As Long As We're Together

After escaping off the bridge that night, Jerry Tyson returns several months later to enact his revenge on Castle and Beckett by sending their lives spiraling in a direction none of them could have anticipated. AU circa Mid Season 5. Trigger Warnings Inside. For Castle Ficathon 2021

Trigger Warnings: This story contains reference to sexual assault, abortion, and torture/abuse. There are no descriptions of sexual assault or abortion in this story; only mentions and references. There are limited descriptions of abuse.


Chapter 1

Richard Castle jolted from sleep, the hoarse remnants of a scream on his lips. He breathed rapidly, strangling the sheet across his body with both hands. His eyes focused on the ceiling above him as he fully came to realize that it had all just been a nightmare. No, he hadn't just watched Kate's skin pierced by a hypodermic needle wielded by Jerry Tyson, but that didn't mean the nightmare was over—not even close.

As his gulps of breath calmed down to regular breathing intervals, Castle pushed himself upright in bed and raked his hands back through his hair. The nightmare her had been experiencing started much like the others: he was restrained against a cold metal table with cloth straps across his chest, stomach and thighs, an auburn-haired woman hovering just out of his line of sight. This time, however, he was able to get himself out of the room and walk down a long narrow hallway towards a large black doorway. Once he reached the door, he saw Kate was inside, also strapped to a metal table. Her captor was Jerry Tyson, and he was surrounded by medical equipment too medical-looking and horrifying for him to bother recalling with any level of detail. Even thinking about it then made a shiver travel down his spine.

Tugging at his hair, Castle turned his head to his left to catch sight of the alarm clock on his nightstand. It was only 4:45 in the morning, but he knew he wouldn't sleep again that night. He never did after those kinds of nightmares. The fact that he was forced awake in the wee hours always frustrated him, but it was simply a factor of his life for the prior forty-some days.

After taking a few more moments to stare bleary-eyed across his dark bedroom, Castle pushed himself from bed and shuffled his way towards the kitchen. There, he filled a large glass with water from the sink tap and drank it all down. After starting his coffee pot, he walked back across the apartment and into his office to take up his near permanent position as of late in front of his laptop.

Once the computer was on, he turned on the lamp beside him so the backlight from the screen would not be the only thing illuminating the room. He then navigated his mouse towards the file folder he now kept on the center of his desktop—the one labeled "K.B. Leads." He reviewed the contents of that folder every morning even if he hadn't added anything new the day before, hoping against hope that he would notice something—anything—that would give him a clue; something that would bring her back to him.

Forty-three days earlier, Castle would have said his life was as idyllic as it could get. He was happy, healthy, and in the best relationship of his life. After some heartbreaks and miscommunications, he and Kate had finally embarked on a relationship together and it was just as extraordinary as he'd hoped it would be. True, while trying to transition their platonic relationship into a romantic relationship they had encountered some rough patches—particularly in those early days while they were still trying to keep their relationship a secret from their friends and family, but they'd come through those tough spots stronger than ever. They were happy and in love and had recently experienced what he felt to be an amazing milestone: celebrating the Christmas and New Years' holidays together. Castle could not begin to express the joy he felt holding Kate in his arms as one year rolled into the next, knowing that he could spent nearly every day of that new year with her. Sadly, just seventeen days later it would all come crashing down around him.

While at the time Castle found January 17th to be an entirely uneventful day, in hindsight he felt there were several points at which he might have been being watched. Then again, maybe it was just his traumatized brain playing tricks on him. Either way, as the evening progressed things took a dramatic turn.

On that day, Castle remembered sitting on the sofa with Kate as she absentmindedly scrolled through television channels to find something to watch. After that, things became hazy. The next thing he clearly remembered was waking up when it was daylight out and being naked, but alone in his bed. When he'd tried to get up and move around, he felt woozy and shockingly exhausted. Concerned and alarmed, he called out for his girlfriend, but there was no answer. He stumbled into the bathroom and then back out into the living area where he found her phone and shoes right where she left them. Then, downright terrified, he'd called Ryan. And then Esposito. And then Gates.

Despite the early morning call, his loyal detective friends showed up at his apartment promptly and began searching for clues. Very quickly they discovered that not only had the security system in Castle's apartment been disarmed, but the building's cameras in the hallways, elevator, and lobby had also been disabled for twelve hours beginning seven p.m. the night before. With this sickening revelation, Castle could only come to one conclusion. "It's Tyson; it has to be Tyson," he had said.

