Title: More Than This

Disclaimer: I can't say Boyo in an Irish accent either.

Summary: He really has to wonder how it is that they end up in these situations. It's like they're magnets for near-death. Complete.

Chapter 2:

The ceiling above them gives a great heave and drops closer. They duck and he tentatively reaches up to feel, hoping for space, for a little more time. His fingers brush the edge of the caved roof with almost no effort. They have maybe three feet above them.

He pulls her tighter to his chest, trying his best to curl around her, protect her, offer himself as the world's flimsiest shield. Her mouth presses against his skin, her hands gripping with iron strength behind his neck and around his side.

He can't find words, can only press his lips to her head as hers flutter at his throat with her rapid, shallow breath.

Another bang sounds overhead and the door swings open, spilling dim light into their room. They blink and scurry forward as the ceiling gives a shudder and descends by a foot. He pushes Kate out in front of him and then throws himself out of the doorway just as the roof collapses over their corner, not low enough to fully crush them, but low enough to have forced them to the floor.

He pants, sprawled out on the dusty, rubble filled platform, Kate to his left, her face pale as chalk. They breathe for a silent moment, the four of them stunned, immobile. But then Kate's taking Ryan's hand as he helps her to her feet and Castle feels Esposito dragging him up by his armpits. The roof above them is cracked, empty in places, the debris around his feet a testament to the damage done there.

"We'll talk upstairs," Esposito says, his voice a command that none of them are willing to disobey.

Together, they jog for the stairs, Ryan supporting Kate as she runs, Esposito at Castle's elbow. He doesn't see much, just the bounce of her disheveled hair, his mind focused on the clack of her heels as they race up the stairway, ignoring the roaring at their backs as more of the station begins to crumble.

The metal door slams shut behind them and they stand together briefly, listening as the room beneath them falls to ruin. But it can't be a good idea to stay in the building above the collapse, and without words they run for the exit. Esposito and Ryan get the doors and Castle grabs Kate's hand without thought, pulling her through the abandoned lot, back toward the street, where it must be safe—where the ground will be steady beneath their feet, where the sky above them cannot fall.

It's still light out. The sun is about to set, casting everything in an orange glow as their breath rises in little puffs. It's gotten colder. The sky is clear above them now, and he pants, shocked, amazed, dazed by it, and her, and the light. His eyes can't seem to adjust.

A glance toward her face proves that she's having the same trouble, and without thought, he hauls her into his chest, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair. He doesn't care that Esposito and Ryan are jogging up to them, their clothes smudged and stained with dust from the fallen concrete. He doesn't care about the worry on their faces. Not just yet.

She takes a shuddering breath against his neck, the hands at his back clenching into his shirt for a moment before she pulls away and meets his eyes. "It's bright out here," she says softly, lips quirking in a smile.

He laughs, loudly, grasping her hands as they drop from his back. She giggles with him and then they're falling over each other, gripping at arms and swaying on their unsteady legs. At least they're not crying, though Esposito and Ryan look concerned all the same.

"You guys okay?" Ryan asks, a little breathless.

"What the hell happened?" Esposito tacks on, his face flushed with exertion.

"We followed a trail down that staircase," Kate manages, putting a hand on her chest to slow her breathing, her other still clasped in Castle's hand. He's not letting go, and she doesn't seem to mind. "And Randal was down there, with a gun."

"He fired, Kate fired," Castle adds. "Oh, crap. Our vests," he exclaims, the detail surfacing in his clouded mind.

"We'll get new ones," she says, amusement in her voice. "Hardly the point now, Castle."

"Sorry," he mumbles, not sorry at all if it means she sounds like that—like her, like normal.

"And then the ceiling was falling," she adds with a shrug to the two detectives. "Castle saw the door and we dove in. I don't know what happened to Randal. He probably made off down the tunnel somewhere."

"And you guys were trapped in there," Esposito provides. "For how long?"

"What time is it?" Castle asks, brow furrowing as the other men grimace. They'd gotten to the abandoned warehouse at about 10am, so it's been a good long while.

"Nearing five, man," Ryan says quietly.

