Disclaimer: I do not own Castle, which is probably a good thing because even though I love the show, I could never write mysteries, well enough. This short scene is a continuation of Swept Away, which I originally planned on being a single short blurb I came up with in the middle of the night, but fate it seems wanted it to continue. And, now I have yet more to add though this portion might be more angsty then the first two, which is why I have placed it as its own story. If you haven't read Swept Away, I would recommend starting there. Special thanks to the Castle message boards, your theories helped to build the flashback part of this scene. The fallout, however, would be the same as I originally envisioned this scenario. Your theories have just added more fuel to what would have been a raging fire to begin with, as I believe the files were sent to Castle and when Kate finds out he was keeping them from her, to quote a Toby Keith song 'fit is going to hit the shan.'
Castle was startled awake by Kate's shifting movements, but smiled as she settled closer to him, her fingers laced with his own. He watched her breathing slow until it was the quiet rhythm of gentle peaceful slumber, her chest rising and falling beneath the protective embrace of his arms. Soft moonlight poured in from a nearby widow, which bathed her skin in a light radiant glow that filled his heart even further till every ounce of emotion within him welled over the edges and brought tendrils of joyous tears to his eyes. He snuggled closer to her, grateful even for this small moment of calm surrender, allowing the quiet tears to roll down his cheeks, and into her hair. Momentarily extracting his fingers from hers, he brushed away a tendril of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, before softly, so as not to wake her; he leaned forward and kissed the exposed portion of skin between chin and ear.
"I promise you, Kate, for as long as I live, not another soul is going to hurt you," he whispered as he returned his arm around her, but as the words left his mouth, the bitter tang of truth set in. The smile dropped away, and he was forced to look away towards the night sky, new tears forming in his eyes, tears of un-ending guilt, begun the night he stepped into an office that looked more like a study with no light in the room, save for a small desk lamp, and the full moon.-
The man stood behind his desk, his back to the room, observing the New York Skyline through large wall sized windows, his hands clasped casually behind him, his frame a silhouette of shadow against the brightness of the moon outside. Castle bit back the urge to note the cliché in this setting, set a grim expression to his features and stepped fully into the room. He took stock of his surroundings, noting the rare medieval manuscripts in cases, the medieval weaponry hung in special stakes, and the medieval art adorning the walls, including a rare tapestry, hanging between two bookcases against a far back wall to his right, depicting the medieval rendition of a western dragon laying siege to a town full of distraught villagers.
"Does that particular one strike your fancy, Mr. Castle?"
The base voice of the man at the window held a clam, almost nonchalant air about it, as if despite the one being threatened he still held sway over the outcome of any event orchestrated. Castle turned away from the tapestry and faced the man who now stood watching him, the same calm demeanor written in aging features that he held looking away, his hands still clasped behind his back. Rick returned the stare, but said not a word, trying to keep tight lips against the barrage of words threatening to tumble out.
"A drink, Mr. Castle," asked the man, unclasping his hands and pointing towards a liquor cabinet at the corner of the room. Castle clenched a fist at his side, and again remained silent, clenching his teeth shut until his jaw ached. The man took a quiet look, nodded his head in simplistic understanding and headed for the cabinet. "A pity, Mr. Castle, much like my antique collection here, I have many vintage wines that come at 'high prices." The man reached into his cabinet and searched amongst the many bottles stored, the tiny sounds of clanking glass bottles echoing into the silence of the room. Finally, he rose up, a bottle in one hand, and wine glass in the other, and returned to his desk, placing both implements before him lightly. "Wont you have a seat then," he indicated one of the two chairs in front of the neatly organized desk. For the third time, Castle remained, as he was, his mind pounding against the anger welling up. "Well, you won't mind if I sit then, for me business is best handled in comfort."
The stranger took a seat at his desk, preceded to un-cork the wine bottle and filled his glass. He returned the cork just a coolly and lifted his wine glass to his lips, all the while watching Castle with mock humor in his eyes, as if taunting the writer to try something overly bold. Taking a sip, he leaned back in his chair, still studying the man standing in front of him, allowing seconds to tick by to the sound of a grandfather clock somewhere hidden amongst the artifacts of the room.
"You know why I am here," responded Castle forcefully, unable to hold his anger back much larger. A smirk spread across the man's face, as he gently set the wine glass down and folded his fingers over his desk. He inclined his head for Rick to continue. Un-able to trust what words what come, if he spoke again, Castle reached into his coat, removed a large envelope and tossed it onto the desk. "Those are just the copies, the originals I have hidden and hidden well."
The man gave a look of actual praise towards Castle, before reaching for a pair of glasses tucked away in a desk drawer. "Smart, Mr. Castle, very smart," he rose up, placed the glasses on his face, opened the envelope, and removed its contents, before continuing. "Not at your own home, I assume." The stranger raised his eyes towards Rick. Castle again remained quiet, and the man nodded his head in silent understanding. "I must say, Mr. Castle. Can I call you Rick?" Castle clenched his fist and again ground his teeth. "Right, Mr. Castle, I must say if you and I were not on the opposite sides of this little 'game' I would ask you to work for me."
The man returned to reading the documents, scanning each quickly, his face just as serene as before. Upon reaching the glancing at the last piece, he laid the papers down and removed the glasses before returning his stare on the writer. "This is pretty damning stuff. I take it your request must mean a lot to you, if you're so willing to play the dirty game of blackmail," he asked, the expression in his features showing he had played this very game before, with these very same pieces, over the very same person.
"You so much as send a written warning to her," Castle began through gritted teeth, both fists tightening until the whites of his knuckles showed. "And, I will release all of it to the press, every word, number, and picture. You will be brought down faster then you can count to three."
The man looked away and studied the nails on his left hand, before pushing up from his chair. He walked past his desk and Castle. Rick turned around, doing his best to keep from being caught un-aware. "Do you know why I decided to call myself 'The Dragon,' Mr. Castle," continued the man, aiming for a locked file cabinet at the back of the room. He reached for his keys, and looked back towards Castle. "Before, I agree to this arrangement I have one condition of my own."
"That's my deal, no conditions. I hold the cards in this game."
"Oh, and I thought you were a smart man," the man turned back to the cabinet, opened the top drawer and removed a file. He walked past once more and stood by his chair at the desk. "I want to ask you once more, do you know why I call myself 'the dragon,' Mr. Castle?" Silence reigned. "In medieval thought the dragon was equated with the Devil," the man tossed the folder onto the desk. "And, you make a deal with the Devil he owns your soul, Mr. Castle." He pointed towards the folder, and indicated for Rick to look inside. Stepping slowly forward, Rick held his breath as he flipped open the folder. He froze, his heart momentarily stopping in his chest. "The condition is this Mr. Castle, your 'muse' so much as places a finger on her Mother's case again, and her, your lovely little daughter, and your aging Mother," 'the dragon' paused, forcing Rick to look up from the surveillance photo's of his family, within the file. The features on the man's face turned deadly serious. "May just find themselves on the bottom of the Atlantic."
Castle forced himself to take a deep breath and look up and out the window at the ominous glow of the full moon.-
Tears burst forth from his eyes as he turned his attentions away from the bedroom window, and stared down at the sleeping form beside him. Guilt and anger swilled deeply inside. Anger at ever opening that un-marked package in the mail, anger at ever thinking he could use it, anger at his own folly. Guilt over such acts he had taken, guilt over every day seeing her face, and having to lie straight to it, just to keep her safe, guilt at ever placing his own family in the un-knowing position they were in.
