Close Encounters 13
Castle rubbed the back of his neck as Logan handed him the radioactive dye. "Smells foul."
Logan grinned. "It's berry flavored."
"Gross." But Castle bottoms-upped and swallowed it down, wincing as the flavor remained chalky on his tongue.
"Want your phone?" Logan asked. "I can let you have it for a few minutes."
"Yeah," he croaked. He closed his eyes to keep from upchucking the whole barium smoothie - it was so nasty - and he felt Logan smack his shoulder with his phone.
"Here. Quick."
Castle cracked open an eye and grabbed for his phone, relieved. She hadn't messaged him back yet, but he sent her another text saying everything was good, handed it back to Logan. He was kind of glad Kate wasn't leaving him anxious voice mails or repeated messages asking about the results. He didn't yet know how to have that conversation, what to say to her.
Threkeld didn't seem as eager and optimistic as he had at the beginning of all this.
"Don't worry about it," Logan said. "We'll figure this out. We're in touch with some of the most advanced research in the country."
"Yeah, I'm not worried," he said, shaking it off. He was, but he wasn't really worried about himself. They'd figure it out. He'd always entrusted his health and conditioning to the CIA professionals; he'd always stuck to the plan and it had paid off. He'd wanted to be more than the machine, and he was now, and he couldn't really fathom how that could be taken away from him.
But Kate. He wasn't sure how she'd react to the idea that things were less than... easy. It wasn't going to be a matter of having a few tests run and taking extra iron supplements like he'd sort of hoped.
"Did Boyd say about... you know, fertility?" Castle asked finally.
"Tests are good - motility, all that. Though he did suggest that if you do have a kid - it should probably undergo genetic testing. Just to be sure."
"Oh," he murmured, swallowing against the taste in his mouth. At least there was that.
He'd tell Kate that first. Good news first.
"You ready?" Logan said. "Here's the last of it."
Castle took the last berry-flavored radioactive dye and swigged it as fast as he could.
He was ready for this day to be over with.
He was ready to go home.
Some Valentine's Day.
Kate shivered and pressed back against the wall when Deleware came into the small room. She was cold without her jacket; the wind blasted through the little space and made goose bumps rise on her neck. Her arms were bound behind her and beginning to throb, the whole position awkward and cramped inside the pilot-house.
"Well, Kate, you impress me," Deleware said, talking casually, hand on his weapon like it was merely an extension of himself. Aware but also unaware, in control but easy with the power. She couldn't believe he'd been so good at fooling them all, acting like a brown-noser and complete incompetent in the field.
"Impress you," she echoed. She couldn't help but be impressed herself. Deleware had been a rat right under their noses. For years. Before she had ever met Castle. She tried to sit up straighter, but her fingers were swelling and pounding painfully. "Why are you impressed?"
Deleware shrugged. "Thought you'd be dead long before now."
She closed her mouth and kept her eyes off of him, wouldn't give him the power of reading her. She shut down, drained all of it right out of her, gone.
Deleware kept talking. "You know, when he first started fucking you, I thought it'd be the same old, same old."
Black was behind this; she could feel it in every word, in the very tone. He wanted to play games with her head, even still. There was no malice in Deleware's voice, not even that much interest. He was following instructions.
"But you stuck around. You had His son eating crap Chinese and waffles with syrup. I mean, really."
The hair rose on the back of her neck, her heart stilled. The way Deleware said his, like it was a capital letter. Like Black was a god.
"You do know Richard's CIA place was wired for picture and sound, right? I mean, I assume you knew that every time you fucked, we had it on camera."
Her mouth opened to fight back, but she pressed her arms hard against the wall instead, pushed until she felt pain blossom in her shoulders. And she said nothing.
"I was the one who had to preview all those endless hours of tape. You guys are kinky as fuck."
She said nothing. Absolutely nothing. Black wanted to screw with her, it would take more than some comments about her love life.
"I had to write reports, telling Agent Black what I'd seen and heard. He couldn't stomach the work himself. Good for you, I guess. I'd tell him when Agent Castle came up with a new stupid pet name, baby and sweetheart and love spewed all over the place."
Her heart was pounding so hard that her blood was boiling, seething. The pulse in her arms was so hard that it rocked her forward with every beat. She was going to make him hurt. She didn't know how or where or when, but she was going to make Deleware hurt.
