Forty-Seven: Chapter 23
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012 – 9:07 a.m. – At New York Methodist Hospital in Brooklyn
Kate Beckett sits with Richard Castle in her father's room on the fourth floor where Jim Beckett has just been admitted. She has been assured that he will be fine – he's being kept for the day as a precaution simply because of his age. The doses of propofol were – fortunately – administered properly, and the elder Beckett simply enjoyed some much needed sleep, along with a few bruises.
She leans against his shoulder, and he finds comfort in their closeness. He marvels at the past twenty or so hours, thinking about how much his life – her life – all of their lives have changed in less than the time it takes the earth to make one full rotation.
Smiling at his inner nerd self, Castle softly tightens his arm around her, and smiles more broadly as he hears her sigh in contentment. For the second time in less than a day, she has dozed off under his embrace. It's something he could get used to.
He knows that all is not well. Sure, her dad is safe. But Cole Maddox slash Cedric Marks is still out there, and so far, the man seems to be a step or two ahead of them at every point. More, he now believes they have found their man – Senator William Bracken.
He has yet to share this information with Kate. Getting her dad out of the cemetery and into the ambulance, rushed here to this hospital just blocks away from the cemetery, watching her nervous fidgeting through the tests . . . well, let's just say that Detective Beckett – for the moment – had reached her limit. He recognized this right away, and decided to hold off until a more opportune time. Knowing the tenacity with which she approaches her mother's case, he hopes he is doing the right thing. He isn't planning on holding this information for months . . . no, he has learned his lesson. But he wants to give her a few hours – maybe a day.
He glances over at the sleeping man, smiling at the irony.
"I would have thought he'd slept enough," he muses to himself. She stirs beneath him, and he can feel her eyelashes fluttering against his chin. She's awake.
"How long was I out?" she asks.
"Twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes," he replies softly. "No need to get up just yet." He wonders idly if he says this for her benefit, or his own.
"Where are the boys?" she asks, yawning. The little sound she makes . . . yeah, he could get used to this.
"Kevin is outside," he answers. "Last I saw he was chatting it up with the doctors. Esposito is downstairs, roaming. For some reason, he thinks Maddox will make a move here."
That awakens her, as he knew it would. That type of information he wisely chooses not to withhold from her right now.
"Why does he think that?" she asks, and he feels her stiffen beneath him.
"He said it's just a gut feeling, how the guy operates. Kevin seems to think he's on to something."
She simply nods her head, and relaxes again, surprising him. It's been a hell of a twenty hours, and he cannot blame her for releasing it all for just a few more minutes. She gives herself another three minutes before switching modes. He feels it the instant it happens, as everything about her – formerly soft against him – hardens.
"Play time is over?" he asks with a smirk.
"Coffee time," she replies with a wink. "Need to wake up."
"I'll come with you," he tells her.
"No, you mind staying here?" she asks. "I'd rather not leave dad alone right now. Silly I know, but –"
"Not silly at all," he interrupts. "Bring two?"
"That will be a switch," she smiles and walks toward her father's bed, placing her hand on his forehead, and leaning down she places a soft kiss there. She smiles for just a moment, and then heads out the door, looking for some liquid energy.
She waves at Kevin Ryan who is still engaged in an animated discussion with one of the nurses on the floor. She laughs to herself, recalling the young detective's earlier desire to go into medicine. She walks into the family waiting area, and heads straight for the coffee. She pours herself a cup and then one for Castle.
"Wow," she says aloud, just doing a mental rewind on the past day, and far apart she and the writer were for just a brief instant – and marvels at how close they are now. Oh, they aren't out of the woods regarding that little trust issue, but at least they are talking now. No flirting, no innuendo. Just a bit of honest talk. And that honesty has torn down walls, allowing them to share even a physical closeness that just two days ago she knows she would not have allowed.
She walks out the door and is headed down the hall when the door to her left suddenly opens. She is pulled roughly into the room, spilling the coffees in the process. Both cups end up on the floor, their contents running quickly. She has no time to recover when she is spun around and is now eye to eye with Cole Maddox.
There is a fierceness to his look, and experience tells her that this is going to be one of those moments – where the only way she walks away is to take a life. She reaches for her weapon in her shoulder harness, but Maddox tightens his grip on her.
"Uh uh uh, detective," he tells her with a smile. "No guns near the patient rooms. Now, make one sound and I slit your throat here and now. Be a good girl and come up to the rooftop with me, and at least you'll have a fighting chance. Not that it will help you."
Choosing to bide her time, she allows him to roughly pull her back out into the hall, and she almost slips in the spilled coffee that covers the floor. She half walks and is half dragged another thirty feet down the hallway to the stairwell leading to the roof.
Every fiber in her wants to scream for Kevin Ryan or Castle – both of whom are just a shout away. But she knows in her heart that this man means exactly what he says. For some reason, he's taking her upstairs for a showdown. How this became so personal for him, she can't figure. After all, she's the one who got shot. It doesn't matter – her only chance at survival is to play along.
Back in Jim Beckett's room, Kevin Ryan has ended his intellectual bonding moment and walks into the room, finding Castle sitting in the chair. Castle looks up and is happy to see the detective – it means he can watch over Jim Beckett while Castle goes to find Beckett. Her ability to accept truly awful coffee cannot be overstated.
He walks around the corner and into the family break room, which he finds empty.
"Strange," he thinks, because he didn't pass her. Perhaps she is in the ladies room. Just thinking about the ladies room makes him think about the men's room, and that's all it takes for him to now empty his bladder. Glancing ahead, he sees the sign for the men's room and walks toward it. He barely stays upright as he slips in the liquid on the floor. He notices it is coffee, and he feels his heart skip a beat.
"No coincidences," he reminds himself, and now his alarmed. Kate went to get coffee, she's not here, and there is spilled coffee on the floor. His gaze moves ahead and he can see a slight drag mark of coffee heading toward . . .
"Dear God, no!" he says aloud, and reaches into his pocket for his phone, while at the same time yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Kevin! Kevin!" he screams, as he searches for the detective's contact information. He punches the information in and listens to the first ring before hearing the detective come scrambling around the corner, weapon drawn.
"Castle, what –"
"Beckett," he says loudly. "He has Beckett," and points toward the door for the stairwell to the rooftop.
Ryan's reaction is instantaneous.
"You stay here, Castle, and I mean it," he tells him, and punches his right arm just to remind the author that he is in no shape for what is coming. He has his phone in hand as he quickly jogs toward the stairwell.
"Javi! He has her, Javi, on the rooftop."
He doesn't have time to explain as Javi hangs up and begins sprinting toward the elevators. He can take the elevators up to the top floor, and then search for the rooftop entry from that floor. He cradles his Colt M4 Carbine assault rifle, issued to officers and detectives for special crimes investigative units, shaking away the thoughts that plague him about his old friend who clearly now must be put down.