Author's note: Thank you for your continued enthusiasm, I love reading your kind words of encouragement and your hypotheses. Who knows, maybe one of you is on to something... ;) for anyone who's interested, I finished one of my school assignments yesterday, so yay! Alas, more uni stuff to be done. That's all, hope you enjoy and stay warm x
Warning: There will be some mentions of kidnapping and possible torture.
Disclaimer: These wonderful, oh so wonderful characters do not belong to me.
There he lay before him, Jerry Tyson, a monster no more. The shots and shouts around him had stopped. Without noticing, Castle had yelled: "He's here," after which five armed SWAT members and Ryan entered the room with their weapons raised. Seeing Tyson on the ground, they lowered their weapons.
Ryan walked over to the body, placed his finger to his pulse to make sure he was dead. "Nice shot, Castle," he said, looking around the room taking in all the evidence with horror and disgust.
"It wasn't me," Castle replied, still staring at the lifeless body. The body that had caused so much harm, and so much pain. And now all that was left of him, was a bag of rotten meat.
"What do you mean, you didn't shoot him?"
The other officers retreated, signaling that it was over.
"He was dead when I got her-"
"Gates, Lanie and the rest are on their way," Esposito's voice sounded through Ryan's radio.
"Did they find Beckett?" Castle asked, having more and more trouble to see clearly. He checked the back of his head, to locate the pulsating feeling. He let out a painful gasp when his fingers touched something warm and sticky. He was bleeding. He heard Ryan say something, but everything got darker.
"Ryan, did they find Beckett?" he pleaded again. The last thing he heard was, "get an ambulance too, Espo."
He awoke with a start, his head still throbbing. His eyes fighting against the sharp light of what seemed to be an ambulance.
"Relax, honey. Everything's going to be just fine. You bumped your head pretty hard, but nothing a bit of sleep won't fix," Lanie came into vision. He was laying on a gurney; when he wanted to raise his right arm, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder as he gasped in agony.
"That will take longer to heal, I'm afraid. You dislocated your shoulder during your fall," Lanie said as she readjusted the sling.
"Beckett?" he asked, he seemed to have trouble with his voice. If only the world could stop spinning. Lanie didn't reply, but her look said it all. No sign of Beckett. Not wanting to waste any more time, he got up. If the world had been spinning beforehand, this was on a whole other level. He wanted to push through it but Lanie pushed him back down.
"Not so fast Castle, you might have a mild concussion so it's best you lay still for a bit longer." At that same moment, Esposito entered the ambulance. Finally, someone who'd be able to provide him with some answers.
"Hola chica, how's our sleeping beauty over there," he teased, passing Lanie who was needed elsewhere. Probably Tyson, he guessed.
"Javi, I trust you keep superhero in bed. He better be there when I get back," she gave him one last glare before she left the ambulance. Once she had left, Esposito's demeanor did a 180; none of his teasing, flirting self remained.
"Superhero?" Castle asked, the world around him finally calming down. Esposito scoffed.
"Once Gates and the rest arrived, some of the press got wind of what had happened; they pressured her into a statement, so she named you as the shooter."
"But I didn't do it. As I told Ryan, he was dead when I entered the room."
"We know man, it wasn't Gates choice. Believe me, she's just as upset as you are. But the commissioner threatened her with her job if she'd report otherwise. The NYPD has been badmouthed for months; he believes that a story like this is what he needs to win favor with the public again."
"And what's a better story than the author hunting down the serial killer who framed his muse for murder," Castle concluded.
"Exactly."
"So any clue who did shoot him? Any sign of Beckett?"
"CSU's still going through all the evidence, but so far no sign of Beckett. They did find bloo- It's Madison's, relax," Esposito quickly said, pushing Castle back on the bed who'd cried out in panic.
"They also found the drug he used on Beckett. So, this is definitely the place where he planned and executed everything from."
"And the explosion? What was that all about?"
"Tyson must have expected we would find his place; we walked into a trap from the minute we entered the building. It set of an entire set of explosives and teargas. You guys had it slightly better. The trap made us think Tyson must have known we were coming. So, we looked in the surrounding buildings, and found binoculars and a whole lot of blood on the third floor. It was the perfect spot for Tyson to keep eyes on the premise, until someone got to him first."
"Any idea on who did?"
"Perlmutter and Lanie are examining him now, before they bring him over to the morgue. But so far, we've got zilch. What I can't figure out is why they would have moved his body to the evidence room, and how they evaded the traps. Anyway," he said, as Lanie had returned.
"Gotta head back to the precinct. I'll see you tomorrow, Castle. Lanie," he nodded, as he left the ambulance.
"Alright Castle, ready to get moving?"
"If you'll let me go, I can drive back with Espo. Then you can go to the morgue directly," Castle tried.
"Oh no, honey. I'm not letting you go back to the precinct in your condition."
