The phone call comes early the next morning, and while it's really not much of a surprise, it's a relief just the same. Esposito, furious at being told to stop his investigation out of some sense of self-preservation is ready to run headfirst at whomever is responsible for the murders of Kate Beckett, Roy Montgomery, and far too many others, and he wants Castle to help him do it.
After Castle ends the call and tosses his phone onto the coffee table alongside Beckett's elephants, he turns to the woman he's barely left in the past ten hours. When they'd turned to each other in the wake of Ryan and Esposito's abrupt departure, he'd taken in the tight lines of her body and the tears yearning to fall and had wisely remained silent. He guessed that she was torn between two men she'd long considered to be brothers, hating to see them fighting at all and unsure of whose side to take in the end; Castle knew he only wanted to side with her.
At some point in the middle of the night, she'd tried to redirect her anger to Castle, blaming him for the way everything had gone so wrong, ignoring the fact that it had been screwed up long before he appeared.
Or before she appeared, if they're being honest.
Eventually she'd shaken the blind fury, letting it drop from her fingertips as her spine snapped straight, forgoing a spoken apology for a softness offered from a tired hazel gaze instead. And before dawn, they'd agreed to wait for one of the boys to make a move before they forced the next step themselves, hoping Esposito would forge ahead while respecting Ryan's decision to hang back, and disregarding Montgomery's mysterious friend entirely. For as long as they could, at least.
Castle had managed to doze on the couch briefly while Alexis moved through the apartment before leaving for school, Beckett remaining settled at her regular post by the window, but both of them had jumped at the sharp chirp of the phone and Espo's gruff hello.
"Okay, so what did he say?" Beckett asks, bringing him back to the present.
"He didn't attempt to run they guy through the CID, didn't want to risk using a system like that to alert anyone who might be involved. Obviously if they knew we were working this when we visited Halstead, they'd catch the CID login even faster," Castle answers. "But he did study the surveillance footage and identified a key chain the killer had from Eastway car rentals. It's a lot of cars, and he probably used a fake ID, but it's a start. Most of Eastway's locations open in 30 minutes, so Espo will be all over them until he can narrow down the search. Once he gets something solid, he'll call me back and work with a partner who isn't too fucking scared of doing his fucking job. His words, not mine."
That elicits the expected eye roll, but he can tell Beckett would already be banging down the doors of the unfortunate car rental company if she had the ability to bang on anything at all. And though Castle makes an appearance at his own precinct for several hours, he sneaks away that afternoon when Esposito calls with the news that he's tracked the killer – a man using the name Cole Maddox – to a one block radius on the Lower East Side. Apparently Esposito had offered Ryan one last chance to join them in their crusade, the only words they'd exchanged all day, but Ryan just begged him to get a team in place and go after Maddox the right way.
It's no real surprise to Castle that this will be a two-man operation. And while Beckett had wanted to tag along, there was no room for distraction, so he slams his car door and jogs across the street by himself to where Esposito waits.
"He's been renting a room here," Esposito explains, nodding toward the building behind him. "Management agreed to let us in."
From that point forward, everything Castle experiences will be remembered as moments of exceptional clarity blunted by the haze of physical and emotional trauma. He and Esposito easily find the stolen files and Montgomery's wedding album, plus the ominous suggestion that Maddox is on the hunt for another victim. It's just enough to tip them toward Ryan's logic and the need for backup, but they're ambushed before anything more can be done.
The building's manager is dead in the hallway.
Esposito is knocked out a moment later.
And Castle chases Maddox to the roof for a battle he isn't destined to win.
But he's out of other options.
There's more than a struggle between them, the crack of bones and the scream of strained muscles louder than the whisper of any way out. Castle pleas for information from Maddox, anything about who is behind this years-long war, but is treated to little but a smirk and a few more bruises.
In the end, Maddox leaves him clinging to life, quite literally. Castle has no idea how long he hangs from the edge of the building, hoarse from calling for Esposito – or anyone else – to come save him, but he laments his failures and grasps for the hope that his daughter will live with the kind of happiness that has eluded him for too long. It hurts to know he's broken something between Ryan and Esposito, and he nearly lets go when he thinks of leaving his mother with too many questions and not enough thanks.
And Beckett, oh god, the way he aches for a woman he barely knows.
By the time Ryan and an NYPD tactical unit arrive to pull him to safety, he is just starting to make peace with everything, aware of the many ways the world will go on fine without him; the face of Captain Victoria Gates suggests she and the rest of the world aren't quite done with him yet.
"I'm so sorry, Beckett. I'm so sorry." She startles at his apology, so he tries to clarify. "I wanted to put this to rest for you and instead I let you down."
Beckett reaches for him as though she can help remove the rain-soaked jacket from his shivering body. "You almost died and all you can think about is me?"
