A/N: doing what I do best - giving into peer pressure! I love it, honestly.
The next two parts were atrocious, though. So I've cut out chunks and kind of merged them together a little more efficiently. It might feel a little 'skipped to the ending' but I promise you there really wasn't much worthwhile goodness in the chunks I ditched. A lot of "ah, we'll talk about it later". So, yeah.
Anyways, as always, I hope you enjoy : )
She had texted him to meet her at the morgue instead of back at the precinct. Her gut was telling her: check the body. An instinct she wouldn't ignore.
When she arrived, he was waiting by the entrance holding two coffees, kicking little stones on the footpath.
He looked up as she approached, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw her.
Her stomach flipped, nervously, as she got closer.
"Hey," he smiled, holding out one of the cups. "Thought you might need this."
She took the cup with a smile, fingers brushing against his as she did.
The lingering touch set flight to a million tiny butterflies in her stomach.
"Thanks," she said breathlessly.
His brain finally kicked back into gear and he released his grip from the cup, pulling his fingers away from the gentle touch of hers. He focussed his eyes on his cup, shuffling it in his hands.
20 seconds. They'd barely made it through 20 seconds before things got... weird.
"Should we, you know, talk about what happened?" he asked cautiously, staring intently at the markings on his cup lid.
He was well aware of the possibility that she just wanted to pretend nothing had happened.
But he was never very good at that. Not when he could still feel the ghosts of her hands all over him, the way her lips had moulded to his own.
He wanted that, again. Now and forever.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think we should definitely talk about it," she said.
He looked at her, waiting for the catch. The it was a mistake or the we probably shouldn't do that again.
"Just," she gestured to the building behind him, bringing their current location back to mind. "Maybe not right now?"
"Yeah, right," he forced a laugh. "Of course."
Obviously not a conversation to have while on the job.
But she wasn't shutting him down, so that was... hopeful.
They just needed to get through this case... alive, preferably.
Days had passed, the world was ending, a million thoughts tore through his mind.
Gun pointed to his head, the world is ending, and all he could think about was her.
All he wanted was her: to hold her as everything faded to black, as the life drained from him. To tell her he was sorry. Sorry for all the wasted time, the missed opportunities, all the times he wanted to tell her how he felt, but didn't.
"You're never going to get away with this." Kate's voice didn't waver.
He wondered how she hid her fear so well. Or, maybe, she was just braver than he was.
Maybe, she was ready to die.
Because there was no way out of this. If there was, he would see it by now. Even with the shock of Sophia's betrayal hazing his judgement, throwing everything he had ever thought he had known into question, he was an optimist. If there was a way to avoid imminent death, he would see it.
But they were lured, trapped, guns pointed and ready for execution.
And he should probably be thinking of something other than how he will never hold her again, never be able to apologise for all the wasted time, the missed opportunities and all those times he wanted to remind her that he loved her, but didn't.
"Don't worry, I'll make it sound heroic," Sophia taunted Beckett.
She was having too much fun with this, basking in the knowledge that she had pulled one over the Kate Beckett. He knew otherwise, though. Because Kate had been uneasy in Sophia's presence since the start, and he had been too conceited to consider it anything more than jealousy.
Sophia turned her attention back to him, it was his turn to be the victim of her provocative games, he could tell by the way her face twisted into a villainous smirk.
He turned his head to face forward again, avoiding the face he had once associated with heroism, valour and patriotism.
The face of Clara Strike.
Oh, how wrong he had been.
"Your father would be proud."
That wasn't what he had expected. Not at all. His focus shot back to her.
"My father?"
Not his father. He didn't have a father. Sophia knew that.
"Well, you didn't think you gained special access to the CIA back then because of your charm," she laughed.
He reminded himself of the game. That's what she was doing, she was messing with his head. She was psychotic: to her, this was fun.
"You really don't know, do you?"
All humour dropped from her voice and he fought hard not to believe her words.
He didn't have a father. Doesn't have a father.
And, she wasn't exactly a trustworthy source.
"I guess you never will."
She pointed the gun at his head, painstakingly slow.
He turned away from her again, taking solace in one thing: he wouldn't have to watch Kate die.
He couldn't think of anything else at that moment. He didn't want to.
Not Alexis, not his mother, not the end of the world.
And certainly not his father.
He clenched his jaw, bracing himself. With a little luck, he wouldn't feel a thing.
