On Days Like This

Could a tragic event nudge Det. Kate Beckett and her partner, Richard Castle, PI, into being more than just coworkers? Caskett AU.

Prologue

Detective Kate Beckett was wrenched into consciousness by a sharp pain in her shoulder and a persistent ache inside her skull. God, what had happened to her? And how was it possible that her head hurt so badly?

Moaning slightly, she tried to open her eyes and focus, but she could not; her brain tissue felt as though it was actively throbbing against the interior of her skull, so she merely remained where she was with her eyes closed and attempted to assess her situation. She lay on her left side with her arms behind her back. No—not just behind her back; tied behind her back—or possibly cuffed. She wiggled her toes and realized she still wore her shoes, which was a good sign, but the fact that the ground she lay on felt extremely hard and damp probably was not.

For almost a full minute Kate breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth trying to will herself to focus not on her pain, but her surroundings. Clearly, she was being held under duress, which meant she needed to rely on her training and not panic unnecessarily or react too emotionally. Keeping level headed would help her survive…if only her head didn't hurt so much!

Gritting her teeth, Kate forced her eyes open only to find herself in a very dark room. She blinked several times, but the ambient light didn't change. The area in front of her was so dark it was nearly impossible for her to determine the depth of the space. She could have been two inches or twenty feet from a wall; she had no idea. Fortunately, she could tell a small amount of light came from behind her, which meant there was a possibility of determining where she was, but it also meant she had to sit up and move—neither of which she was very interested in doing given her throbbing headache.

After another thirty seconds of psyching herself up, Kate clenched her stomach muscles, pushed her left arm against the ground and slowly elevated her torso. "God," she moaned when she was finally able to sit up. As suspected, her head definitely hurt worse while she was upright, which made her stomach flip in her gut. Squinting her eyes, she saw the ambient light came from a small, low-wattage lightbulb that appeared to be overtop of a doorway. Given that she was handcuffed, seeing the door didn't even excite Kate; she merely assumed it would be locked.

Before she had but another second to consider her predicament, Kate caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of the room beside the doorway and light. Her chest constricting with fear, Kate realized she was not alone. Someone was in the room with her and she was unable to defend herself with her arms behind her back. Fuck.

"I…you…don't…" She scrambled away from the figure, unable to formulate an appropriate threat due to the thundering of her heart and rapid churning of her gut. All she could do was press her feet against the floor and attempt to slide her butt back against the ground, which was beginning to feel like concrete.

"It's okay, Beckett; it's just me."

Kate stopped moving at the sound of the male voice. It was…familiar, but in her terrified and pained state, she couldn't place it. Fortunately, her shock had caused a momentary burst of adrenaline which lessened her headache enough for her to be able to think. She concentrated her mind on the voice and the way the last syllable of her name had been accentuated. It was so familiar. She heard it often. Almost as though…

"C-Castle?" she stammered out half in disbelief, wondering how in the hell the writer-turned-PI had ended up there with her.

"Yeah," he confirmed a bit glumly.

"Wha…what—how—where…where are we? What's going on?" She fired questions at him the moment she was able to focus enough to connect her brain with her mouth.

"Sorry; I woke up just as confused as you—and with a killer headache." He added with a grumble.

While she sympathized with him on that point, Kate's questioning was far from done. "I don't understand—how are you her with me? Did you do something that got us kidnapped?"

She heard his tongue click. "Me?! Why do you assume it's me!?"

"Because it's always you," she said with no small amount of exhaustion. In the six months since Castle had first turned up in connection to one of her cases, he had been handcuffed by her or one of her team members more times than she could count. True, he had never actually been charged with a crime in that time, but he was continually skulking around their crime scenes and sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. And, okay, maybe on a few occasions he had been helpful, but given how irritating he was, his assistance was hardly a trade-off.