When she arrived at the scene, Gates rebuffed this statement as a wild claim, but in his gut he knew it was true. As per the Triple Killer's style, there was absolutely no physical evidence connecting him—or anyone else for that matter—to a break in at Castle's apartment. It was as though Kate had disappeared of her own accord, but of course no one—not even Gates—believed that to be a possibility.

By the time night was falling that day, Castle was so stressed and exhausted that he felt physically ill. Jenny, who had come to sit with him while Ryan and Esposito ran down traffic camera leads, convinced him to drink some chamomile tea and then try and get some sleep. The tea—or exhaustion—won out and he did eventually doze off, but that brought on his first set of nightmares relating to Kate, Tyson, himself, and a mysterious woman whose face he could never fully discern.

Castle knew immediately that these were not nightmares but flashbacks, at least in part. Ever since that night on the bridge after Tyson almost successfully framed him for murder he had been waiting for the serial killer to enact his revenge. Yes, the frame-up itself had been the first layer of revenge, but they'd been through too much together for Tyson to just walk away—even if he had seemly done so cleanly, with most people—Kate included—believing he had died, but Castle knew better. Tyson wasn't just going to let him be and this bizarre situation and kidnapping of his partner had to be the beginning of the enactment of that revenge plan.

Though the pair of detectives felt more inclined to believe this theory as plausible, Gates considered it more under the "out of control writer's imagination" umbrella. This dismissal angered Castle, but he also didn't want to argue with her too much, since the case had inadvertently revealed his and Kate's romantic relationship to the captain—and she had yet to voice her full opinion on the subject, so he wanted to tread lightly.

Ultimately, Gates agreed to have Castle speak with one of the NYPD psychologists, who would guide him through hypnotherapy in hopes of recovering these memories—if they were, in fact, memories. The good news was that several sessions of hypnotherapy worked, and they were able to get a glimpse into what had happened to Castle and Beckett that fateful night. The bad news was that the glimpse they received was outright terrifying.

After skimming through his "leads" document and coming to the sad conclusion he knew no more than he had the day before, Castle pushed himself away from his desk and returned to the kitchen for his coffee. At least he was speaking to Dr. Burke that morning. Hopefully, the therapist would continue to help him work though the nightmares he faced. While he did admit to the therapy making him feel a bit clearer mentally, it did nothing for his aching heart, which longed to see the woman he loved more and more with each passing day.


"Rick, glad to see you. How are you doing today?" Dr. Burke asked as he ushered Castle into his office for their ten-a.m. appointment.

Castle nodded politely, and then took a seat in the client chair across from him. As his hands gripped the arm rests, his stomach flipped at the thought of how many times Beckett had sat in this chair during her time in therapy. As she had told him on more than one occasion how it helped her be ready for their relationship, he was forever grateful for her time with Dr. Burke; however, in that moment the notion of her sitting there alone made him sad, because it made him realize that wherever she was she was also alone. Or with Tyson, which was decidedly worse than being alone.

"Ah…not so great, if I'm being honest."

"Have you had more nightmares?" the doctor asked him.

Castle nodded. "Yeah. I don't think I've slept past five a.m. one day this week."

"Are they always the same?"

"No, no; not the same. Similar, but not the same." Castle leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs and gave his head a gentle shake before detailing the previous night's dream to the doctor. "Then, when I walked into the room, Tyson grabbed a needle and plunged it into Kate's neck. I screamed, and that's when I woke up."

"I see." Dr. Burke jotted down a few notes in the pad he held in his lap before looking back to the writer. "What other dreams stand out to you from this past week?"

"Ah… well, um, two…yeah, it was two nights ago, I was back in that room on the table. The woman was there standing in the corner with a surgical mask over her face and her hair like…" he raised his hand so that it covered his forehead and his left eye. "Covering her face like this so I couldn't see it, but I, um, I got up and I got into the hall. It was empty like usual but then I heard a sound. It sounded like a yelp, so I tried to look for what made the sound. I was walking then jogging down the hall, but the hall just kept getting longer and I wasn't going anywhere, but just before I woke up I knew it was actually the sound of a baby crying."

The doctor gazed at him curiously. "You've mentioned a crying baby in several of your dreams previously, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you still hold the belief that you and Kate were both taken by Jerry Tyson with the intent for her to become pregnant?"

