AN: Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews for this story. I really appreciate them!
Disclaimer: I don't own Castle.
Kate sighs as she throws away the remaining scraps from dinner. The food had been delicious, Alex being a good cook and her being fairly competent in the kitchen herself. It's distracted her from what happened earlier, almost.
Her hand reaches up to her cheek, fingertips grazing against the stitches on her skin.
"Need some pain killers?" Alex offers from the table as he finishes wiping up the wooden surface.
"No, I'm fine," she murmurs. It doesn't hurt much, but she can feel the numbing medication slowly losing its affect.
"Just let me know if you do." Her head turns, seeing the gentle smile on his face.
"'Course," she mumbles distractedly, glancing around, eager to explore the rest of the floor. She'd changed into fresh clothes in the middle of dinner, the other set disappearing when she had returned from the bathroom.
Alex had informed her over dinner that he didn't want her staying in the basement any longer. She had no objections, grateful that he had taken her feelings into consideration. Now, she wants to wander the rest of the first floor.
The kitchen itself is fairly small, and quaint, with three doors, one of them leading to the basement.
She walks to the door to the left of her and opens it to find a small sitting room complete with chairs, a coffee table, shelves, and an ancient television with rabbit ears on top.
"I sometimes lounge in here," he says from behind her. "But, it's mostly unused."
Instead of replying, she closes the door and trots to the next one across the way. To her surprise, a larger room, most likely a living room, greets her. She immediately notices the worn state of the furniture, and clusters of knickknacks throughout the space. As she walks around, she notes the numerous bookshelves that line the walls, books occupying every shelf from top to bottom. Various pictures, ranging from classical art to pop culture posters, hang on the walls.
In her peripheral vision, she spots a small desk. Upon closer inspection, she finds various papers covering the space. They look like manuscripts. Huh. She also notices a few pieces of sci fi memorabilia decorating the wooden surface.
"Sci fi fan?" she teases, turning to face him.
"Uh yeah, and superheroes," he admits sheepishly.
"I have a soft spot for Electra myself," she states as she glances at a poster of Luke and Leia. "This your man cave?"
"Pretty much," he hums.
"Lots of books," She examines the spines, seeing his electic taste in books. "You like literature?"
"Yeah, I wanted to be a writer at one point." His voice is quiet, resigned, causing her to raise an eyebrow.
"What happened?"
"One too many rejections to publishers did me in. Normally, I would've kept pursuing it, but money was tight." He shrugs indifferently, but she can see the anguish in his eyes.
"So, you do this instead."
"Yeah." He purses his lips as he walks to a closet door and retrieves a blanket from one of the shelves and throws it on the couch.
Hmm. Curiosity overtakes her as she glances at the desk. "Can I read it? If you have it."
A soft sigh escape his lips. "No publisher wanted it. How would a normal person find it readable?"
"I'll be the judge of that." She pouts, releasing a huff. "Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do." A smile spreads across her lips as she bats her eyelashes.
Scowling, he opens the drawer, pulling out a large stack of papers and hands it to her. "You really know how to guilt trip a guy," he grumps, but she spots the twitch of his lips.
Her eyes skim over the cover page, the title the first thing she notices. However, it's what's underneath it that catches her eye.
Richard Alexander Edgar Rodgers/Castle.
"Castle?" she questions.
"I was trying it out," he explains. "Richard Rodgers sounds too plain, plus that alliteration." He shudders. "Catchy, but it doesn't scream mystery writer to me."
"Hmm." She agrees with him. Richard Castle has a certain ring, a much stronger one than Richard Rodgers. It suits him. However, a thought strikes her. "You're not worried I know your name?"
A humorless chuckle falls from his lips. "I think we're past that, don't you?"
Pursing her lips, she nods in agreement. Yes, they were most definitely past that issue.
"Well, let me read," she orders, shooing him away. He shoots her an amused look before plopping down on the couch. "Not here!" His expression turns dubious and it takes her a moment to figure out the problem. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Now go!"
He pouts but concedes. Once he leaves the room, she settles into the couch and gazes at the front page again.
"A Rose Forever After, huh," she murmurs as she flips to the next page.
Well, time to get reading.
"Look, have you found anything?" Jim huffs, staring at the cop in front of him. "You've watched and listened to that video several times already."
"We still need to pick out some things," the man responds. "Unfortunately there's not much to work with there."
Johanna shakes her head from the couch. "I told you. I know who's doing this."
"But you don't have any proof," the officer, Ramirez, says
"I said my coworkers are getting it," she grumbles.
Apparently, Diane and Jennifer were still gathering the evidence needed to finish this case. Jo had told him they'd be at the Beckett home within an hour..
"Well, until then, we're just going to keep going over the video," a voice chimes from the kitchen where the crew set up shop with its technology. It's Detective O'Malley, the one heading up the case.
"How useful is it, though?" There's nothing there but their daughter and a masked man. At least he doesn't have to keep hearing Kate's screams since the team had put headphones on to listen to the audio.
The detective sighs, blue eyes swimming with regret and uncertainty. "We can review the audio, change the pitch, try to find a reflection of some sort."
