out of the over seven billion people in the world,

at least one

will press you up against a wall

and make love to you until your spine hurts.

it's a small fact

but something you can carry with you

like a moon hidden away in the darkening sky

whenever you're feeling alone.

a small fact, writingsforwinter

For The Midnight Club.

You guys are home, joy on the worst days, light in the darkness. Thank you.

"C'mon, we don't want to miss her speech." Castle calls up the stairs, glancing at his watch. "Or the entire graduation." He mutters, pressing his mouth into a seam to stop the spill of desperation.

Please, please let him not miss his daughter's graduation. Especially since her mother – ridiculous, flighty woman – is not going to be there at all.

He sets his hand at the railing to keep himself upright, letting go almost immediately at the too-shrill peal of his mother, as if the very sound of her burns. "I'm almost ready."

Shifting his weight, Castle watches the spill of dusk over his newly polished shoes. His loft is spun gold, the weather finally starting to turn. It makes him think of the beach, his Hamptons house and the give of sand under his body, how the warmth licks at his skin.

He thought, maybe-

No. No movie night, no somnolent seduction. Not the quiet transition into them he finally let himself hope for.

He was going to take her coat at the door. Kiss her cheek and guide her to his couch. Sit nearer than he should and take her hand because that's a thing that he's allowed to do now. And then when the movie was over he was going to tell her again.

Tell her without her dying underneath him, without the endless cobalt mist of the sky and the too-hard edge of grass at his knuckles.

He did tell her again.

And it's not enough.

His phone cuts swathes through his self-pity, death swelling in between the notes. Not that it matters. He doesn't want to answer.

Can't speak to her; have her confirm the details of their ending.

Only, it's not her. It's not her smile gazing back at him, the photograph he took without her even seeming to notice.

It's been killing him all year. He only has one photograph of Kate. So the caller ID and the murder board. . .it's the same one. And he hates that. He wants to take photographs of her, with her. Vacation and holidays and snapshots of lazy mornings. The dappled light as it slips through the leaves, splashed onto her face in midsummer.

His ID says it's the precinct. And she never calls him from the precinct phone. Ever. It can't be her. Ryan, then? Since Esposito will most definitely be on Kate's side.

God, he hates that there are sides. Hates the rift in their team, hates his stupid heart for loving her. Hates her. More than a little bit, right now.

Rick swallows his pride, feels the thick sweetness of it swelling in protest, and answers the phone. "Castle."

"Oh, you picked up." Ryan says half to himself, the thin edge of scarcely pieced-together control brittle in his voice. "Hey."

"Ryan. What is it?" He manages to grit out, the tremor of it rattling over his jaw and up, coursing through his temples. "I have to leave in a minute."

"Right, right. Alexis' graduation. But this is life or death."

Oh God. Please no.

But Ryan's voice isn't thick with grief, his words don't break, scattered and hurting. Surely, surely, the first thing he would have said would have been Beckett's down.

The same despair, the same disbelief as that day a year ago. How it didn't seem to really touch any of them until the hospital. Wasn't happening. Just could not be happening. Not to her.

"Kate."

Kevin cuts in, must hear the gutting panic in Castle's voice. "No. Well, yeah, Beckett and Espo both. Right now they're fine, but they just left here to walk straight into the sniper's nest."

Castle has to close his eyes against that, pressing his free hand to them and feeling the wash of terror down his face, pooling against his hardwood. "Ryan, I can't. I'm- I'm done."

"I understand that. I don't know exactly what went down between you two. But I know Beckett. I know Beckett when she's in the thick of her mother's case."

Somehow, that makes it worse. That it's not just him. That Ryan too knows how hopeless his crusade is.

He's seen glimpses inside of the wall all year, cool and fresh like spring water whenever she allowed him to dislodge another brick. But he's just been making pointless holes, places where he can glance inside and see just how good it would be with her.

No structural damage.

"She's not going to listen to me. I told her. . .how I feel. And it's not enough. What makes you think it would be any different today?" The growl of despair turns to dust against the sentry row of his teeth, safely tucked inside.

He refuses to hurt over this woman. She doesn't get to do that to him. Not anymore.

He's- he's done.

"If you can't do it for her, do it for Javi. Please, Castle."

Yes, thank you, he hears Ryan's desolation. But this has never been his place. Pretending he fits in their team, pretending he's there for cases and murder and the thrill of the solve, and not because every stupid, pathetic little piece of him yearns for her.

