prompt: 2x17/18 au where castle and beckett are already a couple. kinda like a still our hands match thing?
A/N: Can optionally be viewed as an insert in the ‘still our hands match’/’still with hearts beating’ universe, set between the end of the initial story and beginning of the sequel. Thank for the inspiration there, anon. :)
She should have been with him at the loft that night, but she had been adamant about how it was too great of a risk to expose his family to her potential stalker, so she had gone home to her apartment. He had been planning to join her, just as he had the night before, only stopping by his loft to check in on his mother and daughter, when something Alexis said made the terrible realization set in.
Castle rushed to her place as fast as he could, anxiously sitting through a cab ride he promised the driver triple the fare for and sprinting through the streets once he made it to her block, shoving people out of his way with halfhearted apologies spilling from his lips as he went. He tried calling her over and over again, begging her to just pick up the damn phone, but he continued to receive her voicemail.
When he was mere steps away from her building, her voice – her actual voice – finally filled his ears, but all he could do was shout his warning, “It wasn’t Ben Conrad, he’s not the killer! The killer’s still alive, the killer’s still-”
He heard it then, the automated recording in the background repeating words that made his blood run cold.
The building that was her home – the building she was currently inside of - burst into flames. The explosion sent him stumbling backwards, leaving him with no choice but to look on in horror, to feel his heart shatter, pieces of it plummeting into the depths of his stomach, as he imagined her trapped in the inferno.
He could hear the sounds of sirens and screams as he raced in the opposite direction of retreating civilians, his focus narrowed on getting into that building, getting to Kate. People – fellow tenants on the lower levels, he assumed – were rushing out while he slipped inside, costing him extra time, extra effort to get past them. But the stampede made him thankful he wasn’t forced to waste any time figuring out how to enter without the lobby key he had stupidly forgotten to grab earlier.
He knew the way up to her apartment by heart, having turned the place into a second home throughout the past months, but dodging the flames and falling debris on the way to her door caused his typical trek to take twice as long. His chest was aching, lungs straining under the extra exertion and sharp inhales of smoke, as he reached the third floor and hurried through the devastated hallway. Flames licked along the walls, dark clouds of grey overtaking the air, turning the path to her front door that he had stumbled down with her so many times in the past practically unrecognizable.
“Kate!” he yelled once he reached her door, unthinkingly closing his hand over the knob and jerking back when the metal seared his skin. He cursed, cradling his scorned palm to his chest. “Kate? Are you in there?”
He threw his shoulder into the door, once, twice, until it finally gave and he fell to the ground with it.
Castle hissed at the heat eager to embrace him and jumped up, that familiar sensation of dread returning as he assessed the mutiny of flames engulfing her home. Every room seemed to be its own fiery hell, but he would check every separate inferno until he found her.
“Kate?” he called again, carefully stepping over a fallen beam and maneuvering his way towards what was left of her bedroom. His hope was dwindling as he shouted her name and continued to receive no response, but drawing deeper into the back of the apartment, towards her bathroom, he swore he heard something, muffled but distinct.
Coughing, he could hear her coughing.
Rushing into the bathroom, he caught his first glimpse of her, her long, soot-stained fingers rising to curl around the edge of her cast iron tub. He was struck with a corny metaphor about a phoenix rising from the ashes as he witnessed her slowly heave herself upwards, what he could see of her body trembling with every breath.
Castle jerked forward, automatically reaching for what appeared to be the bathroom door from the top of the tub.
“You’re alive,” he breathed as he heaved the door off of her, the relief and the smoke causing him to choke the words out. “Oh, and you’re naked.”
“Castle, turn around,” she demanded and he reflexively did as he was told, but – wait.
“Why am I turning around? I already know what you look like,” he huffed, spinning in place and leaning over to help her up. She was shaky, clinging to his forearms as he eased her into a standing position. She must have managed to dive into the tub just in time, but she had sustained some injuries in the process.