"I'd have to write down every sick thing you did to each other. Every round with handcuffs or the black hood from the Office, that time on the kitchen counter when you spread maple syrup-"
"Shut the fuck up," she growled, closing her eyes. She pulsed with it, every heartbeat, and it was a struggle to keep it from spilling out.
"I never got cameras in your place, though - your apartment before it blew. We never thought we'd need them. Imagine Agent Black's surprise when you two came back from a mission engaged."
"Married," she spit out, couldn't help herself. "We were married."
"Whatever."
She growled and closed her mouth, bit down on her lip and sucked at the blood that pooled, used its bitter, metallic taste to remind herself of why she was here. The regimen.
"He's done everything in his power to make Agent Castle into his own image, and here you are, fucking everything up. How do you think this is going to go down, Kate? You think he'd really let you live?"
She lifted her head to Deleware, remembered the man who hadn't wanted to step up, who had been a genius with the computers but such an idiot with a weapon. "You really think he'll let you live?" Nothing changed behind his eyes but she saw the tick of his jaw. "He won't kill me. If he ever wants Castle to even remotely fall into line - ever again - then killing me is the last thing he should do."
Deleware smiled. "I see you're betting on Black." His lips pulled back from his teeth and the inhumanity in his eyes made her body shiver. "I wouldn't, if I were you. He's less practical than you think."
Deleware stood and started moving for the door - and in that moment, she had one opportunity.
She took it, striking out fast with both feet, catching Deleware in the groin with the sharp points of her shoes. He grunted and fell back, but as he did, he raised the gun perfectly, easily, and the shot went off with a crash in the room.
It was tumultuous and cacophonous inside her head, burning and sharp, and when she could see, when her eyes opened, she realized her neck and the side of her head was hot with blood.
"I grazed you," he said. His voice was too calm, too level for the kick she'd just given him. "It will bleed a lot. Keep you weak, but it won't kill you. If I'd wanted to, it was only a matter of millimeters, Beckett. So don't be stupid."
And then he left.
Her head was on fire.
Late Saturday night, Castle finally woke and realized he'd passed out sometime after that last round of tests. He rolled onto his side in bed, stretching and yawning, moved to scoop up his phone.
Esposito had messaged that the senator's Chief of Staff was in holding and being given careful treatment. Mitch had updated him as well. Castle composed a message to them both, suggested they keep tabs on the Chief of Staff's mistress, and then he dropped his phone back to the bedside table.
He was officially done, but it was late. Maybe he should get a good night's sleep and head out in the morning. He felt wrung out from the barium, but the imaging stress test hadn't shown any defects in his heart or vascular system. Boyd had gotten excited about something he'd seen though, and the two doctors plus Logan had been tossing off theories and looking up research papers even as Castle had sacked out.
He should sleep, but he wanted to tell Kate the news. She hadn't called him yet, and he figured this was a face-to-face thing anyway, explaining about the regimen and what his body seemed to require to function properly.
Castle sighed and got out of bed, taking his phone once more, heading back out into the hall. Threkeld and Boyd had a kind of lab and office down at the other end, past the kitchen, so Castle headed that direction. He'd see what they thought and then head home. He'd promised Kate not to keep her in the dark, even if the news wasn't as positive as he'd thought.
Threkeld was in the kitchen making a late dinner when Castle passed, so he backed up and went inside. "Hey, Doc."
"Agent Castle. I'm glad you're here. Eggs."
"I'm fine," he said, shaking his head at the scrambled eggs. He'd had his share of those here.
But Threkeld insisted. "No, it wasn't a question. You need twice as much protein, and we're thinking a lot more cholesterol as well. Lipoprotein levels in your blood ought to be higher."
Castle sighed and took the plate of eggs that Threkeld held out to him. "You think we can control this by adjusting my diet?" he asked. Though he didn't hold out much hope.
"Well, actually. There are two factors at play here - one is your distinctive blood cells and two is your recent dose of those injections."
"Those are two separate things?"
"For our purposes, yes. Because it seems the injections were never supposed to be taken alone. So we're trying to balance it out with whatever might have been in those supplemental pills you used to take."
Castle stared down at his eggs. "Ah, I see."
"Secondary to our research is your unique... system. Your heart does seem to be more overworked than a usual man's, but you've developed a larger heart muscle. Most likely due to those red blood cells and the oxygen - but we won't get into that."
"Can you tell me more about what that means long-term?" he asked, shoveling eggs into his mouth. This was the part he'd have to find a way to explain to Beckett.
