a/n: While yes, I used The Fugitive as a template, please rest assured I didn't just copy the script, search and replace 'Kimble' with Castle, 'Gerard' with 'Beckett,' etc. You will recognize a lot from the movie, including some of my favorite lines. But it's not a carbon copy.
The Marshals' field tent went up quickly, giving them a decent base of operations. Her people buzzed around, the crime scene techs doing their best to find any kind of evidence amid the wreckage. Kate surveyed her team, relishing the tidiness of well-run, efficient investigation. The early March air was still biting, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets, taking a slow lungful. Kate wasn't in her element out here. She was a city girl.
"Beckett! Hounds are here."
She turned to find Lanie trotting up with a team of two lanky, slobbering bloodhounds from the city. "Good. And wow, they look so graceful."
Lanie scratched the bigger dog's ears. "You laugh all you want, but Gil is the best hound in the Midwest. If Castle's out there, Gil will find him."
"Go ahead. Espo's got the leg irons over in processing; you can probably use those for a scent."
Lanie and the dogs' handler disappeared, leaving her tent headquarters empty.
Well, almost.
She paused. "Ryan, what are you doing?"
"I'm thinking."
"Well, think me up a cup of coffee and a bear claw, while you're at it."
"Beckett!" Esposito came running, radio in hand. "Just got a report. Some woman on I-57 just swore she saw Richard Castle outside a gas station there, in, quote, 'some weird yellow onesie that doesn't look like it fits very well.'"
"Well, that's odd."
He nodded. "And he stole the attendant's truck. And a set of mechanic's coveralls."
"You probably could have led with that."
He flashed her a grin. "I like to keep you on your toes."
"All right, people," she yelled. "Let's bring him in."
The chopper took them up above the woods, into the clear, and Kate leaned over the front console to watch the highway. "Ryan," she shouted into her microphone. "Ryan, from the description, we've got eyeballs on him. Heading west on 57, right around mile marker 45. White pickup truck. You've got a tunnel about a mile ahead, and there are squad cars on the way. You should be able to pin him down there."
"Understood," Ryan responded. "We see him up ahead."
Rick heard sirens blaring behind him, but just gunned the accelerator harder. The highway tore by as he wove through the other cars, in and out of lanes, earning honks and glares.
He got into the tunnel, wondering if he could lose them, but then he saw the flood of lights racing towards him, the chopper landing just outside. He was trapped. Both sides.
So he slammed the truck into a skid, gritting his teeth as it slid sideways and screeched to a halt in the oncoming traffic lane, very nearly causing a ten-car pileup.
He slipped out of the driver's side, crouching to hurry around the front of the truck. The traffic caught in the crosshairs was helping; he could hear the police yelling at civilians to get back in their cars, buying him time.
Time was fine, but he needed an escape route. Where could he -
His eyes fell to the curb next to his feet.
Kate bolted from the helicopter the minute it landed, racing into the tunnel. "Ryan! Espo!"
"In here!"
They came trotting towards her, expectant looks on her faces. Her heart sank. "Is he -"
Ryan's eyes went wide. "I thought -"
"You have got to be shitting me right now!" Esposito looked like he was about ready to kick someone. "Where could he have gone?"
Sure enough, the police around them looked baffled; he was in the truck, but he hadn't come out of it. And now the truck was empty. He couldn't have left the tunnel without being seen.
Kate peered into the truck. No clues. He left nothing behind. "Damn it. Damn it."
She hopped down, and her foot hit a metal grate. She looked down.
A storm drain.
She poked it experimentally with one foot, and it moved.
In a split second, Ryan and Esposito had the cover lifted, training their guns into the darkness. Nothing.
Kate took a breath, pulling out her flashlight, unbuckling her holster. She lowered herself carefully into the drain. "You guys are going to follow me, right? I'd hate to feel self-conscious."
"We got your six," Esposito assured her.
The storm drain was a shadowy, dank mess; she hit the floor with a hollow thunk, in what felt like a few inches of icy water. Ryan and Espo hit the floor a moment later, and she took point, walking them slowly through the tunnels, straining her ears, though the sound of rushing water drowned out most other noise.