"But Lanie, they need me. Beckett needs me, you don't understand. She-"
"Trust me Castle, I do. We all love her, and I want her back just as much as you do. But there's nothing for you to do right now but rest. Tell me, when's the last time you've had a full night's rest?" To be honest, he couldn't remember. It seemed like this horror had been going on forever, a bad dream he kept failing to wake up from.
"Uhu," she gave him a judging look, "thought so." She tapped on the partition to let the driver know they were ready to go. The rest of the drive, they spent in silence. Castle having accepted his fate by now, was feeling the effects of his earlier collision. He kept drifting in and out of sleep. Lanie nudging him every once in a while, to make sure he'd have no lasting brain damage.
Sometimes, he awoke by himself, and then he'd observe Lanie; the way she held herself together whenever she thought he was watching her. But in those small moments, when she thought he was asleep, he could see the worry trickle in. Saw her checking and rechecking her phone, hoping for an update, any sign of life, a lead.
Castle had been so enveloped in his own misery, that he hadn't stop to think how others were taking it. Somehow, he'd expected the others would be less affected, being paid to find killers for a living and all. But then again, they never had had to conduct a murder investigation with their own colleague as prime suspect before, or a kidnapping of their closest friend.
"Castle," a female voice said.
"Kate?" he awoke, the ambulance's harsh light bringing him back to reality.
"Sorry honey, but we're here," Lanie said. "Do you want me to walk you up?" she asked, glancing at her phone that had just buzzed.
"No I'm fine, thanks," he said, but Lanie wasn't paying attention anymore.
"Okay, great. Sleep tight, Castle," she said as Castle left the vehicle.
"Night, Lanie," he was almost at the door when he heard Lanie call after him.
"Castle, could you put an alarm every two hours. Just to be sure?"
"I will," he waved his phone in the air. He smiled at her weakly as the ambulance sped off. He sighed, his head still throbbing, his arm not accustomed to the sling. He remained in front of his door for a while. Just two nights earlier, a storm had taken Manhattan by force. Beckett had stood right in this exact same spot, rain pouring down her face. He couldn't imagine the thoughts and emotions running through her head. The nerves holding her back from going up the elevator, to finally give in to her feelings for him. For only hours later, to be taken by force on this exact same street corner by Tyson.
He swallowed, got over himself and headed for the elevator. While the precinct had been the only place he wanted to be after the raid, sleep was now the only thing he craved. Arriving on his floor, however, he saw that sleep would have to wait for he had a visitor.
"Rick," Jim Beckett got to his feet. He looked frail, older than he'd ever seen him.
"Mister Beckett?" trying to lift his arm to shake his hand, only then remembering the situation of his shoulder. He grimaced, Mr. Beckett's eyes noticing the sling.
"Are you alright?" he asked Castle, always polite.
"I've been better, but I'll live," regretting his word choice instantly.
"Wait lemme just open the door for you," Castle attempted to get to his keys, struggling to reach his right back pocket with his left arm. After some more grunts, he was able to reach them and opened the door; Mr. Beckett's eyes on him the whole time.
"Please, after you," Castle said, at least giving the man the curtesy of entering first; he had no idea how long Mr. Beckett had been standing in front of his door, but from the looks of it, a while.
Once inside, he saw Mr. Beckett was a little uncomfortable; not knowing where to sit or stand.
"Please, make yourself at home. Can I bring you anything to drink?"
"Just tea would be fine," still glancing around. It was only the second time he was there. The first time, it had been right before Montgomery was killed and Kate got shot at his funeral. They'd been pursuing Hal Lockwood, and Beckett's dad had come over to ask Castle to protect her. Make her see her mother's death wasn't worth her life.
After some initial struggle, he was able to operate the kettle with his left hand, and the water was almost boiling by now. Mr. Beckett had decided to sit at the kitchen island, his eyes following Castle's every movement. Castle was taking out some mugs when Mr. Beckett finally spoke.
"They never tell you how horrible it is to be a parent," Castle looked up from under the cupboard, as Mr. Beckett stared ahead and continued to speak his thoughts out loud.
"At least, they didn't tell me. They only told me about the joy, and the love you would feel; this indescribable love that only other parents would understand. I thought it would get easier with age. After she was done rebelling, got her act together and went to Stanford. I mean, I did have the occasional scares. Whenever she'd bring a new boy around, for instance."
Castle chuckled at that. Envisioning a nineteen-year-old Beckett, fresh out of high school. If he would have met her back then, he would have been in for. At any age really, he thought, given how much in love he was with her now.
"The worrying never truly went away, and that's a burden you learn to live with as a parent. But then Johanna died, and we were both so devastated. I- … I lost track of life, of her. But then Katie, she brought me back and she took over all the worrying. Not only did she take mine, but she made it her responsibility to carry the worries of the world."
The water had boiled. Castle filled Mr. Beckett's cup, while he listened to the most detailed and correct version of Kate he had ever heard, except maybe for the one he had drawn up himself.
