May 16, 2011 (8w5d)
She wasn't ready. He got that, he really did. But boy was he eager for the day she would let him stay with her, let him hold her as they curled up in bed and drifted off to sleep.
Coming home to his empty bed after being with her - kissing her, touching her, wanting her - was hard.
But maybe he wasn't ready, either. Not after how colossally everything fell apart last time.
His imagination wasn't helping, though. Kate would give him an inch, a little taste of what would be his soon enough, and his mind would run a mile with it. It started with dreams - nothing he wasn't used to, if he was being totally honest - but now he was sitting in a conference room daydreaming about their one shared night together, practically salivating in anticipation, when he was supposed to be focusing.
"You alright, Rick?" Gina's voice brought him back to reality. Her voice, or the harsh stab of her shoe into his shin under the table.
"Hmm, what?" He looked around, expectant eyes on him. He straightened his posture - he had missed something important.
"The cover art," Gina prompted, motioning to the newly unveiled poster board behind her.
"Oh, yeah." He smiled and nodded his approval to the stakeholders in the meeting. Couldn't they have emailed this? "Looks good."
"I think Rick's just pulled a few too many all nighters." His publisher smiled, excusing his behaviour to the team of men and women in suits that sat around the conference table. "Writing the next best seller. Right, Rick?"
If looks could kill, he'd be dead on the floor.
"Of course." He smiled, turning on the charm she had obviously expected from him. "The next Heat is going to be wild."
Well, he hoped it would. Truthfully, he hadn't written a word. He had plenty of time, but with everything else going on, he probably should get a start on it.
"Well, we won't keep you from it," one of the suited men said as he stood, buttoning his jacket. "If we have your approval, we will continue on with marketing your new graphic novel."
He smiled, standing and leaning across the table to shake the man's hand. The rest of the suits followed, standing and saying their formal farewells. Four, five, six handshakes later and he was free. Gina showed the team out of the room, allowing Castle a moment of reprieve.
His moment didn't last long, though. She walked back into the room after just a few short minutes.
"You doing okay, Rick?" she asked, genuinely concerned.
He had to give her credit: as much as they didn't get along, as much as he pushed her buttons and drove her insane, and despite everything that had gone down between them, she genuinely cared.
"I'm okay, just a little distracted. Sorry I ruined your meeting."
"It's just formalities, no one really wanted to be here. Honestly, this whole thing could have been done in an email."
He smiled at just how similarly they thought.
"That's better," she commented on his smile.
She slipped the poster into the matte black sleeve that had covered it and passed it to him.
"I'm sure Alexis will be excited to see this. Your friends at the precinct, too."
"Yeah, thanks." He reached out and took the board from her hands.
"Take care, Rick." She smiled and left.
He had rushed straight to the precinct, poster board in hand. The boys had been a measured amount of excited, but that was exactly what he had expected. Kate was his biggest cheerleader at the Twelfth precinct, having been a fan of his work long before they had ever met. She played it down, of course, acted like she didn't really care, even threw in an eye roll or two to keep up appearances. But she had quietly supported him through every venture so far. He would always appreciate that.
"Where's Beckett?" he asked, looking around the bullpen. "I wanna show her this."
"Making her weekly pilgrimage out to the prison to interview Lockwood," Ryan explained.
His heart sank. "Oh. Right."
Guilt hit first, as he lowered himself into her seat. He should have known; she had been going out there since Lockwood was arrested. But her last visit - or what he had assumed was her last visit - was months ago. Since returning from his book tour, she had been here in the precinct every Monday morning.
"You okay?" Esposito asked.
"I just didn't realise she was still doing that."
Frustration kicked in next. She shouldn't be doing that. It wasn't safe for her, not right now. Not while-
"Why wouldn't she be?" Ryan chimed in, rising from his chair.
"No reason." Castle tried to rid himself of the frustration he felt, he didn't want to let on that he was concerned. Not when the two detectives in front of him, slowly inching their way closer to him, were already picking up on something not being right.
Ryan's expression dropped; his voice lost its usual chirp. "What's going on?"
Castle laughed. An overly forced, not at all convincing laugh. "Nothing."
