Chapter 1 – The Riviere

Chirp.

Chirp.

Chirp.

Chirp. I finally manage to get a hand out of the covers around the offending device before it has a chance to slice the silence once more. "Beckett," I whisper flopping onto my back closing my eyes just listening to dispatch run down the details, brief as they were.

Combing a hand through my hair I squint at the clock that reads four minutes after four. "Ok, text me the address, notify Detectives Ryan and Esposito. I'll be there in an hour."

I'd been whispering in an effort to let him get just a few more moments of precious sleep. But even as I hit end on the call I can feel him rolling over next to me, warm questing fingers sliding across my bare hipbone. Easily sliding over the opposing hip when I roll into him, and his eyelids flutter open.

Reaching up I slip my fingers through his hair, sweeping it off his forehead. "Morning," I breath into him, tipping my head to catch his lips letting my forehead rest against his and my eyelids to drift closed, relishing in the warm floating sensation of his bed anchored by nothing but his arm around my waist and his breath fluttering over my cheek as he fights to stay conscious.

"Does it count as morning if the birds haven't even started singing?"

I can't help but chuckle a little bit pulling myself closer. "It's February there aren't any birds to sing, besides we live in Manhattan there's really only pigeons."

"You are far too coherent for this conversation," he groans tracing patterns on my back, catching my lips in a soft sleepy kiss, slipping his tongue through my lips to run soft patters over mine, enticing me to stick with more traditional middle of the night activities.

Eventually, I force myself away from the heat of his body. Sitting up pushing the covers out of my way trying to escape. "Come on Castle. We've got a body," I tell him, forcing myself towards the shower. Chuckling when I hear the swear fall from his lips when he trips in his rush to join me.

########

The sky is barely showing signs of morning when we pull up in front of the building on the lower east side. Castle has been chattering incessantly next to me the entire way there. It's his way of staying awake that early in the morning, just constantly talking. To the other drivers on the road, to the radio hosts with their inane morning talk, and to me. It's generally about nothing, and usually pretty entertaining because his story spinning is not at its finest as he works his way through the first cup of coffee in the pre-dawn dark.

The chatter comes to a halt as I pull into an open space on the curb, throwing the police tag on the dash in case someone was stupid enough to mistake my tricked out unmarked for a regular car. It's happened before. "This is where the crime scene is?" He's hesitant.

Normally he's incredulous, but there's something in his tone that makes me turn back to him and ask, "This is the address dispatch gave me why?"

He shrugs closing his door and joining her on the sidewalk, still looking up at the building. "It's just that this is the safest building in New York."

"What do you mean by that?" I can't get over how puzzled he looks at the moment, like the idea that something horrible could happen in such a nice place shakes him to the core, even though we see some horrific things in places like this all the time.

"Well it's got biometric security, a full security detail at all times, video and bio feeds into all the apartments, and they run a background check on everyone that enters the premise." He tells me, eyes finally coming off the sky rise in front of them too look at me, the crease between his eyes only getting deeper, we haven't even seen the crime scene yet and he's already grappling with how this is even possible.

I stop for a moment and look up at the gargantuan building, puzzling over that for just a moment myself. Sucking in a deep breath I determine there is no way that this case is going to be easy is there? "Well, maybe we'll get lucky and all of those security measures mean that we'll be able to catch the guy right away."

"Then why'd we even get called in at all. Shouldn't the security team have detained whoever committed the crime so uniforms could come down and get the suspect and take him into custody. Dispatched wouldn't have called us so early if it was that easy."

"I don't know Castle," I shake my head.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he says under his breath. In four years, I don't think that I've ever heard him say anything like that. Normally he'd be vibrating with excitement over a splashy murder in a high security building throwing out spy conspiracies right and left.

"You don't have to be in on this one." I pull open the door, only to find ourselves in what looks like a decontamination chamber, flickering to life. "You can go home."

"I have a bad feeling about something and your first instinct is to send me home? No thanks, someone's got to stay here and protect you," a ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

"Says the man without a gun." I hip check him gently hoping for a bigger smile. But any sense of ease drops away as the doors in front of us open and a huge man in an Armani suit and an earpiece, gun visible on his waist, followed by a man in all black clutching an assault rifle.

