*Nine months earlier*
The flames licked at his muscles, the fire first ignited somewhere along his spine and radiating outward until the nerves in his fingertips were singed. The heat was unbearable, the pain enough to make him wish he'd never tried to move. Finally brave enough to open his eyes, he looked for the telltale smoke that had to be emanating from the surface of his skin.
There was nothing.
Nothing except for expertly wrapped bandages, a handful of scrapes that remained visible, and shackles that kept his ankles and wrists bound to a bed. Shackles? What the hell had happened? He had to clear his head, focus on where he was and how to get away, but everything hurt so damn much that he slammed his eyes shut and willed himself to pass out again.
There was no way to tell how long he'd been asleep when he woke again, but at least the raw burn of pain had dulled to a steady ache, making room for the flash of panic previously lost to unconsciousness.
"My wedding…" It was supposed to be louder, his urgency intended but stifled by a voice that had yet to fully return. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What happened to my wedding? Where's Kate?"
A cool hand settled on his forehead, soothing even though something screamed at him that it was all wrong. "Shhhhhh, you need to rest, Mr. Castle. You've been in an accident and it won't do your recovery any good if you get upset. I gave you a sedative after you seemed to wake up in some pain earlier, but relaxing is so helpful in allowing your body to heal."
His eyes slowly adjusted to the smiling face leaning over his body, flinching when he recognized her. "Dr. Nieman."
"Yes, of course." She pulled her hand back and moved to assess what he could only assume were the injuries she'd carefully bandaged. "I've already called Jerry and he'll be along shortly. I'm sure he'll be able to address some of your confusion when he arrives."
"Jerry Tyson?"
Her look was one of pity; she seemed saddened that it was taking him so long to make sense of his situation. "Yes. Who else, Mr. Castle? Now, please, it's really best if you just take it easy. We hadn't wanted the accident to be quite so catastrophic, but those things tend to be a bit out of our control. I suppose the dramatics will only help our long-term goals here, and I certainly would have been more than happy to help correct any damage done to that face of yours, but alas, you've come through better than one might have expected."
"Long-term goals?" He felt like an idiot for choking out another barely coherent question, but his brain wasn't keeping up. He was in an accident, Dr. Nieman was tending to his wounds, and they were waiting for Jerry Tyson to explain where Kate was? It was a nightmare and he wondered if closing his eyes once more might bring him back to a reality in which he was reciting his vows to his beautiful bride.
Instead, he took the opportunity to survey the room to which he was confined. The cinder block walls made it seem cold and emptier than it actually was, and the exposed piping gave it an industrial edge. There was a large table on the opposite side of room, an empty folding chair tucked in at each of the two ends. He was set up on a makeshift hospital bed next to a table of medical supplies, presumably for Dr. Nieman's attentive care to the injuries he'd sustained. There were a couple of uncovered windows, which suggested that there was little chance of someone happening by and peering inside, and there were no obvious locks or hinges to give him hope of finding an easy way out through them. There was no door on the three walls he could see from his position, so he struggled to lean forward in an attempt to turn his aching body for a view of whatever was situated behind him.
He didn't get the chance.
A door slammed from somewhere over his shoulder and he heard the too-familiar voice. "You're not bothering the kind doctor with too many questions are you, Castle? I know you're always desperate for the whole story, but that's what got us into this little mess, isn't it? I really thought you might have learned by now. Sometimes it's better not to push for all the answers."
Jerry Tyson appeared alongside his bed, the calm arrogance practically palpable. It was the third time Castle had been the man's prisoner – from the motel room to the precinct's holding cell to his current accommodations – and something in his sedative-addled mind wanted to laugh at the lunacy of having an actual arch-nemesis. He was having visions of a villainous sneer, the cartoonish twirl of a mustache, and maniacal laughter, but it was too much and he had to shake himself free of it. 3XK was looking down upon him, awaiting his return to reality.
"I haven't pushed anything. I was getting married."
"I think we both know it was just a matter of time, so I took the opportunity to step in when I could."
Castle tried to find a logical argument, but he wasn't sure he was making any sense. Or that it mattered to this particular serial killer. "But you were gone. Free. The NYPD no longer has your case records. Everyone thinks you're dead. Why show your face now?"
Tyson shook his head, seemingly disappointed. "No, no, no. You never thought I was dead. And you are the one who likes to keep poking around."
"Okay, but nobody believes me that you're still alive. So let me out of here and I'll forget about all of it."
