Disclaimer: Not mine.
This was the start of a multi fic called 20 questions, but I thought I'd share the first chapter as it may take a long time to write the rest.
Enjoy.
"You're going to want to put ice on that," Castle whispered, shifting his weight on to one elbow on his mattress so he could run his lips over the cruel, raised X carved high into her cheekbone. The residual taste of the alcohol swipes had faded away and now it only left a faint after taste of salt. Salt from blood and salt from sweat.
To put ice on it would mean she left his bed though.
"I might," Kate muttered, her voice clogged and weighed down by impending sleep. "If you ever stop kissing it."
He didn't say anything, but he did move his lips away and content himself with docking his nose into the space exposed behind the nape of her neck where the radiating heat was all her, all them and not the heat of inflamed tissue.
He knew he was holding her too tight, their limbs tangled together more forcefully than normal for them. He could feel the faint press of her vertebrae against his chest, the bone of her knee between his own and her elbow digging into the outside of his arm where it had snuck between her arm and her ribs to pull her closer still. Every deep breath she took pressed puckered skin more fully into his palm.
It wasn't unusual for him to seek out her scar to rest his hand on, especially after she had once sleepily admitted the heat kept it warm and pliant, staving off sudden twinges and contractions from the cold. Tonight though he was drawn to it, trying to soothe the way his mind was drawn to the gasp she made when she fell to the ground with bullet casings still airborne.
He forced his fingers to relax their hold when he felt them start to pierce skin.
"Hey," she murmured drowsily. "It's okay. We're both fine."
"Yeah," he forced out.
"You got him."
He just shook his head stubbornly, his nose catching a little in the locks of her hair tangled at her neck. If Tyson had planned everything down to the raising of the bridge, there was no way he was stupid enough to confront an armed cop without Kevlar. Castle had been told he thought like and could get into the mind of serial killers; well, if it were him, Kevlar would have been the first thing he thought of. There was no way Jerry Tyson would have overlooked that.
Kate turned slowly in his arms to face him, arching her back so she could see his face, a little of her sleepiness falling out of her face as she registered the taught muscles of her partner.
"Castle," she brought a hand up from where she had let them nest between them and held it to his face. "Even if he had a vest, you're a good shot; the grouping was too tight. A vest wouldn't have resisted all those shots. You have to let this go."
"I can't," he croaked.
"Castle, please."
"They didn't find him. They didn't even find the vest."
"Because it was so heavy it held him under. Think about it," she tried to reason with him. "He would have had to take off the jacket and shirt he had on to get at the vest if he had one and all of this after falling all that way. He wouldn't have had any air left to do it after that fall or after taking all those bullets."
"So you're saying the weight of the vest pulled him under and took him down the river?"
"I'm saying let us have tonight, okay? We can start a search tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," he repeated on a deep breath.
"Tomorrow," she said firmly sliding her fingers up into his hair and dragging his face down to hers. He was a little slow to respond but she let the kick of heat at the scrape of stubble wake her up and her second wind to encourage him to leave behind the shadows just for a little while.
She used her teeth to pull at his lower lip, teasing him into releasing the seal of his lips so she could press inside and flirt with his tongue in the warmth briefly before retreating and waiting for him to follow. A low groan at the loss vibrated against her teeth pleasantly reverberated in her throat through her open mouth still panting slightly against his.
"Kate," he breathed, sucking at the corner of her mouth and then down to her jaw.
"I'm here," she gasped.
"So lucky," he rasped, his hands starting to encompass her again. "God, so lucky."
"He didn't get me, Castle."
"Not you," he frowned enough she felt it against her forehead. "Me. I'm so lucky you're here." His arms winched her in closer. "You didn't give up on me."
"Luck has nothing to do with it."
"You got me out," he breathed, the underlying incredulity settled uncomfortably in her stomach. Had he ever thought she wouldn't? Sometimes he could be so clueless, so reluctant to believe. It would take time, but she was going to change that. She never wanted him to doubt anything between them anymore.
"I helped," Kate reminded him. "Technically, you got yourself out," She watched her fingers in the haze of city lights through the curtains as they ran circuits up and down his jaw. "I think you'll remember the DA was less than happy about that."
"I'll make it up to him."
