.
Gone
.
Chapter Seven
.
How far can you travel to find what is gone? AU after Boom (2x18).
.
.
Behind her, Castle shifts again, and Kate traps her thumb between her teeth, gnawing on the nail. She should close her eyes, let him try and get some rest, try and get some for herself. But his movements seem to have changed and it's almost as if he's...
Shuddering?
Easing her spine onto the mattress, she peers through her lashes, using the cover of sleep to hide her staring. His head is buried into the angle of his arm, his t-shirt riding up and revealing the curve of his bicep, and she pauses, unable to continue when she's been given such a rare opportunity to study him for a change.
Living with him - staying with him - she's witnessed aspects of Castle that she'd never have thought possible; the way he can cook, his delight in the simple things, and without a doubt, the size of his heart being the most influential on that list. She's always known that he loves his daughter, but the last few weeks, the last few days, have shown her that the persona he flashes on Page Six, the cocky "I want to get into your pants," is nothing like the man who exists underneath.
The man she's steadily falling for.
Complicated.
Opposites.
Messy.
Those are the labels that she mentally hides behind, shields she uses to deflect those who see too much of what they could be. What they are.
Partners.
In sync.
Fate-
She squeezes her eyelids together. The ideas of 'meant to be' and 'soul mates' are ludicrous concepts that she never had to give up, because she never believed in them in the first place. Magic and Santa Claus are concepts for children and those who refuse to grow up. Nine year olds on sugar rushes.
He would believe. He would sprout theories on why they were destined to find each other, that nothing thrown in their way could defeat them, or tear them apart. If Castle were to love her, he would do so with all his heart.
He couldn't though? Could he?
The mattress dips as he shifts once more, and she steals another glance, watches when his face plunges further into the crook of his elbow, the shadows stretching across his prone body.
A body that mere hours ago had been pressed tight against her own, had rocked hard into her hips, and a sigh escapes her lips. While the job of getting into the office and concealing the listening devices had been easy once she'd pushed aside the thoughts of just how good he'd felt on her skin, the crash back to reality upon their return had been devastating.
The excuse that their captors had used, that they needed to ensure the two of them had been successful, was flimsy at best; the hasty shuffle back to their cell and to a cold dinner was a sad, and much more telling, sign.
They weren't going home today.
.
.
Rick closes his eyes against the light that bathes their cell in a dim, dank grey, but sleep hasn't come the hundred or so times he has attempted to nod off and this is no different. The last twenty-four hours play on loop, repeat until a scream builds in his throat, his frustration growing with every memory, every heartbreaking moment away from his daughter, and then Beckett moves beside him on the mattress and he swallows the urge to cry out.
He's been doing all he can to hold it together for her, for Alexis; jokes at the right moment, innuendo inserted as if they were at work, except, as he opens his eyes, squinting at his watch, he's faced with the reality that he is so very far from New York.
11:55pm.
Five minutes and it will officially be his birthday.
He's never had one without Alexis before- Together against the world. Two peas in a pod. Every year without fail. And now...
How is he supposed to smother that thought? Smother the sob that's threatening to erupt until it breaks him?
11:56pm.
What if he never has another birthday with her?
.
.
"Castle?"
It's definitely a shudder that's rocking his body, and she rolls the rest of the way onto her side, reaching a hand toward him, before coiling her fingers into a fist. What exactly is her plan here?
"I'm fine." His words are more muffled than pronounced and if it wasn't for the fact that she has sprouted the same line a million times herself, she might not have understood.
But she does. All too well.
He's anything but fine.
"What can I do?"
Rubbing the back of his arm across his face, he shifts, mimicking her position. Even in the low light, she can see the red that rims his eyes, the cloud that hangs heavy over what should be bright, blue irises.
"You're here. You're here and that's more than-"
"There's nowhere else, Castle. Not when it comes to Alexis."
The gutted sound that breaks open in their cell pierces her chest, slicing through skin and bone until it lodges itself within her heart, and the trepidation over what she can do, where she can stand on the line that keeps them separate, shatters.
She flings herself forward, chases after him as he rolls away and then onto his stomach, his face concealed, and, sliding her fingers through his hair, she cups her hand at the base of his neck, her thumb soothing patterns across his nape. If only there was something, someway she could hold him together, remove the burden that is destroying him tonight.
Find his daughter and get them all out of this God forsaken hellhole.
.
.
The sensation that hours have passed, that he's been lying here, losing the last of his composure and whatever small amount of respect Beckett had for him, leaves him wiping away the tears which distort his vision, his gaze landing on his watch as he assess the damage.
11:59pm.
Seriously?
Beckett's hand drifts past his ear, the tips of her fingers trailing through the moisture that lingers on his skin, and he lists back, attempting to sit up. Tries to avoid the pity she must feel.
"I really am fine, Beckett."
He manages to shrug free of her grip, sitting and curling his arms around his knees, his back toward her. But she chases - of all the times to reverse roles, why today? - catching him at his shoulders, the length of his spine bucketed by his partner in crime, whispered reassurances that she's here, and it sinks the last of his resolve. He turns into her arms, burying his face into the angle of her neck.
"We should be at home. We should be getting ready for cake and over the top gifts that announce another year of me being the best dad ever. But I've failed her, Kate. This is all my fault." His fame, his books, this is all on him.
Beckett's fingers continue their actions, skimming the skin just below his hairline, back and forth, seemingly random, but his breathing slows down under her touch, and he finds himself inhaling as her nails scrap lightly up and into the short strands above his shirt.
Exhaling as she travels down again.
Out then in.
Each stroke a reminder. He has to breathe. She's here. They will make it.
Together.
.
.
"What do you mean cake?" She slams her lips together but the question has popped out regardless. God, she's so stupid.
"Today..." Castle shifts in her arms, his head angling toward his wrist, the tiny screen illuminated by the constant light overhead showing that it's midnight. "Today's my birthday."
She sucks in a breath, the hissing sound loud in the quietness of the room. Of all the places her mind went, the fact that today of all days is his birthday had never occurred to her.
That's it. This has to end.
"We're getting Alexis today."
His head snaps up, his gaze locking with hers. But as his mouth opens - no doubt to point out the holes in her statement - she forces ahead.
"You've written characters out of worse situations than this, Castle. We've even been in some close calls ourselves. But we find a way. We work together and we get out. That's all we have to do now. Work together - throw in a high level of stupidity - get Alexis and get home."
His hand reaches for her cheek, settling against her skin, his thumb extending to the corner of her mouth and for a moment her body stills under his caress.
Her heart catches her breath and together they lodge high in her throat.
"I didn't want to do this here, Kate. You deserve much more than this as a memory."
Confusion crinkles her forehead and she draws her eyebrows together. Do what where?
"Huh?"
"I didn't want our first kiss - my last first kiss - to be here. A façade. Mixed up in this mess."
Oh. Oh.
His behavior in the corridor as he'd avoided her mouth is suddenly as clear as any crystal she's seen, and shifting forward, she closes the space between them until there's only an inch left.
"Just kiss me, Castle."
.
.
Thanks to Jo and Jamie for the beta, you rock! As do all the readers of this little drama (my apologies for not getting a chance to thank you personally) xoxo