A tiny green light and the welcoming click of the lock invite her to push the door open, the plastic card tucked away just before she steps forward into the dimly-lit room. She's grateful she'd thought to leave a lamp on when she'd headed to the precinct that morning, aware enough that she'd hide in her office until she could no longer ignore the call of this unfamiliar bed, returning long after the sun had gone. Kate moves to kick the door shut and secure the deadbolt, but is stopped by the toe of a heavy black boot pressed against the jamb. The curl of determined fingers around the edge of the door come next, and she has her weapon out and the safety off when she hears the bark of the voice on the other side.
"Put your gun away, Beckett."
Of course. Fuck. She steps back and holsters her gun. "You know, I'd rather not shoot one of my best detectives, but you make it more tempting when you follow me home without warning," she mutters.
"So it's true," Esposito nods, turning to snap the locks into place. "You really left Castle."
"It's not what you think."
He spins on her, sharp and knowing. "Bullshit. He hasn't poked around the precinct, you've been working late without so much as breathing his name, and you just called this hotel room your 'home.' Time to revise your story."
She's tired – her personal hell has made it difficult to sleep on the few occasions she's bothered to try – and she scrubs the exhaustion from her face for several silent seconds. Then Kate kicks her shoes beneath the small desk and removes her holster and weapon to set them aside; the gun remains within reach and Espo is armed, too, so her heartbeat settles into something resembling normal. After she yanks her shirt free of her waistband and unbuttons her cuffs, she clears her throat to finally speak again, her hands on her hips in a futile attempt to intimidate the man awaiting her response.
"You might as well sit down," she said, tipping her head toward the desk chair. "You don't look interested in leaving any time soon."
Espo drops into the chair and props his boots on the edge of the bed while Kate wanders to the window, comforting herself with a view of the city she loves. It's such a silly thing – and probably selfish – but she can't help but hope Castle's doing the same just blocks away, that somehow they are connecting over the bright lights of lower Manhattan. She'll grasp at anything that will keep him close, even if she's the one who walked out.
"Beckett?"
"Yes, I left." Kate keeps her eyes set on the horizon, forcing her voice into something more confident than what she feels. "It's not permanent…not if he'll forgive me when I'm done."
"Done with what? What the hell do you think you need to do without him? And this better not be about whatever AG mess you just escaped, because that would mean you're leaving me and Ryan behind, too."
"It's not that simple."
"Of course not. It never is with you," Espo scoffs.
Kate pivots, already prepared to surrender in a fight she doesn't want to have; he won't understand any justification she offers anyway, so there's little she can do beyond biting her lip until the familiar taste of blood touches her tongue. She thinks words linger there, too.
Finally, she sighs and takes the few steps back to toward the bed, resting on the end of it to face Espo. "Allison Hyde was a scapegoat. There's still something bigger going on and I need to figure out what it is. But while I do that, I have to protect Castle by keeping him out of it. I'm a liability, and he can't die because of me."
"You're a liability because you're an idiot."
"Jesus, Espo, I-"
"No. We've been through too much together for me to blow smoke up your ass now." He remains seated, but he leans forward, his eyes blazing dark and angry. "You think that Castle is going to be safe because you moved out of the loft? Where the hell have you been for the past seven years? That man hasn't stopped chasing you yet…he's not going to let go of this. And then what do you think is going to happen? Your former AG team is dead. William Bracken is dead. If you think you two aren't about to be next on that list, you're crazy."
She looks down at the wedding band still on her finger, the weight almost impossible to bear. "You used to have my back."
"Still do. Doesn't mean I can't be pissed about it."
Falling quiet again, Kate rakes her fingers through her hair and doesn't shy away from the emotion wrapped around his statement. He's right about everything and she'd realized her mistake the moment she'd bailed on her husband with a broken voice and tear-stained cheeks. She still doesn't understand what stopped her from walking back through the open door she'd just left. "I don't know why I'm like this and I don't know how to stop. Why am I so screwed up?" she whispers.
Espo snorts, though there's no humor in it. "I don't know. I'm not a shrink."
"You're at least as blunt as mine is. Give it a shot."
"You want me to analyze you? That's way above my pay grade, Beckett."
"No, I-I don't know," she groans. "I just want you to talk to me. Help me."
He says nothing, finally rising from the chair instead and reaching for the minibar. It's not a bad idea. Or maybe it's a terrible one. Regardless, he hands her a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels while he keeps the Patron for himself; both are empty before anything else is said, though she shakes her head at the offer of a second shot.