The tunnel diverged, and after a moment's hesitation, she pointed them to the left, taking the right herself. She needed a partner, but since none of the CPD or sheriff's men had followed them, she was on her own for the moment. And no reports said Castle was armed.
She heard someone stumble in the culvert up ahead, and a muffled curse. Her pulse quickened. She had him.
The floor was slick, and with her gun and her flashlight both in her hands, Kate couldn't reach the wall for balance. The ground sloped unexpectedly and she stumbled, sprawling to the ground, her gun clattering away. She sputtered, blinking, wiping her wet hair away from her face, and fumbled for the weapon, until suddenly she heard a click.
Richard Castle was pointing her gun at her.
She froze, but he didn't fire. He was staring down at her, his eyes burning. She'd seen his face on plenty of glossy book jackets - she'd read his novels before the trial - but here, in the dim light of a freezing tunnel, he looked worlds different. Weary. Desperate.
But he didn't look angry.
And even with the echo of rushing water around them, she heard him clearly.
"I didn't kill my wife."
Keep him talking.
She found her voice.
"So tell me a better story."
His eyes went wide with surprise.
She held her breath, waiting for the bang, the searing pain in her chest, but after a long, silent moment, Castle started to back away, giving her one last, haunted glance before he vanished around the corner.
Kate let out a shuddering sigh, blinking, brushing her hair back out of her eyes before she clambered to her feet, ripped open the velcro under her jacket, and grabbed her spare sidearm. She edged through the drain as quietly as possible, trying to ignore the sharp, aching cold, the air cutting right through her sodden clothing. Her whole body was shaking, bone-deep shivers that chattered her teeth.
The roar of rushing water getting louder, the sound more defined, less muffled. Footsteps sounded ahead. Just one pair.
Kate ducked around a corner to find herself staring at Richard Castle, who was there at the end of the drain, staring over the edge at the long, open drop into the dam, hundreds of feet of rushing water, straight down into the river.
"Castle!"
He whirled around to find her weapon trained on him. Her other gun was still in his hand, but at his side. She had him. "Drop the gun! Drop it!" He complied, his face stricken. It was the look of a man who'd just lost his last chance.
"Turn around. Slowly. Hands behind your head." He hesitated, and Kate took a step forward. "Castle! Now. Hands up. Kneel down."
He knelt slowly, hands behind his head, and Kate started to breathe again, reaching one hand for her handcuffs -
Before she could react, he lunged, throwing himself forward, over the edge and into the waterfall of the dam.
She gasped, clutching the edges of the storm drain, watching his body disappear in the long drop, the spray of rushing, roaring water.
"Beckett! Beckett!"
She turned back to find Kevin Ryan hurrying toward her, out of breath. Kate clenched her teeth, trying to stop them from chattering. "I almost had him."
"Where'd he go? Did he fall?"
She shook her head. "No. He jumped."
Search-and-rescue, county water workers, and even the dogs - no one found a trace of Richard Castle.
In her office in the U.S. Marshals building downtown, Kate sat back in her chair, scrubbing her face with one hand. "He's out there, you guys. I know it."
Esposito scowled. "Beckett, the guy did a Peter Pan off the dam. How high was that fall, five hundred feet? The guy's probably fish food."
"Then where's the fish who ate him?"
Esposito flopped into a chair across from her. "All right. So maybe you're right. Maybe he survived. But he's long gone now. If he's alive, he'd bolt."
Ryan nodded. "If I were him, I'd be on my way to Andorra. Skiing. Spas. Tapas. No extradition. All around a better choice."
She sat back in her chair. "He could have killed me."
"What?"
Kate shook her head. Her hands were still shaking. "I fell. I lost my gun. He picked it up before I could get my spare piece out. He was just standing there, pointing it at me. He could have shot me. He should have; he could have gotten away. But he didn't."
"Why not?" Ryan asked.
Kate took a long breath, clenching her fists.
"I don't know."