"Yes," he confirmed, even though the word exiting his mouth caused the bile to rise up in his throat.

Thanks to Burke's assistance, Castle had been able to systematically go back through his memories from the night he was taken. Though he never had official confirmation through bloodwork, the gaps in the his timeline that he encountered indicated he was given some sort of drug that removed his memories of the night as well as presumably made him compliant. Based on his work with the doctor, however, they did not believe he was entirely unconscious during that time—at least not the whole time.

While none of his memories from that twelve-hour stretch were crystal clear, he did have the most clarity with one several minute stretch. He had no idea what time it was, but he had regained consciousness while strapped to a metal table. He remembered the cool, smooth surface against his back and buttocks, which alerted him to the fact that he was completely naked. He felt the pressure of straps against his arms and across his chest as well as his thighs just a few inches above the knee. Though terror was his overwhelming emotion, he also remembered a sense of calm as soon as he heard a woman's voice. He thought she may have been speaking over a phone because the cadence of her voice indicated conversation, but he could only hear her. Stay calm, he remembered coaching himself. You need to remember what she says.

Despite his mantra, the words he heard weren't entirely clear. He remembered hearing her say she was about to start the procedure and that she believed it would be "a successful collection." Then he saw her come into his peripheral view: the auburn-haired woman wearing a surgical mask and white lab coat. His vision then grew foggy around the edges but he was sure just before he went under, he felt a sharp pinch around his testicles, almost as though the skin had been pierced with a needle.

Despite multiple rounds of hypnosis, Castle was never able to remember any other moments with much clarity, which was frustrating. That one moment didn't leave him much to go on, particularly since it didn't involve Jerry Tyson at all, which was why he mostly had to keep his theories between himself and Dr. Burke. He didn't dare upset his mother or daughter with the thoughts; they were already on-edge enough knowing that they had been sleeping upstairs when Tyson (or whomever) entered the apartment. Once, he'd floated the idea of the woman in his memories being Tyson's assistant or partner to Ryan and Esposito, but their reception had not been overtly positive. They didn't deny that the manner by which he and Kate were taken fit Tyson's MO, but working with a partner did not. On that point, Castle agreed, but he also knew that Tyson was equally driven and resourceful; he wouldn't put anything past that monster on a path for revenge.

By the time he remembered the pinch of pain in his genitals, weeks had passed and there would have been no remaining evidence either on his skin or in his blood. The day he woke up without Kate he'd felt all sorts of aches all over his body, including on his genitals, but considering the way Kate had surprised him in his office when she'd come over the night before, the mild soreness didn't strike him as out of place, especially with everything else going on. With the added memory, however, things changed.

"I've been thinking about the mystery woman and…I think she has to be some sort of doctor. Perhaps even an obstetrician."

"What makes you say that?" Burke asked conversationally.

The writer cleared his throat, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his left leg over his right. "If this is indeed Tyson's revenge plan, he would not have left much up to chance; he's too much of a planner. The drugs that wiped my memory alone imply some sort of medical access. Maybe Tyson could have managed that on his own, but if he indeed intended for Kate to become pregnant there's no way he would have just guessed that he took us on a day she was ovulating. I can only assume he provide her some sort of hormones to force that somehow. I don't think it's too big an assumption to say that most likely Jerry Tyson does not have advanced knowledge of human reproduction."

Burke's mouth twitched to the side. "No, I'd say that's a safe assumption based on what I've learned about him. But I wonder: could there be a third perpetrator? Someone other than Tyson as this auburn-haired woman, who would have had that medical knowledge?"

"I suppose anything is possible, but Tyson always worked solo in his previous crimes. It would be a big step forward to invite one person along, let alone two."

Burke hummed to himself and jotted down more notes. "Have you heard anything from Kate's partners on her case?"

"No, there haven't been any updates."

"So do you think Tyson—or someone—still has her?" Burke asked. Castle merely nodded in response which prompted the doctor to ask, "How would you write the story, Rick?"

Castle felt the hairs at the back of his neck prickle. He'd been imagining many, many scenarios when it came to Tyson's plans for revenge, but one stuck out in his mind as the most likely.

"Tyson…he likes the set up as much as the act so, if I was thinking like him, I would be taunting me. Sending me clues that prove Kate's alive or…or sonograms, but I suppose it's a little early for that. It hasn't yet been six weeks. So maybe he'll send those next or…or maybe she miscarried, or the pregnancy didn't take so he's holding her to try again? I…I don't know. It's hard to think because I haven't been sleeping well."