“Here,” he murmured, shrugging off his coat and draping it over her ash covered body.
She had only just slipped her arms through, not even buttoned the garment yet, when she locked her arms around his shoulders. He staggered backwards out of surprise, but held her back, burying his fingers in her dirty hair.
“What - what the hell are you doing?” she rasped, hugging him tightly and pressing her face into his neck. “What the hell are you doing charging into burning buildings?” she added on a growl, brushing a kiss to his jaw before pulling away.
“As if I’m going to let some fireman rush in and save my naked girlfriend,” he scoffed, buttoning the coat, making sure it was secure around her, and scooping her into his arms bridal style.
“Put me down,” she protested. “I can walk, just a little banged up.”
“You don’t even have shoes,” he muttered, maneuvering them both through the maze of fire and debris, broken glass crunching beneath his feet. The room was growing hotter, stifling, and he could feel the beads of sweat slicking down his back, could hear the sirens just outside her building now.
“Are you in any pain?” he asked, darting to the side when the fire lining their path roared and threatened to lick at his shoulder.
“Well, not nearly as much as you,” she huffed, what he was sure was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth even though he couldn’t spare the chance to see it. “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”
“What?” he replied, pulling her body in tighter against his.
They were just a few steps from the door, from their only exit.
“Having to wait this long to tell me how you banged down the door,” she smirked, playfully squeezing his shoulder.
He grinned, stained a kiss to her temple as they made it through what was left of her front doorway. “Any chance I get to play hero, Beckett.”
Castle was sitting with her in the ambulance, hovering as the paramedic wrapped her sprained wrist, when Shaw came striding up to her. He watched silently, for once, as Kate and the FBI agent went back and forth, Beckett arguing for her case while Shaw tried to kick her off.
Montgomery was there seconds later, informing Beckett the fire department had given the all clear for her to come up and take a look at what was left of her apartment.
Castle was on her heels, keeping pace even as she purposely moved too quick, too closed off for a tagalong.
In the rubble of her apartment, he gave her space, knowing she could fall apart if he stayed too close. He had learned in little time that Kate would hold her breath, school her features, and bury her emotions until the time was right. Until she felt safe enough to let out everything that she forced herself to repress.
That time usually came when they were in bed, shielded from the rest of the world and alone together.
“Hey.” She glanced to him with hopeful eyes when he returned to her after a sweep of the place. Relief overcame her features as he held up her mother’s necklace.
“Thank you,” she whispered, brushing her fingers against his when he handed her the treasured jewelry. “Has anyone seen my father’s watch?”
Castle had found the watch in her bedroom, cracked and damaged. He would return it to her; he would just have it fixed first.
They spent the next few hours canvassing Conrad’s place, discovering their killer’s hideaway, picking apart his MO, feeling the pressure build as he phoned Beckett to allow them to hear the screams of his next victim.
“All because I lived,” she had said at the crime scene with Castle and Shaw beside her. Rick had to clench his fist and square his jaw to keep from reaching for her in front of the federal agents.
At the precinct, her voice began to crack and her eyes threatened to mist, and Montgomery told her to go home. His gaze flitting from Castle then back to her once more, he told her to go home.
“I should check into a hotel,” she murmured in the elevator. “Alexis, Martha, you - I can’t put you at risk. I can’t-”
“Kate.” He knew the doors would slide open in a moment and that they’d sworn off public displays of affection in the precinct, but he cupped her face and held her tired eyes with resolution. “You’re coming home with me.”
“I love you.” It was enough to have her mouth closing, lips pursing. “I love you and I almost lost you tonight. You’re not going anywhere without me. So let’s just go home.”
Her eyes glittered with the remnants of an argument, but the fight drained from her shoulders, her spine, and she sunk forward into him for those final few seconds in the elevator. Her forehead to his cheek, her lips at his jaw, her shaking breath against his skin.
She nodded in surrender. “Take me home.”
