I wrote this immediately after watching the season finale. Because I enjoy making characters suffer.

I don't own anything you recognise.


There she was. His target. Making her way to the swings. A movement in his peripheral vision distracted him, and he cursed as his footing slipped, sending rocks clattering to the concrete beneath. It was the writer. Of course it was the writer.

He watched as they talked, as they both took a seat, as they faced each other with stormy expressions. Good, an argument. What better way to mask what he was about to do? He saw the writer hold up a hand and stop her interrupting him.

Time to get ready. Out came the metal, bit by bit, each end connected to another as he built his weapon, the movements rapid with familiarity as he placed the finished article at his feet.

Ready.

He stole a glance at the pair. Still talking. Good. He had time to execute it well, to make it a job to be proud of: not like before. He would prove to the Boss that he was competent. Crosshairs aligned. Target sighted.

Aim.

Finger curled round the trigger, elbows tucked in, knees planted firmly. Breathe in, breathe out, check sights. The mantra cycled menacingly round his head, pounding and beating a rhythm to match his adrenaline-fueled heart as it battered the inside of his chest without remorse or regard for the fragility of his shell.

Fire.


"Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?" The words took a moment to process, halting the tears on her cheeks. His gaze was burning into hers and pierced her soul with the pure, unadulterated fear she saw reflected. She swallowed.

"Castle, I-" her answer caught in her throat. She swallowed again and ran the back of her hand across her eyes to dispel the water collecting there. She drew in a deep breath to calm the tremors that had broken out across her hunched shoulders. Trepidation seeped out of the man in front of her, and she was loath to disturb the serious air between them with the wrong answer. His unwavering attention was fixed on her as she opened her mouth to deliver their sentence.

"Cas-"

Before she could finish, she was down. Her lover's name had been completed by a bang.

Gone.


Will be continued - tis a work in progress...

Yeah.

Have a great weekend

~wolfergirl