Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one.

A/N: The overlord whispered into my ear and now I am one of her legion of many! Based on a prompt from louisemcdoogle, which I will post with the last chapter.

With thanks to Sandra for help with the French, Jessie for the cover art and Indie for talking me out of word oblivion on more than one occasion. Hugs.

Thank you for reading.

I'll never stop

Breaking the law for you

I'll never stop

Helping to pull you through

Whatever it takes to get what you need

Ignore the alarms

Ignore the police

I'll never stop

Breaking the law for you!

It isn't planned.

At least that won't be a lie when she tells him. Later, after.

Kate clings to the knowledge she can be honest about that, if nothing else, with a death grip born of fear and panic and concern for what lies ahead of them. The worry for what damage she could be doing with this act is only lessened by the knowledge she's saving him from going alone. Saving him from himself.

It isn't planned.

Opportunity, fate, some twisted form of destiny? Call it what you will, but when presented with the choice, Kate Beckett sees no option but to take the chance the universe is offering. You don't look a gift horse in the mouth, especially not when the lives of people you love are on the line.

She'd only dashed to the loft to check on him.

A few minutes out of the case to change her clothes and hold his hand as he dealt with the aftermath of skype contact with Alexis. Maybe a moment to buoy him along as he ripped himself apart over his missing daughter; that's all she envisioned.

She'd done it at least once tonight already, been for him what he'd been to her for so many years. A voice of optimism, a light in the dark. She'd given him decaf and sent him home to his mother with every shred of hope she could muster, finding herself preoccupied with thoughts of following him the second he was out of her sight.

She's his partner in grief as much as in joy and his absence called to her loudly.

Beckett had wanted to hear the words from his mouth not the Feds. She needed to know how Alexis had seemed to him, the man who knew her better than anyone else. Desiring nothing more than to share in some of the relief of that encounter, to see the proof of life having sunk into him, light his eyes with a faith that would keep them moving forward, with renewed vigor.

She'd half hoped to coax him to rest.

Kate doubted sleep would come to him until Alexis was safely home - from experience with trauma herself, maybe not even then - but still she had thought she could entice him to sit, maybe lay down at her side and rest his eyes for a few minutes.

When Kate had entered his office she'd found Castle quietly slumped across his desk, exhaustion granting him a reprieve.

Alexis wasn't home, no, but she was alive.

So, fate then that made her come to him, that found him sleeping and revealed his secrets. Fate that confirmed her worst fears and sent ice cold shivers down her spine at what could have happened if she hadn't arrived when she did. Fate that made her slowly pry the paper from his fingers to reveal a name and an address in Paris. A flight number. His passport.

A plan already in motion.

She wasn't even surprised.

Kate's fist had closed slowly around the flight details, standing in silence she watched him sleep. She knew the lines that played over his forehead gave away the quiet nightmares he was trapped within, and as much as she wanted to stay and soothe him through them - allow him to wake in her arms for some semblance of comfort - Kate also knew time was not on her side.

She had to think of Alexis. Had to think of Castle's mother and somehow put their family back together. Her family.

Taking the address and the name, Kate had slipped the frantically scribbled note into her pocket and reached once more for his passport. She wasn't sure he would forgive her for this, for taking the decision from his hands, for acting alone. But no matter what the outcome would be, she was sure of one thing; he'd make himself a target too.

She needed to keep the crosshairs off his back.

She needed to act fast.

Castle would never give up, never back down, searching desperately for answers. He could get himself killed in the process. He'd staple a bullseye to his chest and run off into the night - without her given half the chance.

She had to stop him.

She had no other choice.

At the door Martha steps out of the shadow, eyes rimmed red and her face set, cold as stone, no longer wearing her mask of hope and optimism. Her gaze drops bitterly to Kate's hands before darting over the detective's shoulder to the sleeping writer, unwanted knowledge and understanding changing her expression.

"You two." Martha shakes her head and sighs.

Standing still is killing her, vibrating with the need to act before he wakes, Kate feels as if she's drowning in her desire to be gone. Yet, here, with Martha's eyes on her, she finds herself completely frozen, unable to tear herself from his mother's gaze.

"He won't survive it," Martha states, worry bathing her sleeping child as she watches him, "and he'll never forgive you if -"

"I'll bring her home." Kate vows, cutting off Martha's words mid sentence because she already knows the truth in them. She doesn't need it drummed into her desperate and panicked heart anymore than it already is.

Castle said as much himself.

He'll never forgive her... if -

Kate flinches when Martha takes her hand, surprised by the sudden touch. Kate holds herself back from the comfort offered by Castle's mother, not really sure she deserves it, not when she's running off in the middle of the night without telling him.