Alexis bombarded them both when they stepped through the door, ramming into her father’s chest while simultaneously wrapping an arm around Kate’s waist, pulling them into an awkward but comforting group hug.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Alexis breathed, bright blue eyes wide and flickering between Kate and Rick.
When they had become serious, when he had realized how helplessly in love with Kate Beckett he really was, Castle had naturally begun to fear the potential effects the relationship could have on his daughter. Alexis had always liked the detective, always looked up to her, and Castle had secretly harbored hopes of giving the two a chance to build a bond that his daughter had never been able to form with any other women from his past, including her own mother. But he had feared the worst; he always did when it came to his baby bird.
Dread had turned to pleasant surprise, though, when Alexis had warmed to Kate almost effortlessly, hanging on every word the detective said for weeks. They were close now after only a year of knowing one another, after the handful of months of having Kate in his home. He didn’t know how she did it, but she’d built a bond with Alexis, gaining the trust of his overly cautious daughter in nearly no time at all, enough so to have her looking as shattered as he felt after nearly losing the woman beside him.
He unwound his arm from Alexis’ shoulders, allowed her the opportunity to fully embrace his partner.
“Oh darlings, we were so worried,” Martha sighed, pressing a kiss to her son’s cheek and smoothing a hand over Kate’s distressed hair. “And we’re so relieved you’re both home safe and sound. You must be exhausted.”
“To put it lightly,” Castle mumbled, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.
His mother gently extricated Alexis from Beckett, who squeezed his daughter’s shoulders in reassurance and mustered a smile for her.
“It’s late. Why don’t you two go get cleaned up and we’ll heat up the leftovers from dinner,” Martha suggested, her gaze lingering on him, shifting to Kate with the same level of concern.
Kate nodded, that halfhearted smile still doing its best to cling to her lips. But her eyes were glazing over, the smile falling apart at the seams. “Thanks, Martha.”
“Yeah,” Castle murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Mother.”
They showered together. He scrubbed the stains of ash and soot from her porcelain skin, delicately washed the blood from her forehead, and kissed the bruises already in bloom.
His mother and daughter had retreated to bed, leaving the first floor of the loft quiet and empty, leftovers from a takeout dinner warming in the oven and a small plate of fruit and crackers waiting on the table. He snagged a box of Chinese food for himself, but Kate shook her head at the idea of food.
She swore she wasn’t hungry, but he hadn’t seen her eat since the short-lived breakfast they had shared at her place the morning before. He couldn’t blame her, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stomach more than a few small bites of his own dinner.
He pushed the plate of fruit in her direction and watched with relief as she nibbled on an apple slice.
“I’m sorry, about all of this,” he said while they sat together in the dining room.
Her brow crinkled and she frowned at him. “Sorry?”
“I know this isn’t technically my fault, that this guy would have gone on killing because he wouldn’t have met anyone smart enough to catch him, not without Nikki Heat, but I feel some responsibility knowing-”
“Castle,” she sighed, abandoning her fruit, much to his dismay, and coming around the table to stand at his side. “You hold no responsibility, not for this.” She used his shoulder for purchase and slid onto his lap, placed her lips to his jaw, his cheek, his forehead.
The knot in his chest loosened under her touch, lashes fluttering at the brush of her kiss along his eyebrow.
“I just want you to be safe,” he whispered, splaying his palms wide at her back and gently pressing her chest to his.
Kate looped her arms around his neck, dug her fingers into his hair and scratched lightly at his scalp.
“I am safe,” she murmured, sitting back on his thighs with a tired quirk of her lips but a bright flicker of gold in her eyes. “Tomorrow, we’ll head back to the precinct, catch this son of a bitch, and put an end to his game. But, for tonight, we’re safe. For now, this…” Her fingers bridged at the back of his neck and they both sighed in synchrony when her forehead fell to rest against his. “This is where I feel safe, Castle.”
izzy806
kaledo-art
theartofmadeline
jacobvanloon