"Come on, we aren't stupid," Esposito urged. "She's been on edge, and we know it's not just because of a breakup."
"We just want to know that she's okay," Ryan added. "With what happened to Royce..."
"She's fine," Castle insisted. "She's... managing."
He knew his words didn't mean much to the boys, if anything. They were worried about their friend, a woman they considered to be a sister to them.
"Look, I really- I can't say anything. Just... trust me?"
They both nodded. In the end, they did trust that Castle had her back, whatever it was she had been going through.
"She left earlier than usual, she should be back soon," Esposito offered, a verbal acknowledgement that Castle had his trust.
She looked around the room as she waited, reading over the informational posters and memos posted on the walls. There was no new information, nothing she hadn't read before. Nothing here ever changes, she kind of liked that.
The click of the phone being hung back on the wall drew her attention back to officer Ryker.
"Lockwood's no longer in Administrative Segregation," the officer informed her with a smile.
"Where is he?"
"He was transferred to General Population about an hour ago."
Fear filled her, sinking deep to the pit of her stomach and weighing heavy. This can't be happening.
"What? He was in Ad-Seg for a reason. You've gotta get him out of there, now!" she ordered.
"Why? What's the big deal?" Ryker asked, but he picked up the phone and called it in anyway. He trusted her, evidently.
"There is a prisoner in the General Population, Gary McCallister. Lockwood is going to kill him the first chance he gets."
She could see the panic in Ryker's eyes, wide and glued to hers.
The next few minutes were a blur as everyone snapped into action. Guards filled the room, pulling out plastic chests of tactical gear. Kevlar vests were passed around, weaponry locked and loaded.
Her mind, still reeling with the potential loss of the last links to her mother's case, struggled to keep up as a vest was thrusted into her arms.
"Keep to the back." The order was barked, most likely to her. She pulled the vest over her head, strapping it at her side as she followed the group of guards and officers into the prison.
"We get to McCallister, that's our goal."
Weapons drawn, they filed through the common areas. Her eyes searched the faces - some curious, some scared, some completely unbothered - for Lockwood, but he was nowhere to be found. The group merged into a single file as they scaled the stairs toward the cells.
Get to McCallister...
The pace increased steadily once they were free from the felonious crowd. She couldn't tell if it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, or a very poorly timed bout of morning sickness, but her stomach churned with every rushed step she took and she was becoming dangerously lightheaded.
Her panting and rapid heartbeat could have been a sign of her decreasing fitness levels, but the high-pitched ringing that throbbed against her eardrums with every beat of her heart told her that she was on the verge of panic.
Her mind was still fighting the reality of the situation. How does something like this even happen? An accident, they would say. She could see it now, a cleverly crafted story to cover their asses. But she didn't like this story and she was determined to rewrite the ending.
"Cell 44!"
Men in front of her halted, weapons drawn. She manoeuvred around them until she had a clear view: Lockwood standing over a bunk, surrendering. The job was done.
Her eyes drifted down to the bloodied body on the bunk. The man's face was covered, but she had no doubt in her mind.
McCallister was dead.
She was too late.
Momentarily, she toppled over the edge of that metaphorical cliff. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything. Prison guards dealt with Lockwood, rushing him away while she stumbled in the opposite direction, desperate to regain control of herself.
She wrapped her fingers around the cold metal railing of the stairs, holding herself steady. Pulling herself up. Now wasn't the time to spiral. Taking deep breaths, she strode back through the prison, following the path they had taken to get to McCallister's cell.
Once she was back through the security checkpoints, she stripped herself of the suffocating Kevlar, tossing it as far away from her as possible. She continued her stride until she was out of the confining concrete walls, sucking in the fresh air as soon as she could.
Shakily, she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialled the first number that came to mind. After just a few rings, he answered.
"Hello?"
"Dad," she trailed off, trying to keep her emotion at bay, but failing.
"Katie, what's wrong?"
The concern in her father's voice broke her defences and tears began to well in her eyes.
"Where are you?" Jim asked, the urgency in his voice increasing. "Are you hurt?"