"You must be Detective Beckett and Richard Castle?" Armani says.

Pulling out my badge I offer it to the man, "And you are?" I prompt even as he carefully studies the badge.

"Mr. Harris, Head of Security here at the Riviere," he introduces himself apparently satisfied by the badge. "Before you can go up we're going to have to get some basic information from you."

"I'm sorry?" This is getting a little out of control it's 5am in the middle of February, there's a crime scene somewhere in this building and we're being instructed to hand over personal information by a linebacker in a suit.

"We'll need a fingerprint, and optic scan from both of you," he says curtly, turning on his six and pushing open a panel that turns out to be a door leading us into, what apparently is an information gathering point.

"I'm sorry but this is unnecessary both of our prints are on file with the NYPD and I see no reason for you to take an optic scan." Castle huffs indignantly behind me; it's the first sound he's made since the appearance of Harris and his man in black.

"I do ask your apologies Detective, I simply want to get you in our system so that you can navigate the building yourself to some extent. You'll be needing the fingerprints to activate the elevator and the optic scan for the crime scene and building."

Shifting a little so I can catch Castle's profile next to me I try to gauge where he is on this absurd journey. We haven't even seen the body yet and I'm putting this down as one of the weirdest cases ever. There's a little nod from Castle, so I guess we might as well get on with it. "Quickly then. I'd like to see the body and crime scene before the day is over."

"Of course Detective, if you'll both just step this way." He ushers me over to a counter where the man in black as taken a seat next to a computer.

########

Ten minutes later Castle is having his eyeball scanned by the front door of the apartment that is the crime scene. "This is really cool," he hisses standing as still as possible while the thing in the wall reads his sparkling blues.

"So we're over the ominous feeling?" I ask.

He chuckles stepping back, "Not at all, but I'll take the feeling of boarding the starship enterprise anyway."

I can't help but smile and him with a shake of my head, even has the door slides efficiently into the wall. Finally admitting us entrance into the crime scene, which to my relief is in fact buzzing with techs and uniforms, dusting surfaces for prints, and tagging evidence. Ryan greets us in the streamlined entryway. "Welcome aboard." He grins looking at Castle to see how my partner is taking this morning, which so far is right up his alley.

"Glad we could make it," I scoff. "So what have we got?"

Ryan grins and wiggles his eyebrows, "This case is for you Castle. So much so that I'm going to say it first. C.I.A."

"Told you I had a bad feeling about this," mumbles Castle.

"And what on earth leads you to believe that is the case Ryan?" I snap my gloves on trying to ignore the level of giddiness that Ryan is exuding and the absolute calm almost terror that Castle is putting off.

"Well the victim is 37 year old Dennis Watson according to the build records and his license. He was unmarried, lived alone, and from every indication here worked at a bank. But that doesn't explain the apartment from the year three thousand." Ryan starts leading us through the apartment.

Esposito materializes, through what I can only assume is another sliding door, and joins in on the rundown. "There is no sign of forced entry, no fingerprints anywhere in the apartment including the victims, there is nothing on the security feed for the apartment, and no indications on the bio feeds to the apartment that there was ever anyone in here but Mr. Watson."

"How'd he die?" Castle asks

Ryan grins, "Well it looks like a bullet to the chest but you'll have to double check with Lanie."

"Did you find the weapon?" I ask them.

"Nope, no weapon, no shells."

"How is that possible? If there was no one in here but the vic there has to be a weapon and there has to be shells. This feels really bad Beckett."

"So you've said Castle," I snap because at this point that observation is not helping. "What else guys?"

"Well there's one more thing…" Espo hesitates

"But you should probably see if for yourselves." Ryan finishes and another door slides away in front of us opening up to the crime scene.

Sitting in an armchair directly across from us is a man with what is pretty clearly a gunshot wound to the chest. But that's not what catches my breath or causes Castle to jerk violently behind me.

Sitting in that chair is Castle.