Ruins

What if Cops and Robbers took place after 47 seconds?

At least one more chapter after this one.

Part 1:

Not like this.

When the bomb went off, Beckett's mind went grey. The world was suddenly quiet. The colors of the command trailer blurred and ran like over diluted watercolors. When she stepped sluggishly out of the still rocking vehicle, all she could see was grey. Grey smoke, grey flecks of ash floating down from above, ghostly grey-coated officers still braced from the impact or rising slowly from the ground, grey weapons drawn and ready and pointed at the grey bank building. Her ears were ringing; not from the blast but from panic, and all she could see was grey. All she could do was see the grey and taste the burnt dust and listen to the underwater click and whoosh of her heartbeat.

It took the better part of a minute for her thoughts to seep back in through the thick cloud. When they did, she jerked in surprise at finding herself standing still in the surrounding rush of activity. Esposito was shoving her vest at her, saying something, or asking, but she couldn't hear him at first. She asked him, "What?" and this time when he spoke she could make out the words.

"We're going in. You're coming?" He looked concerned but impatient. They both knew that this was no time for repeating obvious questions. Beckett merely nodded and thrust heavy arms into the vest, struggling then to slap the velcro closed and keep pace with Esposito.

Not like this. Not. Like. This.

Beckett needed to focus, but even though she was aware of her surroundings now she couldn't concentrate. She fell in step behind the team preparing to enter the blown-out entrance of the bank but she couldn't really focus on what was being said. Orders and details were heard and forgotten while her mind just repeated the same three words over and over like they had since Esposito had called her at home to tell her that he'd been on the phone with Castle when he'd been involved in a hostage situation. Not like this.

She found her footsteps echoing the beat of the mantra in her head. Her anxiety was cresting as they entered the smoky lobby and her racing heartbeat accelerated her body into a run and the words into a rat-a-tat-tat of jumbled unvoiced regret. Notlikethis Notlikethis. Castle had been angry with her lately, blowing her off and avoiding her calls and being an actual jackass and she had no idea why. Two weeks ago they had been on the verge of something more and then he'd tossed a tubful of ice water on their relationship, on their friendship, and she couldn't let it end like this.

"No," she groaned through clenched teeth, a vocal protest against everything she was feeling. She saw Espo's head whip around to see what was wrong. She didn't bother to explain, though, because she'd found her voice and suddenly she was yelling hoarsely into the dark, "Castle? Castle!"

"Hey! We're here!"

It was Castle's voice calling through the dark, a beacon of light and relief to guide them to him. Beckett's adrenaline spiked again, buzzing in her lips and in her heavy arms and metallic in the back of her throat. He sounded ok, and when she rounded the corner that finally revealed him to her she could see that he was, in fact, fine.

"Hey, what'd I tell ya?" Castle said to the roomful of other hostages. Beckett's relief was enough to weaken her knees and she knelt on the hard floor in front of Castle before she fell there. She smiled widely at him even as he hugged his mother next to him. When he turned back to Beckett his smile faltered, though she could see the longing in his eyes. Forgetting about the recent distance between them, she touched her hand to his shirt beneath the collar just to feel the warmth of him and the rise and fall of his breaths.

He was really and truly alive, and she'd never felt a relief like she felt now. But his brow furrowed and he glanced at her hand touching him. He made a small gesture with his bound wrists. "Could you…?"

"Oh, right, of course," Beckett whispered. She used her pocket knife to cut the zip ties, and then his mother's, and then stilled to look at him again. He was alive, but he wasn't looking at her and she hurried to fill the silence before it became awkward.

"Espo called, I was at home. I took a sick day." Heartsick, she had told herself glumly while she'd made the call with her face pressed into her damp pillow. "But he called and I came because I needed to make sure you were okay and you are ok and I'm-" She paused. Castle's face was drawn and grey, so ashy she wondered if she hadn't noticed that he'd somehow been coated in the dusty fallout of the explosion. "Are you okay? You look…." Instead of trying to search for the correct adjective, she reached out a hand to brush away the sickly color, frowning when her hand came away clean and his face remained ashen.

