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Gone
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Chapter Nine
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How far can you travel to find what is gone? AU after Boom (2x18).
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"Try and smile, Castle."
He turns at her prompt, pushing up the corners of his lips as he attempts to follow her request, but it's hard, and the pain of trying to be someone he's not hurts deep in his gut. He's a master of faking the playboy, of performing the role, living the persona… except today, standing here, at another party, another 'mission' while his only child remains alone in her dank cell, unaware of how close they are to escaping…
It's really too much effort.
As they were thrown into the back of their kidnapper's car, their newly 'borrowed' clothes itching, his arms sore from where they'd dragged him from his daughter, Beckett had whispered that there was a good chance no one would discover what they'd done, that the scotch tape would hold, that they could grab Alexis and make a run for it when they get back.
But there's a weight sitting on his shoulders, a shadow looming at the edges of his vision, and if he were a betting man - well, more to the point, if someone would take his wager - his money is on the fact that shit's about to go down and it's not going to be pretty.
Curling his arm around Beckett's waist, he falls into her side, his chin resting in the angle of her neck as he tries to swallow the sob of misery, the anguish ripping his soul apart. Her body stiffens within his embrace though, her head snapping away before she stills, her mouth opening.
This is their cover - surely she hasn't forgotten? - and after last night, after they'd kissed, actually kissed, they should be able to do this; cuddle and hold each other.
Last night means something… right?
"Sorry." He mumbles an apology as he withdraws, his arms falling to his side. Maybe the progress they'd made is all in his head, maybe being here in this hell has created a situation that she doesn't want, doesn't need.
Now that she's had time to process the kiss, now that the adrenaline that flickered through their veins as they'd planned and executed their escape idea has dissolved, leaving them deflated, she regrets the moment their lips touched.
She catches him as he shuffles back a fraction, her fingers fisting at the waist of his shirt, the front of her body pushing hard into his, and he halts his retreat.
"Not here, okay? Not…" Her eyelids flutter closed before she opens them wide, the green clear as she holds his gaze. "We have to get the pass codes from the office. Have to get out of here in one piece. And if-"
He swears that a tinge of pink edges high up her neck, sweeping her cheeks as she ducks her head, her stare curving low before she makes contact with him again, hesitancy now clouding her eyes as they morph into a deep emerald.
"I need a clear head, Castle. And if you're there- if you keep up with the constant touching- just-" She trips over her words in such an adorable way that he has to force himself to stand steady, to not reach for her and drag them both into the nearest empty room. She's right, they have to retrieve what they've been instructed to get and rescue Alexis as soon as they can, but-
Damn, Beckett.
"I can't help it if I like to touch things."
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The huff of laughter slips from her before she can catch the sound. Rolling her eyes at herself, she presses a hand to his shoulder, pushing him back an inch to create some distance between them lest she find out just how much he enjoys touching things.
She smiles, contradicts her mock irritation, flashing her teeth at him, for him, and he nods in turn, his stance a little straighter, hopefully a little lighter, as he scans the crowd, her eyes tracking his actions.
Business, getting out of here, out of Mexico City, has to come before anything else.
"Rinse and repeat?"
His question takes her by surprise, and she furrows her brow. While she's desperate for a shower and the idea of washing her hair sounds beyond blissful, it's hardly helpful at the moment.
"Huh?"
Catching her hand, he doesn't reply, his stare traveling in another slow arc around the room where fifty odd guests mingle, their rolling Spanish dotted with the occasional word of English.
His head tilts toward the office they, once again, have to go into, his fingers ghosting up her forearm and over her elbow as he tugs her to his side, his knee pushing between her own, the skirt of the dress she'd been given stretching with the intrusion.
Oh, damn, now there's an image.
"What happened to not touching?" Because this is so touching, this is so perfect, and if she rocks her pelvis forward, creates enough friction…
Shit.