"The day she graduated from the academy is the day I stopped drinking. I had come to peace with the fact that my Katie would be saving the world from crooks and criminals. My one and only job would be to take care of Katie, while she took care of others."
Mr. Beckett took a sip from his tea, giving Castle a little nod of appreciation.
"How do you do it, Rick? I know you care about her, and I'm sure by now you know she cares about you too. So how do you do it? Stand by her side, as she faces society's underbelly day in day out. How are you able to follow her wherever she goes, enemies forming left and right?"
"Same as you. Before I met your daughter, I had my mother and Alexis to worry about. It was only when I met Beckett that I realized that they'd been taking care of me all along. Them worrying over me allows me to worry over her."
"Beckett," he repeated with a weak smile, his fingers moving over the rim of his mug; much like his daughter liked to do. He sipped the last drops of his tea, after which he got up. Castle followed his example, unsure what would come next. He didn't know what Jim had come over to find, so he could only hope his answers had provided some solace.
"Thank you for the tea, Rick."
"It's my pleasure, Sir."
Mr. Beckett started walking towards the door. Once there, he was about to reach for the door knob, when he turned around one last time.
"Rick, I'm sure I only know a tenth of what you and Katie have been through in the last four years, and even so, I know you've made a lot of enemies. With that 3XK guy gone, it means someone else is after her. Please bring her back to me. I've already failed to take care of her twice, but like she never gave up on me, I'm not done giving up on her now. I will spend the rest of my days trying to take care of her, like she once took care of me. I owe her my life, Rick." Castle was about to open his mouth, when he spoke again.
"Don't make promises you won't be able to keep. Please, just, try to get her back. Bring my Katie home." With that, he opened the door and left Castle standing there, in the doorframe of his empty loft.
When he awoke the next day, his phone was overrun by messages and missed phone calls. He quickly sifted through them, but none were from the precinct. His mother and Alexis must have heard the news, as they both had tried to call him and had left worried voice messages.
Then there were some numbers he didn't recognize, which after hearing his publicist Paula, were probably some of the journalists she was talking about. Paula going straight to business as usual had exclaimed that they were sitting on a PR goldmine. The muse of Richard Castle's Nikki Heat series first suspected of murder, and then kidnapped was the best kind of publicity a murder novelist could hope for, except for maybe being kidnapped himself. Now Castle simply had to claim the narrative by going on national TV, and he'd be golden for life, Paula had said.
Castle threw his phone to the side, uninterested to say the least. In the bathroom, he came face to face with himself. He looked like crap. While he had gone home to gain up on sleep, the constant worrying over who'd taken Kate, his kind-of promise to her dad, and the very real concussion that was still looming in the shadows, had made him even more sleep deprived if possible.
No time to waste, he took only a quick shower, biting through the pain of hot water on his head wound. After that, he took his phone on his way out; he had three new messages, all from various news outlets. One day not too far from now, he was going to murder his publicist.
When he arrived at the precinct, Castle didn't have so much as the time to walk into the bullpen when a familiar face made their way over.
Beckett had no idea where she was. She knew it had been longer than a day based on the emptiness of her stomach; at least that she knew. She was in some kind of basement area, no windows to keep her company. There was a light bulb above her head, that made it impossible to know how much time had elapsed, and prevented her from any sleep. Both her arms and legs were in chains, keeping her elevated from the ground. In the corner of the room, there was a basinet, slowly overflowing, a drop hitting the water precisely every three seconds. She was sure she would get annoyed by it eventually. She screamed, again. Rattling her chains, anything to gain attention from whoever was behind all of this.
She'd been taken by two fake police officers from the precinct. That she knew. She had known something was off from the minute they started driving north instead of south. But since she sat in the back of a police car handcuffed, there wasn't much she could do. They had dropped her off at an abandoned electrical company, where Tyson had tied her up and explained his plan to her; how they would be watching from another building as Castle and her team would enter the warehouse, how there would be explosives, teargas.
He was about to explain what would come next, when all of the sudden, he lay dead on the ground. Before Beckett had time to locate where the shot had come from, a bag had been pushed over her head forcefully, and a syringe had been placed in her shoulder, after which she dozed off.
And now she was here. Without a clue where here was, or who it was that held her. She could already feel the strain from her arms being stretched, carrying her bodyweight. She yelled again, her voice echoing of the rust-plated walls. And then she finally heard a sound, footsteps heading her way. The door opened, a baldheaded woman entering with a chair under her arm. She placed it in front of her, ignoring Beckett's questions: "Who are you? Where am I?"
Once seated, she pulled out a picture and held it in front of her face.
"Who is he? Where is he?" the woman retorted with a heavy Russian accent.
The man in the picture was older, maybe in his early sixties. He had white hair, a square shaped face she knew Castle would compare to that guy from Up, and a little goatee. She had never seen the guy in her life. When she responded as such, the Russian woman didn't seem convinced. Instead, she simply asked the same question again.
"Who is he? Where is he?"