The officer assigned to building security at the 12th is her first hint that all isn't as it should be.
Kelsey has always been a little too in-awe of her and she thinks it's sweet. He can't be more than 23, and he's already mentioned that he's taking night classes in criminology and would love to interview her for a case study at some point. But today, he's different.
"Detective Beckett," he coos, "how are you?"
This isn't their normal exchange . . . but maybe she looks as tired as she feels? She's holding a giant coffee.
"Fine, Kelsey," she matches his tone, "and how are you?"
"I'm fantastic today, and how is Mr. Castle?"
"Oh, I'm sure he's fine too." She narrows her eyes, slightly surprised.
What was that about?
Her second clue was the pair of detectives she passed waiting for the elevator, "lookin' good Detective."
Is everyone in the elevator stealing glances at her?
When the doors open and she approaches her desk.
She glances around and meets the eyes of co-workers.
What the hell is going on?
"Detective Beckett? A word." Gates calls from her opened office door.
Now she's nervous.
On the front page of the newspaper, the newspaper that Gates is holding, is a picture of Kate Beckett.
In her underwear.
Holding Richard Castle's hand.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxo
Shit.
If this is Tony the manager's idea of funny, he is so complaining to the condo board.
He doesn't even care that the board hates him, this is completely unacceptable.
"Kate?"
He has no idea how she could possibly be sleeping, however the pillow over her head tells him she's at least somewhat aware of the situation.
"Kate? I don't think it's a test, we need to get up."
She is obviously awake, no one could ignore that obnoxious sound.
The fire alarm.
He drags himself out of bed and fumbles for the pants he's lost somewhere on his side of the bed, throws last night's t-shirt on, grabs the suitcoat that is hanging over the side of the chair.
"Kate!"
She's in a total stupor, just sitting on the bed trying to wrap her brain around this 3AM intrusion. She's adorable like this, but at the moment it isn't helpful.
"Here," he tosses his robe on to the bed, "get up, come on. I'll go check."
Sure enough, he can smell the lightest whiff of smoke when he opens the front door. Damn, if Mrs. Lee's kimchee caused this, he is so jumping on the band-wagon of getting her out. He's heard the third floor tenants complain about the smell.
Shrill. And those damn too-bright lights strobing.
He shuts the door and turns back to find Kate rubbing her eyes. She's wearing the lingerie he found her in when he returned from Patterson's book launch party. Baby blue silk shorts and a camisole with a tan lace edge, not her sexiest look, but then, that makes their lovemaking all the more tender. It turns her from bad ass to sweetheart, although he's not stupid enough to tell her that.
"Go put some shoes on," he says to her, fumbling in the coat closet for something to wear on this fall night. It can't be warm out. He sees her leather jacket hanging there, way too short. He pulls two of his coats off the hanger and goes after her.
She's got the light on, bent over, one hand on the bed for balance, trying to zip the boots she wore to work yesterday.
And suddenly, there is a pounding at the front door and he hears someone open it, "Fire department, anybody in here?"
He throws one of the coats over Kate's shoulders, puts his hand on her elbow and pulls her out of the room.
This fireman is scary, he thinks, with all that equipment on. He's not one hundred percent sure if it's the uniform or the emergency situation that is making this all feel so formal.
"What happened?" He shouts at the hunk of florescent yellow authority standing inside the doorway.
"Is there anyone else here?" A question for a question.
"No." He knows Alexis is tucked up in a dorm room and Martha's out in LA.
"Follow me."
She takes his hand as the go down the endless flights of stairs. The night air is cold enough to take their breath away.
"Jesus," she says, as the wind practically pulls his coat from her shoulders.
They are both mesmerized by the activity at the far side of the building next door. There are obvious flames licking the fourth floor window. A ghostly orange lights up the outline of the apartment on fire.
He glances at her, lets go of her hand, drawing her attention as he stands in front of her and opens the coat enough to put her arms in the sleeves, buttons her up, and then wraps his arms around her to keep her warm. She feels a bit childish, but then again, this whole thing has been surreal.
It's another two hours before they're allowed back in the apartment, and by then, it's too close to her normal wake-up time and she wants to go home and get ready for the day.
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
"Sir, I can explain," she starts.
"Please do, Detective," the older woman settles in, content to let the detective squirm a little.
Shit.
"There was a fire last night."
"Yes, so I read," she says smugly.
"I . . .I . . ." Kate Beckett at a loss for words.
Her eyes plead for mercy.
"You have a personal relationship with Mr. Castle?" Victoria Gates isn't heartless, she'll give her a little rope.
"Yes." She suddenly feels the exhaustion of the nights events; sits in the nearest chair.
"How long Detective?"
She purses her lips, that's a great question.
"We've been," she really has to search for the right word here, "closer," it's the easiest word she can come up with, "since my suspension."
"Wow, six months and you've been able to hide it from a superior officer?" She raises her brows, "I think you know what the rule book says about this."
"Actually sir, I'm not sure I do. He is a civilian."
"A civilian working on your team."
She has no answer, but there is a twist in her belly. This woman could get rid of Castle, she could ruin their partnership with the stroke of her pen.
For a moment both women hold their own in front of each other.
"Do you know how I met my husband, Detective?"
Is this a trick question?
Gates can see in her eyes, she's confused by the question, "I had just made detective in the robbery division, David was a patrolman."
She wonders where this story is going.
"My captain called me in the office about a year after we started dating."
Gates has moved from sitting on the corner of her desk to a seat beside Kate.
"Told me, 'congratulations,' the solve rate for robbery cases had gone up significantly in certain areas of the city."
She takes a moment to ponder Kate Beckett.
"David Gates' patrol area in particular."
Kate can't help the smile that spreads across her face.
"Keep your private life out of the station house Detective Beckett."
"Yes, sir."
"And I'm not justifying you two to the Chief of Detectives."
"Yes, sir."
"Tell Mr. Castle if he distracts my best detective, he's gone."
"Yes, sir."
oxooxoxoxoxoxo
He looks terrified standing there with two cups of coffee when she emerges from Gate's office.
"Was that about the picture?" He whispers conspiratorially.
"Yes, "she says seriously, grabbing the coffee as she walks past him, headed for her desk.
"And?"
"And . . . I think you should go home," she says solemnly.
He swallows and tilts his head into his hand, rubbing his forehead.
" . . .and fix us some sandwiches, " she continues.
He looks up at her, utterly confused.
She turns to her computer screen, a slow smile spreading, "Because I'm pretty sure we won't have time to eat during my lunch hour today."
She can feel him smiling at her as he rises out of the chair.
"Oh and Castle," she says looking up, "try to look a little ashamed on your way out?"
"Never," he says as softly as he as ever said its antonym.
A/N: Inspired by true events: 8AM on a Saturday and the management can't find the kill switch on the alarm test in my 50-story apartment building. No worries, Castle got me out of bed.