"Long-term. Long-term." Threkeld sighed and sank back against the counter beside Castle. He didn't have any plate at all, so apparently the eggs had been a midnight snack for Rick instead. "Well, you know we told you that you'd need stabilizers for the rest of your life?"
He nodded, and the scrambled eggs were like ash in his mouth.
"We're starting to see signs that it might be possible to wean you from them. Eventually. If we compensate correctly. If we do it slowly. Not cold turkey like you did four years ago. And not - not if you continue to need the injections. Which might spoil things, since that's what creates the - ah - 'super' effect."
"But I wouldn't have to have the injections, the regimen, right?"
"Parts of the regimen you may be forced to continue," Threkeld answered. He gave a wide shrug of his shoulders. "I'm an infectious disease doctor and I'm looking at your body's immune system responses - for the most part. Dr Boyd has been integrating my findings with what that means for the rest of you. But I'm reasonably certain I can prevent another super bug."
His lungs deflated in relief. Castle scrubbed a hand down his face and glanced over at Threkeld. "That's - good to hear. Very good to hear."
"Of course, it means certain things have to change."
"Like what?"
"More protein, more cholesterol. Those lipoproteins. Something about them is different, not just your red blood cells. Cholesterol creates Vitamin D, hormones. It makes me wonder if the regimen hasn't hijacked your lipoproteins to do more than that. Or excessive amounts. I don't know. Hard to say. Something about your mitochondria too, but those functions are a mystery on so many levels that unraveling it all will be... a lifetime's work."
"Eat more eggs? I can do that," Castle said easily, choosing to focus on what he understood. "I mean, that's completely do-able."
"The supplements. In the not too distant future, we're going to need to find those. We're going to have to use them to modify a course of treatment for you."
"I don't have the supplements," he grit out.
"I know. But think of it like a maintenance plan. You change the oil, you replace the dirty filters, and you're going to keep in good running order. So you eat your eggs, you take those supplements..."
Like a machine.
"But we really need to study those supplements. We need to find a way to replicate those elements and reintroduce them to your body. For instance, your mitochondria are the powerhouses of your cells, and yet it's possible that yours are fueling you with quite a different kind of power."
"Super," he grunted.
"Only - not any longer. Not since you stopped taking those pills and the injections. And your lipoproteins are supposed to be aiding in your red blood cells' functioning - some function unknown to us - and we can't discover what you're missing until we know what you're supposed to have."
"I got it," he said slowly, dragging his fork through the eggs. "You need the rest of the regimen."
"Soon."
He gripped his fork and put the plate down, the scrambled eggs sitting heavy in his stomach. "Right. You guys need me for the rest of this?"
"No, Agent Castle. Not at all. You go on home, if you like. I'll email you the results of our findings, and if you could come back in six weeks, we'll see how the diet changes have affected your lipoproteins. And hopefully, we'll know more about those supplements."
Castle nodded, remembered just in time to shake the man's hand and express his gratitude. "Sincerely," he said. "Thank you. I appreciate your taking the time away from your usual practice, your family, to help me out."
"Any time, Agent Castle. And that's sincere as well."
Beckett clawed to consciousness, jerking awake. She groaned as pain stabbed hot and vicious down her side, collapsing back to one elbow as her movements were arrested by the jerk of handcuffs.
A boat, bound and trussed - Black.
Ah, shit. She had to get with it, had to orient.
She felt the scratch of an army-issue blanket under her cheek and gingerly tested her restraints. Her forearms were no longer bound, but her wrists were shackled to the bedframe of a cot and the darkness pressed heavy around her.
Not on a boat any longer - no swell of waves under her. Kate cleared her throat and listened to the way the sound bounced, sensed that the space was cinderblock and narrow, much like the interrogation rooms at the 12th.
No matter how hard she strained, she couldn't make out even a crack of light under a doorway, but there was something thick and crusty over her right eye, made her hurt to try to open her lid.
Kate pressed her knees into the thin mattress and took a quick breath, pushed off to sit upright again.
Ah, fuck, her head.
She mewled and her body betrayed her, swaying to one side again and falling back to the mattress. Her cheek against the blanket, Kate closed her eyes - her eye - and took in slow lungfuls of air, trying to push past the pain.
Everything ached inside her head. A star was collapsing behind her right eye and hollowing her out.
She groaned and even sound made reverberations beat back at her. Her arms throbbed and her head pulsed and her cheekbone and jaw were on fire.
