Author's Note: And there you have it! My first-ever multi-chapter fic is complete! This was a lot of fun to write, and the story went in an entirely different direction than I expected. Thank you so much for joining me on this ride, and I appreciate all of the support! Please check out my other fics: Aftermath, Not Just a Cop, She's In My Veins, A Series of Unrelated Events, and Paths Not Taken.

Finding the abandoned warehouse in which Jameson Rook was being held hostage took far less time than either Storm or Heat expected – and to tell the truth, Storm didn't like it. It felt like it was too easy. Knowing Jedidiah Jones the way he did, Storm was almost completely certain he and the homicide cop were walking right into a trap.

Fortunately for Storm, he was specifically trained for things like this. In a way, he relished having the odds stacked against him. The old saying that some people do their best work under pressure held more truth for Storm than he cared to admit, and he was glad to not be flying solo this time.

Granted, this wasn't the first time Storm went on a mission with a lovely lady by his side, but this was the first time in a long time that he completely trusted his partner of the moment. Unlike Clara Strike and others, Nikki Heat didn't live in a world of lies and deceit; espionage wasn't her game.

She was just a cop – and Storm meant that sentiment in the best possible way. She dealt in truth, facts. And right now, the truth was that her fiancé was being held captive by Storm's boss, and for the first time in the three days since the ordeal began, he finally felt like he had the upper hand.

Jones was good. Storm was better.

Crouched around the corner from the only unguarded entrance, Storm brought his piece up to shoulder level, glancing over his shoulder. "Remember," he whispered, "whatever happens in here is confidential."

Heat shrugged. "Less paperwork for me."

Smiling to himself, Storm nodded once. Heat rose from behind him, taking lead and kicking down the door with her admittedly impressive heels. Storm flanked Heat to her left, cradling his gun in both hands. No sooner did Storm and Heat spill into the warehouse, gunfire erupted from the darkness. One shot bled into the next, and as Storm took cover, he couldn't tell where the shots were coming from.

The open door afforded Storm and Heat some light, just enough to take cover. Heat ducked behind an abandoned Mustang; Storm cringed at the idea of a Ford winding up in such poor shape, but if the detective was going to hide behind a vehicle, she could do a lot worse. Storm found station behind a crate, glancing over the corner only to be greeted by darkness.

Storm shouted something, but the gunfire drowned him out. He had a grenade on his hip, but not knowing what was in the darkness gave him pause. Sure, the explosion would likely handle most, if not all, of their assailants, but he didn't want to risk taking out Rook too. That wasn't the reunion he had in mind for his makeshift partner.

In a flash, Storm remembered intel Bryan and Rodriguez had offered earlier that day – information that had been confirmed by Detective Raley, who apparently had an aptitude for surveillance. If that intel was to be believed, Rook was being held in the basement, so the blast shouldn't get to him.

If anything, it might give them a pathway to him.

Storm pulled the pin with his teeth, nodding at Heat with the weapon cradled in his palm. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, but Storm turned to toss the grenade into the darkness before huddling up against himself behind the crate. Heat took cover the same way behind the dilapidated Mustang.

The resulting explosion rang in their ears, and it took both Storm and Heat several moments to gather their bearings. As the smoke cleared, the gunfire had ceased, and the warehouse smelled of charred flesh. Storm covered his mouth and nose with a free hand, letting Heat take the lead, her Sig resting in her right hand.

As Storm had hoped, the blast gave them an opening to get to the basement. Storm and Heat stopped at the threshold and exchanged a glance. If Storm's heart was pounding against his ribcage, he could only imagine what the detective was feeling; after all, the man she was set to marry was down there.

"You still good with the plan?" Storm asked.

Cocking a sideways glance, Heat raised her weapon and cradled it in both hands. "Not really," she admitted. "Kinda wanna put a bullet in Jones' head myself."

"We talked about that," Storm argued. "You kill him, that's paperwork, attention, hassle. I kill him, it's just another day in the office."

Heat still didn't like it, but she understood the reasoning. She cocked her weapon with a nod, glaring at Storm as he descended into the basement. She followed three steps behind, glancing over her shoulder and training her weapon wherever she looked. When she whirled around and found Jameson Rook, gagged and tied to a rotted wooden chair, her heart skipped a beat.

Sheathing her weapon, Heat ran to the chair, dropping to her knees and grabbing for Rook's hand. She ignored the pain howling in her knees when they slammed against the concrete, smiling as wide as she had in days when Rook met her gaze and his posture relaxed.

"Hey," she whispered, shaky fingers trying to remove the gag from his mouth.

Once the gag was removed, Rook coughed and shook his head, blinking rapidly before his gaze finally settled on his fiancée. "Nikki," he breathed, a smile tugging on the left corner of his mouth. "Please tell me I'm not dreaming."

"Nope, not dreaming," Heat said, trailing her thumb over Rook's knuckles. "I'm here, and I've got backup."

Storm's eyes scanned their surroundings, shaking his head. Something was off. Why would Jones leave Rook all alone like this? Unless this was, in fact, a set-up. Of course it was a set-up. It wouldn't be Jedidiah Jones if it wasn't.