The gunshot echoed through the parking structure, and he heard Kate's pained scream.
Then, nothing.
Sophia dropped. Her lifeless eyes locked to the wall as her body settled into place, slumped on the cold, hard ground beneath them.
He didn't understand, why wasn't he dead?
The world was still ending.
Beckett rose to her feet, confused in the silence.
Castle was alive, but he didn't move. He stayed, kneeling by Sophia's lifeless body, eyes locked to her pale face.
She reached out for him, wanted to do something - anything he needed - to comfort him.
"Come on," Danberg barked as he passed Kate. "It's just us and we're running out of time."
The girl, they had to save the girl.
She looked to Castle; he was as white as a ghost.
But he's alive.
Shock burrowed into him, deep, smothering. He was of no use to them right now. He couldn't be, even if he tried. He was reeling, she could see it in his eyes that stayed glued to his traitorous ex-lover.
She didn't want to leave him - not now, not ever - but she had to. For the girl.
"I'm coming back for you, Castle," she whispered, touching her fingertips to his face.
She tried to gain his attention, but he didn't move, barely acknowledged her touch.
"I'm sorry."
Sorry didn't begin to cover how she felt.
She felt angry. Angered by who Sophia turned out to be, but furious that she had so willingly used Castle as a pawn in her treachery, playing him and leaving him confused, heartbroken.
She felt guilty. Like she hadn't done enough, hadn't figured it out in time, hadn't been able to stop this from happening. She couldn't protect him from this hurt. She couldn't save what he just lost, but she could save the girl.
And, so, she had to leave him.
As they reached the exit, she stopped and looked back at him, still kneeling, still reeling. Grappling with betrayal, death, the idea of his father.
He hadn't left her, when she was trapped in her car. He would never leave her. But she knew he would understand why she had to leave him.
To save the girl.
She found herself running, pushing harder than she ever had before. Her mind was spinning, grieving.
A child, an innocent child, was about to die.
A purposeful act, to start World War Three.
She didn't understand how this became the world they were living in. When had humanity fallen so far?
There was no time to spiral, she had Corrigan in her sights.
Gun in hand, eyes locked on his target: the girl, an innocent child.
She pushed her legs, move faster. There was no time to think, barely time to act. She launched herself at him, diving on him, securing his weapon as they fell to the ground.
The landing knocked the wind out of her, drawing attention from the crowd around them. She couldn't breathe, but panic can spread like a virus and she couldn't allow that.
"Are you okay?" she asked Corrigan, as if she hadn't purposely knocked him to the ground. "He's fine!" she reassured everyone around them.
Danberg caught up, pulling them both to their feet and ushering them outside as quickly as possible.
She looked around, studying the faces around them. No one seemed concerned, or even slightly knowledgeable about what just went down.
They had succeeded.
The girl was safe.
The world wasn't ending.
But she was far from relieved.
"Castle," she muttered as Danberg passed Corrigan off to agents that had arrived on the scene.
"I got this," he said, effectively dismissing her.
She noticed the two agents following her, but she ignored them. She didn't care, she just needed to get back to Castle.
She ran back toward the parking structure, ducking and weaving through the crowd. Her lungs were screaming for air, her ribs bruising from her crash landing, but she wouldn't stop until she was by his side.
When she finally had him in her sights, he had barely moved. He was a few inches closer, on his haunches, his hand resting over Sophia's.
She fell to her knees beside him, placing her hand on his cheek and drawing his attention to her, more forcefully than she had the last time.
Clouded blue eyes looked at her, shattering her heart into a million tiny pieces.
"I don't understand," he choked.
She shook her head, clenched her jaw. She wouldn't let him break, wouldn't let Sophia win.
"It's okay, Castle," she assured him gently. "It's going to be okay."
She wrapped her arm around him, pulling him into her.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly.
Sorry for for all the wasted time, the missed opportunities and all those times he wanted to remind her that he loved her, but didn't.
Danberg entered the structure shortly after her, making his presence known with the unsubtle clearing of his throat.
She pulled away from Castle, reluctantly, looking up to Danberg who was standing at a distance, staring at Sophia.
She couldn't imagine the hurt he must have been feeling. To be betrayed by your partner...
She looked back to Castle. He would never betray her. Of that, she was certain.
She rose to her feet, holding her hands out.
Castle took them, allowed her to ease the rise to his feet after having been too low for too long.
"My team will clean this mess up," Danberg told them. "I'll give you a lift back to your precinct, explain what I can to your Captain."
