Dead to the World (2/X)
Summary: Months she’s been gone, months in which Castle’s been forced to believe that Kate was dead. Eight months in which he’s missed her, craved her, mourned her. Now she stands on his doorstep, two coffees in hands, and Castle’s world collapses. Direct spoilers for 4x23 Always.
Chapter 1 can be found here...
A/N - I hope this chapter will explain a thing or two about what happened. Everything in Italics means we go back in time retrospectively, covering the time between Always and Kate appearing on Castle's doorstep 8 months later.
BECKETT
She is still smiling when she exits the cab a few blocks from her home. She feels like walking. The day is still crisp with humid air, but yesterday's storm has already cleared the sky and the sun is shining brightly, mirroring off the damp ground.
She only starts to feel all the places she's sore, her attacker's blows being well to practiced and precise, leaving her with some very nasty bruises for the course of next weeks.
She doesn't mind much, she is used to feeling sore and hurting, being roughed up a bit, but she hates her injuries for what she knows the sight of them did to Castle. Yesterday, with the fog of their arousal and the darkness of his dim lit apartment clouding their minds' vision, neither would notice her flesh turning the angry blue and purple. Yet along the first rays of morning light came also the realization of how close to her end she'd beenjust the day before. And it didn't sit well with him.
Still, Kate refuses to lether bruises to ruin her morning, their very first. She orders him to make some coffee - the good kind - before she engages him in another round of sex (oh so good) then takes a shower while he makes them breakfast.
She tells him she needs to go home for a change of clothes, the ones from yesterday are simply too disgusting to even walk back home in. He still pouts at her playfully, doesn't want to let her go, offers to accompany her. She sees his pout for what it is and her heart skips a beat. He is afraid she isn't coming back. She steps closer to him then, his arms opening for her on their own accord. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, smiles. "I'll be back for lunch. I promise," she says and feels him relax against her.
Despite her best intentions, she manages to break her promise, and it's one that will haunt her for a very long time.
She is only two blocks away from her building when she's snatched into a dark van, her fight against her assailants futile. She is shovedagainst the back of the huge car, prepares to fight against whoever her attackers are, but before she can do anything further about her situation an FBI badge is flashed into her face.
She stops, pauses, yet doesn't let her guard down. The next twenty minutes are one giant and most confusing blur. A pair of agents unload a huge amount of information to her headand despite her detective wits, she has a hard time catching up.
Maddox is in her apartment, right now, probably destroying any evidence she might have against the man who killed her mother (she doesn't even have time to question how they know this in the first place). He is also waiting for her, to kill her no doubt, the last remaining loose end. Her stomach flips. This was supposed to be over.
"How do you know this and what is your agenda?" is the only thing she manages to ask them.
A man, let's call him Mr. Smith (the name rings a bell, her stomach churning when she remembers where she's heard that name before, more specifically from *whom*) was killed last night. Not important who he was, he was in possession of a file. That file had a safety switch. The moment anything happened to Mr. Smith, the contents of that file would directly forward to somebody very important and high-ranking in the FBI who might be hugely invested into taking her mom's killer down. Who that person is isn't to be of her concern;she should just be glad the file came through on time.
Her head is spinning with the information…the Dragon finally being taken on, the mysterious Mr. Smith being dead, Maddox waiting at her apartment, the FBI involved.
But where does that leave *her*? And where does that leave Castle…God, Castle…
"What do you want from me?" She still doesn't understand. They could have apprehended Maddox on their own, so why wait for her?
She's the only witness, they say. She is the only one left alive to offer information, statements, last living person to link the information from the file together. They need her help to finally expose and take the Dragon down.
But she needs to disappear, she has to die. She refuses even as the air leaves her lungs.
It won't be forever, they say, just until they manage to get all the information they need to builda case and make it rock solid, until they can hand it in into the safe and waiting hands of a special branch of prosecution the Dragon's ties cannot reach. It would only take a couple of weeks, months, tops.
