Hey everyone! Back to Beckett POV for this one, and it's the longest yet.
Again, thank you all for your awesome reviews. You guys are the greatest. Also, to those who tried to guess Ryan's 'grief stage'– it was probably a bit of a trick question, because (like most people when they're grieving) he's a combination of a few stages; but in this case, let's put him down as mainly 'bargaining' with a hint of 'denial'.
Anyhow, on to the chapter. It's super angsty (surprise, surprise), but hope you like it regardless.
Sirens.
When she'd lost him– lost herself– back there in that empty street, it had been the sirens that had pulled her back from the brink, the first sound to truly penetrate her consciousness since the slamming of the van door and the broken shout that had echoed behind it, a muffled cry etched with fear and pain.
Kate.
It couldn't have been more than two minutes before the first blue-and-white hit the scene, sirens screaming; but for her, those two minutes were a lifetime. On bruised knees like a sinner praying for forgiveness, her head bowed as though she no longer had the strength to hold it up, she'd been close to gone; sinking down deep inside herself without him there to anchor her to the outside world, her lifeline severed the moment he'd been torn from her.
But then– sirens.
Like a defibrillator to the chest, they brought her back to life, drawing her away from that place deep within her, that dark place of hopelessness and grief previously reserved only for her mother, and for the piece of herself that had died with her.
The sirens reminded her that she was no longer that dazed nineteen year old, the little girl left broken and motherless. She was Detective Kate Beckett, and she was going to get her partner back, even if she had to tear both the city and herself apart to do it.
By the time the first uniform reached her, she was already on her feet; her gun holstered, her radio on her belt, her expression hard and cold as stone.
Only moments before, she'd been on her knees like a repentant churchgoer, desperately seeking help and guidance. When she rose, it was no longer as the quivering mortal; instead, she was the vengeful god, and there was going to be hell to pay.
Now, back here in the precinct, the noise and activity fuelled her, keeping her going, both the constant action and the heat of her fury allowing her to forcibly suppress that tiny part of her that simply wanted to curl into a ball and sob until she could no longer breathe.
Pacing in the small walkway between the boys' desks and her own– carefully keeping her eyes well away from Castle's chair– Beckett kept herself immersed in the search, giving orders and fielding calls. But, as the minutes continued to pass, she felt the panic begin rising higher, her pacing becoming faster, an invisible hand tightening around her throat until each breath was a battle.
This was taking far too long.
She needed to do something. She needed to find him. She just needed him. Every second without him was one second closer to the moment when her fragile control would fail her completely, when she would finally snap, shattering into a million pieces, a broken thing far beyond repair.
God, Castle. I need you. Come back to me.
Coming to a stop behind his chair, she gripped the backrest hard, closing her eyes and leaning forward as she fought to draw air into her failing lungs. It just wasn't enough– what they were doing here, it wasn't enough. They needed to find him now.
And yet the only chance of doing so would mean having to risk everything; life or death, it all came down to one decision, one single, simple question.
Was she willing to risk his life in order to save it?
Taking a deep breath, she tightened her grip on the chair for a moment, then let go, opening her eyes.
"Ryan, Esposito," she called, "Code it up for an active trace. We're–"
"Hold it right there."
Forcibly restraining her fury, Beckett turned, meeting her captain's eyes with a determination bordering on defiance.
"Detective, I am certain I must have misheard you, because it sounded as though you just ordered two of my men to run an active trace on Mr Castle's phone," Gates said slowly, her voice measured, even. "And I know you would never be so reckless."
Beckett didn't flinch. Instead, she simply gestured to Ryan to proceed with the trace, then spoke again, her voice hard. "We're wasting too much time. An active trace is our best shot of getting to him–"
Gate's voice rang out, clear and sharp. "Touch that keyboard and so help me, I will make you regret it, Detective."
Freezing, Ryan slowly retracted his hand, shooting an apologetic look at Beckett.
Gates eyed him for a moment before turning back to Beckett, taking a step forward and spreading her hands in a pacifying gesture.
