Chapter 2

Sitting at her desk scrolling through her email inbox, Kate Beckett felt increasingly more irritated with every sip from the NYPD mug full of coffee resting between her keyboard and computer monitor. The bitter, acidic, unrefined taste felt like sandpaper on her spine. Weren't Mondays bad enough without bad coffee?

Unlike most mornings when she waited for her first cup of java in hopes that her partner would show up with a high-quality brew, she knew he would not be visiting her that morning. Perhaps he would never be visiting again. Were that the case she would be perfectly fine with it—perfectly fine. The last thing she needed was awkwardness in the workplace; they had serious police work to do.

After clicking through three more emails, Kate reached for her mug instinctively, but then grimaced the nearer it drew towards her face. This was just ridiculous! Just because Castle was (presumably) out of her life, did not mean she couldn't use the fancy coffee machine he'd gifted the precinct. That was absurd. He would never even know that she used it and she would not have to suffer through the battery-acid-like substance currently in her mug.

Pushing her chair back perhaps a bit harder than necessary, Kate stalked to the kitchen, unceremoniously dumped the contents of her mug in the sink, and then reached for the faucet tap to rinse it out. Once all the offending liquid was removed, she turned to Castle's fancy coffee maker.

Castle. Ugh!

Just the mere thought of the man's name caused her blood to boil. In the little more than forty-eight hours since they'd last seen each other Kate had suffered a barrage of emotions. In the immediate aftermath, she could not bring herself to go to bed, so instead she paced around her apartment, traversing every surface dozens of times, obsessively running through the prior nine months in her mind wondering how she'd gone so wrong. She reviewed every conversation, every moment shared between them—every instance he gave her the inkling he might be interested in more. By three a.m. she'd fallen asleep on her couch convinced she he had been interested, but Saturday morning had her second-guessing herself again.

By Sunday, she'd resigned to the fact that inviting Castle home with her after his book party had been an idiotic decision. Why couldn't she have simply been happy with the status-quo. They were partners and friends, which was already a relationship fairly unique in her life. She should have simply let things be, but oh no, she couldn't do that—all because she'd been thinking with body parts that were not her brain.

As the day progressed, she became not only irritated with herself, but with him as well. Why didn't he want her? She wasn't narcissistic enough to believe all men should want her because of her attractive face and physique, but Castle had flirted! Extensively! And made it clear on many occasions how wonderful he though she was. He'd even written a damn book about her—inspired by her! If he had done it all just for the game of it, he was cruel, but she truly didn't think that was the case. He was so genuine and kind in every other facet that cruelty elsewhere was nearly unfathomable. It just didn't make sense!

By that morning, Kate decided she'd had enough. Her heart couldn't take going through every possible scenario over and over again; it ached too deep. Yes, the wound his rejection of her invitation was still gaping open and raw, but it like all the others would heal over and leave a tiny scar. She could handle that; she could move on and learn from her mistakes to be more careful in the future.

"Morning Beckett."

Kate glanced up just as Esposito walked into the breakroom and she issued a similar greeting while focusing on her brewing coffee. The male detective headed for the grittier brew she'd earlier rejected. "Your boy not joining us this morning?" he asked as he poured his cup.

"How should I know?" she growled out, already not looking forward to the inevitable chorus of "Where's Castle?" for the next few weeks until everyone became unaccustomed to his presence once more.

"Didn't you two leave together Friday night?"

Kate nearly dropped her coffee mug, but managed to hang on to it while shooting Esposito a dangerous glare. Fantastic; now she would get to re-live her embarrassment through the eyes of her partners.

Evidently sensing the threat, Esposito took a backwards step. "Oh, ah, I didn't…sorry it didn't work out. I always thought you two would."

"Yeah well tell that to him." She snipped before spinning on her heel and returning to her desk to seethe in peace.

When Kate sat back down at her desk, she hunched herself down as best she could to hide behind her monitors. Her actions were silly and childish—and she knew this—but she simply could not bring herself to bear witness to Esposito returning to his desk and telling his partner all about her dating fail. She did not expect mockery from them or any teasing comments as she believed they knew her well enough not to do that, but she would have almost welcomed them over what she expected to get: pity.

Damn Castle. Damn him for his rugged handsomeness, charming smile, and warm heart that had drawn her in and made her think that maybe embarking on a relationship again wouldn't be such a terrible idea. It had been two…ish years and, god, she was dumb enough to think that a relationship with Castle would end differently than all the others because of their friendship, because of their partnership, because he was different. What a fool she had been.

For ten more minutes Kate slogged through her inbox and had nearly cleared out all the unread items when she felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck; someone was watching her. Her right hand froze on the computer's mouse while her left pressed firmly down on the desk surface in front of her keyboard. Someone was watching her but was it her partner, crawling back with his tail between his legs? God, wouldn't that jus be fantastic—they'd put on a show for Ryan and Esposito. She really was not in the mood for that, particularly if—

Oh. It was only Ryan, hovering beside the chair in which Castle usually sat, pretending to check his phone, but glancing up far too frequently in her direction to be convincing.

