Disclaimer: Characters are still the property of ABC and AWM and I am thankful for them everyday.
What If…?
Chapter 8: Risking Our Hearts
"So, that went okay," says Castle brightly, sinking into the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt and then quickly checking his phone, before turning it off.
"Are you serious?" laughs Kate, putting the car in drive, and glancing over at him as if he's a crazy person.
"What? We got through it. And they didn't suspect a thing," he says smoothly, clearly pleased with himself.
"Matching shirts? Castle, what were you thinking? Putting that on this morning," she asks, plucking at his cotton-clad chest while she drives one-handed.
"Glad to see you were paying so much attention to how I looked before we left home. I'm flattered," he says in a tone of amused sarcasm.
"You're vain, is what you are. We were running late. So late that now I'm en route to bust a notorious drug supplier wearing your daughter's underwear, while my own are bunched up inside my purse. So, forgive me if I didn't have time to check whether we were coordinated or not. You should have done that, since you have a closet full of better options you could have worn today."
"Yeah, well, my mind might have been on other things," he grins, sliding his hand over Kate's thigh and down between her legs, until she squeezes her knees so tightly together that he's forced to withdraw his hand or risk permanent injury.
"Yeah and right now, mine is on other things too. We have to focus. This guy is a nasty piece of work. Do not let your guard down for a second. Do you hear me?" she asks with some stridency, giving him a sharp look to make sure that he's paying attention this time.
"I hear ya'," he sings, looking out of the window at a couple of little kids making their way to school, cartoon backpacks weighing them down as they skip and run along the street, the hoods of their matching purple down jackets bouncing against stubby little ponytails.
When they get out of the car, Kate immediately heads round to the trunk to get suited up in her vest, holster and gun. She hands Castle his Kevlar and he takes his coat off, strapping the navy blue Writer's vest across his chest, deftly ripping and re-fastening the Velcro straps.
Kate stares at his bare forearms for a second, the naked triangle of exposed skin beneath his collarbone instantly making her hum with want. And this is so new, so sharp and piquant; knowing she can have him now, acknowledging to herself how much she wants him, sharing a little of that long kept secret with him, knowing what he feels like, how he can make her feel, and she needs more of him, and soon.
When he almost catches her staring, she tugs a finger under one of the side straps right by his ribs to deflect his attention. "Are you losing weight? This thing's too loose. Come here," she adds, ripping it open and then reattaching it an inch or so tighter.
"What about breathing? That a non-essential in the field?" asks Castle, hamming it up as usual; wheezing theatrically just to make her laugh.
"Shut up," laughs Kate, while she helps him on with his coat. "No point wearing the thing if it comes loose."
Once they're ready, and with the trunk still open, screening them from the boys who are making preparations of their own, Castle wraps his fingers around Kate's wrist, drawing her closer.
"What is it?" she asks, staring down at his hand, his thumb circling the tendons and veins on the soft underside of her arm. "You okay? Wanna sit this one out? Because…"
"No. No, it's not that. I just…after...tonight…can we…will you come back to my place?" he asks, watching her face intently.
Kate gives him a sympathetic smile. She knows how desperate he is to cling to this, to them, how much he wants to cement what they're becoming. Quickly. And it's not that she's averse to that, far from it, she was the one who pushed them over the line last night after all. She's just…a little more practical and a lot less impetuous these days.
"I have to go home and change. And who knows how long this will take…processing Cristobal and whatever else we find in there…? Not to mention we haven't slept for over twenty-four hours."
She watches her partner's face fall, though he valiantly tries to hide it for her sake, they are at work after all.
"Yeah, sorry. Don't know what I was thinking," he says quickly, giving her a brave little smile.
"We will talk. I promise," Kate tells him, squeezing his hand quickly, before closing the trunk and moving away to join her co-workers.
The former gaming club is in a rundown, low-rise, brick building in an alley between Pearl Street and Saint James' Place. The alley overlooks a small, tree-lined park; screening the building they're about to enter from the apartment block next door. A black metal fence runs along the boundary line, a couple of over-flowing Dumpsters standing sentry outside, their backs turned to the narrow tract of greenery.
"Okay. Everybody ready?" asks Kate, looking at her team.
"Do we know anything about the layout of this place?" asks Castle, glancing across the street at the squat sprawl of off-grey brickwork, the walls scarred in places by gang tags and what passes locally for 'street art'.