"Now, Detective Beckett, we all understand the gravity of this situation. Mr Castle is a member of the 12th and we will do everything within our means to get him back. But, with that said, we must follow protocol, no matter what. We're doing this by the book, which means we continue with the passive trace, which is narrowing in on Castle's location as we speak–"
"But not fast enough!" Beckett shot back, eyes wild. "A passive trace could take hours, hours that we don't have. If we call him now, we give ourselves the best chance of finding him. An active trace–"
"Is far too risky," Gates responded bluntly. "As of now, his cell is still on and transmitting. The moment we make that call, whomever has him will seize his phone and mostly likely destroy it before we ever get the opportunity to even begin the trace, and then we've lost any chance we might have had at finding him." Pausing slightly, she eyed Beckett over her glasses, her gaze intense. "And that, Detective, would be on your head."
"Whatever happens to him will already be on my head!" Beckett burst out, the words tearing violently from her throat, jagged as broken glass. "I'm the one who let them take him in the first place. I'm the one who was supposed to protect him! This is my fault and I know that, but we're running out of time. We need to get to him, now, because every moment we waste waiting for this trace is another moment his captors have to find his phone and get rid of it! This is his best chance."
Running a hand through her hair in agitation, she clenched her teeth, fighting to keep her voice from breaking on her next words. "This might be his only chance."
Gates stood firm. "Detective, I'm warning you. Proceed with this, and not only are you seriously endangering Mr Castle's life, you will be in violation of both standard protocol and a direct order from your superior. The latter alone is grounds for an immediate suspension and potential further disciplinary action. So, for the last time, stand down."
The words were like the iron she was named for, her gaze piercing as it held Beckett's; fierce and unyielding, they stared each other down, two battle-scarred lionesses ready to fight to the death.
For a moment, there was complete and utter silence in the bullpen; no one dared move, nor even breathe loudly lest they somehow sever the tiny, invisible thread of control that appeared to be the only thing keeping their entire unit from descending into chaos.
Unlike Gates, who was minutely aware of the dozens of eyes fixed upon them, Beckett saw only two pairs; the deep, warm blue of her partner– his eyes shifting from cheerful, to terrified, to blank and lifeless in her mind– and the dark, stern brown of the woman facing her. As their eyes held, the older woman's normally unwavering gaze suddenly flickered, finally seeing the truth reflected back at her, the truth that everyone else present had already seen.
This was a fight she could never win.
"Kate–" she began, the use of her first name clearly a last-ditch effort to break through to her. Ignoring her, Beckett simply drew her phone from her pocket, her thumb swiping across the screen.
"You do this, you lose your badge," Gates told her quietly, a sense of resignation in her stance.
"Already lost everything else," Beckett answered simply, her tone flat, dead, as if she were already nothing but an echo of who she had been. Then, meeting her captain's eyes one last time– hating the pity she saw mixed into that strict gaze– she hit the button for the keypad, her thumb reaching for the speed dial button that Castle had assigned himself long ago, an action which she had complained about at the time but had still always left unaltered.
In the fraction of an instant before her skin touched the screen, however, the phone suddenly flared to life in her hand, the vibration and accompanying blare of noise so startling and unexpected that she nearly dropped it altogether.
Seeing the face that filled the screen was like a bullet to the gut, her trembling fingers fumbling as she hastily swiped at the screen, desperately answering the call before yanking the phone to her ear.
"Castle?"
"Kate, thank god," Castle's voice echoed down the line, his words low and fast, a hurried whisper. "I need you to listen to me. I'm fine, but judging by some of the things I've overheard, I doubt I will be for much longer. Which is why I need you to listen close, okay? Firstly, I need you to promise me that you'll look after Mother and Alexis, and make sure they know how much I love them–"
Beckett blanched, his words sending a wave of nausea through her. "No, Castle, we're going to find you–"
"Kate, please, just let me get this out," he insisted desperately, her eyes squeezing shut at the anguish that bled through every word. "Tell them I love them, and tell them that they'll find my will in the copy of Heat Wave on my bookshelf. Tell the others– god, um, just tell them that they're my family too, okay? Tell Ryan he better name a wine after me, and tell Espo that if he so much as scratches the ferrari I will come back and haunt him forever. Um, and– I never found out what Lanie wanted, but tell her to take you on a vacation somewhere, all right? Somewhere sunny. And god, make sure that Evelyn and the kids get Roy's share–"
"Castle, stop-"
"No, Kate, I need to say this. Please, I need to say this."
She heard his breath shudder through the line, heard the tears he was barely holding back.
"Kate, when I said always, I meant it. I meant it. It was real, Kate– you and me. It's real."
"Cas–"
Cutting short her choked plea, he pressed on even more urgently, as if these words were the most important he would ever speak.