She is speechless. What is there to say to something like that? There's a trained assassin in her apartment waiting to kill her right this very moment. But she cannot die, not like this. What about her life, what about her friends? What about Castle? What about her father? God, her father. Such news would, without doubt, kill him.
Her father is allowed to know, they say, explain that they'll inform him but he must keep it quiet. But he will be allowed to know and that's good, right? The tiniest glimmer of hope flickers to life in her chest. What about Castle? Can they let Castle know as well?
The flicker of hope gets ruthlessly stubbed out. No one else can know, *no one* but her father.
She thinks quickly, her mind racing with thoughts and possible scenarios. She cannot put Castle through that, God she can't, not again. She can't leave him think she is dead, was killed, murdered, snatched away from him by the very thing she just promised to let go.
Her eyes blur with tears, she faces an impossible choice. It's not even a choice, because what choice does she really have? Leave the car, walk away and let her remaining days be counted until they send another and another trained killer after her until she's finally dead? Castle's life is at stake too, they say, and this gets her attention. She might want to protect his feelings, but she would be endangering his life if she wouldn't step away from him now. They will come after her if she won't help stop them, and one day, it might be Castle who's standing between her and the next bullet.
It's this argument that tips the scales for good. She knows he will never be able to forgive her for this, but she doesn't have a choice. Tears spill as she finally nods her head before it falls to her chest in defeat.
She just signed off anything that was ever dear to her. Just put a seal of approval to the path of hell for her family and friends, for the man she loves. A couple of hours ago, she was the happiest person in the world, feeling safe and secure and loved, all smiling and sleepy in the circle of Castle's arms. Right now, she feels like she might be dying from the inside.
Once her decision has been officially made, the van bursts into action. She doesn't even have the time to count and mourn her losses when she's already hauled to another van and transferred to a safety location.
What about Maddox? What about her…'death'? How and when will it happen? What about her father?
Still en route, they press a non-traceable cell in her hand. 'Call your father, now. Explain but don't go into detail. Tell him to act natural, organize your funeral, we'll be contacting him about the details later. He is not to tell a word, to *anybody*, it may cost you - or him - his life. Make that clear.'
That first day flies by in a blur. She feels numb through the most of it, floating through the time and places they take her, only half-listening as they explain what will now become her life. Her thoughts are with Castle, how can they not, her stomach heaving with the thought of what awaits him in the next few hours.
It's half past one when she realized she never showed up for his lunch. Castle must be worried sick. They took her phone, took out the battery; it must go straight to voicemail. She prays he stays strong, prays their night together isn't as imprinted on his mind and soul and heart as much as it is on her own. She briefly wonders if she should regret seeking him out yesterday, deciding to finally dive in at the worst possible of times. If she stayed away, he would have gotten the news with only their last fight on his mind, her selfishness and the way she turned him down still a fresh wound. It would probably make the blow easier, she thinks. But she doesn't know, doesn't know for sure. God, she doesn't know anything right now.
She thinks about Esposito, Ryan, Lanie, thenprays for her father, his safety, counting on his ability to keep her secret and not tell a living soul or they might come after him. They apprehend Maddox just as he is about to leave her building - why exactly they don't know. She hears them radio it as she sits in the back of the dark FBI van. She is surprised when they actually take her to her place afterwards, throw two suitcases at her feet.
"You've got fifteen minutes to take anything you'd like."
She has a bad feeling about this. "You're going to destroy this place, aren't you?"
Their silence is loud enough. She panics. Homeless again. How are you supposed to pack all of your life in fifteen minutes, just two suitcases at hand?
She rushes through the place, takes all the meager valuables she can think of. Her family albums, some photos from the 12th, favorite clothes and shoes, her mother's wooden box she keeps her ring and watch in, used to put her badge and gun inside as well. She packs some toiletries, a few blank notebooks, her Ipod. She shortly thinks of her guitar, has to suppress a hysterical urge to laugh about it. She throws everything haphazardly into the bags, doing good with her fifteen minutes. Still, she's scared there is too little time, too little space to take everything she wants.
