She loves to touch him, loves to feel his firm chest under her hands as she runs her fingers over it, painting it with patterns, feeling his muscles ripple under her skin. She props her arms on his shoulders, still playing with his chest, letting her cheek rest on his, his seven-day-gruff scratching over her soft skin, sending the sweetest shiver down her spine.
"I thought we were heading straight home, babe? Who are your friends?" She revels in the fact that her voice in his ear makes him shudder, a smile quirking on her lips. She shares a gaze with the boys, both giving her a nod, their secret conversation hidden in Castle's stumbly introduction. Espo quirks an eyebrow, a smug grin on his lips, but it instantly disappears when she sends him a glare.
She's happy they are here, so happy to see that Lanie and Espo were here to keep an eye on Castle and that even Ryan left his spot, probably drawn into his near when he talked with Barkley, sensing the same danger she did. It might have been stupid to send cops he knows, it might have been dangerous for Barkley to know that he is friends with some NYPD cops even if they didn't talk for years. But it still calms her racing mind to know that they still care so much that they didn't waste a second thought and ran to his side to protect their friend. Her heart warms at the thought, hopefully Castle knows now how much he still means to all of them, how much he's been missed.
She'll never tell him, how much she missed him, how often he occupied her thoughts each day although she was with Josh. Gosh, how much she revels in the veil their cover gives her to keep touching him, to breathe in his scent of paper from old books, wood, and something spicey beneath his cologne, her finger still trailing over his muscles.
"Do you want to get changed?" He asks after they bid Lanie and Espo farewell, secretly agreeing to meet at the loft to build theory together just like in old times, all of them together. Even though it's his loft and not the precinct. But she can understand why he chose the loft – if they are being watched, and she can feel the burn of eyes in her back, sending shivers down her spine and not of the good kind – it's more credible for lovers to head home to him and not to a police station. That would be too dangerous.
"Mm, no, I thought you might wanna help me with that?" She purrs in his ear, bites her lip, both to tease him and to hide how much effect his fingers at the hem of her dress have on her, how much heat builds in her center, sending hot boiling blood through her veins, ready to combust. Maybe it wasn't her best idea to be so close to him – he can touch her as well and she has no control over what he might do.
Ryan clears his throat, sending her a helpless gaze, she answers with her designated glare, tries to keep her cover intact. Even though she's only trying to convince herself, she'll never admit how much this means to her. Geez, she only broke up with Josh a few hours ago, even if they both knew it was long overdue and here she is already clinging to the neck of another guy. She didn't miss Castle's cough at her response, her restless finger, painting patterns on his chest, wandering lower and lower. Whoops.
She gets nervous as Castle dismisses Ryan, informing him again to meet them at the loft, too. Was it too obvious? Or just innocent enough? Is she nervous because of that or because she'll be alone with Castle in a few moments? His arm wraps around her waist, definitely out for revenge, his fingers brushing over her hem, her stomach, holding her close to him, and it should be forbidden how good it feels.
"There might be some press outside, so if you don't want to see your picture in tomorrow's newspaper, you better keep your head down." She groans, ready to tell him off, but the camera flashes cut her off and she hides her head in his chest, her fake blonde hair falling like a curtain for her eyes, trusting Castle to guide her because she can't see anything and it's making her furious. Why is the press here? He's not that hotshot anymore, not having published a book in almost two years, only a few minor drunk scandals, and the weekly change of bimbos on his arms. Why should they be here? Did he call them? To have proof he was holding her in his arms? That she went home with him? Oh, if he did … the audacity! But no, this doesn't sound like him. If he called them, he'd have a reason. Maybe the publicity that he went with her? So it would be suspicious if she suddenly had an "accident"? Yeah, that kind of scheming sounds more like him.
He softly guides her into a waiting town car, quickly talks to the driver as she slides in and gets comfortable. Suddenly, she feels dead tired. The long nights at the club being a dancer and a cop, the long meetings and discussions by day wearing her out. She'll probably sleep for a week once this investigation is finally over. And thanks to Castle it'll probably be soon.
When he finally slides into the car, she's too tired to restrain herself and in the name of her cover snuggles into his arm, beds her head on his shoulder, enveloped in his smell, his warmth, and his safety. Mhm, a girl could get used to this. She never had the urge to just cuddle with Josh like she does with Castle.
She must have dozed off because she suddenly jerks awake by the unease in his voice, the stiffness of his body as he answers the phone. This is not good. She looks at him, tries to read his mind, tries to make sense of the panicked look on his face.
But then, suddenly everything happens at once, he grabs her so hard on her arms it will cause bruises, yanks at her, almost throws her into the legroom of the car, her head hitting something hard on the front seat, sending a piercing pain through her head, making her ears ring loudly, her vision blurring for a moment, causing her mind to feel strangely numb.
But it kinda fits, because she has the feeling that everything else happens in slow motion as well.
Castle, how lets himself fall down on her, his body kissing hers. Their feet first, then their legs, their hips, their abdomen, then their chests – robbing her of the badly needed air, the pressure of his body too intense to breathe – and then their heads, bumping into each other. She wants to scream at him, wants to push him off of her but her hands are trapped beneath him, her mouth too busy with gasping for air. He seems to sense her struggle, pushes himself up a little whispers something she cannot yet comprehend.
Another voice keeps interfering with his, screaming at them muffled from somewhere underneath her. His phone? He was on the phone. Where is it? Who was calling again?
He lifts his body far enough off of her that she can catch her breath inhaling deeply against the dark spots dancing before her eyes. Her mind still doesn't seem to work correctly because she thinks she hears the front door open and fall close again. She looks into Castle's eyes, barely visible in the dark, searches for something that makes sense but sees only fear and grim determination, holding onto her for dear life.