Martha ignores the flinch of her body, and wraps her fingers around Kate's wrist, smoothing over her knuckles with the pad of her thumb, she smiles forlornly. Knowingly.

"Make sure you both come home, Katherine," Martha sighs out quietly, her eyes firmly back on her son, "he wouldn't survive that either."

She changes the flight information sitting in her car, one hand gripping tight to the wheel. Kate bites her tongue, watches her knuckles turn white in frustration when the woman on the other end of the line chitter chatters.

She doesn't have time for this. Doesn't have patience for pleasantries or procedure.

Jaw tensed, she thinks of Castle. Alexis. Bringing them back together. It helps slow the rapid fire pummelling of her heart against her ribcage.

Kate uses her credit card to cover last minute booking fees before driving to her apartment, her eyes watching his building disappear in the rearview mirror with pain and regret. She's leaving him behind, and, for his own good or not, it's breaking her heart to do it.

It comes at her suddenly, like a fist in the gut. She won't be able to travel with her gun.

Neither her work piece nor her hidden backup will clear airport security and even if she could somehow talk her way through it using her badge she cannot risk the delay. Can't risk the inevitable screw up that will end with someone calling her boss or her boyfriend and busting her before she's even left the country.

Unarmed is her only option.

Both guns and Castle's stolen passport find their way into the wall safe built into her closet and with the few seconds she dares to spare, Kate flips the page to his photo and strokes her fingers over his face.

He's younger in his picture, carefree, smiling and unmarred by worry. Kate breathes slowly, stares down and allows her mind to wander. She aches, feels it blossom in her chest, her love for him this tangible thing that begs and pleads and wants nothing more than to see his face like this again. Happy. Smiling.

Standing in her bedroom, Kate vows silently to herself to do her utmost to give him that. Whatever it takes. Whatever morals that require compromising and whatever law that needs to be broken; she'll stop at nothing.

While her heart is consumed with hope and promise her mind remains logical. She knows him, knows how he thinks and what he's capable of and Kate wonders at the likelyhood of a second passport existing somewhere in the loft.

A secret identity that will get him out of the country?

Born of research rather than necessity, ready for Castle to spring into action and Derek Storm his way across the seas, Kate imagines a secret drawer at the bottom of his desk, spring loaded and full of the necessary paperwork. It's possible, and if it's not ... He'll no doubt have a guy somewhere, somehow, for whatever he needs.

Kate prays to whoever might be out there listening that if he does have another passport, a secret identity, a freaking jet plane on standby at an undisclosed airport, Castle will be so angry with her for leaving him behind, he'll forget. He'll forget just long enough for her to do her thing, find his kid and come home. He'll forget and turn to the boys, not come chasing after her.

It's a long shot, a ridiculous and badly planned long shot, but if Castle's taught her anything in their years together it's that sometimes those long shots pay off. She's been quoting his own words back at him, as proof, for the entirety of this case, trying to reaffirm his belief.

Somewhere along the way he gave her back her ability to hope, so for his benefit and the sake of her own sanity, she'll cling to that for as long as she can.

She'll hope that she can save his child, save them all. Hope that one day he'll forgive her for taking the decision out of his hands and going alone.

They dim the lights on take off and her own eyes close heavily.

People around her buzz with the excitement of travel and flight and adventures ahead, and Kate has never felt more alone. More cut off.

She misses her partner. His solid form at her side, the warmth of his fingers in her own, the heavy rumble of his reassuring words in her ear. She misses him, and the force of it makes her grateful she's already seated.

Kate checks her watch, only a few hours have passed since the skype call confirmed Alexis was still alive and she starts to wonder. She finds she's deflated a little, and without the need to lift Castle's spirits her own are sinking. What if's are playing loudly in her mind, scenarios and possibilities loudly confronting her inner detective. She finds the two halves of herself at war, not knowing which side to rest her faith in.

Something roars inside her the moment her thoughts turn towards the negative. This great stubborn belief, rising up, blanketing her chest with conviction. It casts a Castle shaped shadow over everything, drowns out the sound of the plane and people around her, silencing her doubt in the process.

This is a child. This is his child. There is no room for mistakes or failure or lack of conviction. She will bring his daughter home - alive - if it's the last thing she ever does.

The seatbelt sign goes off and a flight attendant shimmies by. Kate knows there is only one solution. She needs to be awake, be alert, be focused and in control. Yet without him and in this direst of situations it just feels wrong, feels almost like a betrayal.

It's ridiculous, she pushes the feelings aside and when the coffee comes it's strong and bitter and different enough to what she shares with Castle that sipping it doesn't make her eyes burn with unshed tears.