She looks around her apartment, still panicked. 'What else?' her eyes stop at her books, the books that are everywhere. She loves her books, God, she cannot leave them here, to be destroyed, not again. Her eyes fall to the shelf with her most favorite titles. Half of it is filled with Castle and her heart skips a beat. She cannot lose his books too, not again, not with all those beautiful dedications.
The agents give her a funny look when she starts to take out all her Heat's from the shelf and throws them along into the bag. She couldn't care less about what they think. Her eyes blur momentarily when she thinks about the care she knew he must have put into each and every dedication. After her last apartment blew, he restocked her new library with all of his books, ignoring her loud mocking of his pretentious ego, what if she didn't like them anymore? She taunted him about it ruthlessly. Now she wishes she had told him how much they've come to mean to her. Each and every one of them is inscribedwith a heartfelt personal dedication. She looks at the row of beloved books and her chest falls. God, she can't take them all with her. Panic rises to surface again.
She takes all three Nikkis, she would absolutely *never* be able to leave them, for they are hers, they are *theirs*, even if there is not a 'them' anymore. Not right now and she wonders if ever again. Because she will be dead in a matter of hours.
Then she takes In a Hail of Bullets, Flowers For Your Grave, Hell Haath No Fury and the first two Storms, the five books that were her biggest comfort during one of the darkest times in her life. God, she wishes she could tell him now…She makes a promise to tell him exactly that, if she ever gets a chance.
She looks around her place again, wonders if there is anything more she wants to take with her. Her eyes fall on the two suitcases. So this is all her life now, she's a ghost with two suitcases. She wants to cry. Or scream, or smash something. She does neither. She bends over to lift the suitcases from the ground and glares at the agent who appears at her side attempting to help her with the baggage. Her look is so dangerous and full of misplaced malice that it makes him physically step away. "I'm done. We can go," she barks out curtly.
It's around 5 pm when she's brought to the safe house. A plain, near empty room with a simple desk and a chair, one bed. No personal items. Figures. The two suitcases that come to represent her life lie at her feet. There is a small bathroom to her left, a window at the far side of the room.
She is finally left alone, the agents telling her they'll bring her some food later. Now she can rest for a couple of hours. She sits down on the bed, feeling the fight leave her at last, being replaced by despair and utter loneliness. Only yesterday, she thought her life had no meaning, no direction. But damn, in comparison, yesterday her life was a picnic.
She cannot help but wonder. Is she dead yet?
The thought sends her reeling. It's the last push she needs to stumble over the edge. She then lets her back fall on the bed, leaves her tears to run freely. She hugs herself, shivers. The bruises flare to life and she aches, inside out. She is emotionally raw; it's the only word that comes to her mind to really accurately describe how she feels, and she doesn't know how to channel her thoughts not to run in crazy circles in her head.
She buries her nose in her shirt and that's when she smells it, the faintest, softest echo of Castle's scent. She's still in the clothes from yesterday; there was no time whatsoever to change. She is suddenly glad she didn't dispose of them; they feel like the very last link to her living life now.
God, last night has been one of the best in her life. She finally dared to take that final step into the unknown, allowed her heart to overrule her mind for once. And God help her, it was completely worth it. In the darkness of the early morning hours, wrapped in each other's arms under the comfort of his cool sheets, he told her again that he loved her. She was falling asleep by then, a smile playing over her lips at hearing him say it. She could easily get used to falling asleep to these words pronounced in that deep, smooth voice of his every night. She told herself then that they'd have all the time in the world for her to say those words back; there was no need to rush.
Today, lying on top of her new scratchy bedspread, all Kate can think about is how stupid she's been for taking time for granted. She should have told him, told him immediately. No waiting anymore, not even for *those* particular words leaving her mouth. Especially not those words. But there's no way she can rectify it now, no way whatsoever.