Kate's hand tightens on his. They're so lucky.

"The roof started caving in around an hour ago, I think," she offers them. Both men shudder. "So thanks for finding us when you did."

"You two really need to stop getting into these situations," Esposito huffs, glaring at them. "We're lucky you called in to Gates."

"Okay, so maybe it's not that bad a rule," Kate concedes.

Castle can't help it; he laughs, watching as she stifles one as well. He's never been more grateful to their Captain or the boys than he is right now.

"Thank you," he says, and he knows he's showing too much; his is voice too tight. But he knows what he could have lost, knows the fate they could have suffered. And they were so close.

Their gazes soften. "No worries, bro," Ryan says, clapping him on the back.

"It's what we're here for," Esposito chuckles. "At least it wasn't a tiger this time."

Kate shudders lightly and Castle squeezes her hand. "I don't even want to think about a tiger in that room," she says, and Castle mirrors her shiver.

"Yeah, no," he agrees.

Esposito and Ryan share an amused glance that has nothing to do with the tiger, and everything to do with the fact that Castle and Kate are still holding hands. He couldn't care less.

"We should get you guys back to the station," Ryan tells them. "You need water, food, and sleep, I'd bet."

They nod and the boys lead them back down the street, toward the narrow alley where they'd parked around the side of the disheveled building. Castle almost doesn't want to be even thirty feet from it, but soon they're at their cars, his hand still clutched in hers, her fingers threading with his own, squeezing.

"You good to drive?" Esposito asks slowly. He and Ryan are parked right behind them.

Kate nods. Castle almost wants to say no—can't well imagine that either of them is much for driving—but that would mean leaving her to split up, and he'd rather be in the car with her than separated right now, conditions be damned.

The boys warily shoo them away and they shuffle around the second cruiser to get to their own, letting their hands separate with reluctance. But then they're sliding inside the car with a sense of familiarity that nearly knocks the wind out of him.

"Wow," she lets out once the doors are closed and the guys are pulling out behind them.

"Yeah," he says, glancing over at her as she takes a second to plug her phone into the charger, starts the engine, brushes her hair from her face with a newly gloved hand. "I…yeah," he stutters, suddenly lacking for words of any meaning.

"Gates'll kick us off the case," she says as she backs out of the alley and onto the street—normal Kate Beckett, driving her crown vic, like they haven't nearly been crushed to death.

"I don't mind," he says immediately. He can't regret it and doesn't really care about the justice right now. He just wants to go to the station, give their statements, and hide somewhere safe and sturdy and solid.

"I don't either," she says quietly as they pull up to a red light. Her shoulders are sagging, fingers twitching on the steering wheel.

He reaches out to squeeze her arm for a moment before drawing away to rummage in the glove compartment. He thinks he must have shoved a granola bar in there at some point. He finds it with a triumphant grin as they clear the intersection.

"Here," he says softly, tearing open the package and rolling it down before he hands it to her.

She glances over at him. "Thank you," she says, and he hears more than thanks for the food in her voice.

"Figured it would come in handy," he shrugs, smiling as she takes a quick bite, her lips curling upward as she chews. "Better?"

"Much," she admits, casting him a glance. "You're not going to shut up about eating breakfast, are you?"

"After this? I'm going to bring us a four course meal at 7am," he shoots back, playful, but not as well. If they'd been stuck in there for longer, she'd have fainted by midnight, with nothing in her system but coffee. Granted, he'd only snagged a muffin from the counter that morning, but still.

"Gates will love that," she laughs around another bite. She coughs a moment later and he closes his eyes.

"Please don't choke," he says, opening them to catch her shaking her head, lips pressed together.

"Gates is going to kill us, actually," she sighs, handing him the second half of the granola bar. He goes to stop her hand but she shoots him a look. "You need food too."

He frowns but accepts the bar from her and takes a small bite. Damn, he's hungry. "Why's Gates going to kill us?" he wonders as he snarfs down the rest of the granola bar, ignoring her smug smile. "It's not like it was our fault. We did everything right."