"Nope. Surveillance said there's only one entrance. Other than that, we're kind of in the dark," says Esposito. "But, how big can it be? It only goes back for less than twenty yards down that alley. Frontage is less than thirty-feet across."
"What about backup?" asks Ryan again, looking to Kate this time.
"On its way. But we've wasted enough time already. Lost the element of surprise we were hoping for this morning. We can only cross our fingers that this guy's sleeping off a hard night," she says, throwing Castle a pointed look, "and we manage to catch him after he dozes off. So, I say we go in now, while the neighborhood busies are still asleep."
"I'm in," says Esposito, without hesitation.
"What about Peters and Velasquez?" asks Ryan, looking for the other two cops.
"Sent them home," confirms Kate. "They've been out here all night. No use to us."
"Okay, Beckett. Your call," shrugs Ryan. "So, let's go in," he adds, a little reluctantly.
They move quickly across the street and into the alley, pausing by the doorway to the building once they are under the protective cover of the trees.
Ryan gives the perimeter a quick check over to make sure the information they have about there being only one way in and one way out is accurate. He nods to Kate when he comes back around the corner, and they team up in front of the grubby, beat-up, metal door; the building like a little brick fortress overlooked by a sea of personal misery.
"Okay. Espo and I will go in first," instructs Kate. "Ryan, you and Castle bring up the rear," she tells the other two, making meaningful eye contact with her partner just before they fall into formation.
She can smell Ryan's reluctance to go in on this one without more Tac support, and it's making her a little irritated, since any note of dissent feels undermining when you're this tired. They have the warrant, they know their target is inside, the building layout looks reasonably straightforward and secure…so, what's the problem?
She's feeling the lack of sleep now, coating her body and weighing it down like a heavy invisible thing, and it's driving her need to do this quickly, to get it over with. Her body aches and vibrates still in ways she hasn't experienced for a long time, if ever. And it's distracting, loud. She just hopes the coalescence of all of these elements isn't blunting her judgment.
"You ready?" she asks Castle, almost as an afterthought, since he's working on the same lack of sleep as her.
He looks shiny, bright and eager, adrenalin or recent developments in their private life fueling his enthusiasm.
"Ready," he confirms, nodding, already bouncing on his toes like a prizefighter.
"Stay back. Like I said, we don't know how well armed these guys are going to be if they're protecting a stash in there. And remember, we're not here for the drugs. Narcotics will scoop that up afterwards. We're here for Cristobal Santiago and him alone."
Esposito moves in first, checking the door on the off chance that it's unlocked.
He turns back round to grin at Kate. Bingo!
"Well, looky here," he says, swinging the door open easily. "Some trusting neighbors in this part of town."
Kate puts a finger to her lips, and they listen to hear if they can detect any movement inside.
Esposito wordlessly shakes his head, so Kate nods for him to advance and then they move in soundlessly. Ryan follows Kate and Castle enters last, feeling excited; a familiar surge of primeval fight or flight hormones into his bloodstream, still wishing that he was armed for this too.
It's dark inside, one bare bulb illuminating the dingy threshold. The small hallway splits off in two directions. To the right is a large, open room with bare wooden boards and walls lined with old newsprint and a couple of 'titty' posters showcasing eye-poppingly large-breasted women in lewd poses. A lone, pockmarked dartboard hangs above two stainless steel beer kegs. The place looks like a low-rent frat house and it smells of stale cigarette smoke and dried sweat. Green baize card tables and cheap wooden chairs are spread out around the room in clusters and a large pool table straddles one end.
To the left of the entranceway is a narrow length of corridor with doors off on either side.
"We'll take this side," Kate signals to Ryan. "You guys take the corridor."
Castle loses sight of Kate as soon as he peels off to follow Ryan. The Irish detective has his gun drawn, and they clear the corridor stealthily, one room at a time.
On the right is a small bathroom with a dripping toilet that reeks of urine and Drano. Up ahead on the left is a windowless kitchen containing a rusted hotplate, a microwave you wouldn't actually want to put anything you intended to eat into, and a refrigerator with a hasp and lock on the front. A stainless steel dog bowl is sitting on the floor right next to the locked-up refrigerator, dry food pellets still lining the bottom.
"Nothing in here," says Ryan, sighing and motioning for Castle to back-up.
They head back out into the corridor, and Castle's ears prick up when he hears a noise close to what looks like the end wall of the building.
"Psst," he hisses. "Hey, Kev. Down here," he whispers, waving Ryan over.