Danberg had done his best to satisfy Gates' professional curiosity, explaining some completely fabricated story that held just enough truth to not be an outright cover up. It was more than she had expected from the CIA. Although, she did realise she probably shouldn't hold the opinions she formed on a rogue agent against the entire agency.
He had also seemed genuinely apologetic when he couldn't give Castle any clarity in regard to Sophia's comments about his father.
That, and the fact that he had recovered Beckett's unit from the Hudson, were definitely working on improving her overall impression of the government agency.
"Take care," he said, leaving them.
She watched Castle's face, reading the changing expressions as his thoughts drifted.
"You think she was telling the truth?" he asked her. "About my father? I mean, that would explain why he completely disappeared."
She hesitated before answering, knowing that this was a delicate situation. She needed to tread carefully.
She didn't want to give him hope - not if it meant he would be let down.
But she also didn't want to discourage him.
"I... I think that Sophia told a lot of lies."
And, honestly, she wasn't sure if she wanted this to have been a lie or not.
If it was, it was cruel. And if it wasn't, well, she didn't know what that meant for Castle.
He nodded, but remained silent as he continued to process.
She didn't want to talk about Sophia. Every fibre of her being did not want to talk about Sophia. But she could see that Castle needed some sort of closure.
"Must be tough, finding out that she's a traitor." She bit her tongue, hoping he would see the empathy in her words and not just the bluntness of them. "Especially after you based Clara Strike on her and all."
She wanted to add that Nikki would never disappoint him like that. That she would never disappoint him like that, but she bit her tongue.
This wasn't about her.
He smiled, deep in thought.
"Clara started off as Sophia, but... she ended up being more like you. You know, smart, fierce, kind."
His smile only brightened as he turned to her, reassuring her.
"I think that's one of the reasons I was drawn to you... as a muse."
His words made her smile, but his little side-step to keep them platonic was... cute. Unnecessary, but cute.
"Do you think Dr Blakely was right? About the linchpin? Do you think we actually saved the world?"
"I think that we saved a little girls life," she said. "And that's enough for me."
"Me too." He smiled, accepting that despite everything that had happened, today was a win. Not just for them, but for potentially millions of people.
"Come on, Castle," she said as she began to walk out of the conference room. "I'll drive you home."
They sat in silence throughout the drive, twenty minutes of nothing but awkward side-glances and tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.
She pulled up to the curb outside of his building, put her vehicle in park and cut the engine, waiting.
For what, she wasn't certain.
"I guess we should probably talk now," he said, staring straight ahead, his eyes locked on the flickering lamp post down the end of his street.
"It's okay, Castle. You have a lot on your mind."
He tore his eyes away from the flittering illumination that had held his attention, to his partner beside him.
She looked up at him, eyes so full of light, and love, and compassion. Despite the fear, the pain, the sobering wake up call that was the events of these past few days, the way she looked at him had only lightened.
He reached out, gently brushing his thumb along her cheekbone.
"You are on my mind, Kate. You always are."
She smiled, reaching for his hand. With their fingers intertwined, she brought their hands across to her lips, brushing them against his knuckles.
"Come inside." His voice was low, gruff, he wasn't requesting.
Even if he was, she wouldn't say no.
The loft was dark, quiet. She had never seen it this way before.
Usually it was full of light and life, but with nothing but a lamp left on to illuminate the path to his office, she could feel the darkness of the past few days seeping in. But he did nothing to remedy it: he let darkness in, embraced it like an old acquaintance he hadn't seen for years.
He didn't fear it, like she did.
In the silence, she followed his path, desperate to stay close.
He stopped in front of his couch, turning back to face her. He could see it in her eyes: everything she wasn't saying.
She was scared, tired, the days taking their toll on her mind and body. But there was something else there, too. something that had been there since the pier. Something softer, something inviting.
He placed his hand on her hip, pulling her closer. She didn't resist, didn't try to reroute her body from falling into his, he knew that she needed this. Needed comfort, needed him, just as much as he needed her.
Lips collided in a rush of unrestrained passion as his hands slowly explored the curves of her body.
She fisted the material of his shirt, tugging it out from where it had been tucked into his pants.
She wanted this, wanted him, but not before he knew.
She moved her hands to his chest, gently pushing away from him.
"Castle-"
He chased her lips, didn't want this moment to end, didn't want her to give into her fears. But when her hands pressed into his chest, firmer than before, he pulled back.