"She'll still be mad. It's always us." She bumps her head against her headrest in frustration and follows Esposito into the garage at the precinct. He's surprised they're already there.

"Were we really that close the whole time?"

Kate lets out a breathy laugh. "Makes it worse, doesn't it?"

He nods and slumps in his seat, defeated. She smiles and parks next to the boys, who are already hopping out and giving them a wave, speeding toward the elevator.

"They want to tell Gates before we get to her," she explains.

"Good guys," Castle says as she turns off the car. They sit in silence for a moment. "That really happened?"

"It did," she nods, turning her head to look at him, eyes soft and unguarded.

His stomach unknots. He was worried she'd hide it away, try to forget, or lessen it, maybe. She puts up walls, and though she broke them all down for those hours together, he wouldn't begrudge her a few more—not now that he knows. Because she loves him. And a month or two more? He could take that. But her eyes tell him a different story, an open, honest, passionate story that looks like it might begin today—continue, rather.

"You have to admit, you can't beat that," she offers.

"Beat what?" Beat him at his own game? She does that pretty well and pretty regularly all on her own.

"I love yous in a collapsing subway station."

He grins and feels the absurd joy on his face as he nods. "It's a great story."

"One for the books, I'd imagine," she teases, reaching out to touch his jaw for the briefest of moments, before she's out of the car.

He tugs on his belt and frees himself, clumsily hauling his sore behind out of the car to meet her at the front of the hood. "Some things are better real," he says as they walk toward the elevator, bodies close but not quite touching—normal, but super charged all the while, like every brush of their hands is made of electricity.

"No live burial for Nikki and Rook?" she asks, turning to him as they step into the elevator, her body a mere foot away.

He growls and pulls her to him, hands gripping her waist and neck as he tugs her face to his lips. She squeaks against his mouth, surprised and trying not to laugh. Her laughter turns to a sigh as he runs his tongue against her bottom lip. She opens her mouth for a second—not long enough, never long enough—letting him plunder until the bell dings for the fifth floor. He groans and leans back, releasing her lips with a small, wet, pop.

"Some things are too good for page 105," he says quietly as he runs his fingers through her hair, trying to tame the damage he's done. But God, can the woman kiss.

She smiles, her eyes crinkling, teeth shining through, and wipes his bottom lip with her thumb. "Good," she whispers before the doors slam open and she drops her hand.

She turns and walks out, and he follows her. How can he not? They don't stop at her desk, and he feels his anxiety growing as they head for Gates' office. Grown man or not, he doesn't like getting yelled at, and even he can admit that Gates is intimidating. And he genuinely wants her to like him. It's sick.

"Detective Beckett, Mister Castle," Gates says, her voice caught between stern and exasperated. "How does this keep happening?"

Kate and Castle stand across from her desk, their dirty clothes a sore thumb in the pristine office. "We're sorry, Sir," Kate says, contrite, though Castle can see the effort it costs her.

"At least you called it in. Esposito and Ryan told me that you were nearly crushed to death." They nod and her gaze softens, shocking them. "So, I'm asking you to go home, eat, sleep, and come back after the weekend. We have enough to book Randal, now that we have him on assault of a police officer and consultant. Ryan and Esposito will handle it."

They exchange a glance; it's exactly what they said they wanted, but it feels odd to get it with so little struggle. "Thank you, Captain," Castle puts in, giving her a true smile. "We'll work to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"See that you do. I certainly don't want to tell the Mayor that I got his favorite author and Detective killed because I couldn't keep them from walking blindly into danger."

"Yes, Sir," they chorus.

She nods and waves them from the room. He follows Kate back to her desk, where she quickly gathers her things, sneaking glances at him as he helps, grabbing her notebook and leftover lunch container from yesterday. Of course, on the day they nearly die, she eats nothing, but having yogurt and granola yesterday was just fine.

"You leavin'?" Ryan calls over, watching as Castle helps her into the longer coat she wore in that morning. They're never leaving the precinct without their jackets, scarves, gloves, and at least one entrée again.

"Gates kicked us out for the weekend," Kate replies. "Thank you, guys," she adds, standing tall to look at her Detectives. "Really."