As if on-cue, a gun cocked behind Storm, and he felt the press of cold metal against the back of his head. He slowly raised his hands, dropping his weapon. He cringed at the echo of the weapon clattering against the floor, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes when Heat drew her weapon.

"Drop the weapon!" she hollered, knowing full well it wouldn't work.

Jones smirked, keeping the barrel of his weapon pressed to Storm's head. "I was wondering when you two would show up," he snarled. "Nice work with the grenade, very ballsy."

Heat cocked her weapon, taking a careful step toward Jones. "Drop. Your weapon."

"Or you'll do what?" Jones countered, not once tearing his gaze off Storm. "You have no jurisdiction here, Detective. Though it is nice to see that poking around in things that don't concern you runs in the relationship. Maybe Jameson's been a bad influence on you."

"Stand down, Detective," Storm warned. The last thing he wanted was a member of the NYPD dead on his watch.

"Let me fiancé go and I will."

"I can't do that, Nikki," Jones' voice grated on Heat's nerves. "Your meddlesome boyfriend has information he has no business knowing, and I can't let him walk out of here with it."

"We know about Dreamworld," Storm said, hoping to stall. "We know Jameson was writing a story about it, and that Clara was his source."

"Great." Jones strugged. "Then you know why that bitch is dead."

With Jones' attention turned to Storm, he hadn't noticed Heat sneaking on him – especially since she had managed to remove her heels before drawing her weapon. Nikki's feet had been silent against the cold floor, and she twirled the weapon in her hand before slamming the butt of it against the back of Jones' head.

Jones grunted and stumbled forward, giving Storm the window he needed to twirl around on the balls of his feet, disarm his boss, and bend Jones' right arm behind his back. The elbow popped out of its socket and Jones screamed in agony – which only made Storm tug harder on the offending appendage.

"You know," Storm quipped, "I kinda knew there'd come a day I'd have to put you down."

Storm and Heat locked eyes, and when Storm nodded, Heat holstered her weapon and returned to the chair holding her fiancé. She worked to undo the binding around his wrists, biting on her lower lip as one gave way, and then the other. Rook rubbed his wrists with a hiss of pain before Heat cradled his face in both hands and smashed her lips against his.

His eyes fluttered shut as they kissed, his hands working from her shoulders down to her elbows. He pulled back first, gasping for air, a full smile on his greasy, stubbled face.

"I knew you'd come for me."

"Course I did," Heat whispered, trailing a finger over Rook's jawline. "You're my fiancé."

"You forgot ruggedly handsome."

Rook laughed when Nikki rolled her eyes.

Jones flung his free arm backward, his elbow catching Storm's temple. Storm kept his hold on Jones, though, flinging his boss around until he slammed face-first into the wall. Storm heard Jones' nose crack before slamming his face into the wall again.

"You can't," Jones panted, blood trickling from his nose, "you can't let that piece run. It'll compromise national security."

"You say national security," Storm caught Jones' arm as it tried to elbow him again, grabbing Jones' wrist and breaking three of his fingers, "I hear 'cover my own ass'."

Storm stole a glance just in time to see Heat leading Rook out of the basement, his arm slung over her shoulders as they slowly worked up the staircase. That was a relief, because he didn't particularly care for an audience when he finally put Jones down for good.

"You have no idea what you're doing, Derrick."

"Actually," Storm tossed Jones face-first to the floor before raising his weapon and popping two bullets into the back of Jedidiah's head, "I kinda do."

"Dad!"

The sound of Alexis' voice snapped Castle out of his trance and startled him. He had been holed up in his office in the Hamptons, bow tie loose around his neck as his fingers worked a blur over the keyboard. Wide blue eyes rose to meet his daughter's; Alexis stood in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, sky blue dress flowing all the way to the floor.

"Alexis…"

"What are you doing?" Alexis pushed herself off the door frame and entered her father's office. "You're not even ready yet!"

"I was just finishing up Heat of the Storm," he said as his hands fumbled over themselves to tie his bowtie.

"I love that you're writing again, Dad," Alexis smiled, "but you're gonna be late for your own wedding!"

Castle glanced out the window that overlooked the expansive yard leading to the water, just in time to see Jim Beckett standing where grass turned to sand, taking in his view of the ocean, and the Justice of the Peace hanging around, waiting. When the man glanced at his watch, Castle cringed, saved his document, and rose from his seat.

"Sorry, pumpkin," he offered. "Gina wanted the last two chapters yesterday."

"And who would you rather piss off?" Alexis countered. "Your publisher or your soon-to-be-wife, who by the way, has had to wait for three years and has a gun?"

Castle cringed again. "Good point."

Before Castle got to the doorway, Alexis threw her arms around her father and rested her head against his chest. He wrapped his broad arms around his daughter's shoulders, closing his eyes and heaving a sigh.

"I can't believe we made it," she whispered.

"Me neither," he said, his voice cracking. He hadn't even seen his lovely bride yet, and already Castle was getting emotional. He supposed that was what happened when he'd been missing and presumed dead for three years.

Alexis broke the hug and dabbed at her eyes. "Now, Ryan's got the ring. Lanie and Espo drove the Justice of the Peace here themselves. I got cider for Jim for after the ceremony…all that's left is for you and Kate to get hitched."

Castle smiled as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Then let's get me married."