It was such a terrible lie that even Dr. Nieman had trouble stifling a condescending smile. She quickly busied herself with an unnecessary check of his bandages, while Tyson called him out. "Even if you think you believe that now, it would never last once you're reunited with your darling detective. She has an incessant thirst for justice and I've become your own pet project. Ignoring you for long would be a tactical error on my part."
They were talking in circles and Castle shifted against the firm mattress. He needed to move the conversation forward. "And instead of ignoring me, you reappear just enough to taunt me. To let me know you're still watching." He did his best to crack a smile. "Why go through so much trouble to kidnap me on my wedding day? You couldn't just get us a gift like everyone else? Your sidekick seems to be pretty adept with sharp objects…I'm sure she could have engraved a punch bowl or something."
"Well, sure, some of it is just to taunt you. The cat and mouse game is old, but it's a classic for a reason. And some of it is because the chaos is entertaining." Tyson tilted his head, almost as though he was wondering how much more to give away, but he got interrupted before he could say anything more.
"I know you two have a lot to discuss, but our patient needs to eat something. He'll be of no use physically or mentally if we don't help him recover from his accident first."
They both looked at Nieman, Tyson with an edge of irritation and Castle with a wave of nausea; Tyson slipped back into nonchalance quickly. "Sure, let's bring him over to the table and give him some dinner. I want him alert for the rest of this conversation."
Absolutely no good could come of whatever "conversation" 3XK wanted to have with him and Castle knew it. The brightness of Tyson's eyes, the smirk on his face…everything was about to go from bad to worse. Even the slightest movement of his legs reminded him of the restraints there and he could see the ones that kept his arms in place, but staying in the bed while he figured out an escape seemed safer than sharing a meal with his captor.
"I don't want to eat anything. We can talk here."
Dr. Nieman leaned over him, a gentle hand covering his. Her creepy kindness was something he wished he could rely upon. "Mr. Castle, I'm afraid I must insist. If you won't eat a proper dinner, I'll be forced to feed you intravenously, and I'd really rather spare you that trouble after everything else you've been through today. Please, go sit with Jerry."
As she spoke, she began to unfasten each of the shackles while Tyson stood nearby to observe. Their dynamic was interesting; Tyson appeared to be in charge of the operation as a whole, but Nieman clearly had her domain and held firm to that control.
Almost subconsciously, Castle rotated his ankles and rubbed at his wrists as soon as they were free, grateful for the ability to move. Unfortunately, he realized that any passing thought of fighting his way out of the room would have to wait until he had regained his strength. Whether it was the drugs or the accident, he was in no shape to take on a physical altercation and that knowledge disheartened him. Nieman helped swing his legs to the side of the bed so that he could be helped up, and Tyson silently led them across the room. He damn near fell into the chair that awaited him, so the doctor's next warning was almost laughable.
"It will be best if you don't exert yourself too much, Mr. Castle. Simply enjoy your dinner and don't think about running away from us. You won't get far." She slipped away, presumably to fetch the food, and he found himself blinking wearily at Tyson, bracing himself for the impending discussion.
"So, as I was saying earlier, toying with you is fun for me. I enjoy the chaos I can bring to your life and, trust me, there will plenty of that to come. But the main reason I've brought you here is so that you can help me with my next little plan."
Castle barked out a laugh, derisive and channeling his fiancée with the perfect arch of his eyebrow. "Since when do you need my help? And what makes you think I'd give it?"
"You'll give it because you won't have any other option. And I'm afraid you weren't listening very carefully. We'll need to work on that." Tyson leaned forward on his elbows, lowering his voice. "I don't need your help. I want your help."
There was no choice but to hear him out, to understand why 3XK was so intent on collaborating on a new, most likely homicidal, mission. "Go on."
"We're a lot alike, you and I. Using our creativity to craft flawless tales of crime, play with our respective audiences, find the twist that causes everyone to gasp as the truth sinks in. It's amusing from our perspective, seeing how easy it is to manipulate everyone, isn't it?" Castle didn't offer a response and Tyson didn't wait for one. "This time, I thought it might be fun to co-author the next mystery. Or, more accurately, I'll take the credit while you ghostwrite it."
"But why?"
"Because. I. Can." Each word was punctuated with increasing frustration. "You're going to write me the perfect abduction and murder, and I'm going to execute it for the whole world to see."
The doom settled heavily against Castle's shoulders, spilling down his chest and making it difficult to breathe. Somehow, he knew the answer to his next question before he even gave it a voice. "And the victim?"
"Kate Beckett, of course."