Clearing her throat, Kate leaned back in her chair and asked pointedly, "Can I help you, Detective Ryan?"

"Uh me!?" His voice squeaked a little and he swiftly pocketed his phone once more. "Well, um, no—not exactly. I was just, um, thinking that maybe, well, we were-"

"Spit it out, Ryan!"

"Sorry—just." The detective stepped closer so he could speak with her in a tone barely above a whisper. "I know it's not my place but—you've read about Castle's accident, right?"

"What accident?"

"His motorcycle accident."

Her brow wrinkled as she recalled the incident the writer mentioned only once. "When he was in college? No, he said it was no big deal—why would I have looked that up?"

Ryan clicked his tongue and shook his head at her. "And you call yourself a detective…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped so abruptly that he visibly jumped. "Of course I checked his record when he started shadowing us; he doesn't have one." Like she would have let him in her cruiser if he had!

Recovering, Ryan leaned in and muttered, "Richard Rodgers, April '90. You're welcome."

Kate watched her colleague walk away as the creases in her brow deepened. What in the hell was Ryan on about? Castle's motorcycle accident? From the way he was acting, he made it seem as though Castle's sudden absence from her life and the accident were related, but how did that even make sense when the latter happened twenty years earlier?

Unable to suppress her curiosity, Kate turned back to her computer and pulled up the NYPD's database. She began tapping out the known information into the search bar, but paused. Why would Castle have a police record for a motorcycle accident? Unless he and his motorcycle were the cause of a larger crash. But he had said—oh. No; she had simply assumed.

Though the incident had been six months earlier, she did recall the conversation mostly because of how it had begun. One day when they were out canvassing for suspects, she noticed he was limping on his left leg. Since she felt they had just reached a point in their partnership when open teasing was welcome, she did not want to miss the opportunity, so she'd jokingly asked if he needed a cane. He'd chuckled and told her that he was fine; merely that he'd aggravated an old injury while working out. She'd asked what injury and he'd told her what he broke his leg and ankle when he was playing around on a friend's motorcycle during college. She'd expressed concern, but he'd brushed the incident off as no big deal—those had been his exact words. Now, it appeared there was more to the story.

Kate had first searched for Richard Castle's police record during their very first case together. He was, at that time, a suspect—though not a very likely one, considering only an utter moron would recreate his own fictional works in real life. When she pulled up his name she found he didn't have so much as a parking ticket, but at that time she hadn't known about his name change and thus her search had been incomplete.

Despite Ryan's little clue, Kate soon discovered that Richard Rodgers didn't have a record either. She sat perplexed for a moment and sipped on her coffee before switching databases to one that included all incidents, not just arrest records. Finally, she saw the incident to which he referred: suspected reckless driving; no charges filed. Using the exact date and new information, Kate searched for news articles that would detail the incident, and what she found made her cover her mouth to suppress a gasp.

20 Year Old Man Severely Injured in Crash

Twenty-year-old Richard Rodgers suffered several injuries including severe burns to his legs and torso after crashing his motorcycle around one a.m. Friday morning. Two other men, Caleb Hendricks, 20, and Joshua Michaels, 21, were also injured in what seems to be a related crash. Authorities are still investigating a cause.

Kate read the first sentence of the article three times in succession before the words sunk in. Severe burns to his legs and torso. Oh god—poor Castle!

She leaned back in her seat and considered all the information now in front of her, just as she did with all her cases. Castle admitted to her that he broke a leg and an ankle in the accident, which seemed a fairly strange thing to lie about, plus the article had mentioned "several injuries" so she assumed he had been telling the truth. On the other hand he had not made any mention of the burns, which struck her as odd. The only explanation she could come up with was that he was embarrassed of the scars that presumably remained, which was not all that unreasonable, she supposed, but how did any of this relate to him turning down her invitation?

After several minutes of thought, Kate glanced over her computer monitors to see Ryan and Esposito standing beside the latter's desk, talking quietly together, glancing in her direction every so often. Shit. They knew something—they had to know something.

Kate quickly clicked a few keys on her computer to print out the article and corresponding police report she found on Castle's accident. After grabbing them from the printer, she walked over to her partners, held them out and demanded, "Did he tell you about this?"

Ryan shook his head. "No, we…we figured it out."

"How?"

"We're detectives."

Esposito rolled his eyes and smacked his partner's shoulder with the front of his hand. "Dude just tell her," he said, gesturing to Kate. In response, Kate folded her arms over her chest, popped out one of her hips, and arched one eyebrow, waiting.

