Thanks for your patience. You might want to reread the first chapter as a refresher before this one. Also, this chapter is more of a filler to get the story moving, so please bear with me. Thanks and enjoy!

[Fantasy Becomes Reality Part II]

Something didn't add up. It was too easy, too convenient. And the more Rick frets over every tiny detail of this case, the more worried he becomes.

"Ben Conrad didn't kill himself," Rick puts together, the files and photographs sprawled out in front of him as the puzzle comes together. "Ben Conrad was murdered by the man in the window. Ben's not our killer; the real killer was just playing with us."

"But the evidence," Alexis reasons, grabbing the photos in a frantic attempt to help her father.

"No," her father starts, "it was— it was planted there to lead us to Ben. He wanted us to think it's over. He wants us to drop our guard. He wants to make a big scene… Nikki will burn." Rick's face immediately drops, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "Beckett."

Martha and Alexis watch as he rushes to the phone, his mind running a mile a minute with thoughts of his partner and best friend going up in flames. It's his fault, he keeps telling himself. If he had never written the character of Nikki Heat, then none of this would be happening.

The guilt resides low in his belly as he, with hurried but shaking fingers, dials the phone while explaining everything to the two red heads before him, "Montgomery took the detail off her place. She's alone."

It rings once. Twice. Then finally a third time before he is being forward to her voicemail, which does nothing to calm his overactive imagination. The flames are now brighter and more consuming in his mind, the heat kissing her skin as she disappears into the inferno.

"She's not picking up," he says, practically racing for his keys and wallet as he heads toward the door in blind desperation. He neglects grabbing a jacket, not concerned with being bothered by the cold.

It wasn't the cold that concerned him; it was the heat.

"Call the precinct," he instructs, opening the door, "Tell them to get over there right way. Tell them we were wrong! Tell them the killer is still alive!" Turning toward Alexis, he orders, "Lock this door behind me. Don't let anyone in."

And in flash he was racing toward the elevator, pounding on the call button. Why the hell is the elevator so damn slow? Unable to help but feel frustrated, he ditches the elevator and runs toward the stairs, taking two at a time. Once he reaches the lobby, he ushers a cab and hastily gives the driver Kate's address before slipping him more money than necessary in an attempt to make the man drive faster.

He needs to get to her, and fast. If that means breaking the law, so be it. He didn't care. All that matters is Kate.

It's over.

This nightmare is finally over, and Kate has never felt more relieved than she does now as the warm water cascades down her body, the worry and fear disappearing as quickly as the steam that fills the room.

Her muscles protest at her movements, the ache deep down in her bones. The past few days wearing on her as she struggles to reach up and wash her back, groaning in pain at the slightest raise of her arms. She grits through it, stepping back under the spray and taking a deep breath, before slowly moving to clean the rest of her body of the grime and sweat, a reminder of the hell she has been through in the last few days.

Kate's thoughts drift to Castle and the all too realistic dream she had the previous night. She smiles to herself as she thinks of the writer, curious as to what he's doing right now...

The cab ride feels like an eternity. He definitely didn't pay the man as much money as he did to go at this slow of a pace. He slams his hand against the bench seat next to him impatiently as the cab stopped at another red light. Huffing out a deep breath, he takes his phone out of his pants pocket and begins to dial her phone number again, praying she answers this time.

"Pick up. Come on, Beckett."

He receives her voicemail again and swears under his breath.

Looking outside, he studies his surroundings and decides that he's close enough to her apartment as is, so he orders the driver to stop and he jumps out before the cab comes to a full stop. The driver yells at him in frustration, but Rick ignores the man as he tries to call her again while he dodges in and out of the crowded street.

"Beckett, Beckett, pick up the phone! Pick it up!"

He hears a click on the other end of the line, signaling an answer.

"Hey, Castle," she says breathlessly and he can hear the smile in her voice. "Sorry, I saw you've been trying to reach me. Is everything okay?"

The smile immediately fades from her face as his panicked voice comes through the phone in a quick reply. "It wasn't Ben Conrad! He's not the killer! The killer's still alive! The killer's still alive!"

"Wait," she starts, straightening up and gaining her composure, "That can't be. He committed suicide, and we—"

She's stopped by the sound of an automated voice coming from somewhere in her apartment. "Goodbye, Nikki. Goodbye."

Kate has no time to think as drops her phone and dives for her bathtub mere seconds before the blast rocks her entire apartment, sending it up in flames.