There are stairs leading down to a basement level they knew nothing about, easy to miss in the windowless, gloomy shadowlands of the hall.
Castle lets Ryan go down ahead of him, and when they hit the lower hall, they see a mirror of the space they just left up above. Same footprint, only down here it's split into a larger number of smaller rooms.
Ryan hugs the left hand wall, his grip so tight on his Glock that his knuckles have gone white. But once he clears the first room, his breathing eases and he relaxes a little.
He passes around a tight corner, ducking beneath a low-hanging lamp, trying to watch his footing on the squeaky old boards, and then suddenly all hell breaks loose.
A door flies open up ahead and two men appear brandishing weapons and yelling. A large, ferocious looking dog begins snarling and barking at the outburst of noise and smell of fear in the air. The muzzle flash, when one of the men fires off a shot, blinds Castle temporarily. But the bullet ricochets harmlessly off the plasterwork, sending a shower of dust and paint flecks down from the ceiling.
Ryan ducks back into the doorway of the room they just searched, trying to keep himself between danger and the unarmed writer. But as Castle attempts to retreat, a third man appears behind them from out of a room they have yet to check, and before Ryan can react, he strikes Castle hard on the side of the head with the carbon steel barrel of a Colt .45 semi-automatic. The writer blacks out and crumples in a heap onto the dirty wooden floor.
The yelling and gunfire immediately draws the attention of Kate and Esposito, who are still upstairs, unaware that the building has another level hidden beneath their feet.
Trying desperately not to panic when she hears the shot ring out, she grabs Esposito's radio and rattles off a volley of instructions to Central Dispatch to put a rush on their backup. Then she tugs him by the back of his vest and wheels him around, dragging him towards the stairwell, until they're both tiptoeing down the creaky wooden stairs, wondering what they're about to face down below.
Ryan manages to hold the men off, once they know he is police and not a rival drug gang out to rob them, with his weapon alone and a promise that none of them are walking out of this dump alive if they try to kill this cop or his erstwhile partner.
Castle is lying immobile on the floor, and when Ryan glances down at him, he finds it hard to tell if he's faking or really out cold. There's a small rivulet of blood running down across the back of his hand from a nasty swelling on his right temple and his left arm is twisted awkwardly beneath him.
The dog barks continually, straining on a length of chain that's fixed to the wall, clear strands of stringy drool dripping from an impressive array of sharp looking teeth and mottled gums. Ryan can feel every snarling growl deep in the center of his chest, and it only adds to the unbearable tension and confusion in the basement.
The standoff ends when Esposito appears around the corner to cut off the exit, with a bellow of "Nobody move, and nobody dies."
Sirens wail in the alley up above, followed by the pounding of feet on old floorboards, while Esposito calls out, "Down here. NYPD. Hold your fire."
When Kate comes around the corner and sees Castle lying on the floor, the only one of them injured, she drops to her knees beside him.
"Somebody call EMS," she yells, terrified what she's about to find.
Her face pales, draining completely of color as she gingerly touches the trickle of bright, fresh blood running down the side of Castle's face and sees the contused swelling blooming on the soft skin her lips worshiped not a couple of hours ago.
"Beckett, gloves," warns Ryan, out of pure habit, when her partner's blood coats her fingertips a thin glossy red.
"What?" she asks listlessly, vaguely glancing up at her co-worker. "No," she adds, shaking her head and leaning closer to Castle, fighting off a wave of fear-induced nausea.
They're sharing a bed. What use does she have for prophylactic gloves?
"Castle?" she whispers shakily, running her hand down the writer's back, before tenderly cupping the base of his skull, carding her fingers softly through his hair.
And if Ryan wasn't aware of how close these two have become before this morning, he sure as hell is now, watching Kate touch the writer with more loving tenderness than he's ever witnessed her show anyone before.
"Castle?" she repeats, when he still doesn't stir, touching his cheek. "Rick, wake up for me, please."
She turns away from her partner to look up at Ryan again, growing panic in her eyes.
"Was he…? Ryan, could he have been shot?" asks Kate breathlessly, beginning to experience full-on terror, her mouth dry and heart racing, a second surge of dizzying nausea washing over her at how this cannot be happening to them now. No. No. Not now.
"I think he just got pistol-whipped. Guy hit him pretty hard. Knocked him out cold."
"Then where the hell is EMS?" barks Kate, her exhaustion, anger and fear getting the better of her.
"They're on their way," reassures Ryan, kneeling down beside her.