It still feels so surreal, so bizarre; but as of today, former detective Kate Beckett is dead to the world. Her heart bursts with grief.
TBC
Thoughts please? Reviews make me update sooner. ;)
Chapter 1 can be found here...
A/N - I hope this chapter will explain a thing or two about what happened. Everything in Italics means we go back in time retrospectively, covering the time between Always and Kate appearing on Castle's doorstep 8 months later.
BECKETT
She is still smiling when she exits the cab a few blocks from her home. She feels like walking. The day is still crisp with humid air, but yesterday's storm has already cleared the sky and the sun is shining brightly, mirroring off the damp ground.
She only starts to feel all the places she's sore, her attacker's blows being well to practiced and precise, leaving her with some very nasty bruises for the course of next weeks.
She doesn't mind much, she is used to feeling sore and hurting, being roughed up a bit, but she hates her injuries for what she knows the sight of them did to Castle. Yesterday, with the fog of their arousal and the darkness of his dim lit apartment clouding their minds' vision, neither would notice her flesh turning the angry blue and purple. Yet along the first rays of morning light came also the realization of how close to her end she'd beenjust the day before. And it didn't sit well with him.
Still, Kate refuses to lether bruises to ruin her morning, their very first. She orders him to make some coffee - the good kind - before she engages him in another round of sex (oh so good) then takes a shower while he makes them breakfast.
She tells him she needs to go home for a change of clothes, the ones from yesterday are simply too disgusting to even walk back home in. He still pouts at her playfully, doesn't want to let her go, offers to accompany her. She sees his pout for what it is and her heart skips a beat. He is afraid she isn't coming back. She steps closer to him then, his arms opening for her on their own accord. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, smiles. "I'll be back for lunch. I promise," she says and feels him relax against her.
Despite her best intentions, she manages to break her promise, and it's one that will haunt her for a very long time.
She is only two blocks away from her building when she's snatched into a dark van, her fight against her assailants futile. She is shovedagainst the back of the huge car, prepares to fight against whoever her attackers are, but before she can do anything further about her situation an FBI badge is flashed into her face.
She stops, pauses, yet doesn't let her guard down. The next twenty minutes are one giant and most confusing blur. A pair of agents unload a huge amount of information to her headand despite her detective wits, she has a hard time catching up.
Maddox is in her apartment, right now, probably destroying any evidence she might have against the man who killed her mother (she doesn't even have time to question how they know this in the first place). He is also waiting for her, to kill her no doubt, the last remaining loose end. Her stomach flips. This was supposed to be over.
"How do you know this and what is your agenda?" is the only thing she manages to ask them.
A man, let's call him Mr. Smith (the name rings a bell, her stomach churning when she remembers where she's heard that name before, more specifically from *whom*) was killed last night. Not important who he was, he was in possession of a file. That file had a safety switch. The moment anything happened to Mr. Smith, the contents of that file would directly forward to somebody very important and high-ranking in the FBI who might be hugely invested into taking her mom's killer down. Who that person is isn't to be of her concern;she should just be glad the file came through on time.
Her head is spinning with the information…the Dragon finally being taken on, the mysterious Mr. Smith being dead, Maddox waiting at her apartment, the FBI involved.
But where does that leave *her*? And where does that leave Castle…God, Castle…
"What do you want from me?" She still doesn't understand. They could have apprehended Maddox on their own, so why wait for her?
She's the only witness, they say. She is the only one left alive to offer information, statements, last living person to link the information from the file together. They need her help to finally expose and take the Dragon down.
But she needs to disappear, she has to die. She refuses even as the air leaves her lungs.
It won't be forever, they say, just until they manage to get all the information they need to builda case and make it rock solid, until they can hand it in into the safe and waiting hands of a special branch of prosecution the Dragon's ties cannot reach. It would only take a couple of weeks, months, tops.
She is speechless. What is there to say to something like that? There's a trained assassin in her apartment waiting to kill her right this very moment. But she cannot die, not like this. What about her life, what about her friends? What about Castle? What about her father? God, her father. Such news would, without doubt, kill him.
