Hey guys! To avoid any confusion, just letting you know that this symbol ( -/-/- ) signifies a flashback. There's just one early on in the chapter and it's quite short, so I hope it doesn't confuse the flow too much. Also, there's another small swearing warning for this one.

Hope you like it.

He was going to have to make the call.

As a homicide cop, it was an inescapable part of the job. It was something you could never get used to, never become comfortable with; whether you were a rookie on your first day or veteran just weeks from retirement, no one ever found it easy to tell families or partners that their loved one was never coming home.

Javier Esposito had made his fair share of those calls.

But never, ever one like this.

As he stared blindly at the phone in his hand– Gates' number had now faded from the screen, yet their brief conversation still lingered at the back of his mind– his eyes saw only a different phone, one that was currently tucked away in a clear evidence bag, useless and half-destroyed, the 'NYPD' symbol on the cracked case almost entirely obscured by blood.

Castle's phone.

-/-/-

It was burning.

The van was burning and there was no escaping that familiar acrid smell carried on the smoke, the one that was far more than melted rubber or scorched plastic, the one that burned sharply in their nostrils as if forcing them to acknowledge it. They both knew that smell.

It was the smell that meant game over. It meant say goodbye to the life you knew, because nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Determinedly fighting back against the terrible truth that was being drawn into their lungs with every breath, Ryan and Esposito stepped away from the firefighter who had been debriefing them, only to be halted moments later by a crime scene tech clutching a plastic evidence bag. As the tech held up the bag for their inspection, they registered its contents through watering eyes; and instantly Esposito heard an explosive roaring in his ears, recognition detonating like a grenade in his head, disintegrating the world around him and sending him into freefall.

"I gave him that case," Ryan said finally, breaking the thunderstruck silence that had enveloped them, his voice strange and oddly distant as he stared at the mutilated phone. "I had it specially made for his birthday."

With that, he turned abruptly, stumbling away to double over a few yards from where they stood, heaving the contents of his stomach into the gutter.

Clenching his eyes shut for a moment, Esposito took a deep breath and fought for control; his own stomach was roiling, and it was only by the tiniest shred of willpower that he wasn't right there beside his partner, splattering the concrete with his own breakfast.

Expression grave, the tech waited silently, looking to him for direction– but Esposito had nothing to give.

Turning his back on the younger man, he strode sharply away, managing to cover several yards before the torrent of emotions became too much– before everything became too much– and he staggered to a breathless halt, a stream of violent curses ripping from his throat as he dropped into a crouch, his hands lifting to clutch hard at his head, his eyes screwed tightly shut as if he could rewrite the truth if only he fought hard enough.

Except the soldier in him knew that there were some things you just couldn't fight. And unfortunately, the cop in him knew it too.

Oh, Jesus.

Castle.

-/-/-

Now, forcibly pushing back the memory, Esposito straightened his shoulders, lifting his eyes from his phone. For a moment he simply stood in silence, watching the flickering dance of the flames, feeling the lick of heat upon his skin even from where he stood. Gates had believed that this news was better coming from him, that his bond with Beckett– and with Castle– might make it easier for her to bear. But it was his very connection to them that told him there would be no making this easier, no way to alleviate the pain he was about to cause.

All he could do was to try to keep going, keep hoping. When he'd been a soldier, he'd lived by the army's motto of This We'll Defend. Now, he still lived by that rule, not only for his country but for his family, his team at the Twelfth. He may not have been able to protect Castle, but he sure as hell was going to do everything he could to protect Beckett in the aftermath of the bombshell he was about to drop on her.

Sighing, he drew a deep breath, then with a silent prayer to a god he hadn't believed in in years, he pressed a button, and held the phone to his ear.

Her answer came almost too quickly, catching him off guard, making him realise he could never have been prepared enough.

"Tell me."

Closing his eyes briefly, Esposito swallowed hard, his voice hoarse from more than just the smoke. "We found the van, but... it's burning, Beckett. Way too hot to even get close. And... there's a body inside it." He faltered on the last sentence, voice nearly breaking on the words, but steeled himself to go on. "It's impossible to know who's in there until the fire is controlled, so we can't make any assumptions yet, okay? But, uh... you should know that we found Castle's phone. It's destroyed, and there's– there's blood on it."