"Because if he…" she whimpers helplessly, tailing off as a tear runs down her face and she angrily wipes it away with the cuff of Alexis' shirt, fighting to clear her throat.
"I know," consoles Ryan, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Beckett, I know. Look, I'll go confirm their ETA," he says, giving Esposito a look, and then bolting up the rickety stairs two at a time.
Esposito is working with the uniformed backup to round up the three men and cuff them. The K-9 unit has been called in to deal with the dog, since no one wants to go near the snarling monster for fear of losing a hand, and two hard-looking guys from Narcotics have just arrived and are sniffing around the place with dead, seen-it-all looks on their faces.
Finally, a pair of EMT's come clomping down the stairs armed with a stretcher and bulky medical kits.
Kate is still kneeling on the floor talking quietly to Castle when the men arrive, and Ryan has to prize her away from the writer's side to let the men in to assess his condition.
He still hasn't moved, though he is breathing by himself.
"Beckett, let them do their job," he tells her, taking hold of her shoulders and guiding her to her feet.
Kate sighs helplessly, unwilling to move away from him, needing to keep touching him, to feel the warmth coming off his body.
"I know how you feel," Ryan tells her kindly. "But Gates is on her way. And you have a job to do. Let them do theirs."
"You his partner?" asks the younger of the two men, giving Kate a slow once over she's seen one too many times before for it to bother her anymore.
"Yes," answers Kate almost soundlessly, backing her answer up with a quick, reaffirming nod.
"Can you tell me his name, love?" asks the older man, taking a pen light out of his bag.
"Uh…Richard."
She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog.
"Richard Castle. But…he…uh…he goes by Rick. Or just Castle," she stammers and her voice quivers.
Kate watches on tenterhooks as the men begin talking loudly to Castle, calling out his name, trying to bring him round. They expertly roll him onto the portable stretcher, remove his vest, check his airway and his pulse, and look for any missed injuries.
The younger man flicks Castle's cheek with his fingernail, and when this gets no result, he performs a sternal rub, running his knuckles over Castle's breastbone in an attempt to stimulate a pain response.
The writer jerkily raises his arm to bat the source of pain away and begins coughing and sucking in air in the process.
Kate is one hundred percent certain that she's never felt so thankful in her entire life, and she stands over them smiling and then lets out a shaky, tear-choked laugh of relief.
"Beckett, Gates wants a word," warns Esposito, glancing down at Castle, who's finally showing signs of awareness as the EMT shines a light in his eyes.
"I'll be right there," says Kate distractedly, crouching down again to take Castle's hand without even looking at Esposito.
"Hey," she says gently, smiling warmly at Castle, soaking in the heat of his hand. "You gave us quite a scare."
He blinks at her, wincing when he tries to smile back and a burst of pain shoots through his eye socket.
"We'll take him to the rig. Get him checked over, Ma'am," says the older EMT. "I'll come find you when we're done," he promises, sensing something more than a working relationship between these two.
Kate nods and then reluctantly goes back upstairs to find Captain Gates.
"What kind of a fiasco are you running here, Detective?" is the Captain's opening question, as she leans, scowling and cross-armed, against the doorframe to the gaming room.
Kate is exhausted, emotionally wrung-out, and not in any mood to face Gates' accusations, since she already realizes how badly she's handled herself this morning.
"Sir, I…"
"Save it for your report, Detective Beckett," she says, holding up a hand to silence Kate. "And I want to know exactly why you thought it was a good idea to come charging in here without any backup, allowing these thugs to surprise you, after I had two of my people…two…sitting on this address all night," the Captain tells her, her voice kept dangerously low.
"And I also want you to explain to me how the only civilian on your team ended up getting injured in this debacle."
Before Kate can open her mouth again, Captain Gates adds, "And do you have any idea how much paperwork I'm facing because of this? Do you?"
Kate feels guilty and responsible enough for Castle getting hurt. She seriously does not need Victoria Gates rubbing it in.
"How is Mr. Castle anyway?" her boss asks, almost as an afterthought, as they watch the two EMT's carrying him out to the ambulance on a stretcher.
"Uh…"
Kate stares after the trio, momentarily losing the power of speech as her lover's prone body passes by.
"I…I'm not exactly sure yet. He was out for around ten minutes. They're taking him to the ambulance now for a full check-up."
"Go and supervise Cristobal's arrest. Double-check everything. Make sure his rights are spotlessly read, every I is dotted and T crossed, and then go look after your partner, Detective. I'll expect a full report on my desk tomorrow."
