A missing moment while Castle is trapped within the command centre

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Her fingers ghost around the edge of his wrist and her skin ignites a fire that spreads, encasing his hand. He loves that it's this way between them, a single touch, a single look, and it's as if the temperature around them escalates, the heat within flares.

His head tilts a fraction so that he's able to catch her gaze, watches silently as she holds the contact, before her eyes break away from his to stare pointedly across the vast room.

He can't help but think that everything about the command center seems so sterile, too much metal and technology give it an icy vibe and while he enjoys the computer screens, he's oddly not that impressed. He wishes that if he had to be stuck somewhere, he would have preferred the Twelfth and its simple atmosphere, the worn furniture, the familiarity of being with friends, and he misses home.

Although if he's making a wish, he probably should start with not having ended up in this position in the first place. He doesn't know whether it's to do with being in a strange city, a strange facility, but there's a certain amount of panic that's steadily inching up his spine.

Normally in their life and death situations, this emotion remains absent or at least pushed deep down inside; even in the worst of disasters he has always held on to the belief that they will be able to work it out, find a way through it together.

Today he almost feels resigned that this may be it, that the end is mere hours away and his jokes are falling flat even to his own ears. Nothing is that funny anymore, as he worries that all will soon be lost.

His concern for Kate once he is gone, rises with every passing second. Concern for Alexis. For his mother. There's still so much that was going to happen; a wedding, married life, forever, and yet two short months after his stars had finally aligned, it all appears to be slipping rapidly through his fingers.

Her hand finds his again, a brief touch of skin against skin, before she's turning away, features void of all that she's thinking. He can only imagine how hard it is for her to cling to this professional façade, her need to remain in control–cool, calm, and collected in front of her new co-workers.

He wonders if she's feeling the same sense of panic.

She causally makes her way across the space, never once looking back to ensure that he's following; hopefully she knows that there is never any doubt about that, and he moves his body accordingly. He trails behind, taking in the way her hair–softly curled–bounces against her blazer, how her suit wraps tightly around her limbs, and he stumbles midstride as he realizes that they've probably had their last time together.

Oxygen catches in his lungs, and it has nothing to do with the toxins that are swirling through his body; he knows what it is to have her, to be with her, to be loved by her, and he's not prepared for that to end. Not now, not like this.

God, he loves her.

Forcing his frame forward, he takes his usual place beside her as they stride along the corridor. They're drifting away from the main nerve center, turn after turn, until she stops suddenly. Her eyes observing the hallway, watching as a lone agent walks away from them. Lifting a hand, she tugs at a lever that's discreetly located on the wall, and it opens a door.

Pushing forward, she enters the space, pivoting on the spot, half a smile resting on her lips as she gives him the smallest of winks, and he doesn't need any more encouragement than that.

Inching his body into hers while simultaneously shutting the door, his action throws them into darkness, and he assumes that they must be in some type of cupboard. He feels her body transfer its weight and unexpectedly there's a light from an inbuilt bulb, which resides high above their heads.

With the blackness gone, he can't resist the urge to explore the room, shelf after shelf of various office supplies and forms, forgetting for a minute why exactly Kate may have wanted this rendezvous.

"Hey." She whispers softly, and it brings him back to her, moves him closer so that she's able to twirl her long fingers around his jacket; jerks him forward so that their bodies can collide. Enjoying their height difference, she elevates herself up onto her toes, begins nibbling his bottom lip, and he apparently catches on, mouth opening, as he joins her in exploration.

She needs this so desperately, the feel of him against her, within her, and she allows her mind to clear, forgets about all the troubles that are weighing heavily on her shoulders, as she loses herself in his touch.

As his lips stray from her mouth, tenderly biting the length of her jaw, he speaks incoherently into her skin, while his fingers travel until they join, circling her pant buttons.

Adjusting her head enough to create the smallest of gaps, she grunts a 'huh' and hopes that he hears her confusion. He kisses behind her ear before changing direction, taking her mouth without warning, forcing her lips apart, yet suddenly he backs off.

"I asked if we were having a quickie before I die?"

His question is not funny, yet as she comprehends all that he's asking, laughter bubbles forth, is expelled with such strength that she has to pull back in order to place both hands on her knees as she doubles over.

Apparently, this is how she'll become unhinged.

She hears him chuckling slightly as he joins in on her amusement and it's enough to bring her to her senses, as she moves her hands so that she can grasp his solid shoulders.

"That wasn't funny! All your one-liners have been really below par today." Her scolding brings a much needed smile to his face and she raises a finger to trace across his full bottom lip, ignores the little voice that is instructing her to memorize every detail of him.

"Yeah, I was thinking that too. I mean I really have to work on some better material, although in my defense it could be the drugs, people think they are funnier than they really are under the influence."

His grin is wide and it lightens his features as he gazes down on her and she relaxes for a second, lets her lips curl up so that she can mimic him.

Everything has been tearing at her, leaving her raw and shredded. She's been struggling internally to remain detached, attempting to keep him at arm's length so that she can focus on what needs to be done. There is no other option in her mind then to find the antidote, save his life, and every time the tentacle of panic tries to wind its way across her heart, she shoves it away, hard.

Losing him is not a possibility that she's willing to entertain, but damn she needs a moment to remember all that she is fighting for. Remind them both of the laughter and love that is between them. The future that awaits them.

"I'm pretty sure even without the drugs, you're really not that funny, Castle." She expels the tiniest of giggles and he nuzzles his nose into the nook behind her ear, before exhaling forcefully. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise to attention as heat throbs low within her pelvis.

Damn, she really wants that quickie now.

"I keep you entertained." His declaration is scarcely noticed, lost in the strands of her hair, yet she hears enough so that she can reply accordingly.

"You keep me whole."

The light mood she'd been trying to capture is almost extinguished, as reality attempts to come crashing down on them, destroy their carefully constructed bubble of happiness. Yet, he does what he does best and lightens her load.

He has always made her lighter.

"Seriously? Cause I thought my specialty was breaking you apart." He looks at her then, wiggles his eyebrows a fraction, and her smile is once again firmly in place.

"You are especially talented in that area." She lifts a leg to wrap it snuggly against his ass, cants her hips forward enough to reinforce her words and his hands automatically grip her rear.

"Which brings me back to my original question. Did you drag me in here for a quickie?" Once finished with his enquiry, his lips latch onto her clavicle as his chin nudges her shirt down further to gain better access. But the movement results in her necklace shifting, her–his–ring catching on her chest and she's compelled to move away.

"Castle, I'm not having our last time be shoved up against a door as we frantically tear each other's clothes off."

She watches as his mouth opens to argue and she halts his words before they are spoken.

"And yes, I'm sure there would be some mystical fate about first and lasts reflecting and mirroring each other, but our last time, Castle–" Her fingers lift so that they can caress the sides of his face, and she pauses, waits for his eyes to connect with hers before continuing.

"Our last time is going to involve me sneaking into your room at the old folks' home, after I pumped you full of so many little, blue pills, you won't know what hit you. This, this is not how our story ends!"

As one, they join, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, as they take a last moment together. She knows that they need to go, that she has to put the façade of professionalism back on, be the agent that keeps her head in the game, her personal life separate, be the person that solves this.

However, she needs this; his taste, his smell, his body pushed against hers, as she melts within his arms, needs to remember that they have always been so much stronger together than they have ever been alone.

Thank you to Trinxy and Caskett1 for saving me last night! It's very much appreciated!

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