"No," she choked. "No, I'm okay. I just-"
She had to stop, had to catch her breath, had to find her focus.
"I'm in Montauk, but I can be wherever you need me by this afternoon, just say the word."
She wiped the tears that had managed to spill free. "No, I'm fine,"
"Katie."
"I promise." She took a steadying breath, calming herself enough to be convincing. "When were you planning on coming back to the city?"
"I'll be home tonight. But if you need me sooner-"
"No," she cut him off. "Are you free tonight?"
"Of course." She could hear the stress in his voice easing. "I'll let you know as soon as I am back in the city," he finished.
"Thank you. Love you."
"Love you too, Katie."
She had been hiding out in the break room. Captain Montgomery had already been updated on the events of the morning by the time she arrived back at the precinct, and he had passed the information along to her team. When she stepped off the elevator, she felt like all eyes were on her. She could feel the pity, see it in their stares.
She knew she was only postponing the inevitable by hiding out, but she needed a moment to recuperate.
She busied herself at the coffee machine, ignoring Castle's looming presence as he entered the room. He walked to the opposite side of the room and leaned against the bench, watching.
"I'm sorry," he said after a few minutes.
"For what?"
She was focussed on the coffee in her hands, the coffee she knew she wouldn't actually drink. The smell already had her stomach churning, tightening the knots caused by the events of the morning. But she had to do something, had to settle the uncontrollable tremor of her hands.
"Lockwood kills Raglan, then he shanks McCallister, both of them ex-cops who had something to do with your mother's murder." He felt cruel taunting her with facts so clearly evident, but he was desperate to reiterate just how dangerous all of this was. He had hoped she would see this as a sign, but she seemed more determined than ever. "He's cutting off all avenues of your investigation."
Give up. He wanted to scream, beg and plead, but he knew she would never walk away from this.
He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out for her. He cautiously brushed his fingertips across her hip, testing the waters. When she didn't pull away, didn't flinch, he braved more. Taking another step closer, he pressed his palm to her lower back.
She didn't appreciate the reminder; she was well aware of the situation she found herself in. But she couldn't... she wouldn't allow herself to fall into the pits of despair. She had come so far in a few short days, and now she was on the edge of spiralling once again. But she could fight it. She could stay in control. She had to.
"Castle, he's not cutting them off. He's giving me new ones," she lied, trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. "I've been going to that prison every week for the last four months to have a staring contest with the devil, and the devil just blinked. This is exactly what I've been looking for."
She turned, readying herself to leave the break room, only to be blocked by Esposito. Castle dropped his hand to his side, hoping the touch hadn't been witnessed.
"Hey, Department of Corrections says the signature used on the transfer order was forged," Esposito started to explain, leaning against the frame of the break room door.
Ryan continued: "And the only people with access to those documents at the prison are correctional officers and authorised clerical staff."
"Which means bribe or blackmail." She pushed past them and started to walk toward her desk. "I want a full financial work up of every employee in that prison, sworn and civilian. I want to know who is late on their mortgage, who is behind on their child support. Somebody took a hell of a risk cutting Lockwood this transfer, and they had to have been pretty desperate."
"You got it," Esposito said, leaving with Ryan to start that process.
"See?" she said to Castle with a reassuring smile. "Now we got a trail." She placed her freshly made coffee on her desk, but it was evident she wasn't planning on sitting.
"So where are we going?" Castle asked, striding to keep pace with her.
"To Lockwood's arraignment. I want to see if we can rattle his cage."
"Lockwood doesn't seem like the rattling type," he warned.
"Not Lockwood," she clarified. "Whoever's holding his leash."
He touched his fingers to her wrist, encouraging her to slow her pace. "Is that a good idea?"
She hesitated, recognising that familiar pull of diving right into something. The familiar pull of this rabbit hole she kept stumbling upon. She didn't want Castle to worry, but she wasn't certain she could fight this off for too long.
"I won't engage," she stated. "I'll just be there, be seen. What's the worst that can happen?"
"You promise?"
She knew if she promised, she couldn't break it. They were on such thin ice; she knew one wrong move and he would walk away forever.