"Just don't do it again," she warned him, her voice too tight to achieve the joking light she wanted. She raised her eyes to his and saw he was just as intently focused on her hands as she was.
"I can't promise that," his voice was heavy in the room.
"Tyson is…" she started.
"Tyson is missing," Castle sighed. "Which is irrelevant because he won't come after me the same way again; he'll have a completely different M.O. It's just a matter of time before someone else tries to pin something on me the same way."
"You're not serious, are you?" she whispered.
"I know a lot of guys," he shrugged. "And not all of them like me. Fans. Convicts. Some in the writing and publishing sectors." He caught her eyes and offered her a fragile smiling grimace. "So I can't promise you, Kate."
She felt vaguely nauseous at the thought of the wide pool of people who had possible resentments with him. "You'll just have to make sure that you always have an alibi."
"I could go into reality TV," he offered half-heartedly. "Like Kaye Cappuccio."
A snort of laughter escaped without warning, the mirth seeming to take both of the bed's occupants by surprise.
"I could," he protested. "People would definitely pay to watch what I do all day."
She shook her head lightly, burrowing her head into his pillow a little to hide the wide smile.
"I have more talent than she would even know what to do with," Castle argued.
"But she wears a dress better than you."
"Not better than you," he pointed out instantly. "How about it, Kate? Have a crew follow us around and catch us in all of our Sherlock and Holmes, ass-kicking glory? We could call it The Heat Diaries. No, no Working the Beat with Heat. Good right?"
She was in a little danger of suffocating with her face mashed firmly in the pillow, shaking with suppressed laughter and so grateful that his efforts to cheer her up were lifting his spirits as well.
"Kate?" he poked her side and she twisted away violently, dislodging her face and revealing her flushed state to him. Thankfully he didn't start pouting, apparently more elated at her amusement than put out. "What do you think?"
"No, Castle," she smiled.
"Oh come on. Why not?"
"Why?" she came at the question from the opposite angle.
"Because it would be undeniably awesome."
"No it wouldn't," she corrected, getting herself back in hand.
"Give me one reason to substantiate your illogical theory, Detective," he tried to look challenging but the grin couldn't be held back as he slipped his arm behind her back and drew her closer again.
"Because if we had someone with a camera following us around all the time at work, I wouldn't be able to take you through to that little closet I told you about."
His breath hitched and she knew she had won a point.
"I thought there was a uniform stationed in that hall," he sounded a little breathless.
"Oh, there is," she assured him, shimmying closer until she felt his thigh pressing lightly against her heat. "But I might have finally analysed the roster and break times of the uniforms who get posted there."
"You did?" he choked.
"Mmm Hmm," she hummed next to his ear. "There's just one problem," she inserted a groan and was rewarded with a matching one from him. The muscles under her hand were filling with a different kind of tension to the one which had filled him so far despite the banter.
"What?" his hands skimmed down her ribs to her hips so he could pull her more firmly over his leg, pulling her down until she gasped.
"If there were no cameras following us, we could sneak in."
"Sounds good to me," he replied, his fingers slipping.
"So good," she groaned, her hands clenching into the hair at the nape of his neck.
"But?"
"But?" she repeated, trying to focus.
"How is that a bad thing, Kate?"
"Never said it was a bad thing," she panted. "Just problematic."
"Kate," he grumbled.
"Getting in isn't the problem," she breathed. "Getting out is. We'd have to wait until their next break until the coast was clear to leave. That's four hours between breaks and we'd have to spend it crammed in that little, near abandoned, private..."
He attacked her mouth, but already short on air she rolled against him so he broke away with a curse and they both struggled to regain healthy oxygen saturation levels.
"So if I agree to losing the cameras we can try?" he begged.
"Castle! I'm not disappearing for four hours at work."
"Not even at night?" he pleaded.
"I'd rather take you home for four hours and not worry about noise control or limited space," she teased him. Despite still being a little breathless, need had her moving to hover above him so she could look down at him through her lashes.
He gulped. "Probably lose less brain cells that way, too," he offered weakly.
"So closet or no, Castle, you will not be New York's newest reality star."
"'Kay," he nodded happily enough. She smiled down at him and from where her hands were supported on the bed above him she thumbed his ear, watching as he closed his eyes briefly and relaxed into her touch.