The warmth of the jet black liquid fills her up, throws her back in time to his early groans and grumbles about precinct coffee, and, as she inhales the aroma, Kate finds some semblance of peace.

Setting her cup down, Kate draws out the papers she stole from Castle's desk and tries to decide her next move. She traces the lines made by his pen, pictures his hands frantic as they scribbled the words and for the first time all evening finds herself grateful for the length of the flight, the time it gives her to gather her thoughts.

Right now she has no idea what she's walking into, what she's left behind. Unarmed and alone, Kate strokes over the marks left by Castle's pen and hopes somewhere deep inside he'll know she did this for him.

When the plane lands she calls Espo.

The sun is beating down, the sky a brilliant and too familiar shade of blue, and at some point jetlag will no doubt hit her like an out of control freight train, but for now she adjusts the time on her father's watch and waits for the line to connect.

Espo sounds half asleep when he answers, groggy and bitchy, and Kate takes comfort in that, hoping it means that Castle hasn't yet noticed she's gone. Hasn't called to demand the boys tell him where she is.

Espo instantly knocks her on her ass with the truth.

Since Kate left the kidnappers have released Sara El-Masri in exchange for fifteen million dollars. Alexis was part of the deal, but when the drop had taken place the girl was nowhere to be seen.

Kate steadies herself on the wall as her stomach turns over, flipping with disgust and fear, bile burning a path up her throat that forces her to choke it back so she doesn't vomit and miss some vital detail to the case.

"Kate, Castle's a wreck," Espo whispers, "Gates had to send him home when he -"

"When he what? Espo?" She clutches the phone to her ear and closes her eyes tight against the rush of panic. She should be there by his side.

"He took a swing at Agent Harris."

"What, why?" Kate blanches white in shock.

"He told Castle it was time to manage expectations, that they'd do everything but -"

"He said that? That piece of sh-" Beckett grapples with her own temper, outraged the Agent could be so callous to a man whose child was missing, let alone say things that horrific to Castle without her there to shoulder some of it, bear the burden with him.

If she could get her hands on Agent Harris she'd -

Espo curses, then falls utterly silent as she talks. Words in rapid succession launch themselves from her mouth as she lays out her plan.

Kate refuses to ask him to lie to Castle, even though she knows he would. She doesn't even ask him to cover for her with Gates.

There's no point. Not now.

She's quit before.

She's been suspended before.

There is no outcome to an encounter with her captain that would make Kate change her mind or deviate from the path she's on, so she will take whatever is coming to her and live with it.

Kate reiterates to Espo what doesn't need to be said, Castle and his daughter are her main - her only - priorities.

Espo must stay on the case, solve the murder of Roger Henson, Kate states, with the firm belief that figuring out his death will lead them to the people who took Alexis.

She hangs up before he can utter more than "don't get yourself killed, Beckett."

She hails a cab, a strange weight lifting from her shoulders now she's made contact with home, only to be replaced by another.

Alexis is still missing. And now she's alone.

Firing off the address Castle had written down Kate stares out of the window, watching the "city of love" flash by. It's cruel really, every time she imagined coming here, touristy and romantic and every ridiculous cliche imaginable, Castle was by her side.

Kate checks her watch when the traffic slows around the Seine, knowing she missed the kidnappers' hand-off by mere hours. She still has time though, at least an hour to get to the cafe and make herself known to Castle's contact.

She'll engage with him, learn what she can, find out why Castle placed so much trust in this person and then use it to her advantage.

He's a smart man, her writer, her partner. A clever man with a keen intellect and she trusts him with her life, so if he had a plan set in motion to find his daughter, she'll follow it as long as she can.

When she arrives at the address, Kate isn't surprised by what she finds. It's a quintessential Parisian cafe, maybe a little over the top with the framed art work on the wall and the flags festooned from the ceiling, but the smell of coffee is intense and delicious and she finds her mouth watering as she takes up a seat at the bar.

She orders, her voice low, her accent a little sketchy. It's been a while since she's spoken French, but her understanding at least hasn't lessened. Dragging her eyes over the array of pastries and chocolate strawberries with another pang of what could be Kate focuses on the light refracting from the rows of glasses in front of the mirror.

She ignores her own hollowed out eyes and scans the room, the mirrored reflection affords a view of the patrons behind her that is too good to pass up. Kate finds from this vantage point she can watch every person come and go without fear of being spotted. Being obvious.

She barely has time to take a sip before the waitress that delivered her coffee offers up a jovial "Bonjour Gaston," and Kate feels her blood run cold.