In the prior few months, Castle had, by his own admission, been ramping up his PI business in the wake of helping the NYPD catch a serial killer masquerading as postal worker—a collar for which he received significant attention from the press, much to the chagrin of the actual detectives working the case. Ever since, the former writer, who had switched to working as a PI after being intrigued by one of his research subjects (or, as Kate liked to think, when he couldn't think of any more adventures for Derrick Storm to go on), had been underfoot more than usual, stirring up trouble with victims and suspects alike. Thus, in Kate's mind, the fact that he might be responsible for their predicament was not out of the question. In fact, it was almost likely.

Castle grumbled. "It is not always me. I'm just as much a victim as you are, Beckett. They tied up my hands and knocked me on the head…what's the last thing you remember?"

"I…" She paused to think back as best she could with her still-throbbing brain. "I…I was at my desk looking for any properties connected to the suspect. I…an address—I think I wrote down an address of a property owned by Jameson's great uncle, but I—oh!" She gasped when a very clear memory hit her. "Castle! I sent you home this morning and told you to stay the hell away from this case."

Though on the surface it may not have seemed that dramatically different from any other case, Kate's gut had been telling her different all along. The victim had been tortured before his death—his fingers had been cut off and his arms burned. Putting this information in the database had come up with two other recent bodies found in similar states, which indicated their vic could have been the third in a pattern. Plus, she got an immensely creepy vibe from one of the witnesses in the vic's building who saw a man sprinting away from the victim's apartment—a man they were able to identify with ATM footage, thus making him their prime suspect, who just happened to have a history of violent assaults.

"No," Castle corrected her proudly, "you said this case was dangerous and that I should go home."

"That's the same thing."

"Technically, it isn't."

"CASTLE!" She screeched at him then immediately regretted it as it caused her temples to throb even more. God, if their crazed kidnapper didn't kill her, the stress of being Richard Castle's unofficial ride-along partner probably would.

"Well, it isn't."

"But—I… we already have potentially three dead bodies and you have a child! I'm trying to keep you safe!"

"Aww that's sweet of you Beckett."

Kate practically growled at the genuine sound of his voice. Of course he'd twist something factual into some sort of emotion-laced compliment! "Wha—no—it's my job. Your job is to stay in the car, observe, and go home when I tell you."

"No, it isn't and you know it—you know I can help."

"Oh yeah, you're really helping now…" she muttered while tugging at her wrists and trying to determine what bound them together. Given their lack of mobility and how tightly they were pressed together, she knew her police cuffs were not the kidnapper's choice restraint. If she had to guess, she would have said her hands were bound by zip ties, which was slightly better than the metal cuffs, but not by much.

"I can help!"

"Fine. Just…just tell me the last thing you remember." Kate rested her right shoulder against the wall and bent her knees so her feet were flat on the ground as she waited for the former writer to speak what would undoubtedly be a highly-detailed tale. Hopefully it would help her figure out what the hell was going on.

"Well…I left when you told me to, but for the next several hours I thought about the victims. They were from all over the city, their bodies discovered in different locations, and none were last seen at the same place, but that doesn't mean they weren't in the same place at some point towards the end of their lives, right? So I went back to the Twelfth to tell you that and…and your desk! The stickie note!" He proclaimed enthusiastically. "I saw an address written down…well, the shadow of an address on the next stickie, but I was able to make it out and….and then things tart to get fuzzy. How about you?"

She thought for a moment before groaning. God, why was everything so hazy!? "The address…yeah, I went to investigate it, but I'm not sure I remember what it is now—not that it matters. We might be there, or someplace else and…yeah, like you said, it's all pretty fuzzy. And now we're both stuck here, tied up…"

"At least you're not alone."

In that moment Castle's positivity did nothing but annoy her further. "If I was alone, I would be perfectly fine."

Again, he clicked his tongue. "Really? Have any ideas how to get these restraints off our hands?"

"Not at the moment."

"Well, then its good I'm here because I do. There's a razor blade in my shoe."

Unable to fully process his statement in her hazy state, Kate merely blinked and asked, "What?"

"My shoe—there's a razor blade beneath the insole."