"Promise," she assured him with a smile.
She stayed true to her word, despite how badly she wanted to get in Lockwood's face: stir him up, see if he took the bait. He was in a cage... he couldn't hurt her.
But she promised. And, right now, all she had was her word.
From the moment she entered the courtroom, Lockwood's eyes were on her, burning through her. But she wouldn't flinch, wouldn't let him see the chaos his attack on McCallister had caused inside her head. This was a showdown and Lockwood thought he was winning. She could tell by the smirk on his face.
Castle touched her wrist, drawing her attention to him. Together, they slipped into the row of seats and waited.
Everything seemed off, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what or why. The voices around her were nothing but a distant echo as she studied the officers that sat behind Lockwood. He looked at them, purposefully, his eyes conveying a message she wasn't privy to, which only fed her suspicion that something was wrong.
The longer she studied them - their demeanour, their uniforms, their interactions - the more anxious she grew. She racked her brain for anything that didn't fit, didn't add up, a discrepancy of some kind.
That was when she noticed the chrome bands. NYPD used brass.
Her hand fell to Castle's thigh, a distracted attempt to garner his attention, but it was too late.
Lockwood turned to the officers again.
"Now," he instructed.
One officer turned in their direction, the other two reached down below the seat to grab what she could only suspect was weaponry of some kind. She reached for her gun but saw the first officer throw something their way.
"Castle, down!"
There was a bang, a flash of light, she had to act.
She had no information, no idea what was coming for them. She dove on Castle, pushing him to the floor in hopes that the seating around them would offer some sort of protection. Shrapnel, a bomb blast, she had no idea what to expect.
She could hear gunfire, the repetitive pop, a muffled echo. She looked back toward the officers, but her vision was blurred. Smoke filled the room, stinging her irises.
The three officers were helping Lockwood escape, shooting anyone who got in their way.
What's the worst that can happen?
She stayed low, trying to orientate herself, flashes of white dancing behind her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to rid herself of them.
Her ears were ringing, a high-pitched echo digging right through into her brain. It was painful, but she managed to push through.
She turned back to Castle, to make sure he was alright, hadn't been hurt.
"Are you okay?" she asked him. She knew she was yelling, but it sounded so distant.
"Yes. Yeah," he yelled back, still in shock.
She could hear people screaming, distant but strong. She had to follow that sound.
She pulled herself up, pushed through the heavy double doors and exited the courtroom. She felt weak, too weak. She had to lean her whole body weight against the doors just to open them. She crashed through once they opened, falling to the ground.
She landed hard, her knees and hands stinging from impact. Her hands tangled with cool metal. In front of her laid Lockwood's chains. He was on the loose, unrestrained, dangerous.
What's the worst that can happen?
She looked around, taking in the scene before her. Chaos and carnage. People lined the floors on the hall, faces to the ground, too scared to look up. Lockwood was nowhere in sight.
"Where?" She called out to anyone who was listening. Her voice was gruff, sore.
"Downstairs," a woman informed her, pointing in the general direction.
She pushed herself up, stumbled a little bit but regained her balance after a few steps. Her entire body seemed to be fighting against her as she ran toward the stairs.
She threw her shoulder into the door, pushing it open. She had a split second to decide: up or down. Leaning over the guard railing, she looked down and locked eyes with Lockwood through the gaps in the railings.
For a moment she feared he was armed, that he would try to shoot her, end this all now. But before either of them had a chance to make a move, Lockwood was grabbed and pulled away to continue on his journey.
She followed, cautiously, measuring her pace to make sure she didn't get too close. All her promises to Castle echoed through her head.
I won't engage...
What's the worst that can happen?
She had to be smart about this. If Lockwood's goal was to get away, she could assume that so long as she didn't get too close, she wouldn't be in immediate danger. That is what she would continue to tell herself, anyway.
A single flight of stairs down, she saw a sign for the building's helicopter pad. To her, that seemed like the most likely escape route. She pushed her way through the door, exiting the stairwell.
The dull whoosh of the helicopter rotary starting up filled the room, rapidly picking up the pace. She searched the floor, not wanting to be taken by surprise. It was clear, with the exception of a security guard who lay on the floor, bleeding out from being shot.
