In From The Cold

Chapter 1
One Is The Loneliest Number

He saw a flash in the distance. The scope of a sniper. He turned, looking at her at the podium, delivering her prepared eulogy for her fallen captain. And then he glanced back in the direction of the flash of light. It was an easy decision to make. Moving as fast as he could, he lunged for her just as the shot rang out across the cemetery. It all happened in a single heartbeat. He collided with her, and together they fell to the wet grass. He had to save her. She couldn't die.
But he was too late.

She was gasping and wheezing, blood pooling out around her, soaking the freshly cut grass.

He was always too late.

Rick Castle awoke with a start.

It was always the same; the same nightmare, the same result. Always the same. No matter the changes or deviations from reality, it always remained the same. Kate Beckett died. And it was all his fault. He was too slow, not fast enough, to save her.

He groaned, closing his eyes, and rolled over onto his back. The movement caused his bed companion to stir from her slumber.

"Hey, you okay?" the woman asked, shifting around to place a warm hand on his bare chest.

He looked over at her, soft features and kind eyes. He tried to recall her name. Was it Brandy? Or was it Candy? He wasn't quite sure. "Yeah, yeah," Castle mumbled out, voice horse and rough. "I'm fine. Just a nightmare."

His bed companion hummed in response, patting his chest sympathetically, before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He watched as she stood up, gracing him with the sight of her deliciously firm backside. His eyes roamed up and down her slender form as she stretched her arms up above her head and shook herself awake. He smiled, despite his melancholic mood, enjoying the sight, seeing all her jiggly bits… jiggle. She arched her neck to glance back at him with a mischievous spark in her green eyes.

"Wanna join me in the shower?" she asked with a come-hither look.

Castle thought about it, lazily gazing up at her as she slowly pirouetted around in place, tempting him with her firm, fit body. He was tempted, oh… so very tempted, but his nightmare was still too fresh in his mind. She was still fresh in his mind. Lost love. Though he would no doubt enjoy a continuation of his romp with his latest fling, Castle just really wasn't in the mood. Even the warm flesh of the vivacious, enthusiastic woman in front of him could not compete with the ghost of Detective Kate Beckett, the woman he stilled loved with all his heart despite the fact she'd been dead for well over three years now.

He sighed.

There was a reason they were always blonde.

"Raincheck?" he asked, though both of them knew there would be none.

The woman stared at him for a long beat, but inclined her head nonetheless, accepting that their time together was coming to an end. She offered him a soft smile, before turning around. He watched as she pranced away, like a gazelle, full of grace and beauty. When she'd disappeared into the bathroom, Castle sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to sweep away the last vestiges of his troubling dreams. He reached for his phone to check the time.

10:35 AM.

Good. He still had plenty of time before his scheduled 2PM meeting with Gina. The latest book in the Nikki Heat series was due to be released in a couple weeks. Raging Heat would be the sixth book in the series, and Black Pawn wanted to make a big marketing push around that. Castle sighed, not sure he was really up for planning public appearances and book signings, but he'd do whatever they wanted so long as they let him continue to write about Detective Nikki Heat and 2-time Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Jameson Rook. It was all he really had left of her. And even if Beckett still wasn't alive, he wanted to keep her memory alive through the literary alter ego he'd created in her image.

Standing up, Castle hunted around the hotel suite for his clothes. He didn't plan on still being here when last night's fling was finished in the shower.

XXX

"Oh, look who's strolling in at," Martha Rodgers paused to check her wristwatch, "Eleven thirty!" She appraised her son's disheveled appearance with a disapproving frown. "Have you no shame?"

Castle closed the door to the loft behind him and flashed his mother an annoyed look. "Like you should talk, Mother?" he scoffed. "At least I'm smart enough to not lose my credit cards and bank savings."

His mother gasped, glowering. "That was one time, Richard," she declared with a dramatic huff. "One time. And really," she shook her head in disappointment. "That was a low blow, even for you."

He sighed, and carded his fingers through his mussed hair. "Sorry, Mother," he said, thoroughly contrite. She was right; that had been rather cruel. "I just… have a headache. Sorry."

Hoping she'd let the matter drop, Castle made his way to his office. But, alas, he was not so lucky.

"You had the dream again, didn't you, Richard?"

Castle stopped in his tracks and turned around. Heaving in a deep breath, he offered a reluctant nod in confirmation before shuffling over to the kitchen counter to join his mother. He placed his hands on the cool marble countertop and closed his eyes, breathing through his nose.

"It's been three years, Mother," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Three years. I should be over it."

Martha Rodgers appraised her son with a tenderhearted look that only a mother could have. She slipped off the barstool she'd been seated on and worked her way over to her dejected offspring. Gently placing a hand on his back, she tried to comfort him as best she could.

"I know, kiddo," she consoled. "I know. You miss her. We all do."

He shook his head. "It's not just that," Castle said. He dropped his head and stared down at the countertop, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to find a way to articulate his emotional state. Despite last night's energetic and perky company, all he felt was hollow and empty inside. He hated himself for falling back into his old ways—his pre-Beckett ways. Knowing her, being her friend, had changed him, for the better. He had become a better man, a better son, and a better father, simply by knowing Katherine Houghton Beckett.

"I have to stop this," Castle sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Stop what?" Martha asked.

He gave her a pointed look.