"And god, I wish that it didn't keep taking one of us being on the edge of death for me to say it, but I lo–"
At that moment, there was a metallic screeching noise– the van door– and he broke off abruptly, his sharp intake of breath loud in her ear.
"Oh shit, no– Kate–"
Frozen in horror, Beckett could only listen as the unmistakeable sound of furious shouting echoed down the line, followed immediately by a loud clattering noise– as if the phone had just been dropped to a hard surface– and everything became muffled, unintelligible, until suddenly Castle's terrified voice cut through the line, as clear as if he were standing right beside her–
"No– please– NO–!"
Crack.
Abruptly silencing Castle's desperate shout, the sound of the gunshot seemed to travel straight from her ear to her heart, stopping it mid-beat. Her brain got the message a split second later, his name tearing from her throat in a harsh, ragged cry.
"Castle!"
Silence.
Then suddenly her ear was filled with an electronic shriek, forcing her to yank the phone away, staring at it in horror as the screen flashed, informing her that the call had been disconnected.
No. No, that couldn't have– he couldn't be–
With another flash, Castle's picture faded from the screen, returning her to her empty menu, as if the call had never taken place and the picture had never been.
Oh, god.
Castle.
Clenching her fingers so tightly around the phone that the plastic creaked in protest, Beckett let her head drop to press against it, the top edge digging painfully into the ridge of her eyebrow as she screwed her eyes tightly shut, every muscle in her body wound taut and sharp as razorwire, slicing her apart from within. Dragging in a ragged breath, she mentally drew herself together, shoving back the agonized scream that threatened to rip her inside out at any moment.
And as she breathed, the armor that had shielded her since her mother's death– the armor that just this very morning she had been so close to finally laying aside– was resolutely pulled back into place, sealing her heart away.
With a slow exhale, Beckett lowered the phone and lifted her gaze, her eyes finding only Ryan and Esposito, blind to the myriad of horrified stares still fixed upon her as she spoke, her voice a pained rasp.
"The trace?"
Still staring at her in complete, disbelieving horror, Ryan failed to respond, seeming to have forgotten the small piece of paper clutched in his hand.
Controlling his own shock, Esposito schooled his face into a blank, stony expression, then looked down at the paper his partner held.
Lifting his eyes back to hers, he gave a small nod.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Gates take a reflexive step forward, as if intending to intervene. Halting her with a small, sharp raise of her hand, Beckett kept her eyes fixed on her two brothers, her expression cold and distant, her words heavy with darkness and fury.
"Find them."
With that, she turned on her heel, ignoring the continued stares and whispers as she strode straight for the shuttered meeting room, the empty room swallowing her as effectively as the grief had.
Behind her, various looks of shock and concern were exchanged, the half-heard phone conversation seeming to echo in the silence as Ryan and Esposito slowly rounded their desks, their gazes flicking uncertainly to their captain.
Suddenly, as if she had sensed their hesitation, Beckett's voice lanced out from the other room, rough and sharp-edged.
"Now!"
With a last look at Gates– who gave the slightest of nods, her normally stern eyes showing just a hint of moisture– the two men steadied themselves and headed for the elevator, the splintering crash of wood on brick echoing from the room behind them as they went.
Okay, with this one I know I'm venturing into slightly borderline territory for Beckett. For some of you, this depiction of her will probably seem OOC. For me, though, there's a hell of a lot of repressed emotion within Beckett, and losing Castle is one of the only keys that can release it (in fact, some of my older stories have touched on this topic as well). But anyhow, we all view things differently, and that's okay.
And as for Gates, I don't mean to be setting her up as like an antagonist here. I just wrote her as I believed she would be in that situation; while not unaffected by Castle's ordeal or her team's pain, she must be the one to remain logical and objective, because otherwise they would have nothing but chaos. But, well, it's a hard line to walk. Maybe once we've heard from her later, everything will be a little clearer.
Btw, I know passive and active traces aren't a legit thing (everybody just uses GPS)- but, well, most of this story was written five years ago and I definitely watched fewer cop show back then haha. So for the sake of the story let's pretend that the traces are necessary lol.
Lastly, did everyone catch the reference to the ep Lucky Stiff in S3 (the lottery winner episode)? And also, extra bonus points (and my eternal affection) if you caught the Prison Break reference!
Anyway, as always, thanks for reading!
Laura