AN: Thanks for sticking with me. I kind of feel like this story is progressing really slowly as there's still so many twists and turns and plot developments that I want to chuck in there, but I don't want to rush. Hence, I'm struggling with pacing it a little, but hopefully the progression will be natural enough. I managed to pull this chapter together in a break at uni so I apologise if it's a little poorly written in comparison to the others as it was a lot more rushed. Nonetheless, happy reading, and please review!

Chapter Six

But the door didn't burst open and the women in the house didn't light up with relieved smiles.

Beckett pulled her phone from her pocket, dialled Esposito and drew it to her ear. "Espo, we've got a problem. I'm at Castle's, and…"

"Ooh, at Castle's are we?" he interrupted, his tone light, teasing.

"Listen!" Beckett hissed, and Esposito knew better than to ignore her, with the venom dripping from that one word alone.

"Problem, right, sorry. What's up boss?"

"Castle's missing. We… just, he never came home from the precinct." Esposito echoed her early hiss. His jaw clenched.

"Listen Beckett, I'll call Ryan. We'll meet you at the precinct in twenty. Don't worry, we'll figure it out," he ground out, all the while desperately hoping that he hadn't just lied through his teeth. Castle was by now an integrate part of their team. It wasn't that they needed him, they wanted him and that was pivotal.

Beckett turned to Alexis, took her hand gently coaxing her from her father's room. "Let's go. The boys will meet us at the precinct." Alexis just nodded in response, tangling her fingers with Beckett's and giving them a quick squeeze before she dropped them. Little did they know, that would be their last moment of quiet stillness before the panic really set in.

The walk to Beckett's cruiser was filled with Alexis spinning wild theories, reminiscent of her father.

"Maybe he really did get involved in some CIA conspiracy he wasn't meant to. God, that would be like a dream come true…. He could have met someone, got caught up in the moment, you know?" With that she glanced at Beckett who was doing all she could not to glower. It was possible, but that didn't make it remotely likely. Alexis blushed. "No, definitely not that last one. I think he's all set there," she murmured. Beckett was glad when they reached the car, effectively grounding the conversation to a halt.

She drove with no regard for the law. She was after all, a cop, and above the law in some ways. Not that she really believed that last statement, just desperate times call for desperate measures and all that. She blasted the siren, ran every red light and made it to the precinct in half the time it normally took. As she walked into the elevator, Alexis meeting her rapid pace step-for-step, the first thought that sprung to mind was that she was really going to need a coffee. The wave of grief that hit her with that thought was overwhelming. Coffee meant Castle, simple as that. She needed him to be safe. She needed him to come back. As much as she loved her job, she hated it when Richard Castle was absent – even though half the time she was the one that instigated his absence. An instigation that was swiftly followed by deep regret in most circumstances. Nothing could happen to him, she just couldn't handle it. She needed to talk to him, and she needed it now. The elevator dinged, singling their arrival at the homicide department. She and Alexis resumed their quick pace, reaching Beckett's desk in a matter of seconds. Alexis sighed and sat in her father's seat, her face in her hands. Beckett reached into her drawer and pulled out a whiteboard marker.

"Here Alexis, we need to start a timeline. Do you want to do it? He left here around 4pm. I've just got to go get something really quickly. Sorry, I'll be right back." The girl lifted her face from her hands, nodded briskly and accepted the outstretched marker. Beckett turned and took off for the bathroom, only intense concentration on each and every step preventing her from breaking into a run. She didn't want to alarm Alexis more than necessary, but her resolve was crumbling. She made it to the bathroom, quickly inspected it to ensure it was empty and promptly withdrew her phone – she was going to talk to him now, whether he could hear it or not.

A few minutes after she entered the bathroom, she left it, her calm-and-in-control façade wavering just a bit. She was greeted by Alexis, Ryan and Esposito hard at work, constructing the timeline. They were working on the murder-board, as they always did. God, Beckett thought, this wasn't even their case – they weren't investigating a homicide, were they? No, they couldn't be. She wouldn't allow it to be a possibility, as real as it may be.

"Hey boss," Ryan nodded looking up, concern etched on his face, mingling with exhaustion. "This is all we've got so far," he gestured at the board. "It's not much".

"Okay. Put a trace on his phone," her expression hardened as she spoke. It was time to push aside her emotions and work, after all, that was what she best at – too good if you asked those who cared for her most.

X-X-X-X-X-X

Fantastic. So now he was most definitely fake engaged to a lunatic. A lunatic who had him at her every whim. Seriously, fantastic. He was doomed, and not just in the melodramatic overstated way. She had planted an overzealous kiss on each of his cheeks at the "proposal", and he had simply fought to maintain composure. Somehow, he didn't think gagging would improve his situation in any capacity. Although, now that dinner and dessert – internal shudder seemed necessary at the thought of that – seemed to be wrapping up, he thought he'd push his luck with escape once again.