"Ah," she nodded, understandingly. "Yes, well, that's easier said than done, isn't it, kiddo?"

"I can be better," he asserted, trying his very best to sound resolute. "I know I can. Beckett showed me that."

Martha nodded thoughtfully. "That she did," she agreed. "She really was a remarkable young woman, and the world is a far dimmer place without her in it."

Castle pursed his lips and glanced at his mother, absently trailing his finger around in the patterns on the granite countertop. "I never told you this before, but the day she… she died," he choked up a bit. He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. "I… I…"

"You what?" Martha encouraged when he petered out, rubbing her hand up and down his back.

"I told her how I felt," he revealed. "I told her I loved her."

"Oh, Richard," Martha hugged her son.

Castle closed his eyes, welcoming his mother's embrace. It had been a long time since he'd felt the need of parental comfort, but he really needed it today. "I still love her," he admitted after a long beat of silence. "Even after all this time. I can't stop."

"A love like that, you can't turn it off," Martha explained.

He pulled back and gave his mother a confused look.

"Oh, please," Martha laughed, gently patting her son on the chest, the colorful bangles on her wrist rattling as she did so. "Don't act all surprise. I'm your mother. I knew. I saw it every time she called, in the way you looked at her. There was no way you could hide that from me, kiddo. Not Martha Rodgers."

Castle grinned and conceded the point with a nod. "I wished I'd been more brave," he confessed in a quiet voice. "Told her sooner." He paused, staring off into space. "We had this moment—in LA—but it wasn't the right time. I… I could never find the right time."

"Well," Martha sighed, brow furrowing thoughtfully. "At least you told her. At least she… passed knowing how you felt. That she was loved."

He shook his head. "She should never have been in that situation to begin with," he asserted, revisiting old territory. "If I hadn't dug up her mother's case…"

"Richard, no," Martha shushed, trying to soothe him.

"I did it," he insisted, ignoring his mother's protestations. "I'm responsible for bringing it all back."

"Richard Alexander Rodgers," his mother raised her voice, using his full birth name to garner his full attention. It worked. He blinked out of his daze and looked at her. Martha gave him a stern motherly frown. "Don't you dare blame yourself. You are not the one that shot her."

He nodded. "True, but… I did put her in the crosshairs."

Martha shook her head, but he was done with the conversation. His heart felt heavy and worn. He glanced up at the clock, estimating he had just under an hour to shower and shave before he needed to leave for Black Pawn and his meeting with Gina. He held his hand up to halt any further discussion from his mother. She relented with a shrug of her shoulders. He gave her a half-hug and kissed her forehead, letting her know with the gesture that he was grateful for all that she did for him. And then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed for his bedroom.

Once alone, Castle threw off his clothing from last night, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor. He rummaged through his closet, pulling out a clean shirt and a pair of black slacks, putting them on the bed before tugging off his boxers and heading for the ensuite bathroom. He clicked on the wall-mounted radio and cranked up the volume, letting the music fill the room, drowning out his thoughts. He needed to relax, get his mind off the past and lost love.

Stepping into the shower, he closed his eyes as he turned the handle, welcoming the bracing cold water that pelted down on him. Castle slowly turned in place, letting his back take the brunt of the abuse before the water warmed and heated up. He breathed in and out slowly, trying not to think. But with a mind like his such a task was impossible.

He kept seeing her, in his mind's eye. Her gorgeous face, fraught with pain and horror. She knew. He knew she knew. The moment the bullet hit her, she must have known she was going to die. Castle sighed and scrubbed the shampoo into his hair, trying to banish the imagery from his thoughts. But it was futile. It always was with Kate Beckett. There was a reason she'd become his muse.

Later, in front of the mirror, he applied shaving cream and worked his razor over his chin and jaw, getting rid of the scruff. As he pulled the razor down across his cheek, he tugged sharply—later he'd say it was an accident—cutting himself, drawing blood. Castle narrowed his eyes and glared at his reflection, recalling his liaison from last night.

He sneered, disgusted with himself.

God, he was pathetic.

Castle thought he'd outgrown that part of himself. But during the last three years, after severing ties with the boys and the precinct, he'd fallen back into his old behaviors, his old coping mechanisms. And he needed to stop. He was better than that. If not for him, then for his daughter. Castle stared at himself, and nodded, decision made. He might not fully recover from losing the woman who was quite possibly the love of his life, despite having never been in a romantic relationship with him, but he could be better. He had to find the strength to move on and live his life to the fullest, not coast along in a state of perpetual numbness.

For the first time in what felt like years, Richard Castle felt a spark of hope ignite in his once hollow chest. It was small, but it was still there. Life would get better. He quickly finished washing up, ready to face Gina and the rest of the executives at Black Pawn. Nikki Heat would continue, living the life he and Kate could have had if circumstances had been different. Meanwhile, he would finally allow himself to be open to embracing the possibilities of future happiness, now understanding that it wouldn't diminish what he had felt—and still felt—for Kate Beckett. He would always love her. But he'd grieved for long enough.

It was time for him to move on.

As he departed the bathroom to get dress, the DJ interrupted the music with some breaking news: "Just in from Washington; Senator William H. Bracken, potential presidential candidate, was arrested this morning on Capitol Hill. The Senator from New York was turned over to the FBI under undisclosed charges. More at the top of the hour. Now, back to 'Stop and Stare' by One Republic."