The couple glances at each other, uncertainty in each of their gazes. It doesn't feel like the cops are doing anything. Then again, it's probably what it always seems for those who have missing family members.
Jim breaks out of his reverie when the doorbell rings. Everyone goes quiet as Detective O'Malley gestures to one of the Becketts to open the door.
Johanna rises from the couch and cautiously walks to the door, cracking it open. Her two coworkers barge in, both smiling triumphantly.
"We have everything!" Jennifer exclaims, clutching a file folder in her hands.
"And we have the tape you asked for." Diane waves a cassette tape around.
"Good." Johanna nods. "Now, let's play it."
Diane hands over the tape to the detective, who goes into the kitchen and gives it to one of his team members.
Everyone in the room goes silent as the tape plays. Jim clenches his fists when he hears his wife being referred to as a bitch, his stomach churning at the venom in Bracken's voice as the congressman discusses killing Johanna.
"Don't you have an alternative?" The voice, which Jim now knows as Detective Montgomery, asks.
"I'm thinking on it. I have a few cards that I can play, but killing Johanna Beckett is the ultimate option," Bracken answers.
A clicking sound indicates the end of the tape, everyone in the one looking at one another with shock. A second later, however, there's a flurry of activity as the law enforcement team springs into action, Detective O'Malley barking order every which way.
"Wait, wait!" Johanna exclaims. Everyone looks at her. "I want this done quietly. If we do this publicly, I'm afraid of what he'll do to Katie before we find her."
"While I agree," O'Malley starts. "We do have to get a move on this. We'll start with Congressman Bracken and then moved to the other ones. Otherwise, doing the reverse will alert him to what's going on." The couple nods, understanding the line of thinking.
As the team maps out a plan, relief floods Jim.
Looks like Katie's coming home.
Rick stretches as he lays on the sofa in the small sitting room. Kate's still in his 'man cave' as she had called it, reading his manuscript. It's strange having another person read his work who isn't a publisher.
He fights the urge to go in, ask her what she thinks, or take the papers from her and rip them to shreds in case she despises the words he's written. He almost laughs at himself, the fact that her opinion matters more than to him publishing company's not lost on him.
"Good grief," he mutters. He has it bad, but he can't find himself to care one bit, not anymore.
He skims through one the magazines he keeps on the shelf, it's pages dog eared from all times he's flipped through it. He's about to glance through it again, but the sound of the door opening saves him. Kate stands in the doorway, a small smile on her face.
"Hey," she greets, manuscript in her hand.
"Hey," he murmurs. "You finished it?"
She shakes her head, making his heart sink in disappointment. It must show on his face because she's quick to reassure him. "No, no, it wasn't because it was bad, far from it, actually." His eyebrows raise. "I loved it, so far. It's just my eyes were starting to close."
"Oh, okay," he says, realization dawning on him. She's had a long day, of course she would be tired. In fact, he sees her eyes begin to haze, slightly drooping as she props herself up against the doorframe.
"I'll read the rest tomorrow," she promises, sincerity in her tone.
"You won't be here tomorrow," he points out, earning him an eye roll.
"We both know that isn't set in stone." A sigh escapes her lips as she hands him the stack of papers. "But yeah, I'm holding out hope."
"Well, perhaps you'll be in your own bed by tomorrow night, all curled up."
"Hmmm," she hums. She glances around the room before her eyes settle on him again, a mischievous glint in her irises. "Well good night, Rick."
He grins, enjoying the way his name sounds on her lips.
"Goodnight, Kate."
Her eyes flicker to his mouth briefly before she turns, closing the door behind her. Once she's gone, his body slouches on the couch, his hand running over his face, regret filling him. As he sits, he thinks, reflecting on the day's events. Images flash through his mind, and he finds himself rising from the couch, walking through the kitchen and into the living room.
"Rick?" he hears her call as he enters. "Is everything okay?"
By this point he's standing over her, gazing at her hazel eyes, which now show a mixture of concern and confusion. He takes a kneeling position, making him eye level to her. Reaching his hand out, he cups her wound free cheek, joy flooding him when she doesn't pull away.
He leans in closer, his mouth inches from hers. However, he stills, silently asking permission, and thankfully, she pushes closer, placing her lips on his.
The kiss is brief, but he places as much of his feelings as he can into it. Their mouths move in sync, his lips gently brushing hers as he relishes in the softness of her lips, the taste of her mouth. It's incredible, and as much as he craves more, he knows he shouldn't push.
Once they part, he leans his forehead against hers, chuckles escaping both of them.
"Wow," she murmurs, voice breathy.
"That was amazing." Awe colors his tone.
"Better than the first time?"
"Might be on par," he teases. Then, he looks at stares at her, running his thumb along her unscarred cheek. "I promise you, Kate, you will be home tomorrow."
"Rick-," she starts, but he shakes his head.
"No matter what it takes, you'll be home. I'll make sure of it."
She glances at him warily but nods. His lips graze her forehead before he leaves the room, closing the door and returning to his place on the sofa in the small room, resolve building in him.
Come hell or high water, Kate will be going home tomorrow.