He's been back in his apartment for several minutes now, but has yet to move past the small entryway, still unsure of where he belongs. After the rooftop rescue, and Esposito being found outside Maddox's room, official punishments were swift and severe. Both men were treated to immediate suspensions and Castle's captain had warned him that his short time with the department meant he wasn't entitled to the same understanding that might be extended to Beckett's team at the 12th. Everything would be evaluated by a review board at a later date, but nobody seemed optimistic.
When he'd left his precinct, he wasn't ready to be the cause of any more sorrow in Beckett's life. Or death. Instead, he wandered through the unexpected rain and sought penance on a swing set left untouched in the dark, only making his way home when he couldn't stop missing the women he hadn't stopped hurting.
"It's been pretty damn hard to stop thinking about you," he admits. "And I will never be sorry that you came back here or that I can see you or that I agreed to help with this crazy case. I'm not sorry that I got suspended and I'm not sorry that I can barely stand because my body is about to give up on me. I'm only sorry that I haven't made everything better for you. I'm sorry I haven't been what you needed me to be."
She says nothing for quite a while, furrowing her brow until some decision has been made and then silently – always silently – she slips away with no need to ask him to follow.
They both know he will.
When they reach his bedroom, she lets him pass her and nods for him to take off the wet leather jacket he continues to wear in defense or atonement. Then without a word, she closes the short distance between them; though some part of him acknowledges she will never make contact, he backs up until he's against the wall and he can almost imagine the warmth of her breath along the underside of his jaw when she finally speaks.
"Maybe I haven't been left behind because I still needed to solve my mom's case. Maybe it was never about that. Maybe I just needed to learn how to let go of it."
"But will you – can you?" he stammers.
Her nose nearly brushes his collar. "I have to. The past 24 hours have changed everything, from the way Ryan and Espo turned on each other last night, even though they want so much of the same justice for me, to the fact that you could have left your daughter without a father and I know how much losing a parent can destroy a person. I broke everything on my fall down the rabbit hole and ended up dead at the bottom of it. I can't wait around for the rest of you to join me."
"Do you really think it's that simple? That it's like The Wizard of Oz and you've had the power to click your heels together this whole time?"
"I don't know," she whispers with a shrug. "But I do know it's time to try."
A wave of immense sadness washes over him, but he can't dwell on it when she continues.
"I also know that you've made a lot of things better for me. You've been exactly what I needed you to be, and I'll never be able to thank you for that, to give you back everything you deserve." She pauses to close her eyes, the smallest sigh of regret escaping in that same moment. "You should take off your clothes. You're freezing."
There's little she gives away with the suggestion, no humor and no uncertainty. It's a quiet observation, and though he knows it masks so much more, he's powerless to refuse.
She only eases away to give him room to untuck his shirt before he moves to fumble through each small button and peel the material from his body, somehow managing to kick his shoes aside at the same time. When he starts to unfasten his belt, he studies her face for any sign that this isn't what she'd meant, but she holds his stare and finally blinks away her faux apathy, nothing but raw want in its place.
His belt clatters to the floor, his pants quieter when they fall in the next second. He steps out of them and pushes the pile away, bending down to remove his socks before he rises to face her with the kind of vulnerability he hasn't felt in years.
Maybe ever.
And he thinks she knows.
Whatever is about to happen is likely to leave a scar, but it's one he'll treasure, the recklessness something that will be remembered fondly, even if his heart will never be the same.
Beckett – or Kate, really, the detective's surname dropped before she'd entered his bedroom – brings her hand to his shoulder, her palm less than an inch from his skin. "Goosebumps," she murmurs.
He thinks she's moved closer again, but he can't stop looking at her hand as it coasts over the surface of his arm, turning to watch the other do the same until both hands are aligned with his, fingers that should naturally tangle to form a knowing grasp and carry them to his bed. Instead she tilts her head toward where she wants him to lie alone.
The chill coursing through his body hasn't fully dissipated, in spite of the growing heat between them, but he refuses to crawl beneath the covers; if she can't touch, then she should at least be able to see. Kate smiles her gratitude before stepping to the side of the bed and resting her hands over his once again.
"Follow mine," she commands, and so he does.
He's prepared to move his hands over his chest and probably across his abdomen, ready to let his own fingers travel along his skin at her direction, but she quickly reminds him of the agreement they'd made the first night they met.
Their relationship isn't one-way.
They're partners.
And so she lifts her hands to her chest and waits for him to do the same, the fabric of her white t-shirt and the reality of her existence acting as barriers that his imagination is all too willing to overcome, and he swears he can feel her breathe, longs to memorize every curve for as long as he's allowed to explore each one of them. Nothing more is said as they move back and forth for several minutes, her body to his and back again, touching each other without making any contact at all, learning without having to be taught.
By the time they near the end, their hands settled into a perfect rhythm over him, he tries so hard to hold on, to make the night last his lifetime, but he can only gasp into the quiet room and beg her to stay close.
She's by his side when he drifts off to sleep much later, still there when he's awakened more than once by a nightmare and the relentless pain from his rooftop fight. It's only when the rising sun offers the first slivers of a new day that he realizes she's no longer there.
And he wonders if their one night together was also their goodbye.