"Because of the nightmares?"

He nodded. "And worrying. I think about her all the time. And I…sometimes I wonder if Tyson is lurking around every corner. He took us both from my place. That's the second time he's been inside my apartment without anyone realizing it. Even though I've increased my security it's not unreasonable to assume he could get in a third time. And maybe the next time he'll take my mother or my daughter or—" Castle cut himself off before too many horrific scenarios could spin through his mind. He took a few deep breaths then set his jaw and said, "The only thing we know for certain is that if Jerry Tyson is involved, we're facing down an enemy who doesn't play by any normal set of rules."


Kate Beckett let out a long, slow breath as she lay on the hideous yellow and brown plaid couch that had become her unofficial home during the prior few weeks. She didn't have much in the windowless room Jerry Tyson had locked her in; only a small table with one wooden chair, the old couch, and a camp bed that was wildly uncomfortable and came with a scratchy wool blanket that left her more itchy than warm. Of those options, the squeaky couch was the best—and that really was saying something.

In that particular moment she had a headache, but there wasn't much she could do about it as the only pills available to her were prenatal vitamins. Then again, could pregnant woman take aspirin or Tylenol for headaches? She wasn't sure; she'd have to look it up whenever Tyson allowed her to leave.

If Tyson allowed her to leave.

Kate brought her hands up to rub at her temples for several moments hoping the motion would dissipate the pain. It didn't make much of a difference, so she returned her hands to their previous position resting atop her low belly, her fingertips tracing gently over the tiny life growing inside.

Pregnant. She was pregnant. Though she had taken the test only a few days before, she'd had an inkling that was Tyson's plan for the duration of her time as the serial killer's captive (the prenatal vitamins and pregnancy books left in the room had been a pretty solid give-away).

Over the last thirty-some years of her life Kate really hadn't given much active thought to becoming pregnant. Sure, she'd had one or two pregnancy scares over the year, but those had mostly just involved a lot of panic and anxiety as the men she'd been dating at the time had definitely not been of the sort she would have want to have a child with. She thought about having kids someday, but it was more an abstract concept rather than actually imagining herself with a fetus growing inside her belly. In the eight months she'd been dating Castle she had, on rare occasion, wondered if they would have kids together, but again in her mind she saw those kids as much older and never actually imagined being pregnant. Yet, there she was: pregnant and in a way she never could have imagined in ten thousand lifetimes.

When she'd awoken on that same couch forty-three days prior Kate felt an overwhelming amount of confusion and nausea. In fact, she had so much of the latter that she'd sprinted through the only door in the small space and fell to her knees in front of the toilet, but there was nothing in her stomach to vomit up. She'd then sat down on the cool tile floor and wondered how the hell she had gone from Castle's couch, to the hideous one with absolutely no memory in between.

Once the worst of the nausea passed, she searched both the room and her body for clues. Other than the furniture, vitamins, and pregnancy literature, she also found a dictionary, a stack of National Geographic magazines from the mid 1990's, several gallon jugs of water, an empty plastic drinking bottle, a large canister of chocolate-flavored protein powder, granola bars, and single-serve fruit cups filled with tropical fruits. The only conclusion she could draw from this odd collection was that she would be alone for several days, as that was the volume of food and drink she had been provided.

The search of her own body yielded puncture marks in both the crook of her left arm and the back of her left hand. To her this made sense given the gaps in her memory, but it did not help her understand what was going on. It was all one giant mystery—and she was missing the partner who typically helped her solve those.

For what she estimated to be about two days she was left alone in the room. Then, she heard the scraping of keys in the locks on what she determined to be the exterior door. Mentally prepared for this inevitability, she grabbed the wooden chair to use as a weapon, and tensed her body, ready to strike, but the door only opened enough for a plastic tub to be slid through the gap; it was shut quickly thereafter, and she could hear the locks being reset. Confused and frustrated, she stared dumbfounded at the plastic tub for several seconds until she heard, "Hello Kate," as an echo through the room that froze the blood in her veins; she would have recognized the voice of Jerry Tyson anywhere.

She spun around on the spot, chair still in her hands, but she remained alone in the tiny, locked room. It seemed Tyson must have rigged up some sort of speaker system that she couldn't see or access.

"How are you feeling, Kate? Tired? Nauseous?"

"Why am I in here? Where is Castle?" was her only response.