So much that now, losing her, tastes foul. It churns in his gut, warped fingers grasping at the foothold of his ribs.

Castle sucks in a breath, tries valiantly to push it all back. "What exactly are you asking me to do?"

"I might have to tell Gates. Not everything, not about Roy. Just enough that I can get backup. I can't save them both by myself."

"And that's where I come in?" He says, stupidly proud that his voice doesn't waver.

"Castle, they need you. Especially Kate. Look, I know she's being stupid running into this blind. I understand that you don't want to watch her get herself killed. But she needs you to prove that you'll never give up on her."

A brittle laugh spills out without his permission, his mother descending the stairs just in time to watch it shatter against the hardwood. "I've been proving that for four years and it's not enough."

"Four years. You've stuck with her through worse than this. Why give up now?"

Because he's hit breaking point. Because he can't watch her die again. Because-

Damn it. This is not the way to prove himself worthy. Kate thrives on evidence, needs it to truly believe.

Show, don't tell.

Yes, he said he loves her. Yes, he's been doing his best to show her for years now. But giving up so easily, letting her win?

That is not a man who is worthy of Kate.

"Ryan. My daughter's graduation. I can't abandon her." Castle scrubs his hands over his face, meeting his mother's eyes.

Her brows are furrowed, all of that timeless elegance she employs so easily surging up as she moves towards him.

"When does it start?"

"An hour and a half." Castle grunts, waving off his mother's hand. She settles for straightening his tie, slender fingers moving to rest at his lapel.

There's a moment of quiet, far-away clattering that Castle can only assume is Ryan's keyboard, and then he's back. "Hotel they're headed to is five minutes from your place. And Alexis is at Marlowe, right?"

"Yeah."

More typing. More breathless Ryan. "Ten minutes on the subway to there from the hotel. You'd have time."

"Ryan, I don't know if I can." Maybe doing this would just be saying sure, Kate. Stamp all over him, take everything he has to offer and give nothing. He'll still come back.

Kevin sucks in a breath through his teeth, tinny and uncomfortable over the phone line. "Castle. You're a part of this team. And we need you."

Crap.

Okay. Damn it. "Text me the address." Castle grunts and hangs up, dropping his phone back into his pocket.

"Richard, darling, what on earth?" His mother says, snatching her purse from the side table and hooking her arm through his, dragging him over to the door.

He shakes her off, gritting his teeth. "Mother, something's come up. You go on ahead and save me a seat. I promise I'll make it on time."

"You'd better. Alexis has already been abandoned by her mother. Don't you dare abandon her too." His mother stabs a finger into his chest, almost growling at him.

He stumbles backwards, coming up against the front door. "I'm not. But Kate needs me."

"Kate's using you, Richard. When are you going to let her go?"

Castle digs his fingernails into the tender flesh of his palms and tries desperately to keep his voice even. "I can't let her go. She's. . .too much."

His mother sighs at him, disappointment sharp in her eyes, but she's reaching around him to open the door and usher him out.

He settles his mother into the waiting car, dutifully pressing a kiss to her cheek. He ignores the set of her jaw, the unwavering line of her shoulders, every part of her screaming that he's making a mistake without saying a word. She has long ago figured out that trying to talk reason with her son is futile when it comes to Kate Beckett. He watches the car glide away, tracking it until it melts into the sea of traffic, the ethereal haze of heat from the pavement filling his vision in its wake.

He shakes his head to bring the world back into focus and raises his arm to flag down a cab.

Kate. Kate needs him.

Maybe she'll actually listen this time. Maybe.

It might have been the panicked and desperate look on his face but the cabbie gets him there in three minutes flat. Castle peels off more bills than he knows is necessary and shoves them at the man in thanks. Ryan's pacing in front of the dilapidated building when he slides out of the car but perks up at the sight of him.

"Beckett's cruiser is across the street and a homeless guy said he saw two 'cop looking people' matching their description go in a few minutes ago," he calls out as Castle draws near.

"What if they found him? What if we're walking into an ambush?" He cranes his neck to take in the façade of the building, unease taking up residence in his gut.

"What if they didn't? What if we can stop them?"

Castle looks down at him, the earnest hope in the man's eyes shining like a lighthouse through his storm of fear. God bless Kevin Ryan and his unending well of optimism.

He nods at the younger man, mouth set in a grim line and Ryan nods back before turning to enter the building, Castle following closely behind. They sweep each floor quickly, that sickening fear twining further up his throat each time they find nothing.