The level of pride in Castle's statement seemed to indicate that that his shoe not only contained a razor blade, but also a prized national treasure, like the original version of the Declaration of Independence. Endlessly confused, she opened her mouth, but it was a full thirty seconds before any sound came out. "…why?"

"In case I ever got kidnapped and had to cut myself loose—obviously."

Kate chose not to crack a joke about her partner expecting to be kidnapped and what that said about his personality and "profession" (term used loosely). Still, his choice was certainly not the most practical and she couldn't help but mention it. "But…how would you get to your shoe?"

"I….well, that doesn't matter now because you can do it. C'mere—it's in my right shoe."

She sighed to herself, knowing that his razor blade was their best shot at getting out of their current predicament. She scooted herself towards the sound of his voice until she could just barely make out his silhouette by using the dim light. She dug her heels into the ground, so she could rotate her butt around and get her hands in position to remove his shoe. As they were bound so tightly together, the task was difficult, but with his help, she did pull the loafer off. Then, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth, she dug around beneath the insole until she retrieved the blade, which thankfully had a protective case around it.

"Okay, got it," she said to him. She popped open the cover on the blade and then twisted her hands in the direction of the restraints. Naturally, on first try she stabbed herself on the wrist and muttered out a curse. She tried again only to face the same result. Huffing out a breath she craned her neck around and said, "Maybe I should try to cut you free first."

"Okay." He agreed before scooting around so they were back to back. Kate then pinched the blade between her left index finger and middle finger, so it was out of the way and used her right hand to grope around until she found a part of the plastic restraints she felt was far enough away from his skin to try and cut through. Then, she transferred the blade to her right hand and began to saw.

Through slow but steady progress, Kate was able to cut Castle free while doing only minimal damage to his skin. Once his hands were no longer bound, he returned the favor, so they were both free. Kate then turned so she sat facing him, rubbing her sore wrists while resting her elbows on her thighs. With the razor blade safely back in the man's shoe, she said, "So, now what?"

He turned his head towards her. "Oh, I see. Now you want me to come up with the plan."

"Well I wanted to check to see if you had some sort of…I don't know, Swiss Army multi-tool in your underwear or something."

"Ha-ha."

Cracking the smallest of smiles she said, "Well, I had to check. Now, I guess I should take a look at this door."

When she stood, he stood as well and said, "Don't you mean 'we?'"

"Not really."

He grumbled at her. "Beckett. C'mon we're partners—we're supposed to work together."

Kate let out a derisive laugh. "We're not partners."

"I think we are."

Turning towards him she said firmly, "No, we're not." Castle was not her partner. He was, on occasion, a consultant working with the NYPD—an unwanted consultant, in her opinion. She didn't need a half-cocked, former writer meddling in her cases and acting like an expert when he was anything but. Did he, on occasion, have some helpful insight? Yes, and she appreciated that input, but more often he was a thorn in her side and—worse—a danger to her, himself, and her NYPD colleagues.

"Really?" he responded, clearly annoyed. "We're the only two people here and its up to us to figure out how to get out so I would say that qualifies us as partners, wouldn't you?"

Knowing she had to focus all her energy on their escape, Kate gave up with a shrug. "Fine. You can call us partners while we're in here if that makes you feel better."

"Mm no I think we're going to be partners after we get out of here, too."

"Is that so?" she responded flippantly, but then she felt his hand close gently around her arm and she gasped slightly at the touch.

Stepping up close enough so that she could actually see his eyes despite the barely-lit room, Castle dipped his chin and spoke to her in a light, but clearly more serious tone. "Uh huh. We'll get out of here, solve this case, and then you won't be able to help yourself. You'll want me to work with you all the time."

Laughing, Kate shrugged off his grasp and turned towards the room's only egress. "Yeah right." She muttered.

She felt him step up beside her as he proudly said, "You'll see, Beckett. We'll be partners; I guarantee it."

A/N: This story will have 14 Parts (Prologue + 12 Chaps + Epilogue)

I've been trying to write some version of the Castle-is-a-PI AU for years and it finally came together in this story. PHEW!

Hope you guys enjoy - thanks for reading!