a/n: Multi-chapter. Castle/Beckett. May take awhile to update. If you have any questions please ask me, like clarifications. Not beta read so I apologize on my behalf for mistakes.
Please review!
Dance of the Hours
The ballet wasn't really Kate Beckett's "thing." It wasn't etched into her planner anywhere, and she didn't have the special jewelry to wear to it. She had only gone to see "The Nutcracker" once with her parents, and now she could barely remember the story. She wasn't particularly interested into this type of art, watching girls and tutus and men in spandex dance around telling some cheesy tale. However, Kate wasn't watching the ballet out of enjoyment tonight; she was watching it because a case had come up involving the New York City Ballet, a very…gruesome case.
She had received the call late Friday night while in the middle of watching reruns of "Scrubs," the only thing on television. She had picked up just to find out that one of the soloists had been found dead in one of the studios.
Upon arrival, Beckett had discovered the body lying there, fish wire tied to her hands and feet and gently taped to the ceiling, like a puppet. She wore a white tutu probably from the upcoming show Swan Lake, the delicate feathers stained in blood. The dancer's pointe shoes tied neatly around her neck, the satin pink ribbons soaking in blood. Her eyes still open, a look of terror was visible across her face, and there were tearstains still on her cheeks. No doubt that this girl did not die peaceful death.
Castle had commented on how it took away from the innocence of the art.
The ballet director just laughed and said, "It's not an innocent art." He was the first they questioned.
Before the man had even said a word, he had made her angry inside. He acted as if this happened every single day, and he didn't really care about, as if she was just another dancer lost, because he could pluck another off the street at any moment. Beckett clenched her fists at her side, before Castle grabbed her hand, forcing her to release the fist.
She looked down at him, a questioning look on her face, but she didn't say anything, and she didn't let go. He looked bored, like a man painted from a photo, forever to remain that way. Empty, sullen and wrathful for eternity. Her nails dug into his palm, and he looked at her, she mouthed a 'sorry,' and proceeded into entering the interrogation room, releasing Castle's hand, now with her nail dents, both of them already missing the subtle feeling of warmth.
The man had been somewhere in his mid-fifties, slightly balding. He glared at both Beckett and Castle through his thick lenses; his arms remained crossed the whole time, he spoke in a monotone as if this was a part of his daily routine.
"Sir, do you know anything about this recent murder?" Beckett asked.
"Am I a suspect?" He asked, showing absolutely no emotion.
"Not officially, we just want to ask a few questions." Beckett changed her tone of voice, but kept her eyes fixed on the guy.
"How well did you know Nicolette?" Nicolette Burnstien, that was her name. She had recently turned twenty-seven years old and was scheduled to perform during the opening night of Swan Lake as the "white swan." She had no children, and no husband, and as far as they knew, no boyfriend either. Her life was strictly dance.
The station had records of her. She was went missing just several years ago, and was found late Christmas eve recently. There was no indication that she was kidnapped, so they police just figured she ran away, and decided to return. They couldn't hold anything against her because she was a full grown adult.
"Just as well as I knew the other dancers." He replied, his mouth barely moving.
"How well did you know the other dancers?" Castle jumped in.
The man looked at Castle, and then looked back at Detective Beckett, "Just as well as I knew Nicolette." He replied.
"Sir, this is not a game." Detective Beckett gritted her teeth in frustration. This was getting nowhere.
"Of course not, Detective, does the word 'interrogation' resemble the world 'game' at all?" He coughed slightly without covering his mouth, before letting his eyes dart from Castle to Beckett.
"No." Beckett answered honestly.
"Well then, I suggest you not accuse me of playing games, Detective and…" He motioned his hands up and down at Castle.
"Castle. My name is Richard Castle. I'm assisting Detective Beckett with the case."
"Did I ask?" The man's eyes went back to Beckett, awaiting the next question.
"Sir, how well did you know your dancers?"
"Not very well. We didn't make a point to meddle our ways into their personal lives. That would be exhaustively unnecessary, superfluous, it would be. Balanchine did not create the ballet so that we could get to know each other and make friends; this is a prestigious institution, a classical art, not Barney. Balanchine's purpose was strictly related to dance." He briefly paused, shrugging his shoulders.