Her father is allowed to know, they say, explain that they'll inform him but he must keep it quiet. But he will be allowed to know and that's good, right? The tiniest glimmer of hope flickers to life in her chest. What about Castle? Can they let Castle know as well?
The flicker of hope gets ruthlessly stubbed out. No one else can know, *no one* but her father.
She thinks quickly, her mind racing with thoughts and possible scenarios. She cannot put Castle through that, God she can't, not again. She can't leave him think she is dead, was killed, murdered, snatched away from him by the very thing she just promised to let go.
Her eyes blur with tears, she faces an impossible choice. It's not even a choice, because what choice does she really have? Leave the car, walk away and let her remaining days be counted until they send another and another trained killer after her until she's finally dead? Castle's life is at stake too, they say, and this gets her attention. She might want to protect his feelings, but she would be endangering his life if she wouldn't step away from him now. They will come after her if she won't help stop them, and one day, it might be Castle who's standing between her and the next bullet.
It's this argument that tips the scales for good. She knows he will never be able to forgive her for this, but she doesn't have a choice. Tears spill as she finally nods her head before it falls to her chest in defeat.
She just signed off anything that was ever dear to her. Just put a seal of approval to the path of hell for her family and friends, for the man she loves. A couple of hours ago, she was the happiest person in the world, feeling safe and secure and loved, all smiling and sleepy in the circle of Castle's arms. Right now, she feels like she might be dying from the inside.
Once her decision has been officially made, the van bursts into action. She doesn't even have the time to count and mourn her losses when she's already hauled to another van and transferred to a safety location.
What about Maddox? What about her…'death'? How and when will it happen? What about her father?
Still en route, they press a non-traceable cell in her hand. 'Call your father, now. Explain but don't go into detail. Tell him to act natural, organize your funeral, we'll be contacting him about the details later. He is not to tell a word, to *anybody*, it may cost you - or him - his life. Make that clear.'
That first day flies by in a blur. She feels numb through the most of it, floating through the time and places they take her, only half-listening as they explain what will now become her life. Her thoughts are with Castle, how can they not, her stomach heaving with the thought of what awaits him in the next few hours.
It's half past one when she realized she never showed up for his lunch. Castle must be worried sick. They took her phone, took out the battery; it must go straight to voicemail. She prays he stays strong, prays their night together isn't as imprinted on his mind and soul and heart as much as it is on her own. She briefly wonders if she should regret seeking him out yesterday, deciding to finally dive in at the worst possible of times. If she stayed away, he would have gotten the news with only their last fight on his mind, her selfishness and the way she turned him down still a fresh wound. It would probably make the blow easier, she thinks. But she doesn't know, doesn't know for sure. God, she doesn't know anything right now.
She thinks about Esposito, Ryan, Lanie, thenprays for her father, his safety, counting on his ability to keep her secret and not tell a living soul or they might come after him. They apprehend Maddox just as he is about to leave her building - why exactly they don't know. She hears them radio it as she sits in the back of the dark FBI van. She is surprised when they actually take her to her place afterwards, throw two suitcases at her feet.
"You've got fifteen minutes to take anything you'd like."
She has a bad feeling about this. "You're going to destroy this place, aren't you?"
Their silence is loud enough. She panics. Homeless again. How are you supposed to pack all of your life in fifteen minutes, just two suitcases at hand?
She rushes through the place, takes all the meager valuables she can think of. Her family albums, some photos from the 12th, favorite clothes and shoes, her mother's wooden box she keeps her ring and watch in, used to put her badge and gun inside as well. She packs some toiletries, a few blank notebooks, her Ipod. She shortly thinks of her guitar, has to suppress a hysterical urge to laugh about it. She throws everything haphazardly into the bags, doing good with her fifteen minutes. Still, she's scared there is too little time, too little space to take everything she wants.