She had almost lost this. According to him, she still could. This whole night had been an awkward see-saw between two polar opposites of joy, relief and despair. As tempting as it was to push their current balance over into joy and wear them out enough sleep would claim them, the same voice plaguing Castle with doubt was staking its claim in her mind now, too.
"But if you're serious, I think it would be a good idea to have a reliable alibi now Alexis isn't always here; for when you're home alone."
The levity his face had gained slipped again and he let his grip on her legs loosen so she could sit over his stomach rather than support herself over his hips, acknowledging the more sober and possible lengthy discussion.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "Nothing drastic, just you know… a precaution."
"I'm listening."
"I don't know. We just need a way to prove you're at home when you say you are."
"Nanny cam?" he suggested, his leer a pathetic shadow of the one she wanted to put on his face. "Just over the door so they get comings and goings."
"They'll just say you went out the window."
"And jumped from the fourth floor? The fire escape isn't on this side of the building, Kate."
"Well maybe, I'm actually quite fond of that door," she leaned down to kiss him chastely, trying to loosen the knots she was tying in both of them. This was supposed to be hypothetical yet it was turning more towards war strategies than preventative measures. Why could they never seem to find balance? "And there are some things that should never be potential evidence."
His lips quirked upwards slightly, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
The smile they shared was soft, shy as they were each caught up in shared memories. It was a few moments before he blinked, physically kick-starting his brain back into gear.
"You could GPS track my phone," he offered.
"So you can leave it behind?" she deadpanned.
"More like we'll be abducted again and I'll have to keep replacing it."
"Microchip?"
"What am I, your dog?"
"You whistle at me all the time," she objected.
"You, Detective are most certainly not a dog."
…
Kate's text came in the next night while he was staring at a pic from Google Earth for the street corner he was going to have Nikki stake out. No matter what he did, he couldn't make out the sign in the window where he knew Beckett would park the car, if it were a real case. Zoom only increased the pixilation. Was it a locksmith? Internet café? Was he going to have to haul his butt out to Jersey to see for himself?
[Twenty Questions.]
Castle stared at the small screen displaying his girlfriend's message and waited for the click of mental gears engaging. Whether it was because he was still trying to extricate himself from the latest Rook and Heat adventure, or he just genuinely didn't grasp the meaning, he was unsure. He fired off a reply to that effect. [What?]
He turned to glare at the substandard photo once more. Hell, why not just re-write with a corner he knew well enough or had a good shot of?
[I pinged your phone. You're at home.]
[I know; you kicked me out, remember?] He didn't even mind that much; all the stares from the rest of the bullpen were unnerving. He hadn't actually killed anyone, not even Tyson.
[And you're replying, ergo you are with your phone, at your house.]
[Excellent deducing, but I'm still lost.]
[I text, you reply. Anyone can track the signal- where you were when you texted. Not as accurate as GPS, but your genuine replies guarantee your location with the phone – no leaving it behind at home with someone texting for you next time you want to kill someone.]
[You're going to text me from work when I'm alone at home?] He blinked at the implications behind that. Shouldn't he feel more repressed than happy that she wanted him to keep checking in?
[Don't try and avoid the questions either.]
[You're serious.]
[I have four years worth of questions.]
He grinned. [Bring it on.]
[Pass. Leaving now. Don't kill anyone before I get there.]
He was disappointed, but she knew that - probably had a smirk on her face. He could feel one of his own which surprised him. He wouldn't have dreamed being able to joke about this; and it wasn't even gallows humour. Looking at the last message again though he couldn't suppress it. Kate Beckett was offering to be his alibi. She was practically going to stalk him. Yeah, he should really care more.
…
The next Thursday Martha was out with a fellow thespian. Castle wasn't sure he wanted to know exactly what they were doing, but he didn't care ignoring it if it meant that Kate was staying. Nights Martha was out, Kate stayed. The loft was never empty when he was alone. Those weren't the only nights Kate stayed but they arranged it that way without ever vocalising the reason.
He was manhandling a wok when then text came in.
[So, what are you wearing?]
A few minutes later, the reply went out.
[Soy, ginger and coriander.]
…