold water was what ultimately brought Derrick Storm out of his stupor.
He coughed, sputtered, squeezing his eyes shut. The body-wracking shiver was almost enough to send him under again, but Storm kept his wits about him, his wrists automatically tugging at their restraints.
They were tight, almost to the point of cutting off his circulation. Storm blinked the dreariness out of his eyes, only to be greeted with the same pitch black that had called him company when he was unconscious. In fact, it was so dark, so quiet, that Storm wondered if he was in fact still under.
The pounding in his head told him otherwise.
"Hello?"
A gunshot rang out, and Storm ducked as best he could. He heard the stray bullet careening off the metal walls, each pang echoing against the darkness. The bullet eventually came to rest, having missed its intended mark. Footsteps approached, and Storm smiled to himself, glad his captors had neglected to bind his ankles together.
Storm pivoted before throwing his body weight behind a back kick, his right foot colliding solidly with someone's knee cap. Another errant gunshot drowned out the pained grunt, and Storm kept his head low, hoping the hunk of metal would once again miss him. Having been shot before, Storm didn't care to experience that again.
An elbow slammed into Storm's back, and he fell face-first onto the cold concrete. He felt the warm rush of blood pouring from his nose, gritting his teeth and bracing himself for the next blow. But a heavy metal door squeaked open, and yet another gunshot echoed in the darkness. From behind, Storm heard a body slump to the ground.
Storm closed his eyes, bracing himself for a blow, a gunshot, anything. He heard the faint sound of another body hitting the floor beside him, before a mystery figure grabbed his wrists and started fiddling with his bindings. With some effort, and the deft use of a blade, Storm's wrists broke free.
The figure helped Storm to his feet, a female voice in his ear saying, "C'mon, let's get you out of here."
Storm didn't recognize the voice, but once they crossed through the heavy metal door – and he had to shield his eyes from the absurd light – Storm decided that didn't matter. He didn't know where he was, or what day it was, but Storm knew who he was and that he was still alive.
The woman led Storm to a remote bridge on what he guessed were the outskirts of some part of New York City. His eyesight had finally adjusted by that point, and he leaned against the concrete wall to gather his bearings. A tall woman with auburn hair stood roughly twenty feet from him, talking on her phone.
Storm straightened his posture when the woman hung up and approached him. She walked with a purpose, stony gaze in her eyes and a gold badge on her hip. Storm cocked his head to the side, unable to hide a smirk.
"You a fed?" he asked.
The woman shook her head. "NYPD." She glanced over her shoulder. "Homicide, to be exact. Detective Nikki Heat."
"Homicide?" Storm asked, squinting. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm still alive."
"You are, but Clara Strike isn't," Detective Heat said, and though her tone was even, Storm could see in her eyes how much she didn't enjoy sharing that news. The news sat awkwardly in Storm's gut, and he leaned against the concrete again. "Mr. Storm, are you familiar with a Jameson Rook?"
Storm frowned. "The journalist?" He asked.
Detective Heat nodded, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her brown leather overcoat. She approached Storm again, looking over her shoulder before leaning in. "He's been missing for three days," she whispered.
Storm shook his head. "And you think that's related to Clara's death?"
"I know it is."
The sound of Kate Beckett stirring in his bed broke Richard Castle from his rhythm, and he glanced up from the screen of his new laptop for the first time in roughly four hours. He'd written almost non-stop since dinner with his fiancée and daughter, and Kate – like always – had been content to let him work in peace.
She always left him alone when he worked – which was in stark contrast to how he first wormed his way into her life. The irony would never be lost on Castle.
By the time Kate padded her way into Castle's office, wiping the sleep from her eyes, he stood and stretched his arms as high above his head as he could – to the point where his joints started popping and he cringed.
"You still up, babe?" Kate slipped her arms around Castle's waist, resting her head against his chest. "It's late."
"I know." Castle placed a soft kiss to the top of Kate's head. "I just finished a chapter."
She smiled at that, and Castle discovered yet again just how adorable sleepy Beckett's smile was. He let her lead him back to the bedroom, content to leave his writing for the morning – he wouldn't be able to follow Kate to the precinct in the morning because of a meeting with Gina and Paula at Black Pawn.
To say he was dreading the experience would've been an understatement.
"I'm so glad you're writing again." Kate rested her head on Castle's chest once they were in bed and all settled in under the sheets, his hand automatically resting on her shoulder. "So…can I get a spoiler? What's Nikki Heat up to now?"
He smiled at his lover's curiosity, giving her shoulder a squeeze. He was loathe to give her too many details about the storyline, considering how similar it was to what had happened to him, but he figured it was probably better she hear it from him instead of when she read the finished product for the first time.
"Investigating a murder-slash-missing persons case." There, that was generic enough.
But Kate once again flashed her detective skills; even when she was on the verge of sleep, he couldn't get anything past her. "Rook's missing, isn't he?"
Castle nodded and sighed.
"He's…not the murder victim, is he?"
"No." Castle shook his head and placed a soft kiss to the top of Kate's head. He could never do that to Rook – or Nikki, for that matter. If these books were supposed to be his love letters to Kate, no way could Castle every kill either of them. "That would be Clara Strike."
Kate lifted her head with a confused frown, cocking her head to the side until her hair spilled out across Castle's chest. "Okay, now I know I'm sleepy."
"No, you heard right."
"So…is this a Heat book or a Storm book?"
"Yes." He gave Kate a cheeky grin. "I couldn't decide which way I wanted to go – I knew I wanted to write something, just didn't know what. So I decided to write them both."
"A crossover." Another sleepy smile crossed Kate's face. "I like it. Can't wait to read it."
"So you're okay with the storyline?"
"I didn't have a problem with the way Heat Rises ended, did I?" Kate lifted her chin to look into Castle's blue eyes, her hand pressed against his chest so she could feel the dull thud of his heartbeat. "I mean, yeah, it was tough to read, but…I know you've always put bits and pieces of us into these books, Castle. It makes sense that this one would deal with your disappearance in some way."
She smiled when her fiancé placed another kiss on the top of her head.
"I mean…" Kate sighed. "I've never told you what to write, have I?"
"No." A sideways grin crossed Castle's face. "You only ever objected to cover art or book titles or character names."
They shared a laugh before Kate nuzzled in closer to Castle, silently thankful yet again that he was by her side once more. His warmth once again spread over this bed, infused every facet of her life, something Kate didn't believe she'd experience again just a few short months ago.
But once again, they had defied the odds. It was something of a habit with them.
Just as Kate's eyes were about to close to send her back to sleep, Castle's hand squeezed her shoulder. She looked up at him through heavy eyelids, confusion etched into her forehead, before he leaned in and planted a soft kiss to her mouth.
She returned the kiss as best she could while on the precipice of sleep, and Kate went back to sleep with a smile, her head resting on his shoulder and a declaration of his love still rattling around in her ears.
With any luck, Nikki Heat would get her happy ending, too.