Outside, Rick is halted in his tracks as the flames consume the apartment. Debris falls onto the streets below as a crowd begins to form, all eyes directed toward the burning building as they stand in shock.

His heart breaks as he tries to make sense of what he has just seen. His phone hangs limp in his hand as hunches over, dry heaving in the middle of the street. A few members of the crowd come over to check on him, concern in their voices, but he brushes them off. Straightening up, his eyes fall on the flames once more before he throws caution to the wind and books it toward the burning building.

He can feel the heat in the hallway as he approaches her apartment. That only makes him run faster. He tries to kick the door down, but it doesn't budge. Rick takes a few steps back then throws his entire weight against it and the door finally comes down, but with him on top of it. He hisses at the heat and stands up, carefully navigating her apartment while trying to avoid the flames and burning himself.

"Kate!" He calls out, eyes squinting through the smoke as he searches for her, "Kate!" No reply. He tries again, but with the same response. Deciding to not waste any more time, he goes from room to room with a bit of difficulty, but he manages. He pushes large piles of wood out of his way as he scans what is left of her apartment.

The distant sound of coughing catches his attention and he makes his way toward her bathroom. "Kate?" He can barely make out her form in the haze of smoke and flames, but she's here and she's alive. His heart pounds loudly in his chest as he reaches her but he stops abruptly in his tracks as he takes her in.

Her back is to him, but he can't miss the massive amount of bare skin before his eyes.

"Kate, you're alive. Oh, and you're naked."

"Castle, turn around!"

He grudgingly obliges, but then says, "You know, your apartment is on fire. Now might not be the best time for modesty."

She curls her knees up in front of her chest, raising an arm she asks him for a towel but, like most of her belongings, they are on fire. She asks for the bathrobe but that too is on fire.

"Do you have anything nonflammable?" He asks as he turns around, trying to look for something for her to wear. His eyes glance at her naked form without her noticing his roaming gaze, and he knows—he knows—now is not the right time to be gawking at her like this, but he can't help it.

"Is there anything, that's not on fire, that I can use to cover myself up with?" She wonders, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"I have my sweater," he suggests after a brief pause, already taking off the item of clothing and leaving him clad in his white undershirt, which quickly becomes dark with the smoke and dust that fills the air. There are a few burn holes along the front and edges of the blue sweater; it'll have to do. "Sorry I don't have a jacket, but it's the best I can do, given the circumstances."

"Okay," she breathes, seeing that her options were very limited. It's either his sweater or her birthday suit.

She slowly stands, forgoing modesty as he steps toward her. Rick does his best to keep his gaze, and his hands for that matter, from traveling along her body as he helps her into the sweater, which ends at mid-thigh, covering her up as much as it can. He takes note of the large gash on her left wrist, as well as the many small cuts and bruises that decorate her entire body.

"God, Kate. You look terrible," he murmurs while helping her step out of the tub. "Are you okay?"

He has one hand on the small of her while the other grips her arm tightly. Kate presses her body into his, the tug and pull of his muscles underneath the thin white shirt evident as she keens into him.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Little banged up. Think I twisted my ankle when I dove into the tub."

He glances down at her words, his eyes gliding down her legs and he can see that she's hardly putting any pressure on her right foot. Oh, that's not good.

"Here," he offers before she can object, one arm tucking under her legs as the other wraps around her waist. He lifts her into his embrace, proceeding to carry her outside as the sound of sirens echo from outside.

Under normal circumstances, she would never let this type of behavior slide, but these aren't normal circumstances, so she lets him have this one. She won't admit it to herself, but his body pressing so closely against her warms her belly in a way it shouldn't, especially not now.

It's then, she decides, that once this nightmare is over— for good this time— she's going to tell him how she really feels. No reason to fight it any longer.

She ducks her head into the space between his shoulder and his neck, breathing him in. "Thanks for coming after me," she whispers with a smile.

He smiles softly down at her, nodding his head, as they make their way through the debris. "Let's get you patched up."

Rick carefully maneuvers them through and around the debris, being wary of Kate in his arms as she holds onto him in a tight grip. Her eyes gaze at the large mass of wood that used to be her front door and chuckles lightly, the sound unexpected but not unwelcome.

"It's killing you, isn't it?" She ponders, raising her head to look up at him with a big smile on her face.

He returns her gaze, an eyebrow raising in question at both her question and her smile. "What?"

"Having to wait this long to tell me how you banged down the door."

Rick laughs at that, his body rumbling against Kate's, as he steps through the entryway and heads down the hallway. "You want me to start from the beginning?"

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