When Kate scoots back toward the pillows stacked against the headboard, she sits with her legs crossed and looks up at the ceiling as though she might find answers there. Esposito returns to his seat and hunches forward, his elbows on his knees.
"Were you like this before your mom died? I mean, did you always go after things that were over your head? Did you always do stupid things because you couldn't let go until the right side won?"
"I take back what I said earlier. You're much more blunt, and lacking my doctor's professional tact," she sighs. "I've always been stubborn, yeah. And I was raised by two lawyers, including a civil rights attorney who had a passion for digging into other people's messes in the name of justice. I wanted to keep up that fight, or at least something like it, so I was pre-law with big dreams and blind ambition. I suppose I just derailed when she died. Took a darker and more dangerous path to the same goal."
Esposito stares at her, some kind of disappointment and disbelief hidden below too much understanding. "I can't tell if it's good or bad that you're fully aware of the danger in your life."
"Okay, but I really thought I was better after I got thrown off that goddamn roof. After I confronted Bracken and decided to live with a truce. I thought I'd changed, and that I was out of the rabbit hole for good."
"That was three years ago. And I hate to break it you, but this isn't the first questionable decision you've made since then. I think your rabbit hole is a lot wider than you'd like it to be."
Her eyes narrow, a headache blooming at the base of her neck. "What else have I done?"
"Seriously?" he laughs, and oh, Castle isn't the only person she's managed to frustrate on a regular basis. "You got yourself fired from your fancy AG job by going behind their backs. You got tortured on a poorly-planned undercover op that even Gates was eager to get you out of. You became a damn fugitive before busting Bracken and you wandered off with no backup during the 3XK case. I don't know whether your decision-making comes from some insanely moral drive or whether you just love adrenaline, but fuck, Beckett, you do not lead a normal cop's life."
Kate swallows hard against the rising lump in her throat, presses her palm to the pressure in her head. "So when I told Castle I just wanted him, it was a lie."
"Not really a lie. Just missing the bigger picture." He gets up and makes another move for the liquor stash, grabbing something she can't quite see, throwing the shot back, and dropping the miniature bottle into the trash. When he begins to pace, she tracks his path across the room. "You think you got thrown off a roof and then magically ended up in Castle's arms while your other issues went away? Think again. You're gonna have to balance your fairy tale with reality."
It's a lot of honesty to hear after a long day – a few long days, really – and she begs her tears to wait until she's alone again. "Is there any hope, Javi?"
"Of course," he says, the irritation on his face so similar to the eye roll she mastered long ago. "But you gotta get straight on a few things first. One, you're not gonna protect Castle by running off without him. He's never stayed in the car when we've gone after a suspect, and he's not gonna stay at home while you chase a federal conspiracy. Keeping the truth from him is putting him in more danger. And you keeping this from me and Ryan makes me want to kick your ass, so that's dangerous, too."
"Two, you shouldn't even be working this at all. I get it…your old team was killed and you're pissed off. Bracken was somehow involved and you're pissed off. There are bad guys hurting good guys and you're pissed off. But you gotta start making better choices. We're supposed to serve and protect, but stop trying so damn hard to get yourself killed. I'm not burying another captain."
"Third, get yourself an appointment with your real therapist. I'm not cut out for this shit."
Something cracks in her chest at his final point, the relief given a chance to seep into her lungs and allow her to breathe again. "You think it's that easy?"
"Have you done anything to follow up on this Allison Hyde cover-up yet? Does anyone know you plan to go after it?"
"No. I sort of panicked when I left, but I've been using the past couple of days to figure out the captain gig while begging this gunshot wound to stop screaming at me," she scowls.
Esposito shrugs in response. "Then, yes, it's that easy. Show up for work each day and do a damn good job at it. Get whatever justice you can, keeping fighting for the victims, and then put it away for the night. This career we've chosen? It matters. It matters a lot. But your marriage does, too. Don't forget that."
"How do you think Castle will react though? Do I even have a marriage now?"
"Yo, I'm not a shrink and I am definitely not a psychic. I don't know what he'll do." He frowns down at her, his voice low. "You really messed up here, but I know he loves you and I hope you can figure it all out. And I'm not joking about the therapist. The real one."
She purses her lips and nods as she slides off the side of the bed, and together they move toward the door. "Thank you. I just-thanks."
"I don't know why you're standing around thanking me. You gotta pack." He bumps his shoulder into hers, careful not to make contact with her injury. "This place is not your home."
A/N: This was written for an awesome friend who never wavers in her support of my writing. M, I hope you have the happiest of happy birthdays tomorrow! You deserve the best. :)