[ let down your guard ]
The case is wrapped. Ben Conrad, the man that they had pinned down as their suspect, is dead and on his way to the morgue. Beckett sends her detail home for the second time with every intention of luxuriating after the stress of the week in a long, hot shower. Underneath the warming spray, she can vaguely make out the sound of her own phone, but it's probably not important, she thinks. And if it is, they'll leave a message.
When it rings again, and keeps ringing, she finally gives in and gets out. Wrapping a towel around herself, she moves toward her charging phone on her tiptoes and sneaks a glance at the caller ID: Castle. Beckett sighs quietly and picks up.
"What, Castle?"
"It wasn't Ben Conrad!" Castle's voice is hurried and out-of-breath, almost as if he's been running, and Beckett gets a sinking feeling in her gut. "He's not the killer! The killer's still alive! The killer's still alive!"
A horrifying realization hits her right as the beeping starts. She turns -
Goodbye, Nikki.
- all she can do is run, the heat at her back and the explosion ringing in her ears. The phone dropped, the towel forgotten, she makes a running dive for the closest barricade (the bathroom) and launches herself through the open doorway, a fireball on her heels. She hits the floor, skinning her knee and bashing her head against the ground, but doesn't stop her roll, turning and turning, until she comes to a stop on her back, gasping for breath.
Dazed, naked, covered in ash and blood, her eyes refocus on the rafters over her head.
When it rings again, and keeps ringing, she finally gives in and gets out. Wrapping a towel around herself, she moves toward her charging phone on her tiptoes and sneaks a glance at the caller ID: Castle. Beckett sighs quietly and picks up.
"What, Castle?"
"It wasn't Ben Conrad!" Castle's voice is hurried and out-of-breath, almost as if he's been running, and Beckett gets a sinking feeling in her gut. "He's not the killer! The killer's still alive! The killer's still alive!"
A horrifying realization hits her right as the beeping starts. She turns -
Goodbye, Nikki.
- all she can do is run, the heat at her back and the explosion ringing in her ears. The phone dropped, the towel forgotten, she makes a running dive for the closest barricade (the bathroom) and launches herself through the open doorway, a fireball on her heels. She hits the floor, skinning her knee and bashing her head against the ground, but doesn't stop her roll, turning and turning, until she comes to a stop on her back, gasping for breath.
Dazed, naked, covered in ash and blood, her eyes refocus on the rafters over her head.