"Don't, Kate." His voice was hushed, but firm. "You know this is real, don't run from this."
She shook her head.
"I'm not running," she assured him, cupping his face with both hands. "I won't run," she added, making it clear that her words weren't exclusively for this moment.
She was done running, she could feel how real this was. She had felt it for a long time now. At first, she was scared of it, didn't know what it was. But she knew, now. It was love.
He brought his hands up to hers, lacing their fingers together and guiding her down until they hung in the space between their bodies.
She looked down, watching the gentle brush of his thumb along the back of her hands.
"I remember," she whispered, anxious that her confession might be too much for the fragility of the situation. But it needed to be said, he needed to know.
She looked up, meeting his eyes. She could see that he didn't understand, she had to push through.
"The day I was shot. I remember."
His eyes bore into hers, the clouded blue of his irises a tumultuous sea of confusion and pain. She wanted, so desperately, to take his pain away, not add to it.
"I was so scared that you had only said it out of fear, but I was wrong. I know that now, because I thought I lost you and it made it seem so clear."
"Made what seem so clear?"
She paused, took a steadying breath.
Was she certain she was ready? No. But she was certain she didn't want to waste another day, didn't want to risk losing him without ever telling him.
"I'm in love with you."
He hadn't expected her confession, was left breathless by it, speechless.
He didn't want his lack of words to convey the wrong message, to scare her off thinking he didn't feel the same way anymore, but his body just wouldn't cooperate with his brain. But, apparently his face conveyed everything she needed to know.
She smiled, brought her hand back to his face and leant in slowly.
"I love you, Castle," she whispered before pressing her lips to his. "I want you."
Finally, his body caught up to his brain, snapping into action, deepening her kiss.
He made quick work of her coat, slipping each button through its hole with ease. The heavy material dropped to the floor with a light thud.
He fumbled with his belt while she worked on his shirt, and soon enough two more pieces of clothing had joined the pile.
She pulled away, chest rising and falling heavily as she fought to catch her breath, but she had no plans to slow down.
She pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside.
Castle's eyes drifted down, taking in every inch of newly exposed skin. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out for her, desperate to feel bare skin against him, but she put her hand to his chest, stopping him just short of his destination.
He caught the smile that tugged on the corners of her mouth, before she bit into her lip to suppress it.
She pressed her palm against him firmly, encouraging him to move backwards. If she was fighting for the upper hand, he would gladly give it to her. So when his heels hit the base of his couch, he dropped down into it.
She followed, locking her lips to his as she positioned a knee either side of his waist and lowered herself into his lap, and he took his chance to skim his fingertips across her skin.
The gentle caress at her sides shifted forward, smoothing over her stomach and down until he reached her jeans. She shifted her hips, allowing him better access and in a quick, expertly performed manoeuvre, he had the button done and was sliding the zipper down.
Her heart was racing, with his touch so close to where she wanted it most, when suddenly it felt like it stopped beating altogether.
She pulled back, gripping his wrist and pulling it away from her. Her eyes shot to the top of the staircase, searching for something that wasn't there.
Confused, his eyes followed hers and he turned his head to see what had caught her attention, but he couldn't see anything in the darkness.
He looked back at her, her eyes were on him, questioning. He realised what her concern was.
"They're not here," he said, feeling her entire body relax again.
He leant forward, pressed open mouth kisses to her collarbone.
Her eyes fluttered shut at the warmth of his mouth against her skin. Slowly, she rolled her head to the side and he moved his attention up the column of her neck and across her jaw.
"Okay," she accepted, recapturing his lips greedily.
She wanted him, all of him, now.
She pulled away, again, with a sigh.
"You have protection, right?"
"Do you really think I was going to risk having to walk away from you, again? First thing I did when I left your place was stock up."
She smiled, let out a slight laugh.
"Good."
She pressed a kiss to lips, then rose from his lap and began to walk toward his bedroom. After just a few steps, she looked back over her shoulder.
"You coming, Castle?" she asked with a smirk.
He pulled himself to his feet, moving quickly to catch up to her. When he did, his body crashed into the back of her and he enveloped her in his arms, steadying her. He moulded his lips to the curve of her shoulder as she laughed at his enthusiasm.
"Hey, Kate," he whispered into the crook of her neck.
"Yeah?"
He turned her, made sure she could see the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke.
"I love you, too."