"You must know something about the dancers, when they auditioned for the company…" Beckett trailed off.
"Our dancers are handpicked. Each and every one of them. We don't ask about their lives, because frankly, we do not care. If they're good, and have a massive amount of potential, they're in. If they don't, well it's really quite simple, darling, they're out. Detective, and the assistant, is it really that hard to comprehend?"
"Where were you between the hours of three and six a.m, last Thursday?" Beckett's eyes were beginning to get tired of glaring at this man. The M.E. had verified that the death had taken place at that time. Her throat was slit, explaining the blood stain on the ribbons of the toe shoes. The killer was careful, because he or she left no evidence behind, like a shadow vanishing into the darkness with time.
"Where most people are between the hours of three and six a.m, asleep."
"Do you have anybody that can verify that?"
"You mean, does anybody watch me sleep, or do I have stalkers? No. Listen, Detective, if you really want to find out more information, ask the other dancers; they may not all be friends, but they gossip. They know at least something about each other being cooped up in a studio for hours." He sat back in his chair and relaxed his shoulders, finally averting his gaze from the Detective.
Several hours later, the case wasn't exactly taking flight. They had questioned several dancers who simply mentioned that she was an amazing dancer, and nothing more. They even talked to a couple youth students, who just gasped when they heard the name and giggled, and some even talked about how they wanted to be just like her one day. Of course, not anymore.
It was after lunch when they decided to go observe class, the teacher had not been so keen on it, but had eventually allowed them to pull up two very uncomfortable metal chairs and watch the class.
Before the music even began, Richard Castle could only think of one thing, "This was his idea of hell."
He watched as the dancers were basically put on show for the teachers to see in their skin tight navy blue leotards. Their hair pulled up in tight buns, pointe shoes strapped tightly to their feet. The teacher flipped through CD's on the side of the massive studio as some of the dancers' conversated, and stretched.
He winced as he watched them all slide into splits in all directions, pressing their bellybutton's to the floor.
"I should date a ballerina, they're rather flexible." He commented, leaning into speak to the detective without being heard. She made no comment, but set aside a heart beat to roll her eyes.
"Let's begin." The teacher clapped her hands, and Castle pulled out his notepad, prepared to jot down notes whenever needed. She was somewhere in her mid fifties, her grey hair pulled back into a tight bun, just like her dancers.
"Balancoires, in attitude, loosen the hip, sixteen, sous-sus, soutenu, easy, no mistakes, no toe boxes, you know the drill." She turned around and turned on the music, not bothering to clarify.
The dancers stood in a solid first position, their heads tilted up at a certain angle, Castle noted that they all looked so focused, but still the smallest of smiles was visible on their pursed lips. They had pride in what they did.
As the hour went on, Castle watched the dancers twist their bodies into positions he never really imagined possible beyond the Olympics. There was no suspicious behavior. Slightly bored, he reached over and grabbed Beckett's hand again, like earlier, gripping her thin fingers tightly, squeezing them. She looked up, but like before didn't protest.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "How do they get their legs up so high?"
"Castle, they dance everyday. They probably have since they were ten years old."
"Hey, look at that girl right there." He pointed to a girl, seemingly younger than some of the students, with fishing wire tied around her wrists.
"What would she have that for?" Beckett asked, looking carefully at the younger girl's thin wrists.
"She doesn't seem like the criminal mastermind does she?"
"No, but she might know something." Beckett thought about standing up from her chair, but thought better of it, walking across the room from this across the floor combination was probably not the brightest idea.
She slouched back in her chair, and leaned into Castle, incidentally slipping her hand into his, which was resting on his lap. "Maybe she was making a bracelet." She said.
"Now who's the one with the theories?" He commented, snorting.
"It's not a theory, Castle." She sighed in annoyance.
"Then what is it, Detective, a hypothesis, an educated guess?" He said, almost sarcastically.
"They're the same thing, and I'm just listing our options."
"How come you're allowed to do that, and when I list options, you bite my ass about evidence?" He tilted his head as one of the dancers practically glared at him before returning her gaze back to the teacher who was giving the student with fishing wire a correction. A harsh correction.