Then the lights flickered on, slow-warming halogen recessed in the ceiling above her. Kate slitted her eye and tried to scan the room, but the brutal ache was like a supernova against the side of her face and she caught only snatches: a two-way mirror, the cot, something like a toilet in one corner, the door just in front of her.
"Ms Beckett."
The voice over the intercom made her flinch and she cursed at that instinctive response just the sound of his father's voice had over her.
"Ms Beckett, you didn't do as I asked."
She licked her lips and tried to think of something to say, do, a way to get him to listen.
But then the lights snapped off and she was plunged into darkness once more.
She was glad for it. She wasn't sure she could hold up her end of the conversation they needed to have.
Rick Castle knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into his house on Broome Street.
No Sasha. No Kate.
And while it was common for Kate to go running at all hours of the night and take the dog with her if she was alone, what he didn't like was the absolute stillness in the house. The sense of abandonment.
His guts clenched as he shut the door behind him, and then he mounted the stairs two at a time.
He didn't call her name; it was three in the morning and she could be asleep in their bedroom, and he told himself that was the reason. Told himself it was because he didn't want to wake her (not because he couldn't bear to hear the emptiness echo).
When he passed the extra bedroom, the door was open but there was no dog. Striding quickly now, he ate up the length of the hall and pushed open their bedroom door and stopped short.
The bed was made.
She wasn't out for a run because she'd had a sleepless night without him. She'd never gone to bed in the first place.
Castle jerked his phone out of his pocket, punched in the passcode with an aggressive jab of his finger. He scanned the alerts but she'd said nothing other than that one text sent nearly twenty-four hours ago.
He called her number and pressed the phone against his ear, strode back through the hall and jogged down the stairs, chanting her name under his breath as if that would make her pick up.
She didn't pick up.
Castle redialed and moved swiftly through the living room, into the kitchen, yanked open the basement door. The alarm system was supposed to alert him if the panic room door shut and sealed but sometimes Sasha did it on accident, and maybe - he didn't know - maybe Kate had reconfigured the settings while he was gone.
The panic room door was open. He reached inside and flipped on the light and his phone buzzed against his ear, giving him an alert that the light was on.
He shut off the light and it buzzed again, and still Kate didn't answer his call. It went to voice mail again and he wondered if that was the right amount of rings for an active phone or if her battery had died. He called her office line and listened to it ring forever into nothing.
No answer.
Castle ran back through the living room and up the stairs again, taking the steps two at a time even as he called Mitchell. She'd been at the Office she said; maybe an open case and her phone had died and she wasn't at the desk but was sitting in on the Chief of Staff interrogation.
Mitchell picked up after two rings. "Hey. It's late man. What the hell?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm in bed, you asshole. It's three in the morning. You didn't expect us to seriously work him round the clock, did you?"
"Work who - right, no. Not - I'm just looking for Beckett."
"Isn't she with you?"
"With... me?"
"She said she was heading to Stone Farm, not to worry if she didn't respond to the memos because she was... I guess that's a no."
"She didn't make it to Stone Farm," Castle said hollowly. He sank down at the top of the stairs, weakness swamping him. "She didn't - she never showed up."
"Had she any tails following her lately? Any-"
"No," Castle rasped. "Nothing. I've been careful of her. I've been... nothing. Mitchell."
"Okay, all right. I'm up. Let me call around to the guys first, see if they knew when she planned on heading out there."
Castle glanced down to the empty living room, something pulsing hotly in his veins. "The dog is gone."
"What?"
"She... Sasha isn't here."
"Well. Uh. Did she send her to Carrie. Or maybe her dad?"
"If she - if she was just coming up to get me, then she wouldn't have..." Castle trailed off and scrubbed his hand down his face. "No, this makes no sense. She has no car to get anywhere. She - I'll - let me check the tapes for the front door. Maybe a cab picked her up."
"Yeah, you do that. Check your alarm system's playback and I'll call the guys and we'll figure this out, Castle."
Rick hung up before Mitchell was even finished talking and he hauled himself down the stairs once more. Through the kitchen, down the wooden steps, and into the basement. His phone alerted him the moment he shut the door behind himself and the monitors inside the room flared to life.
Castle sank down at the small station and started scrubbing back through the tapes. He'd get the medallion number of the cab that picked her up and then he'd find out who the hell had kidnapped his wife.