To her dismay, Castle grasped her wrist and pulled his face away from her touch. "I'm fine," he replied curtly. He withdrew his hand and stood, carefully not accepting the hand she offered to help him up. "Alexis, is she here?" He wasn't looking at her, already guiding Martha toward the exit with a hand on her shoulder.

"She's out in front of the building," Beckett murmured at their retreating backs.

Emotionally wrecked and feeling the start of the coming adrenaline crash, Beckett leaned against the granite wall of the deserted vault. In the quiet, she allowed her head to fall back and closed her eyes before the burn of tears was noticed by anyone else. Not that there was anyone around to notice. Esposito and Ryan were assisting the squad in charge out front, and Castle…. Well. Castle might not have cared if he had noticed.

She shouldn't be surprised, really. His attitude hadn't changed from yesterday, or the day before, but she would have expected the experience of being a hostage to warm him toward her. Wasn't this the kind of thing that made people reevaluate their lives and hold on to what was important? Maybe, she thought, that'd just been wishful thinking. Maybe he was showing her what was important, and it just wasn't her.

Beckett swallowed thickly and pushed off the wall, letting sluggish feet carry her through the semi-dark toward the relatively bright light of the doorway. When she stepped outside she squinted and slowly began taking off her vest. When her eyes adjusted, she scanned the scene disinterestedly. Esposito caught her eye and walked up to her.

"Our boy's ok," he said unnecessarily, narrowing his eyes at her. "Why do you look like your dog died?"

Beckett shook her head. "Just… long day."

Esposito stepped a bit closer and glanced over to where Martha, Alexis, and Castle were huddled together in a group hug. He lowered his voice. "Listen, whatever's going on-"

Beckett held up a hand. "Espo, don't."

He gave her a look and continued, "-that guy is crazy about you. Maybe something happened, and maybe you don't want to talk to me about it. But those kinds of feelings don't just disappear overnight."

Beckett wrapped her arms around her waist and averted her gaze. "All evidence to the contrary," she finally answered, struggling unsuccessfully to keep her mouth from contorting down into a frown.

"Maybe," Espo said slowly. "But like I said, those things don't change quickly. Just don't let whatever's going on go on for too long. Fix it before it turns permanent." Beckett blinked at the force of his tone and met his eye. He raised his eyebrows to make sure she'd heard him, then turned to go talk to the officer in charge.

Beckett hugged herself a little tighter and risked a glance over at Castle's little family group. She caught Alexis watching her over her father's shoulder. The girl, who had unloaded on Beckett when she'd seen the detective ducking the yellow police tape two hours earlier, smiled apologetically and gestured for Beckett to come over.

Beckett took a deep breath to steel herself and returned the girl's smile. She had taken two steps toward the group when Castle turned to look right at her, like he'd felt her impending approach. His look was scalding and she came to a clumsy halt, mouth half-open on a response she couldn't fathom, much less voice. Castle held her gaze, scowling, then turned his little group in the opposite direction. They headed off toward the street, undoubtedly heading home. Beckett wondered if this might be the last time she ever saw them.

Beckett turned her head away and gazed into the middle distance, the brightness of the afternoon in the clearing smoke a sharp contrast to the heavy darkness in her chest. In the beginning, she had never expected to be able to tolerate Castle. But they'd become friends, and then spent far too long brushing along the lines of something more. She'd learned to trust him and he'd become, perhaps, the best partner she'd ever had. Everything had been going so well.

She'd never thought it would end like this. Not like this. And she had no idea why he was so furious at her. With a sigh of defeat mingled with exhaustion, Beckett headed off toward her cruiser, parked haphazardly in the street where she'd jumped out of it in her urgency upon arrival. When she tossed her vest onto the passenger seat she noticed the thick layer of ash and dirt collected along the bottom hem from where it had dragged the ground as she let it dangle from her fingers.

For no real reason, Beckett touched a fingertip to the grime and rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, transfixed. The grey was the color of death and destruction and grit and ruins, and she could see it shading all of the landscapes of her life. The melancholic thought brought her back to herself, and she tossed the cruiser in gear to pull away from the crime scene. She needed to go home, and she needed to escape. There was some whiskey in her future tonight.

Thanks for reading! I haven't written fanfic in a LONG time, but as always all reviews are appreciated.