"No problem," Esposito says, smiling at them, less professional, and more personal. Castle can see the strain it's put on the boys too. It's really better for everyone involved if they don't try to die again.

"Try to make it back to home without, you know, falling down a manhole or something," Ryan says, earning a few chuckles from the surrounding officers.

"Yeah, yeah," Kate jabs back. "See you Monday."

"See you," Castle adds, following his muse as she stalks off to the elevator, a smile on her lips.

They wait for the elevator side by side, quiet, feeling the stares of most of the precinct on the backs of their heads. When the doors open, they stroll inside and lean back against the wall together, smiling and nodding to the faces they can see as the doors slowly shut.

"I'm exhausted," he offers as the car begins to move.

She yawns and rests her head on his shoulder, threading their fingers together. "Me too."

He turns and presses his lips to her forehead as the car comes to a stop on the first floor. "Cab?"

"Yeah. I probably shouldn't have even driven us here," she admits, leaning against him as they walk into the lobby, ignoring the looks from Reggie, the uniform at the door. He can bite them, for all Castle cares.

"You feeling faint?" he asks her as he sticks out his hand for a cab.

"A little," she murmurs, apparently far beyond feigning strength for him. It makes him smile, which seems a little wrong, but it's still faintly light out, and she's whole and alive next to him. He just doesn't have the strength to deny the little masculine side that surges up. He can take care of her. He's good at that.

"Let's get you some water and food then," he says as the cab pulls up.

She gets in before him and he slowly lowers himself in beside her, stiff and sore. She's not doing much better he thinks, watching as she crosses one leg over the other with a grimace.

The cabbie turns around, waiting for the address and Castle flounders. Surely she'll want some clean clothes, but he honestly doesn't want to go to her apartment, doesn't even want to present the option of her leaving him—of her making him leave her.

"Rick," she prompts, looking at the cabbie.

"I…"

"Take me home to your kid."

He sucks in a breath and leans over to press a kiss to her uninjured cheek. He then turns back to the cabbie, who looks put upon, frowning impatiently. "Intersection of Broome and Crosby, Soho, please," he provides as her hand slides to his thigh, squeezing gently.

He reaches out and pulls her into his side, wrapping his arm around her curled shoulders. She lets out a small sigh and relaxes against him. He breathes her in, amazed that she's letting him take her home, that she has no desire to see her own apartment, that she's breathing so slowly against his shoulder, eyes closed.

"We'll have to hit my place before we go out to the Hamptons," she mumbles some minutes later.

It's probably unhealthy, but he thinks his heart might be about to beat out of his chest. He knows she loves him—believes her with everything he has. But he honestly didn't expect her to take everything to heart, to follow the plan he laid out in the room. And now she is, and he loves her so much that the words stick in his throat. She's all he's wanted for almost two years, and more, if he's being honest with himself. And now he has her, soft, tired, pliant against his chest, trusting him to take care of her, to whisk her away and leave the evils of their lives behind.

"Okay?" He catches a smile on her face and he nods against the crown of her head.

"More than okay."

Her fingers trace circles against his thigh and he revels in the small, contented, exhausted sigh that falls from her lips. He watches the city pass out the window over her head, light barely dancing against the glass of the large office buildings lining the avenue. It catches on the metal of closing street carts, casting reflections down on the cars, on the branches of trees, sprawling them out in long shadows.

They come to a halt at an intersection. The noises of traffice and bustle—the non-destructive, normal, regular noises—surround them, reminding him that the world outside goes on just as before. It's only in the backseat of this taxi that everything's changed, everything's shifted.

It's only there with them that the mundane becomes extraordinary—that the small beam of sunlight that filters through the window to hit the top of her boot becomes the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Her toe twitches, bouncing in the swatch of light, and she turns her cheek to press a kiss to his shoulder. "There's blood on my foot," she remarks.

He peers at the offending smudge, realizing that it is the crusted remains of dried blood that dulls the shine on her black heeled boot—sees it for the first time today.

"Yours or mine?" he wonders.

She smiles, her lips curling against his shirt as he runs his fingers through her hair. "Who cares?"