"Oh, don't you worry about your boyfriend. We dropped him off back at home, safe-and-sound."

"We?" she asked but received no reply.

"I'll be back in a few days with more supplies—don't worry, Kate; you'll always have enough for you and the baby."

"What baby?" she asked reflexively.

His reply had been a chilling laugh and the words, "You'll see."

True to his words, every few days he'd pass in a storage bin filled with more gallon jugs of water, more cups of fruit, either protein powder or bars, and other items, usually boxed cereals. Though she grew tired of the chocolate protein powder after about a week, she couldn't say she felt starving on Tyson's diet, just confused and bored.

For many days she felt immensely confused about the baby books (which she had begrudgingly began to read, as there was literally nothing else to do) and the vitamins until one morning when she woke up utterly exhausted despite sleeping adequately. She chalked it up to the ongoing stress of living as Tyson's hostage. Then, she began to feel intermittent waves of nausea and found spots of blood in her underwear that were inconsistent with her usual menstrual cycle. Once again, she chalked these up to stress, and mostly felt frustrated that she was left only one set of clothing and no feminine supplies. Loathe to request anything from her captor, she merely settled for lining her panties with toilet paper, of which she had plenty.

It wasn't until her latest round of supplies included a First Response pregnancy test that Kate felt dread wash over her like a blast of cold water from a hose. In the back of her mind, she'd probably known since the first time she heard his voice, but she simply couldn't bring herself to believe if for no other reason than it was all so confusing—and came with a horrifying list of questions.

She'd let the test sit in its package alone in the plastic supply bin for a full day before giving in and opening the box. As she waited the appropriate duration of time for the test to yield results Kate simply could not believe the position in which she found herself.

Was she to believe that Tyson had somehow impregnated her when he kidnapped her from Castle's apartment? How in the hell had he managed that? However cunning and crafty the killer was, he wasn't a scientist or fertility specialist. From what she understood, even if he had somehow managed to find a doctor who would implant her with an embryo, the pregnancy would not have taken if her uterus hadn't ready. Considering she hadn't taken the long list of drugs usually required for that, she felt confident her uterus had not been in a fertile state. This led her to conclude that Tyson had attempted to impregnate her via a more "traditional" method, with—god help her—his semen, but the odds of that bringing about a pregnancy while up until the day after her capture she had religiously taken her birth control seemed astronomical. Yet, several minutes later the proof was literally in her hands; the test was positive.

The initial aftermath of the results brought shock, horror, and grief. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do about her future or the future of her child—and of course any and all of the options she thought of were not available to her so long as she existed as the captive of a psychotic killer. She knew she had to think positively and stay sharp; it was likely the only way she would survive, but with each passing day it got harder and harder.

The keys grinding in the door locks made Kate instantly forget about her headache. She jumped from the couch and grabbed the wooden chair as she always did, and this time felt even more justified, because instead of a plastic bin being slid in the door, Tyson himself stepped in the room with his arrogant demeanor.

"Easy there, Kate. Why don't you go ahead and put that chair down, so I don't have to use this," he said before casually pulling a revolver out of the waistband of his jeans.

With a grunt of frustration, Kate set the chair back on its feet and then backed away from it with her arms raised up in a goal-post stance.

"There now; that's a good girl."

Her skin crawling at his tone, she hissed through her teeth, "What are you doing?"

He clicked his tongue. "Is that tone really necessary? After all, I came here to let you go."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right."

He nodded and sounded almost genuine. "No, really. Why don't you have a seat and we'll have a chat." She didn't move and several seconds later he added, "You don't want to stay, do you?"

"No."

"Good. Then have a seat," he said, his tone returning to one that made it sound like she didn't have a choice. Reluctantly, she sat. He smiled and leaned back against door. "Good, now let's go over the rules."

"What rules?"

"Oh, well, there have to be rules, Kate. I'm going to let you go unharmed, but there are rules. Oh, I almost forgot." From his back pocket he pulled a pair of metal handcuffs. He bent down and slid them on the floor until they bumped into her toes. Her sock-covered feet curled against one of the cuffs as she looked up at him. "How about you put those on and then we'll go over everything you need to know."


A/N: Hello and thank you for reading. I understand that because of the trigger warnings and nature of this story this will not be everyone's cup of tea so to speak and that's okay. For everyone else: 15 chapters + epilogue; Updates on Saturdays and Tuesdays :)