"Is that what I asked for, Lily?" The teacher was practically yelling.
"No, Ms. Kirsten." The student responded.
"I asked for a triple. Did you not hear me? Do you have hearing problems? Are you legs disconnected from your brain? Were you brainwashed after being a studio with Nicolette for hours?" As she listed, her calm yelling became violent screeching.
"No ma'am." She replied. So she had known Nicolette. All Kate had to do was to figure out how much she knew about their victim…or rather, did she commit the murder.
"Ms. Kirsten, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I heard a rumor that Nicolette opted out of the next show." Another student with dark skin, and dark eyes brought up. So they hadn't even told their students.
"She didn't opt out." Lily replied, her voice gaining defensiveness.
"This is not a time to be discussing rumors, and if she did back down, Christina, it wouldn't be the first time." The teacher's eyebrows were raised, her eyes narrowing.
"She didn't back out, okay, she was murdered, she can't perform in the damn show if she's dead." She raised her voice. Several gasps filled the room, echoing off the mirrors as the teachers eyes widened in shock.
"That's it, Lily, I don't know what's wrong with you today, but I'm asking you to leave class until you are composed, tu comprendes?"
"You know what's wrong, two of my friends have died this year, and I have to go to rehearsal everyday, that's what's wrong. Tu comprendes?" She raised her hands in the air, grabbed her bag and stormed out, Beckett and Castle following close behind.
"Excuse me!" Beckett called out, walking behind the girl.
"Lily!" Castle tried her name, which got her attention.
She turned around, her hazel eyes meeting with Castles, "if you're here to tell me how much I suck, go ahead, if you're here to tell me how lucky I am, fuck off, and if you're here…"
"Detective Beckett, NYPD, we need to ask you a few questions regarding Nicolette murder." She cut the girl off mid sentence.
"Fine. But let me," she gestured to her pointe shoes, "take these off." Kate nodded, watching the girl sit down on a near by bench to remove her toe shoes. She watched her take them off, carefully, and then reached over to massage her toes which were bleeding.
"Yikes, does this happen all the time?" Kate asked, motioning to the blood staining the toe-pads.
"No. It started happening when rehearsals with your victim started, I started dancing twice as much as the girls in there." She nodded her head in the direction of the studio they were in a moment ago.
"What do you mean?" Kate asked, being careful around the girl.
"We all audition for our parts, Detective; they're not handed to us on a plate. This year, I did a pretty good audition I guess, because they're letting me train as an understudy in the company show, Swan Lake, because of that I dance twice as much." She removed her other shoe, and pressed on her toes a little more.
"What did you mean when you said that you had already lost another friend?" Kate asked, feeling something slip around her shoulders. She realized it was Castle, and shrugged her shoulders to give him the hint to let her go, but either didn't take notice of it or ignored it completely, because he just let his arms hang there, but luckily, Lily didn't seem to care at all.
"Earlier in the year, we lost one of our apprentice members, her name was Inamura, it was early in the year, when we members of our level auditioned for the apprentice program. There were two spots left, and three girls they were debating on giving the spot to. Ina was one of them, Christina one, and I was the other." She paused.
"Who got it?" Castle's voice chimed in as he leaned his head down on Kate's shoulders, resting his cheek against hers. She scowled in annoyance, and pushed his head away slightly with her hands.
"Christina and I got the spot, but Ina wasn't happy about it. Originally, I thought she would get over it, but I guess she didn't. Her mom was a former NYCB dancer and left her and her dad at a when Ina was still young. Her dad, well he had some kind of visceral cancer, and he always loved ballet. He wanted to see his daughter perform so badly with the company, but he didn't have much time left. She was so close…but when she didn't get in, well, she put a bullet to her head." Lily's eyes went up to the ceiling, waiting for something to fall from the heavens.
"When did you meet Nicolette?" Beckett asked.
"Early February, when rehearsals started, she was cast as the 'white swan,' and I was an understudy for the 'black swan,' she mentioned she knew who my mother was, and said it must suck to be me."