Ryan glanced reluctantly between the detectives before rounding his shoulders and letting out a long exhale, as though he were about to confess to throwing a baseball through his parent's garage window. "He…he never uses the urinals in the restroom. We always thought it was kind of odd. Then, remember that case with the lost little girl? I went to help him take the wire off and I saw some scars."

"Where?"

"Didn't get a good look, but somewhere around here." Ryan moved his right hand to the area just below his belt and above his left hip and moved it around in small circles.

Kate pressed her lips tightly together as she considered this new information. Okay, so Castle did have burn scars. Scars he was embarrassed of, but so what? She wasn't some random floozy from a bar with the maturity of a middle schooler. She wasn't going to point and laugh at him. Would his concern over those scars really prevent him from having sex with her? It seemed too extreme to be true, but it was the only conclusion she could come to given the information the boys were presenting to her.

"So you think that-"

"We don't know anything more than what is in that article, Beckett, and frankly it's none of our business but…" Esposito's voice drifted off and he gave a little shrug. Puffing out his chest, he waved a hand casually in her direction. "Well, you know…"

"You smile now, Beckett; it'd be a shame to see that go away," Ryan added in a softer tone.

"What he said," Esposito grunted before trying to look manly once more.

Kate saw flashes of white soar before her eyes and she felt her forehead grow slick with perspiration as a mixture of mortification and rage coursed through her. What the hell was happening? Were her partners trying to encourage her to go crawling back to Castle? He was the one who had rejected her. And, okay, maybe he was nervous about his scars—but maybe he wasn't. What if the boys were wrong? What if his accident had nothing to do with why he rejected her? Given all the facts she had, that seemed the most likely scenario and she was not going to be rejected twice.

"You two are way out of line," she warned them in a hushed tone.

"He's an idiot, Beckett," Esposito told her wisely. "All we're saying is: he might not be as big of an idiot you think he is." With that, he sat back down at his desk and stared intently at his computer monitor. A moment later, Ryan did the same.

Desperate for an escape, Kate walked in the opposite direction, tossing the printed pieces of paper on the corner of her desk as she passed. She made her way into the women's restroom, picked a vacant stall, and shut herself inside before leaning back against the cool metal door.

What the hell was happening?

She was not this person. She was not the woman who wallowed over the man who turned her down. She didn't obsess and analyze a relationship trying to find out what went wrong. She didn't consider perusing a man who had already rejected her. Yet, there she was doing all of those things because of a man called Richard Castle.

Kate shut her eyes and covered her face with her hands as she thought about the scenario she was in. God, she never did this; she was never the bigger person—not in relationships. At the first inkling of heartache she would sprint for the door, practically leaving a Kate-shaped hole in its surface. She'd retreat to her apartment, perhaps lick her wounds for a few days depending on how deep the hurt had cut, and then reinvigorate her walls with a fresh coat of lead paint and chainmail. She refused to have her heart broken, to face that pain again, but where had that gotten her? A successful career, yes, but at the end of the day, she was still nearly thirty-one years old and going home alone each night.

Being alone was something Kate had consciously chosen, but not yet fully accepted. Most days, being alone wasn't all that terrible. Some days she even preferred it. But then there were the days when loneliness felt crushing and all she wanted was a strong arm around her, a smiling face, and someone who could make her forget a terrible day by drawing a laugh from her throat.

The thing of it was: by some miracle she'd stumbled upon that person without even realizing.

With Castle, she never expected anything more than something causal, professional, and fleeting. She figured they would be acquaintances at best—at least, that's how it started. They had been nothing more than that for a while, but sharing a squad car, chasing down killers, and ducking from bullets elevated things far beyond a casual scope.

Over the first few months of their working relationship Kate learned to trust her new partner in the field, in the interrogation room, and, finally, off the job. She got to know him as a person and allowed him to see pieces of her she'd never shown to anyone before. Each time she let something slip out, she shocked herself not with the admission, but with how easy it had been. Their partnership, their bond, was unlike something she had ever experienced before—unlike anything she could have ever imagined—and it wasn't something she was willing to give up. Not yet.

Kate spun around in a tiny circle in the toilet stall and felt her stomach flip as she imagined herself going to Castle's apartment and demanding he tell her why he'd turned down her advances. Damn it she didn't do that! That wasn't her! She didn't take leaps of faith—not like that. But god, Castle—how many times had he showed his faith in her? Wasn't it time she returned the favor?

Maybe the reasoning was simple—maybe it was his scars. If that was the case they could surely work through it. Maybe he was just afraid. She could handle that, certainly. But if it was something else—if he said no again…

God, then it really would be over. Their partnership would be gone and she'd face that heartache all over again.

Kate balled her fists and shook her head. No—no she couldn't; she wouldn't. But…

Could she really live without knowing the answer to the question spinning through her mind over the prior two days?

Why?


A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews & follows! :)