A/N - I really want to thank everyone who has favorited and followed, viewed and reviewed. You guys are great. I had no idea this story was going in the direction it has. My family is concerned. ;-) Anyway, just want to say this up front. This one is dark. I wasn't planning it to be, but that's where the characters led & if you've read any of my other stories, you know that I let the characters lead on the dance floor. All I can ask is that you hang on, there's light coming up next.

Big warm serial stalker shout outs to hfce (I know, I know - I'll try to make it happier), gostopow, wendykw, TorontoSun, Mouserocks-Nerd, & Wendy Scott. You guys are awesome. Special welcome to southerngirl1, PurpleSatin and Gloriajv - you really made my day with your kind words.

Okay, fasten your seatbelts.

The Castle Wall

Chapter 17

Richard Freakin' Castle

Banging. More, banging. Pounding. Martha opened her eyes, blinked to let them adjust, and looked at her watch. It was nine-thirty in the morning. 'Who, in God's name would be knocking or rather banging on the door,' she thought. Maybe it wasn't the door. Maybe it was her head. She cleared her thoughts and sat up. No, that was definitely the door. She dragged herself out of bed and put on her robe, which given its abundant colors and patterns should have been enough to wake the dead, but this was Martha Rodgers after all. She went downstairs. There were no lights on. Usually, Richard or Alexis would leave a light on in the kitchen. She turned right at the bottom of the staircase to more banging. "All right, all right. Lord, I'm coming." She opened the door and was steamrolled by Paula Haas.

"Where is Rick?"

Martha blinked and regarded Richard's agent. She was brassy and pushy. Her voice had always grated on Martha's ears and nerves, but this morning it was particularly irritating. Martha had no doubt that she was a good agent, probably was working in her son's best interest and got whatever she was trying to get, but, lord, her behavior annoyed her.

"Paula, good morning, dear," she said as she closed the door.

She pursed her lips, "Good morning, Martha," she said, clearly irritated for having to pause for niceties. "Now, where is your infuriating son? Is he hiding?" She started toward his office, "Rick?"

Martha put a hand to the bridge of her nose, "Paula, dear, I really don't even know if my infuriating son is home. Please wait here and I'll check." She indicated the high stools at the kitchen island. The last thing she needed to hear from Richard was how she could allow Paula to go barging into his bedroom.

"Fine, but I want him up, now." She put her bag on the counter and crossed her arms.

Martha waved her hand as she crossed to his office door. It was empty, and although Richard was tidy, she could usually tell when he had been there. He had not. She knocked on his bedroom door. No answer. She opened it a bit. Martha had learned to be cautious when entering her son's room. She had seen more than any mother should see of her grown child's, uh, relationships over the years. He was not there either. The bathroom door was ajar and the lights off. The bed had not been slept in. Martha scowled and turned back towards the living room. She shook her head as she walked to the kitchen. "I'm sorry, dear, he's not here."

"Not here." She craned her neck to eye the office through the glass bookshelf partitions. "Where the hell is he, then? He was supposed to be at Rockefeller Center for a Today Show spot at six this morning. I've been calling his cell, but it goes straight to voicemail. Does he have any concept of how bad this looks? Of how embarrassing this is for me and for Black Pawn?"

She made some sort of noise akin to growling. Martha's eyebrows shot up. Having witnessed Paula's rather theatrical management of Richard's career, there were not many things that she could do that surprised her, but that noise did. "Oh, why can't he just grow up?"

Martha thanked her years of theater for helping her not to disclose her true feelings and reaction to Paula. If she did not possess the control that she did, she would have hauled off and smacked her. Was her son infuriating at times? Yes. Was he an over-grown child? Sometimes, but when it came to his writing, he was a professional and took his work seriously; he just had fun while doing it. No, Martha resolved, she would not allow herself to be dragged into this with Paula. She simply smiled and shook her head again. "I'm sorry, Paula. He must be involved in something at the precinct." She started to usher Paula toward the door. "I'll be sure to tell him to call as soon as I hear from him." She smiled, reassuringly. "Oh and, Paula?" The only response she got was Paula Haas staring at her. Martha continued, "You should've probably rescheduled that appearance anyway. I don't know how many books he would sell given his current state. But what do I know;" she added brightly, "the bruises might actually help sales." At Paula's lost look, she explained, "Well you know, dear. He could use his injuries to promote a bad boy image, what with him consulting in a perilous line of work and all." They had reached the door. Martha opened it and said, "Goodbye, darling." Martha air kissed each of Paula's cheeks.