"Why would it suck?" Castle asked, un-looping's his arms from around Detective Beckett and instead, grabbing an empty spot next to her.
"My mom was a dancer here, and they expect the talent to be passed on." She shrugged.
"Why do you have fishing wire tied around your wrists?" Kate pointed out.
"It was for an art project." She answered, lifting her wrist.
"An art project?"
"An art project." She confirmed. Kate thought about it, it was believable, she guessed, she looked at Castle, who didn't have anything to say.
"Do you know anybody who would have wanted Nicolette dead?"
"Not really. I knew people who disliked her, who were jealous of her, but none of the wanted her dead. At least I don't think. If you want to see or talk to some of the dancers, just come backstage after tonight's performance." She got up, and started to walk away.
"Here." She walked back, and handed them two tickets, before strutting away again.
The action led to where she was now, sitting in the second row of the audience, watching the black swan dance, a mask painted across her eyes her black tutu fluttering around with her every movement. For what felt like the millionth time today, Castle's hand was resting on top of hers for a good portion of the show. His fingers caressed hers every now and then, but like most, the movements were inconspicuous.
Kate's eyes followed the graceful dancer as she swung her leg up, or was lifted into the air by her partner, the dancer turned around. Blood oozed from a deep cut in her back that the dancer didn't seem to notice. The red trickled down onto the black tutu, and some of the audience members choked on their on saliva, coughing and sputtering, fanning themselves with their programs or their hands.
The dancer's partner was first to take notice of the blood as when he put set her down gently. He glanced briefly at his hands, but continued on as if nothing had happened. The swan, continued as well, smiling brightly, undisturbed by the fact that her black was bleeding.
Suddenly she stopped. Her hands fell to her side, and her leg could not stay in the arabesque. She collapsed to the floor, hitting the stage loudly, causing the audience members to stand, and get a better look, it was long before the curtains came down, and the commotion began.
The Detective and Castle found their way backstage to where the dancers had gathered around her body.
"The costume." A lady whisper-shouted, her hands flying up to her mouth.
"Get Lily, they're in the middle of the pas, she can finish it." Another woman whispered, sending a member of the stage crew away. Several people bustled around her, unfastening the sides of her tutu, taking it off of her and leaving her in the skin colored leotard. Lily arrived. People running behind her, spraying her hair with loads of hairspray, and rubbing gel all over it as well.
"Hey." She said in a monotone, slipping into the black leotard.
"You understand this could be messing up a crime scene." Kate notified the people who took the costume off the original black swan.
"It's not a crime scene. She just probably ran into something sharp backstage. That's all." The lady said, turning to Lily, and hurrying to fasten the sides again. Shoving her out into a wing, the curtains raised again, with a slight applause, and indeed the show went on.
It was late when the show finally ended. They had gotten no more information out of anybody.
"Do you think she 'ran into something sharp backstage.'?" Castle asked as they drove back.
"No. I don't, but we don't have any proof, they don't care either. Did you hear that woman? The tutu was worth more."
"It was because she thought that she was just clumsy and ran into something sharp." Castle clarified. They arrived at Beckett's apartment, she began to get out the car, but Castle followed.
"Castle, what do you think you're doing?" She questioned.
"Uh, walking you up to your apartment. Besides, who knows, maybe you'll run into something sharp." He said sarcastically.
"Castle." She began, but she decided with this much energy, the argument would get nowhere. She turned around and started walking briskly towards the door, but she was stopped when she bumped into Lily.
"Lily, what are you doing here?" She asked, slightly baffled that the girl had just showed up at her apartment in the middle of the night.
"Nicolette isn't her real name." Lily looked gravely at Castle, her head hung in shame for no particular reason. "I was going to tell you earlier," she continued, "but it just wasn't safe in the studio. I know you're going to ask, so I'll just tell you, she went missing just several years ago, under the name Gianna Lyon. Goodnight." She didn't elaborate, and within seconds she was gone.
"Get in the car." Beckett ordered Castle the moment the girl had vanished.
"Are we chasing after her?" He looked around frantically before sliding into the passenger seat of the car.