She started to stumble toward him, reluctantly giving up her pursuit to potentially save a life, when a woman dropped to her knees and scurried across to the man. She exchanged glances with the woman, who gave Kate a subtle nod of the head, confirming that she didn't need to assist.
Kate forced her legs into motion, again, running toward the exit. The door was heavy, fighting against the whirlwind from the helicopter blades. The pressure had almost sealed the door, forcing her to push against it with her full body weight. She was more careful this time, more steady, and as the doors finally pushed open, she maintained her balance.
The helicopter lifted off, but she wasn't ready to admit defeat. With the last scrap of fight she had left in her, she inhaled, aimed her gun and pulled the trigger. Again, and again, and again, until she had emptied her clip into the metal fuselage.
She released the breath she was holding, arms dropping to her side as she did. She sucked in another breath, shaky and overwhelmed. The world was spinning, entirely too fast for her to remain steady, to remain calm. She watched as Lockwood and his accomplices flew away.
There was nothing left for her to do. She lost.
As soon as she lost sight of the getaway vehicle, she dropped to her knees, gasping for the air she suddenly felt deprived of. One hand wiped hair from her face, while the other instinctively pressed to her stomach trying to calm the nauseous churning.
It was too loud, too fast, too hard to breathe.
She just needed it all to stop, just for a second, just long enough for her to put herself together again.
She was filled with grief, but she wouldn't allow herself to cry. Not yet.
She pulled herself to her feet, running back inside the building. She stopped by the security guard, kneeling by his side. She knew, just by looking at him, that he was dead. But she reached out and pressed two fingers to his pulse point, just in case.
"I tried," the woman beside her sobbed. "I tried to save him."
Kate placed her hand over the distraught woman's, gaining her attention.
"Are you hurt?" she asked. The woman shook her head, no. "Help is coming," she promised, before pulling herself to her feet. She had to get back to Castle. She needed to be with Castle.
She took the stairs two at a time, pushing herself harder than she should have. She was breathless, but she wouldn't stop until she was by his side again, until she knew he was okay.
She burst back through the heavy wooden doors, taking a moment to absorb the scene she had abandoned so hastily.
She looked to the seats where she had left Castle, but he wasn't there anymore. Panic filled her as her eyes drifted toward the front of the room, scanning every seat, every face they passed until they found him.
He was kneeling in front of the judge's bench with two security guards. She watched as he wiped his forehead with his wrist, his hands covered in blood.
"Castle!"
His eyes followed the sound of her voice, relief filling them when he found her. He straightened his hunched position, exposing his blood-stained abdomen.
Her heart sank, crowding the already nauseous pit of her stomach. She felt like the air had been sucked from the room. He was hurt...
"You got this?" he asked one of the guards beside him. They nodded, taking Castle's place to begin assisting the wounded lawyer she hadn't been able to see before.
Castle rose to his feet, rushing toward her. Instinctively, her hands reached to him, gliding across his abdomen with such desperation. She felt around for any signs that he had been hit, that he was hurt.
"It's not my blood, Kate," he assured her in a hushed tone. He wiped his bloodied hands on his shirt - it was already ruined - before placing them on her shoulders. "Kate!"
She stopped her frenzied search, trusting his voice to be her clarity instead. She pulled her eyes from the deep crimson discolouration of his shirt, focussing on the blue of his eyes instead.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, but it was as if she couldn't talk, couldn't form the words.
What's the worst that can happen?
She kept replaying her words. How could she have been so stupid?
Uniformed officers swarmed the room, guns drawn. She had to snap out of it, force herself back into work mode, pull on her mask and swallow down her grief.
"You should get checked over," he said.
"I-I'm fine." she stuttered, finally able to get words out.
"You look like you're in shock."
Her mind screamed, I thought I'd gotten you shot!
She was processing, her brain desperately trying to catch up after everything had unravelled so quickly. And, yes, maybe a little bit in shock. But she didn't have time to dwell on anything. Not with Lockwood out there, somewhere.
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