"Really Martha, just tell him to call." Martha nodded and closed the door. Paula walked to the elevator, absent-mindedly chewing on her bottom lip while thinking. Richard Castle was a pain in the ass, but she could usually reach him one way or the other. She had forgotten that he had been injured on Saturday. She shook her head, chasing away any concern, worry or guilt. By the time the elevator doors closed, Paula was already working on the next item on her agenda for that day.

Martha leaned against the door for a moment. She crossed to the coffee maker. Nothing. She was not surprised. If Richard had not been home at all, no one would have made the coffee. She got in rather late from her party. Everything was dark. That was odd, but she assumed everyone was already in bed. She climbed the stairs, back to her room. She tried to quell the panic rising in her throat. He was a grown man, but he always called to let her know if he was not coming home. He had had a hell of a weekend and that worried her. She had to get her phone.

"This guy is an idiot." Esposito stared at the screen, dumbfounded. "Who uses their own vehicle in a kidnapping?"

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think he's a pro."

"Well, why would he resort to kidnapping anyway, and why did he take, not one, but two cops?" Karpowski asked as she came in from the break room.

Her shadow, Reynolds, delayed by his stumble over a chair, asked, "Another cop? Who else besides Beckett?" He was behind Sharon, who looked to the heavens. Ryan and Esposito had seen her shoot that look to the sky several times since Reynolds had started.

Ryan swiveled his chair so he could see around her and explained, "No one besides Beckett and Castle."

"But Castle's not…"

"Don't even say it," Espo cut in angrily, "Castle has been Beckett's partner and a valuable member of this squad for close to six years. No one is going to convince me that he's not a cop."

"Okay, but he's not actually…"

"Dude, it's time to keep your thoughts to yourself," Ryan stated simply and turned away from him effectively ending any further protests.

Esposito's phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he answered smoothly, "Hola, Chica." He paused while Lanie spoke. "Yeah…yes, um, no…okay. Lanie. Lanie." He looked at Ryan imploringly. "Lanie, we just got an ID on the van. We've got teams out canvassing for witnesses." He held the phone away from his ear. Ryan could hear her yelling, "… your ass and go find my friends!" The line went dead. Espo looked at Ryan and said, "I think she's upset."

"Yeah." Ryan said as his phone rang. "Ryan. Yeah, okay. No doubt? Okay, yeah thanks, Cobb." He answered Espo's questioning look, "It definitely was Castle's blood."

Sharon Karpowski shook her head in disbelief. "I came in to tell you what we found at Buchanan's apartment."

Reynolds piped up, "It's pretty damning."

Espo's distaste for the new detective was evident in the way he screwed up his face. "We already know it's the guy, what else could be damning?"

Reynolds took a fortifying breath. These experienced and legendary detectives intimidated him. "We found more letters…"

"And a manuscript," Karpowski broke in, she smiled as she said, "I would have had Castle speed read it for me, but…So it took us a little while." Her smile disappeared. "It's about the kidnapping of a famous author and…"

"And his subsequent murder," Reynolds finished.

Victoria Gates sat in the middle of one of the longer side of the large conference table in the office of Black Pawn's CEO Roger Davies. All around her were files and manuscripts, letters and depositions. She had supervised the collecting of information on Joe Buchanan, their prime suspect in Detective Beckett and Richard Castle's kidnappings. She was waiting for Buchanan's publisher, William Pardy, he had been out promoting his authors at a local bookstore, and he was due back at any moment. She took the time to collate the information that she had gathered. Her phone buzzed. She picked it up. She had been receiving regular updates from Ryan. This one advised her that the blood in front of Buchanan's apartment building was indeed Castle's blood. She put her pen down and rubbed her temples. She was worried. Not only about the safety of Beckett and Castle, but as a precinct commander, she also had to recognize that this was fast becoming a public relations nightmare. She shook her head; she hated having to think that way. Her phone buzzing again saved her from heading further down that road. She picked it up. Ryan again. She blinked as she read the text. They had recovered substantial evidence against Buchanan. Gates closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer that this would be over soon.