"No. We're going to go through missing person files. We'll just take them back to your place. It's bigger…and we'll just look through a couple tonight." Secretly, she wanted just to spend more time just with him. She stuck the key forcefully into the ignition before jetting off into the chaotic streets of New York.
Back at the precinct, Kate had stacked boxes of missing person files into the backseat of Castle's car. Even though she wanted a good opportunity to flirt while not on the job, she was still eager to look through some of the files and find this "Nicolette," or rather, "Gianna."
"Kate, you said a few." Castle muttered in annoyance.
"It's Beckett, and this is a few." She paused to cram several more boxes in there.
"Beckett! Beckett! Kate! Katherine!" Castle shouted in protest as she crammed several more cardboard boxes inside.
"Okay, that's it, Castle." She wiped her hands on her pants and they set back to his apartment. He looked at her, his mouth agape, and walked over to the other side of the car, and got into the passenger seat. They drove in silence until they reached Castle's apartment, looming over the depleted streets right below. No words were exchanged as they walked through the door of the building and made a beeline for the elevators.
"Kate, could you please." Castle tried to get his pinky to hit the 'up' button on the elevator.
"Castle," She huffed, peering around her tower of boxes to get a better look at him. "Do you honestly think I can reach that button?"
"Doorman!" Castle calls, careful not to trip over his own feet. The doorman scrambled over, and hit the "up" button for the both of them before shuffling away again. The elevator was cramped, it was obviously big enough for the both of them, but plus the boxes, the two had to angle themselves to fit properly without causing any serious injuries.
"Castle." Beckett began, trying to get out of the sliding elevator doors as soon as they had reached their floor.
"If you're going to go, go!" Even Richard was just a bit agitated; twelve stories up never seemed like such an uncomfortable ride.
"I can't, your fricken' ass is in the way!" She said, and she wasn't lying. Trying to squeeze between the door and Castle's backside was nearly impossible unless you were as thin as a stick.
"You're skinny; just suck your stomach in!" Castle pouted, his arms beginning to get tired from the mount of boxes in his hands.
"Why don't you!" She argued, gritting her teeth.
"I can't!" He groaned.
"Well, stop bitching and try!"
"Let's just, go at the same time, okay?" He suggested. Inhaling deeply, Kate began to force her way towards the elevator, knocking Castle, and the boxes all over along the way. Immediately, Kate toppled over onto Castle her legs tangled in his, the elevator was constantly "ding-ing" notifying them that they had arrived on their floor.
"Jesus! You're like a little Detective tornado!" He shouted, trying to un-pin his arm from underneath a box of files.
"Yeah, well you're something between a whale and a narwhal." She struggled trying to free her arm from underneath his ass.
"Is PDA necessary?" An old woman walked by, trying to hit the down button the elevator, shaking her head side to side, her green earrings swaying with it.
"I, uh, erg." Kate stood up briskly, avoiding the old woman who was now going on about young couples and the need to be affectionate in front of others. She collected her boxes, and pulled Castle to his feet. She shoved several boxes in his hands.
"Here." She said gruffly.
"Are you even listening to me young lady? No, of course your not, too busy dreaming up other things you could be doing with your man. Well, let me tell you something little girl," she stopped, seeing that both of them were now facing her, boxes piled up high, their heads cocked to the side so they could actually see the petit woman.
"Yes?" Castle asked, smirking.
"Oh never mind, intuition tells me your meant to be anyway, tangle tongues all you want in public, just somewhere where nobody else will see." She sauntered back to the elevator, unaware that her words made no sense. The doors closed, and Kate and Rick both looked at each other, no longer able to contain their laughter.
"What was she talking about?" Castle asked as they laughed their way back this apartment.
"I have no idea, but never do that again." She emphasized never, and pushed passed him with her body to get through the door as soon as he unlocked it.
"Aw, you know you liked it." He teased. She rolled her eyes, and thought, if it wasn't on the carpet it would be much better. She shook her head violently, trying to rid the thoughts from flooding her brain.
"Uh, I'd say we work in my office, but I have a good feeling we're not going to be able to see the floor in there." He pushed open the door to the office with one hand, revealing a dimly lit room with a sea of papers. She looked up at him, her brows furrowing.