"She giving you a hard time?" asks Esposito, glancing over his shoulder at Gates.
"Nothing I didn't deserve. Make sure you get him processed properly. Stay strictly within the bounds of the warrant. I can't afford to screw this one up any more than I already have. He asks for a soda, he gets a soda. He asks for a lawyer, you get him one. Understood?"
"Sure thing, Beckett," reassures Esposito. "I got this. How's Castle doin'?"
Before she can answer, one of the EMT's reappears with news.
"Detective Beckett. We're just clearing Mr. Castle now. He's asking for you," says the older of the two EMTs, popping his head into the hallway.
Kate immediately follows him outside to the back of the ambulance where the metal doors are thrown wide. A small crowd of gawkers has gathered at the end of the alley out on Pearl Street; pointing and gossiping, cell phones raised in front of faces to pointlessly capture the moment.
"He's talking already?" she asks, through a flood of relief and surprise.
"Mmm-hmm. Took quite a blow to the head. But pupils check out fine, vision is good, BP is normal, and he remembers everything up until he blacked out."
"Thank god," murmurs Kate, fighting a rush of tears.
"He'll have one heck of a headache and he's gonna need someone to keep an eye on him over the next twenty-four hours. But there's no need to take him to the hospital. Does he have a wife or a girlfriend at home who can…?"
"He…uh…yes. Yes, he can come home with me," Kate immediately offers, avoiding the older man's gaze, while the young EMT watches her, the disappointment clear to see on his face.
"Oh. Okay. Good," nods the man, pleased to have her confirm his own suspicions. "Then you need to be on the lookout for any altered vision, nausea, vomiting, mental confusion, blackouts, convulsions or slurred speech. You see any of those signs, take him straight to the ER."
"Thank you. I'll do that," promises Kate, nodding her appreciation to the older man.
"Oh, and keep any strenuous activity to a minimum for a day or so," he adds, giving her a wink that has her swallowing thickly.
When she turns to enter the back of the rig, Castle is sitting up on the gurney watching her, and it's pretty clear from the look on his face that he caught every word of this last exchange.
She ignores his goofy grin for a second, climbing up inside the ambulance to sit opposite him, trapping her fidgety hands between her knees, the soles of her boots rasping against the patterned aluminum floor.
"How's your head?" she asks softly, biting her lip, shy eyes finding his in this brave new world they're facing together.
"Like someone's playing Guitar Hero in there and they just fired up the World Tour drum set," he jokes, trying to cover the fearful, hopeful light shining out of his eyes that's currently searching for its long-lost twin in hers.
"I am so sorry," she half-laughs, half-chokes, reaching for his hand.
"Kate, no," he says, shaking his head gingerly. "Not your fault."
"But it was. I made several bad judgment calls today…and you, of all people, paid the price. I…this should never have happened."
"What did Gates say?" he asks nervously, hoping he hasn't been kicked off her team for this.
"Chewed me out. Wants a full report tomorrow. Told me to check on you first though," she says, arching her eyebrow at him and adding a faint smile.
"So…the guys say I might have a mild concussion," he tells her, dragging the conversation back round to the admission he might just have overheard her make. "And apparently, that means I need someone to stay with me for the next twenty-four hours, and since my mother and Alexis are kind of…"
"Castle, you already heard me say I'd do it," she smirks, shaking her head at him as she would for an adorable, precocious child, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment that she seems to have lost control of her reserve around him.
"I might have heard you say just a little more than that," he admits, love and gratitude radiating out of his eyes.
"You're pushing for a label again," she scolds halfheartedly.
"You're taking me home," he throws back at her, smiling cleverly. "I'd say that means we're going steady, Detective."
"How long since you graduated high school, old man? No one says 'going steady' anymore," she laughs, getting up off the bench.
"Girlfriend then?" he pushes, grabbing her hand to prevent her from turning her back on him and walking away before he nails this to the floor once and for all.
"Get your coat and let's go home," she says, blinking back a flood of relief that he's really okay and some things between them will never change.
A/N: I've been trying to mirror 'Always' & 'After The Storm' at points in this AU – like Ryan's reluctance to go in without backup, Espo's gung-ho attitude in this chapter, Gates giving Kate a dressing-down, Castle bringing her coffee the morning after, as if the two different routes are running in parallel. Just thought I'd point that out, in case it isn't obvious.
Anyone up for one more? Liv