Not knowing what else to say, he held his breath, waiting for her reply. A beat passed, then two, the silence on the other end of the line so deafening that, if not for the lack of dial tone, he would have thought maybe she'd hung up on him. For another moment he hesitated, thinking he should say something more, comfort her somehow, but the words simply didn't come. He couldn't make this better.

No one could.

Hell, there was no training that could have prepared him for this.

Clenching his eyes shut, he tightened his grip around the phone– he needed something to anchor him, something to focus on other than the emptiness both on the other end of the line and inside his own chest, and right now, this was all he had.

And Ryan– the one who usually kept him grounded, kept him going, the true rock of their partnership– even Ryan couldn't help him right now, could barely handle his own pain, his normally unshakeable calm extinguished as he sat limply on the gutter edge, his head in his hands. Between him and the silence on the other end of the line, Esposito knew he was on his own.

They might all share the same pain, but right now– in this moment, at least– they were all totally alone.

After another second or two of that piercing silence, sounds finally began to echo through the line, low fumbling sounds as if the phone were being moved around, passing from one pair of hands to another.

And then suddenly there was a soft voice in his ear, quiet and rough-edged, speaking his name with a depth of emotion that nearly broke him.

"Javier?"

Pressing a hand to his eyes, he choked out, "Lanie."

This was too much. For Beckett he could be strong, for Beckett he could hold himself together, but Lanie– Lanie was different. He couldn't hide it from her.

"Tell me, Javi."

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but somehow still strong, her tone both mournful and supportive– and it tore at the defenses inside him because she knew, and just for this second he could stop trying to carry this for all of them, could stop trying to be goddamned Atlas and hold the world up while they were all crumbling, because the truth was he was crumbling too and god it was all so much–

"The van's here," he rasped out, the words feeling like razorblades in his throat. "It's– it's burning. And god, Lanie, you can smell it. You can smell the– god, shit, it's so fucked up, and I can't– it's like Ike all over again, but worse, so much worse, and I can't lose another partner, Lanie, I can't–"

In the midst of his panic, her voice drifted through the line, soft and ethereal, curling around him like mist, cool and calming and gentle.

"I know, baby. I know."

Shuddering, Esposito forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply, feeling some of the tension within him ease just slightly, as if she were somehow drawing it through the phone, leeching the poison from his veins. For the first time since seeing the burning van, he was actually aware of his heart beating again, its feeble rhythm restarted by the woman who had started healing him the very day they met.

"Lanie–" he began, wanting to tell her, needing to tell her, but a sudden shout from across the lot caught his attention, the sound of his name permeating the emotional haze that surrounded him, forcing his eyes to open and seek out the figure in firefighting gear that was now gesturing him over to the smoldering van. Biting back a sigh, Esposito rubbed at his forehead, wishing he could simply erase this entire day from his brain, could return to a time when his entire world hadn't turned itself completely and utterly upside-down.

"Lanie, I have to go. I have to–" he couldn't finish that thought, couldn't face what he was about to have to do. Dragging in a deep breath, he said instead, "Just look after Beckett, okay?"

Her words were soft, floating to him on an exhaled breath. "I will. I promise."

"Lanie... " he tried again, his tone hesitant, uncertain, but unwilling to let her go without saying it. Not when Castle had just taught him how quickly it could all be torn away. "I just... I love you."

The silence lasted only a single beat, before her answering whisper reached his ears.

"I love you too, Javi."

Letting out a relieved breath, Esposito straightened his shoulders. He was ready.

Or as ready as he would ever be.

"I gotta go. I'll call back when I can. Just... tell Beckett we're going to get these bastards, alright?"

"I will."

Swiping his thumb across the screen, Esposito disconnected the call, then turned to move towards the firefighter that had waved him over, halting as he saw the figure standing just a few yards away, waiting for him.

Silhouetted by the dying flames, Ryan stood tall, his back straight, his expression grim. As Esposito approached, he took a brief moment to study his partner, taking in not only the lingering pallor of his skin but also the stark determination in his red-rimmed eyes, the rigid set of his jaw. Reaching him, he paused slightly and gave a small nod, which Ryan simply returned before turning and falling in step beside him, the two of them crossing the lot side by side to join the waiting firefighters.

No matter what, they were partners, and they would shoulder this burden together.

And together, they would make these bastards pay.

Hope you enjoyed Espo's point of view! When I planned out this fic he represented the 'anger' stage, but as with all of them, he became a little more complex haha.

Thanks for reading, and any thoughts/comments are always welcome!

-Laura