His lips slide across the thin stretch of skin under her jaw, his teeth scraping the bone beneath, the pressure increasing against her, and she bows her body, shifting into him without any conscious decision to do so.
"Let's find a room, Kate."
The fog within her is thick, dense and nearly impossible to fight, tiny sparks adding to the haze as they race in every direction inside her, setting her nerves on fire, but this is wrong, this can't happen here, and she opens her mouth to protest.
It's then that she meets his gaze, the seriousness almost concealed in the brilliant blue, but she spots the worry, and it drowns her in a much needed bucket of ice water.
"Yes. Right. Rinse and repeat."
All they have to do now is what they did yesterday - how was that only yesterday? - and slink off down the corridor that leads to the office and if anyone spots them, go at it like cats in heat.
That's not going to be hard considering the ache between her thighs.
The hitch in her heartbeat.
The bulge nudging her hip, which most definitely isn't a flashlight in his pocket…
He appears more than capable of continuing what he started if they get caught.
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"Well that was easy." Except, as he shifts in the backseat of the sedan, the hood scratching at his face, his pants still a little tighter than they should be, he regrets his statement. What a way to taunt the heavens above.
It had all been so easy. Getting into the office, using the picks to open the third drawer, writing down the pass codes that their kidnappers wanted. So very simple that for a moment he'd been able to push aside the worry, the moral arguments that rage inside over what they're doing, the fear for Alexis. For a moment he was James Bond, a smokin' hot girl on his arm, sneaking through a labyrinth of danger, and it was kind of cool.
Except he isn't. This isn't, and he sighs, his head listing back until he knocks it on the upholstery behind him.
Ouch.
"Something has to go our way, Castle." The tips of her fingers glide over his knuckles, her hand wrapping around his, and she squeezes. "This should be it now. We can get Alexis and go home."
Beckett's voice rises as she reassures him, her attempt at making a point to the driver going unanswered, the car continuing to cruise through unknown streets quietly besides their conversation.
He smoothes his thumb over the delicate skin of her wrist, repeated circles as he leans toward her in the dark, and, finding his partner, he closes his eyes on the nothing, content to sit and wait in silence for a change.
Happy that he has her, and maybe, just maybe she's right.
This is it.
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Blood slides down her forearm, and her stare stupidly remains transfixed on the red as it drips from her elevated elbow, falling to the floor with a gentle plop.
Over and over.
It takes all Kate has to close her eyes, to stop watching the fluid within slowly spill onto the concrete below, her head slanting toward her shoulder as she attempts to ease the pain that radiates down her left side.
She's never really believed in monsters as a kid, never needed the space under her bed checked, but as an adult she's seen her fair share; men and women that slip into the role too happily, take from others without a second thought.
A palm slaps against her cheek, her body recoiling automatically at the movement, and she pushes her eyelids open, inhaling through her nose - at least it's not broken, not yet.
Standing straighter, she faces the brute, faces the fucking prick who's taking far too much pleasure in knocking her senseless. At least, at the moment, she's just being used as a punching bag, it could - can - get a hell of a lot worse for her…
"Did you really think we wouldn't find out?"
Smack.
"Did you and your boyfriend think you could try to escape from us without anyone realizing?"
Smack.
"We're not stupid."
Smack.
As lonely as it is, her arms stretched high above her, the metal of the cuffs carving at the skin of her wrists, she's grateful that Castle isn't here to witness this, to answer with a smartass retort.
It doesn't stop her mind from conjuring up his voice though, the comment he would have thrown back at them echoing, even if she's the only one who can hear it.
But, for a second, barely that, she wishes he was here, that she wasn't about to go through hell by herself.
"I'm glad Mr. Castle chose to keep his daughter safe, that you stepped forward to take the punishment instead of her." Her captor's hot breath crawls across the skin of her cheek. "I'm going to enjoy this so much more with you."
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I'm just going to go... over here now... sorry.
But thank you to all that support me in all the ways xoxo