She looks around her apartment, still panicked. 'What else?' her eyes stop at her books, the books that are everywhere. She loves her books, God, she cannot leave them here, to be destroyed, not again. Her eyes fall to the shelf with her most favorite titles. Half of it is filled with Castle and her heart skips a beat. She cannot lose his books too, not again, not with all those beautiful dedications.
The agents give her a funny look when she starts to take out all her Heat's from the shelf and throws them along into the bag. She couldn't care less about what they think. Her eyes blur momentarily when she thinks about the care she knew he must have put into each and every dedication. After her last apartment blew, he restocked her new library with all of his books, ignoring her loud mocking of his pretentious ego, what if she didn't like them anymore? She taunted him about it ruthlessly. Now she wishes she had told him how much they've come to mean to her. Each and every one of them is inscribedwith a heartfelt personal dedication. She looks at the row of beloved books and her chest falls. God, she can't take them all with her. Panic rises to surface again.
She takes all three Nikkis, she would absolutely *never* be able to leave them, for they are hers, they are *theirs*, even if there is not a 'them' anymore. Not right now and she wonders if ever again. Because she will be dead in a matter of hours.
Then she takes In a Hail of Bullets, Flowers For Your Grave, Hell Haath No Fury and the first two Storms, the five books that were her biggest comfort during one of the darkest times in her life. God, she wishes she could tell him now…She makes a promise to tell him exactly that, if she ever gets a chance.
She looks around her place again, wonders if there is anything more she wants to take with her. Her eyes fall on the two suitcases. So this is all her life now, she's a ghost with two suitcases. She wants to cry. Or scream, or smash something. She does neither. She bends over to lift the suitcases from the ground and glares at the agent who appears at her side attempting to help her with the baggage. Her look is so dangerous and full of misplaced malice that it makes him physically step away. "I'm done. We can go," she barks out curtly.
It's around 5 pm when she's brought to the safe house. A plain, near empty room with a simple desk and a chair, one bed. No personal items. Figures. The two suitcases that come to represent her life lie at her feet. There is a small bathroom to her left, a window at the far side of the room.
She is finally left alone, the agents telling her they'll bring her some food later. Now she can rest for a couple of hours. She sits down on the bed, feeling the fight leave her at last, being replaced by despair and utter loneliness. Only yesterday, she thought her life had no meaning, no direction. But damn, in comparison, yesterday her life was a picnic.
She cannot help but wonder. Is she dead yet?
The thought sends her reeling. It's the last push she needs to stumble over the edge. She then lets her back fall on the bed, leaves her tears to run freely. She hugs herself, shivers. The bruises flare to life and she aches, inside out. She is emotionally raw; it's the only word that comes to her mind to really accurately describe how she feels, and she doesn't know how to channel her thoughts not to run in crazy circles in her head.
She buries her nose in her shirt and that's when she smells it, the faintest, softest echo of Castle's scent. She's still in the clothes from yesterday; there was no time whatsoever to change. She is suddenly glad she didn't dispose of them; they feel like the very last link to her living life now.
God, last night has been one of the best in her life. She finally dared to take that final step into the unknown, allowed her heart to overrule her mind for once. And God help her, it was completely worth it. In the darkness of the early morning hours, wrapped in each other's arms under the comfort of his cool sheets, he told her again that he loved her. She was falling asleep by then, a smile playing over her lips at hearing him say it. She could easily get used to falling asleep to these words pronounced in that deep, smooth voice of his every night. She told herself then that they'd have all the time in the world for her to say those words back; there was no need to rush.
Today, lying on top of her new scratchy bedspread, all Kate can think about is how stupid she's been for taking time for granted. She should have told him, told him immediately. No waiting anymore, not even for *those* particular words leaving her mouth. Especially not those words. But there's no way she can rectify it now, no way whatsoever.
It still feels so surreal, so bizarre; but as of today, former detective Kate Beckett is dead to the world. Her heart bursts with grief.
TBC
Thoughts please? Reviews make me update sooner. ;)