The thing that always struck Beckett about Castle was that he was never, even in the beginning, afraid of anything. Oh, sure, he got nervous when it was appropriate, and he could occasionally be prevailed upon to exhibit due caution (usually if there was shooting involved), but to exhibit actual fear seemed to run counter to Castle's very nature.

That, she supposed later, was why she had reacted at first with exasperation when, turning to leave the crime scene, she discovered him standing stock- still near the edge of the rooftop patio, his face completely blank and his eyes dilated. She called to him and, when he didn't respond, she blew an irritated puff of air up toward her bangs and started toward him around the victim's copious flowering plants, her fingers already itching to pop him on the head and return him to reality. When she got close to him, though, she realized that something was wrong.

He was sweating hard, something she'd rarely seen him do, and his face was flushed with more than the midsummer sun. His breath was also coming fast and shallow – he was panting, as though he'd been running, though now that she thought of it, he had barely done any moving at all since they'd come up to the patio, and she'd actually managed to get through the preliminary crime scene examination without any interruptions from him.

"Castle?" she said, her voice pitched low. "What's the matter?"

He didn't reply, but she realized that his eyes were locked onto something, and she turned to see what he was staring at. There on the brick wall, tucked in an alcove between a gargoyle and a mass of flowering vine, was a large beehive. The round structure was fairly humming with activity; fat winged bodies moved over it with single-minded determination, pollen-dusted bees moving in and clean bees moving out, as the hive blindly went about its business.

Castle's afraid of bees? The thought wavered in the back of her mind for a moment, but she brushed it away, in favor of stepping between him and the hive, breaking his gaze. "Castle."

He blinked, his eyes going blank for a second before focusing on her. He didn't speak – she could see his fight for coherence behind his eyes, but he didn't have words just yet – and she reached out, putting a hand on his arm. "Come on," she said gently. "Let's go inside."

They didn't speak all the way back to the precinct, but by the time they got there, his color and breathing were close to normal and she was able to stop shooting worried glances his direction. She ducked into the break room for coffee as he collapsed into his usual chair beside her desk, and when she came back, she set a cup on the desk next to him before seating herself and studying him. "Want to tell me what that was about?"

He shrugged, looking more embarrassed now than anything else. "It's a phobia," he admitted, his voice low. "When I was… seven or eight, my nanny at the time took me to a park, and some kids were throwing rocks at a beehive in a tree. When it fell, the bees swarmed. Several of us were stung, but I spent three days in the hospital. Apparently, I'm allergic." He shrugged slightly and tossed her a shadow of his usual grin. "Not much call for bees in my line of work, so I don't usually have trouble."

She smiled back slightly. "It's totally understandable," she said softly. She debated for a moment, then leaned forward, her elbows on her desk. "When I was little, our neighbors had a German shepherd. It got out one day, and I was playing with it… and I guess it decided it didn't like the game, because all of a sudden it just came at me." She raised a hand, touching her left shoulder as she remembered. "I ended up having to have a rabies series, the dog was put down, the whole bit. After that, I was terrified of German shepherds."

Castle blinked, raised one eyebrow, and ostentatiously turned to look across the room at the K-9 officer standing in the chief's doorway, his large black-and-tan shepherd sitting attentively at his feet. Kate laughed softly. "I know. To be completely honest, that was the hardest thing about becoming a cop; I had to get over that fear. I finally spent some time volunteering at the K-9 training center to get familiar with them."

He studied her face. "I am not going to go out snuggling bees," he said firmly.

She laughed. "I wasn't going to suggest it," she assured him. Seeing that he had finally gotten calmed all the way down (and feeling that there had been entirely enough of the touchy-feely for the moment), she opened her notebook and a file folder, picked up a pen, and gave him an evil smile. "Now, do you want to talk about what I saw at the crime scene while you were busy ogling the wildlife, or are you still too busy whimpering like a little girl?"

"Oh, that was a low blow, Detective."

"Not nearly as low as the one that killed our vic," she replied, beginning to make notes. "Do you want to hear about this or not?"

xxx

Author's note: I do not ordinarily post my stories to this site, as a great deal of my work is rated MA/NC17. If you would like to read more of my work, please feel free to visit me at xdawnfirex-fic (dot) livejournal (dot) com.

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