"Oh my fiancé," – it had less of a sting to it than Mrs Castle – he smiled with so many teeth that he was sure it would look inherently creepy to anyone else who saw it. "I really do need to use a toilet, if that is at all possible. Otherwise, I might be prone to have a little accident rather soon." He injected another fake smile and crushed his knees together like he was trying to cross his legs (the ankle bindings of course negated that action). She frowned then sighed.

"Fine, just give me a moment to take some necessary precautions," she leant forward, kissing his cheek slowly once more before standing and leaving the room. She back in a matter of minutes, with a knife in one hand and a shot gun in the other. If that didn't scream I trust you my fake fiancé then Castle didn't know what did. He knew that he wrists were bound tightly, but the fact she had to cut through them with a massive knife as opposed to untie them assured Castle that struggling to extricate himself would have gotten him nothing except rope burn.

After cutting him free, she pointed the shot gun at his head. "Behave, or we'll both lose". Castle believed her. As much as she loved him in this delusion, she wouldn't hesitate to shot him if he tried to leave her. That kind of betrayal was not an acceptable turn for this little fantasy to take. He briefly wondered if he should attempt to overpower her and gain control of the gun. But his risk management was mostly intact and he assessed that particular plan could end very badly for him. He could always attempt it next time he was allowed this privilege. But for now, the risk was too much, there were other ways of escape than a physical fight with an armed woman – surely. Alexis would be worried, she would call Beckett who would show up to rescue him any minute now. He wished he'd somehow been aware enough to leave some clues as to where he was – not that he even knew. Besides, Alexis and Beckett were reason enough not to engage this woman in a bloody conflict. He shuddered to picture them storming in to rescue him and finding him bled out from a bullet wound, dying or dead on this cold concrete floor. His best chance for escape would be when the armed madwoman was absent from his forsaken room. She had to leave to shower or sleep or something as some stage.

He rose, a little unsteadily, his joints creaking – being bound to a chair for hours on end did not make him feel particularly youthful. The madwoman kept the gun pointed firmly at the base of his skull.

"C'mon honey, it's just out the door. No mischief now," she purred, a stark contrast to her serious expression. Opening the door, Richard Castle found himself in what appeared to be an abandoned office building of sorts. He was standing at the end of a bare corridor, a myriad of doors lining the walls. "Third one on the left," she intoned, nudging him forward with the barrel of the gun.

As he started towards it, he noticed the door to his right was ajar and strewn across the table lay his clothes. Before he'd thought to take another step, the sound of music filled the air. It was his ringtone, not only that, it was the ringtone he'd reserved for Beckett. His heart swelled, she was thinking of him, whether or not she knew to look for him, she was thinking of him. Even if it was just a body drop, it didn't matter. It was the assurance that he needed that Beckett would figure it out and come for him. She always did, in the end. Even if it was simply by shutting him out for three months and then showing up at his book signing. It might take some time, but she would come. He had to believe it.

"That's my phone. Can I answer it? Bec-my family, might be anxious," he tried to sound somewhat light-hearted, but the pleading nature of the request was evident.

"No, honey, you need the bathroom right now, remember?" It was more of a statement then a question. Castle sighed, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Right," and as he walked toward the bathroom, the call ended, the ringtone faded away as did his chance to speak to the woman he adored. He just hoped it wasn't his last.

"In there," she gestured at the door with the gun. "You have sixty seconds before I join you." Castle hurried into the room, to find it contained one cubical which was tragically window-less. He relieved himself quickly, washing his hands, grunting as he gingerly fingered his red, swollen wrists. They were going to be sore for a couple of days. Perhaps, if he put up a fuss when she retied them, he'd manage to sway it so they were bound a heck of a lot looser.

When he returned to the corridor she was frowning, his phone in her hand. "You've got a message from your mother, and one from that stupid cop. The Nikki Heat one who follows you round like a lovesick fool," she snorted. Castle didn't think it was the time to correct her – that he was the hopeless lovesick puppy who followed Beckett everywhere. She continued, a glint in her eye, "but, if you behave I'll let you listen to them. Back to your chair, darling." He was beginning to get sick of all these affectionate endearments that she was bestowing on him. He shrugged it off and headed back down the hall, the butt of the gun once again resting on his head.

After she'd resecured his bindings, with about the same enthusiasm, she drew up her chair and called his voicemail, turning the speaker on. Castle listened to his mother's message and barely had time to process his excitement about the fact his dear detective was at his home before her voice echoed through the dull room, dripping with despair.

"Castle, I… Rick. I need you to come home. You're my family. You hear me, you, Alexis, Martha, Lanie and the boys – you're my family – we're your family and we need you here. I need you, so much Rick. There's so much left unsaid. It can't end like this. It can't. You know that I feel the same way, right? I'm not going to say it over the phone, I'm going to say it to your face. I remember when I was shot. I heard you, and you need to know I feel the same way. That's all. Oh, and don't worry about Alexis. She's safe. She's here at the precinct helping the boys & I bring you home…One more thing, always." Castle wished he could replay the message over and over again. Her tone as she spoke revealed as much as her words did, she sounded desperate, hungry and at the same time reassuring – a fierce promise that she would find him and bring him home.