Lost Time
- Chapter Three -

Castle is just starting to admit defeat, deciding he might as well try to make himself comfortable on the hard, unappealing bench to get some rest, when the sound of footsteps echo through the hallway.

He sits up when he hears the sound getting closer, and soon the rather grumpy cop from before is at the cell door, reaching for one of his keys before putting it in the lock and opening the door. "Mr. Castle, your bail is paid, you are free to go now." The man says curtly.

Castle springs to his feet, relieved he doesn't have to stay any longer – not only is the bench uncomfortable, the guy two cells down also snores like crazy.

The cop walks with him, and after Castle gets his stuff back from where they'd kept it in a plastic evidence bags – he has an odd déjà-vu to the last time he'd been bailed out, grimaces when he's reminded that Beckett was the one to arrest him that time – he is off.

He'll have to get his car from the impound lot the next day, probably, but he can worry about that later. (Even if the thought of his Ferrari being handled by some random guy does make him cringe a little.)

When he's walking towards the entrance of the building, he sees Ryan getting up from one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area as soon as he notices Castle.

Suddenly he realizes he hasn't really given it much thought as to what kind of explanation he has for what happened. He's not even sure himself what did; he hasn't been stupid enough to get cross with cops (the ones he knows personally not counting) since before he met Beckett. This is… old him, not the man he is nowadays. Though, he's still sticking to the fact that it was still a bit of a misunderstanding this time. Lack of a sense of humor, mostly.

To his surprise – and relief – Ryan just greets him and asks if he's got all his stuff before they head to his car, sticking to small talk instead of addressing anything else.

Once they're in the car, Castle decides to turn on his phone to check if Alexis has called him. He's not expecting it – she should still be celebrating by now – but better save that sorry. He wouldn't forgive himself if she needed him and he wasn't there.

After unlocking his phone, he sees the missed calls. None from Alexis, though. No, they're all from the same person, the one he'd rather not be thinking about or reminded of.

For some reason his eyes stay glued to the screen though, more specifically, to her name on his screen and he sighs, not noticing Ryan glancing in his direction and taking a quick peek at his screen too. Then he locks his phone and puts it away, trying to ignore the pull of wanting to call her, trying to overcome the need to hear what she has to say. It can't be enough, not anymore.

They drive off in silence, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts, but then, after a while, Ryan asks, carefully, "Castle? What happened between you and Beckett?"

Ow. He takes a sharp breath of air and stills. Even though he knew it shouldn't be surprising, the question is still unsuspected. "I –" The words get stuck in his throat, and he swallows.

Thinking about what happened – visualizing the way she rejected him – it hurts. And he isn't too sure he can share that moment in her apartment with anyone quite yet, not when the wounds it caused him are still so fresh.

Fresh and deep and aching and ugh – he needs to get a hold of himself.

It takes Ryan subtly clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably to make him realize he's not alone in the car. "Hey, sorry," the detective says, "you don't have to talk about it, I was just wondering, since –" he slowly backpedals and trails off mid-sentence, hesitating, as if not wanting to overstep his bounds.

It gets Castle's attention, though, and he wills his previous thoughts to the back of his mind – at least tries to – to turn his attention to his friend. "Since…?" He questions, urging Ryan to finish his thought, even though he isn't sure he'll like what he'll hear.

The nudge seems to give him enough courage to continue, though his words are still careful. "Since you and Beckett seemed to be getting…" he pauses, searching for the right word, "Closer. Just, like you were going somewhere." The detective shrugs softly.

It's the most sincere he thinks he ever heard Ryan talk about Beckett and him. Of course, he and Esposito are all for teasing them both, joking about the obvious (there's really no reason for denial) sexual tension, but – it hasn't often gone further than teasing.

To hear that the progression of his relationship with Beckett hasn't gone unnoticed by Ryan is… well, new. And both oddly comforting – it hadn't just been happening in his mind – and painful with the reminder of what they could've been.

And then, somehow, he starts talking. "We had a fight." He says, takes a breath after the admission. Slowly. He can do this. He wants to open up to someone about this. "She wanted to hunt down her shooter and I tried to make it clear how dangerous that would be." He's not sure he should share that he's been in contact with someone who made it his duty to keep her in line, so he focuses on a different aspect. "She's been shot before and I don't think he'd hesitate to do it again. I tried to make her see that her life is more important than a case, even this one, but she wouldn't listen. I made her choose." He shrugs, though it's hardly anything to shrug about. "She chose the case." He says, is surprised at how breathlessly the words leave his lips. "So I walked away, I told her I was done."

Even now, he's not sure how he managed to do it, but he did. "I amdone." He adds, unsure whether it's for his own benefit or Ryan's.

Glancing to his left, he sees the detective clutching the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road, but obviously trying to let the words sink in. "I'm sorry." He says, when his eyes leave the road for a second to look at Castle.

"Thanks." It's not much, but the fact that he's shared this with someone actually offers him some relief.

Ryan is frowning now, he notices.

"Castle – I – I don't want to overstep or anything, and I'm not sure if it's my place, but…" The lines in his face deepen before he speaks the three words that make Castle's mind spin. "Beckett resigned yesterday."

At first she doesn't notice the low throat clearing; the man standing next to the couch shifting uncomfortably. It takes a gentle prod of his hand to her shoulder to make her slowly emerge from her slumber, and she blinks a coupe of times, trying to figure out where she is.