"Bedroom?" He offered, eyes wandering in the direction of his bedroom.
"If we have no choice." She marched on ahead, turning around to push open the door with her backside.
The room was adorned with a huge bed draped in something white and silky. The window was opened, the off-white curtains blowing lightly in the wind. Lights sparkled off in the distance, a busy scene compared to the room.
"You sleep to that every night?" She put down the boxes, and put her hands on her sore back, pointing on finger towards the window.
"Yeah, what do you sleep to?" He asked, making his way towards the door.
"Definitely not that." She leaned against the doorframe.
"You get started, I'll be…right back." He turned around and walked back down the hallway, leaving Kate standing in the middle of the bedroom, opening up the top to one of the boxes.
She smiled to herself, knowing he was no longer in the room, "maybe this will be something I'm used to someday." She thought to herself.
"Whatchu thinking about?" He came up behind her, reaching for one of the labeled manila folders with one hand, and handing her a glass of red wine with the other.
"Nothing." She replied, quickly, her eyes quickly scanning the information written on the document before setting it aside.
"No?" Castle asked.
"I'm not a magician, Castle." She commented, scoffing slightly.
The night went on. They never bothered to close the window, and looking through case files began to get more tedious by the second. Finally, Castle settled on asking Kate 'would you rather' questions. He figured she wouldn't really object considering the number of bottles they'd already been through.
"Would you rather…see your future or your past?" He asked, taking a sip out of his glass.
"Past." She said, mirroring his actions,
"Why?" He asked.
"Because everything was so simple back then."
"Not every childhood is simple, Beckett." Castle pointed out.
"Fine. What about you?" She asked, swirling and swishing the sticky liquid in her glass.
"Future." He replied easily.
"Why?"
"Because, Beckett, the past is the past, no reason to dwell on it. There's so much more of the world to see, you know? Besides, my past wasn't something I'd want to relive anyway." He smirked.
"Would you rather…give up sweets and caffeine for the rest of your life or never see me ever again?" She asked.
"That's not a fair question." He whined.
"You don't seem like the whole 'play fair' type."
"You're right, I'm not, and…such a tough decision…" he put his hand under his chin to exaggerate the difficulty. Kate hit him playfully.
"Well see, without my sweets and caffeine, I might as well be 'Sleeping Beauty,' without you…well…" he smiled.
"Oh, just answer it."
"Let's just say, something would be missing." He watched as her lips turned up into a small smile.
"I can name a song for every moment." He bragged, tossing another file in the 'no' pile.
"Really?" She raised her eyebrows.
"Really." He confirmed.
"Name a song for right now." She put down her file to get a better look at him.
He thought for a split second, the cute thinking look taking the place of his bragging look on his face. "Umbrella, Rihanna" He replied.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Okay, song to describe yours truly." Kate grinned.
"Easy, 'Vulnerable, Secondhand Serenade."
"Never heard it." She shrugged.
The 'no' pile of their files grew, and sitting on the floor began to make their tailbones hurt, so naturally, they both relocated to his bed. The softness of the mattress caused them both to loose interesting the case files, and take interest into catching some sleep.
Neither of them suggested it though, but eventually their eyelids felt heavy and they could no longer focus on the photographs and print they were looking at or reading.
Beckett was first to fall asleep on top of the covers. Her back turned towards Castle clutching one of the files to her stomach. Castle made an effort to through thin blanket over her shoulders before finally giving in himself.
He lay down on his side, facing Kate's back, and closed his eyes. His eyelids fluttered open not long after feeling something cuddle into his chest. Breathing in Kate's scent, his arm found its way around to her lower back, his fingers quietly resting there.
Within seconds of contact with her lower back, her leg swung over his, and he had no reason to object, so he turned out the light beside him, closed his eyes, and drifted off, clutching the Kate close to him like she was his last resort to life.
She smiled half consciously when the lights went out, crawling as close as she could get, pressing her hands to his chest.
Her thoughts became murkier as deep sleep came closer, but she took a moment to think, "Solving this case is going to be fun," before letting sleep completely take over.