"Last floor," he breathes as they mount the now familiar landing, every floor identical to the last. The difference here is there are no other steps overhead climbing higher, only the half flight in front of them.

Ryan moves carefully, the grip on his weapon unwavering as he goes. "Castle, I see something," he whispers and the writer moves carefully up another step until his vision crests the top. A guy in a suit lays motionless in the hall, a pair of legs sticking out of a door across from him. "I'm going in," Ryan whispers, the words barely registering in Castle's brain before he's quietly and efficiently stalking down the hall.

Castle's in the middle of being completely aware that he is without a weapon when he hears Ryan's voice, hushed and insistent.

"Javi?" A moan floats down the hallway. "Where's Beckett?"

She's not in there?

Weapon be damned, Castle hurries up the rest of the stairs and down to the open doorway, finds Ryan crouched over his partner.

"I swept the place, she's not here," Ryan tells him, an apology in his tone.

Castle backs out into the hallway again, eyes raking up and down the expanse of cheap tile almost as if his brain is willing her to appear. The next best thing does though, another flight stairs at the opposite end of the hall.

He doesn't think, he doesn't ask Ryan's opinion because he knows, this is where she went. He sees the bullet holes in the wood but presses on, takes the stairs two at a time, pushes carefully through the door at the top, stepping onto the concrete when he doesn't immediately encounter danger.

The roof is empty.

He takes a few more steps out, disappointment cloying his senses, stealing his breath, occluding his vision. He was so sure, so positive this is where she'd be that finding nothing but this empty expanse is heart breaking. He drops into a crouch when his knees will no longer hold him upright, his head in his hands, swallowing down bitter tears.

"Beckett!" Her name tears from his throat, grief spilling from every pore, unable to be contained.

And then he hears it.

"Castle!"

He snaps upright, his legs carrying him forward before he can even contemplate if his mind is playing tricks on him.

"Beckett!" he yells again, willing her reply.

And it comes.

"Castle, I'm here! No, oh God!"

He still doesn't see her, her voice is slightly muffled as he runs across the rooftop.

"Castle!" His name is sharp and frantic now.

And he knows where she is.

"Beckett, hang on!" It's a plea, an admonishment, as he throws his upper body to the edge of the building.

"Castle!" she screams again as he swings an arm down, reaching for her forearm, his hand barely closing around her wrist as her slender fingers slide from their perch, his other hand quickly reaching out to get a better grip on her. Her feet scrabble against the building, her free arm grasping for purchase on the brick to help. Together, they haul her over the edge, tumbling inelegantly onto the rooftop.

They lay there for a moment, he on his side, her on her back, breathing heavily, great gulps of air testing the limits of their ribcages. And then she throws herself at him, one arm hooked around his neck, the other banded around his back, her legs tangled with his, the long line of her body pressed to him. He doesn't hesitate to embrace her in return, crushing her to his chest in gratitude, relief roaring in his ears so loud that he doesn't hear it at first.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Castle. I'm sorry," she's babbling, the stream of apology only broken by her hiccupping sobs.

"Shh," he soothes, running a hand over her hair. "Kate, it's okay, I'm here."

He gets an arm secure around her back and sits up, lifting her with him. Carefully kept away from the building's edge, he cradles her cheek in his palm. Kate pillows her head against his shoulder, both her hands fisted in his shirt, and her bones clatter violently, the tremors all the way up into her jaw.

His mouth pressed to her temple, Castle feels the thread of tension there too, a full-body consumption. "He got away."

"I don't care." She grits out, sitting back on her knees to look at him. Three fingers come up to dust over his cheekbone, the gossamer skin underneath his eye. "Castle, I don't care. I almost died, and all I could think about was you."

Rick stares at her, his jaw going slack with shock. What is she saying? This case, the case that has defined her for thirteen years, comes second to him? Please God let that be what she means. "Kate?"

"I just want you."

Oh God. Oh, he needs her. He needs her right now.

He cups her cheek again, sweeping his thumb under her eye and trying desperately to breathe through the sucking tide of lust. She's so soft, limp with relief and shifting closer. And then she's sliding her knee over his thighs and settling herself in his lap.

"Castle." She whispers, clutching at his shoulders. And before he can think, before he can ease her off of him and remind her that there's a sniper out there and she's supposed to be mad at him and he's most definitely still a little (quite a lot) mad at her she's kissing him.

And holy. Shit.

This story is co-authored by seilleanmor and BerkieLynn. There will be one more chapter.