Then she's staring into the face of a rather attractive young – wait, what?

Her mind is trying to catch up with her as she quickly sits up, too fast, dammit, feeling the panic rise in her throat – oh god, what did she do – before she remembers, realizing that she is still on the couch in Castle's office in the Old Haunt and Jamie is eying her warily. Good, she breathes. At least she didn't do anything too stupid.

She hears him clears his throat again, before he speaks. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She blinks. He is looking at her still, expectantly.

"Mr. Castle isn't here yet and I need to close up." He explains, and when she realizes it looks like Castle stood her up or forgot about her, her cheeks flush.

Right. Well, crap.

"Yes, of course." She pushes the fogginess from her mind, tries to think a little more clearly as she gets up.

Jamie gives a small, thankful smile – she wonders if he's ever had to throw someone out that wasn't quite as willing as she is – and she glances around to see if she hasn't forgotten anything. Establishing that she hasn't, she steps outside, watches as Jamie locks the door behind her before she gives him a quick goodnight and heads for the street to catch a cab.

She doesn't even bother coming up with some excuse for Castle not being there, like he was supposed to be according to the story she told him earlier. She doesn't have the energy.

When she manages to flag down a cab, she gives the driver her address despite the part of her that really wants her to go back to Castle's place and wait on his doorstep. She would, if there weren't the possibility of Alexis or Martha finding her there instead of him. She's more than willing to throw her dignity out the window for him, but isn't quite ready for his family to see her this desperate.

She sighs as she leans back in the car seat. Back to her apartment without him it is, then.

Exhausted, she enters her apartment building. She gladly waits for the elevator instead of taking the stairs like she usually does – her floor isn't that high, she always tells herself – and after the elevator arrives, she gets in, hitting the button to her floor before she lets herself lean heavily against the railing inside the small space as it takes her up.

She's had too much disappointment for one day, all of it weighing her down, the images of hanging off that railing coming to surface too, now that the adrenalin has worn off completely.

A ding announces her arrival before the doors slid open; she steps out onto her floor and walks to her apartment door. Just as she's getting her keys from her pocket, a sudden loud, shrill sound makes her stomach drop.

As she's holding her keys in one hand, she quickly grabs her phone, trying not to get her hopes up about who is calling, but she isn't kidding anyone. When the caller ID tells her it's him, her heart kicks into an overdrive, and she's trying not to sound desperately breathless when she picks up.

"Castle." She says, and despite her efforts it comes out on a relieved, hopeful breath. "Hey."

For a moment it's silent on the other end of the line, as if he's not sure what he should say, but then she hears him take a breath. "You – you called me?"

"Oh, yes." She says just as she finds the right key and turns it in her lock. "I – Castle," She starts, because there's so much she wants to tell him, so much she wants to share, but she can't, not over the phone, not like this. "I'm sorry." She says then. "I'm so sorry, I –" She takes a breath and takes the moment to step into her apartment, needing more privacy for this, even though she doubts the old lady from next door would care much about anything happening in her private life.

"I made the wrong decision yesterday." She admits softly, the door falling into its lock behind her as she leans up against it. "I was wrong, Castle, and I –" She stops, freezes when she sees it.

There's someone, a silhouette, at the other side of the room, standing in front of her window. She instantly reaches for her gun, then remembers she doesn't have one, not anymore. Her heart races, blind panic preventing her from speaking, clogging up her throat.

The man – she recognized his stance, didn't want to be right – turns around, leaning casually against the window as he comes to face her, a sickening grin on adorning his features. Maddox.

"Kate?" She hears his voice come from her phone's speaker faintly, her hand lowered to her hip, but she can't reply, can't speak, no matter how desperately she's trying to form words, because it's him, and how the helldid he even get in here?

"You're not going to answer him, Kate?" Maddox's voice pierces through the room as he slowly takes a step forward, her name condescending coming from his lips, and she tries to steel herself from what's coming, tries not to show him how much her hands are shaking as she stares at the sniper, as he watches her with some amusement, like he finds her panic freaking entertaining.

Castle apparently heard the voice too, because now his voice comes louder, with an edge of concern, "Kate, what is going on? Kate?"

And finally, finally, she croaks, her throat dry, too dry, "Castle."

Maddox is still observing her, and she notices now how his right hand, the one he was just holding behind his back, is loosely clutched around a gun. The sight makes her stomach turn, the images of her getting shot, the ones that have kept her up too many nights, flashing before her eyes. She can't do this.

She manages to speak two more words, hopes they're clear enough for him to hear. "Get help." Her phone is too heavy in her hand, and after she adds one more desperate 'please', its slipping from her fingers, the device clattering to the floor just as she hears the click of a gun.

A/N: Honestly, I wasn't expecting this to go there, but, well, it did. Whenever I have something planned my story tends to have different ideas. So stubborn.
Anyway, I'd like to thank lv2bnsb1 for the review you left, because it made me think of different directions to go with this story and inspired me to write, and Emily for the encouragement to post. :) (And of course everyone else who alerted this or reviewed, I really appreciate it and always love hearing your thoughts or just knowing you're reading.)

Oh, and I know, that ending was kind of evil. Sorry. (Tries to hide evil laugh. *cough*)