"How did you move this table by yourself?" Castle was lifting one end of the huge table to re-position it closer to the hatch. Beckett was on the other end. "I mean, you're one of the strongest women I know, but," he paused as they put the table down and struck a body builder's pose and continued in a dreadful Eastern European accent, "you are not big like bull." He turned and was smacked across his chest. He gasped.

"Oh God, Castle, I'm so sorry, I forgot." She started to rub her hands across his chest in an effort to sooth him.

He held up his arms protectively against her ministrations. "It's okay, stop fiddling. I didn't think the accent was that bad."

"No, it really was that bad," she smiled in answer. She hopped onto the table. "You need to get up here too. Take my hand." She held her hand out to help him up.

"Oof," he grunted as he climbed onto the table. "Now what?"

"Well, can you reach the hatch?"

He got as close to the wall as he could and raised his hands. His fingertips brushed the rough wooden trapdoor. It did not move. "Um, Kate? I don't think we'll be getting out this way. It's not moving. I think he locked it."

"What? It was open before he brought you here. Why would he lock it?" She jumped at the door, it didn't move. Castle was right. She ran a frustrated grimy hand through her hair and got down from the table.

"No one ever accused him of being stupid. He probably figures that the two of us together are more formidable than we are apart." He paused for her to comment, but she was silent. "He's actually right, you know." Still silent. "Kate?" He hated the darkness. It was too dark to see anything. Cavern darkness. "Kate, are you alright?" He slid off the table and felt around clumsily in the dark for her. "Ow," he said and swatted at something that bit his neck.

"I'm here. Are you okay?" He could hear her voice catch. He had heard that tone before; she was spiraling down.

"Yeah, some kind of bug or spider bit my neck, maybe." He followed her voice, determined to catch her, comfort her, and break her fall. "Marco?"

"Castle!"

"Okay, okay, just trying to lighten the…" his voice abruptly stopped.

"Rick?"

"So, what's your plan?"

"My plan?"

"Yeah, little brother, what are you going to do next?"

Buchanan blinked a few times and took a long draw on his beer. "Liam, I'm gonna make him hurt."

Still waiting. She was staring at the ceiling through the chain link cage were she was waiting. Why was she waiting? A door opened. A police officer escorted a woman to her door. He unlocked it and the woman entered. She brought Patricia a tray. It was breakfast.

"Where's Richard?" She asked the woman as she grabbed her arm.

The officer stepped forward. "Ms. Stoddard, you need to let go of Gloria. Now."

Patricia withdrew her hand. "But, why hasn't Richard come to see me?" She begged them for an answer.

"Ma'am," he said, "Mister Castle is not on the premises at this time."

"How could he leave? He knows I am waiting for him. He knows how important this is." Her voice steadily rose until Esposito came into holding, his hand on the Glock at his hip. "What's the problem L.T.?"

"Detective, Ms. Stoddard became agitated…"

"You were with him!" Stoddard shrieked, pointing at Esposito. Despite her being locked in the cage, he took a step back.

"Ms. Stoddard, you need to calm down."

"You are keeping him from me. Richard! Richard!" She desperately called as she threw herself up against the wall of the cell.

Espo called, "Yo, we need some more backup in here." Ryan, Reynolds and a few other officers ran into holding.

"She needs to be restrained before she hurts herself."

They entered the cell and manacled her wrists and ankles to the bench, a procedure normally reserved for very violent suspects. She stared at her wrists repeating the name: "Richard." Over and over again.

"Mr. Pardy, please tell me what you know about Joe Buchanan." Gates looked him right in the eyes. He sat directly across the table from her. He glanced to the left, down to the tabletop and then to the right, taking in his surroundings. Gates watched him and cocked her hear to one side as she nudged him. "Mister Pardy?"

"W'well, what's this all about?"

She regarded him. This was unexpected. "You work with Mister Buchanan, correct?"

"Uh, yes."

"When did you start working with him?"

"Um, about one and a half years ago."

"Did he work with any other publisher before you?"

He looked momentarily confused by the question. "Uh, before?"

"Yes, Mister Pardy? Did anyone else work with him?"

"Um, yes, yes there was. Uh, Gina did, Gina Cowell worked with him."

Gates was fleetingly surprised. "Gina Cowell," she shuffled some papers looking for her notes and finding what she wanted asked, "Richard Castle's publisher?"

"Yeah, yeah she is."

Gates regained her composure. "Do you know if Mister Buchanan had any type of relationship with Mister Castle?"