They are being pressed into the front seats as the car hits something, metal screeching so loudly she wants to press her hands over her ears but they are still trapped underneath Castle who scoots even closer to her now, hiding his head in the crook of her neck, his hands bracketing her head and she doesn't understand. It feels like they are flying, why the hell is he pressing her deeper to the ground?
Then, her mind starts catching up, the fog from the impact clearing slowly. Excruciating slow.
"It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay. We'll get through this, Kate. We'll survive this. I'm not going to let you die", he keeps whispering into her ear, and then everything rewinds in superspeed, catching up with her, she gasps for air heavily. The dizziness makes it still hard for her to see clearly in the dark with the ever-changing lights on Castle's face, especially down here, but she hates what she sees, hates how suddenly all the light is gone. They are in New York City, right in Manhattan, this does not happen here.
Castle got a call from his usual driver Gregory, the one who's supposed to be replaced tonight by Brad. But Gregory was asking where they were, waiting for them to pick them up. Then Castle pushed her to the floor and she heard the front door – Brad escaped the car just before it hit something and started flying.
Oh, fuck. She finally understands, buries her head in Castle's neck, breathing him in, missing his scent so much for way too long, breathing him in, as if it were for the last time in her life.
Only milliseconds before the car collides with a hard, unforgiving surface – the loud splash stopping her heart in dread – sending them flying a few inches despite Castle's effort to keep them pressed on the ground. His arm is wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her against him, softening her impact when they crash down again, Castle grunting in pain and she swears she hears a bone break.
She doesn't have to think twice, the cold water reaching her arms is indicator enough of where they are and that they need to get the hell out of there. But Castle doesn't move, he's panting, whining, groaning and she's pretty sure he isn't even aware of it. He hurt something in the crash badly enough, to be knocked out by the pain.
"Castle. Castle, I need you to get off me. Castle, can you hear me? Rick, get off me, the car is sinking." She wiggles underneath him, tries to free her hands to push him and finally, he complies, shakes his head several times to clear it from the haze of pain, and lifts her back onto the backseat, letting go of her. She wishes she could see him, but there's barely enough light to catch some contours. Damn.
The water is rising fast, already crawling up her leg with its ice-cold fingers, halfway on the way to her knee. He can feel it, too, she knows by the way his unscattered hand squeezes her leg.
"We need to get out of here. You try your door, I try mine." His voice is trembling with pain, but they have no time to do something about it – despite ... what could they do about it locked in a car that's sinking fast in the Hudson? The car is already underwater, she can't see the surface anymore. And it's getting darker with any second. How deep is the Hudson? 100 feet? More? It doesn't matter, they need to get out. Fast. She can already feel the pressure on her ears, worsening the splinting headache she's got.
She rattles on the door handle but nothing happens, slowly fingering for a switch for the door in case it's locked, but again nothing. Panic is rising in her chest and she tries to swallow it down – now is not the time. The water is already licking on her knees, swapping over on the seats any second.
"It's either blocked by the water or locked. Do you have any luck?" He grunts a no in response. "What now? Do you have any ideas?
"We need something to break the window. You don't happen to carry your gun in your bag?" Her gun, of course!
"Yes, yes, I do! But I have no idea where my bag is. Ah", she grunts in pain as the pressure of the depth they're in is causing her head to feel like it's ready to burst, she's so dizzy, she feels like she might be fainting any minute. But she can't now. They need to get out here. The water already reached their hips, splashing against her belly.
"What's going on, Kate? Shit, we're either sinking faster or the water is coming in faster – or both. Damn."
"I'm fine. My bag. Is it on your side? It was next to me on the seat when I got in." She leans forward – a mistake, her head is pounding, nausea flaring up; she still grits her teeth, dips her arms in the water in the legroom, it almost touches her mouth and she presses her lips together to not drink the stinky water accidentally, something her parents warned her about from a young age. No bag in the legroom on her side, damn.
She gets up again, too fast, her head feeling like it's ready to split in two, her hands pressed against her skull, she can feel the sticky wetness on her left side, the blood running down her neck, soaking her shoulder. His hand searches for hers in the dark, feeling for her face, her head, cautiously touching the left side of her head where the pain is the worst, causing her to scream. "You're hurt", he says, his voice choked, with pain and fear.
"I'll be okay", she whispers, even though she loses grip on reality, can't feel the water anymore, only the splashing against her breasts, and suddenly everything feels hot. "My bag, weapon."
"It's not on my side. I'll have to go to the front. Stay here." She shakes her head, but it only worsens the agony in her brain, the ringing in her ear blocking every sound.
"No, your arm is probably broken, you'll never get over the shield in the middle. Let me." She extends her arms, feeling for the section secluding the driver's area from the passengers, the water already almost on her neck. Her fingers wrap around the frame, pulling her forward, the piercing in her head worsening with every movement she makes, causing her to lose every sense of direction. She's fainting and she can't fight it anymore, the water swapping against her lips. They don't have time. She can't pass out now, they are going to die. They are going to drown.
"Gonna pass ou'," she says or maybe just thinks, right before she sinks, the water closing over her head the last thing she witnesses.
It's like they say in the books and movies. When you die, you see your whole life passing before your eyes. If dying is like that, she's fine with it. At least she got to kiss him and feel him before she goes.
She sees her mom smiling at her, waving, beckoning her to come to her. And she sees him. Feels him. His arms warm around her body, his lips on her ear, whispering her name, tracing kisses down her neck, she can feel the smile on his lips as he presses his mouth to hers.