He shook his head, "Nah, I don't think so. It wouldn't make sense." She looked at him, but before she could ask why, he continued, "I mean Richard Castle is like the top guy, uh, I mean the top author here. He wouldn't slum it with new writers."

She frowned and asked, "Slum it? Are you saying that he snubbed Mister Buchanan?"

He quickly replied, "Oh no, no. Castle is a great guy. He just doesn't have time to meet with every new author."

"Did Mister Buchanan harbor any ill feelings toward Mister Castle?"

He narrowed his eyes, "What's all this about?"

"Please Mister Pardy, answer my question." Her toe started tapping.

He started slowly, "Uh, yeah, well, I guess. I mean he really could not stand Castle." Then he picked up speed, "he's always making comments to me about how he's not really talented just lucky. Oh and he said he was a hack. He had some other, uh, really strong opinions, too, mostly personal stuff." She was writing down his statement. He quickly added, "I told him, uh, more than once to cool it and if he didn't want to be associated with Castle, then he should find another publishing house, because there was no way Black Pawn would ever stop publishing Castle's books. I mean, he is Richard freakin' Castle. Who is Joe Buchanan compared to that?"

Captain Gates arched her right eyebrow. "Who indeed?"

Ryan's cell phone rang. "Ryan," he answered and then listened. Espo shot him a questioning look and he mouthed 'Castle's mom. "Martha," he took a breath. "Castle came out with us to search a suspect's residence earlier today." He put her on speaker.

"Oh thank God. His agent was just here looking for him and he hadn't been home and…"

"Martha, I was just going to call you, actually."

"Oh Kevin, why?" They could hear her panic take flight. "Oh. No, oh, is Richard, is he hurt? Oh God."

Espo cut in, "Martha, it's Javier. I need you to be calm. As far as we know, Rick is alright."

She haltingly repeated, "As far as you know?" They heard her draw a shuddered breath.

"He was taken by the same man who took Beckett."

"Taken? Kevin? Javier?" They heard the change in her voice. It doesn't matter how old your children get, they are still your children. Martha Rodgers was no longer a frightened mother; she was now a tigress protecting her young. "Who is the son of a bitch?"

Ryan said, "Martha, we can't tell you that, you know that. We will get them back."

"We're on our way now," Esposito lied. Ryan silently asked him what he was doing, but he just shrugged his shoulders and continued, "We'll call you as soon as we know something. Stay there so we can reach you." She mumbled an affirmative. They hung up the phone.

"Javi?"

"She needed to be reassured."

"But, we're not on our way anywhere." He shook his head. "We don't have a clue where to even start to look."

"Then let's start again. We're missing something." They turned back to their notes to find that needle that would lead them to their friends and partners.

"Castle?" Kate's heart was in her throat. He was talking and then he wasn't. She listened. She heard something being dragged across the room. There was someone with them. She slapped her palm to her forearm, pulled out a dart, and succumbed to the drug. She awoke in a panic, remembering. "Rick? Are you here? Is anyone here? Please help us. Please stop!" There was no noise, no wheezing, and no footsteps. Nothing being dragged anymore. She cursed the darkness and felt around the table and then the room. She pled to the nothingness. Gone, but how and where? She collapsed against the wall sobbing. "Rick? Oh God, please."

He rubbed his head. It was almost becoming comical; waking up with a pounding headache, unable to move, unable to breathe. Almost, comical. His eyes shut again. He jerked himself to consciousness and realized he was alone, "Kate!" He shouted, "Oh, come on!" His arms were bound behind him again. He struggled to get to his feet. The ceiling was lower, in fact, Castle could not stand upright, and when he tried, he bounced off the ceiling and landed in a heap back on the floor. It was smaller: a room? Hole? Grave? "Holy crap, Rick, stay away from that thought," he admonished himself. It was equally as dark as the first hole. This one smelled different though, decay and metallic, not just earth. He sat and waited for whatever was to happen next and to consider the situation. God, he was thirsty and hungry. How long had he been unconscious this time? Was this ever going to end? Kate. His eyes welled up. He could take whatever was happening if it were confined to him. Buchanan had to drag Kate into it. Why? What could his motive for all of this possibly be? He kept thinking that this must be some horrible misunderstanding. His rational mind kept looking for a rational explanation. He rubbed his face on his shoulder. "You can't rationalize psychosis, Rick."