A/N: Okay, here's Chapter 2. Your reviews and encouragement make me want to write. :-) Hopefully this will answer some of those questions. I'm not used to writing in non-linear fashion, so I'd appreciate knowing if I'm answering the questions you had from Chapter 1. There's potential Chapter 3 because I have more Castle/Beckett backstory on my mind.

This update was fast because I'm still in the hospital with my mom and this is quite boring. Don't expect more one-day miracles. But, I'll do what I can. I used to be superslow-you guys are making me faster.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Oh no.

"Cops?"

"Yes. Down the corridor. I could see Esposito," she whispers, although no one is close enough to be able to hear them, let alone through the door.

"Wait, what are you doing then? This is our opportunity to get help." He reaches behind her for the door handle and she slaps his hand away, tugs on his fingers and pulls him further into the room.

"We're not dressed, Castle. You know that he's going to assume that we-" She releases his fingers like they are scalding her, tugging hard when he tries to keep them twisted together.

"Made love."

"Stop saying that."

"Why?"

"Because. Just…help me think." She shoots down his suggestive comment before it leaves his mouth. "Not about that."

"Gotcha." He's already thinking about that, has been for years. And with renewed vigor since the stormy day in his loft when in between secrets and declarations, she pushed him to his desk and let her tongue show him what an idiot misunderstandings had made of him. And then today, God today, waking up to the swell of her breasts spilling just over the fabric of the sheet, hair tumbling down like some kind of Greek goddess sent to torture him from sleep.

He shakes himself out of his memories and fantasies (boy, they meld together so well) before he embarrasses himself. She's staring at him expectantly and he's not sure if she's been talking to him or not. All he hears is whooshing, his blood rushing to his ears. Better than rushing elsewhere. "Did you say something?"

"Just brainstorming."

"Hit me. Whatcha got?"

"Hide under the bed?" She winces at the idea, but still seems open to it.

"I'm game."

"But if they sweep the room, that'll look even worse," she talks herself out of it.

"Yeah, and kinky."

"Okay, that's out." She's rubbing her temples, trying to generate ideas or stave off a migraine, maybe both.

"What if you just go out there?" She throws it around like it's the best idea there is. Um, no.

"Uh, in case you've forgotten, I'm in my underwear."

"You could just say that you're with a woman…spent the night." She says it easily, nonchalantly, but won't meet his eyes. "Get us some clothes and sneak back in here. You're not modest."

"Esposito won't buy that. He knows there's no one else."

She meets his eyes now. "Just tell him she is…what's your preference, French? Italian? German?...and you were reminiscing about your European vacation." She's bitter, cutting into him again, but he's not going to turn his back on her like he wants to.

He clenches his jaw and feels the grind of his teeth. "Book tour, not a vacation. And there weren't any women, not like you're implying." Just you, he wants to scream, but she's not his, yet it all still feels like betrayal. Part of him wishes he could just take another woman; he's done meaningless before, and Lord knows he needs a release now, but he can't, won't, doesn't want to…all because he's in love with Kate.

A tiny beep indicating the lock's release is all the preparation they have, and it seems like slow motion when they freeze in the middle of the room as the door slowly swings open. Esposito and another man are talking as they enter the room, not paying much attention, obviously not expecting anything, having probably already been in a number of rooms and finding nothing.

"Whoa." Esposito stands in the doorway, eyes wide, roving over them.

"This is not what it looks like." Kate takes half a stride forward, looks poised to explain (yeah, Kate, try it). She throws and arm over her sheeted chest and slinks back to Castle's side.

"It never is."

Castle watches as the heavy-set, balding man standing with Esposito comically juggles the keycard, then bends down to pick it up, which takes longer than necessary because his eyes never leave Kate. Castle clears his throat, thins his mouth into a frown, and steps in front of her. Esposito purses his lips to conceal his smile, then eyes Castle up and down and raises a brow at his boxers. "Pretty man-panties, dude."

"Shut up," Castle grumbles, suddenly modest. Yeah, they totally should have crawled under the bed.

"Hey, man, I got this now. Thanks." The Latin detective ushers the older gentleman out the door and points down the hallway. "Remember the pretty lady I was talking with earlier? Can you see if you can find her and let her know that I found what we were looking for?" Castle watches the man, still dazed (Geez, it wasn't like they were doing it) nod enthusiastically and begin to shuffle down the corridor. Esposito shuts the door behind him, then saunters around the room a bit, acts blasé as he skims his finger along the dusty plastic while he walks. "So."

"We don't know what happened," Castle promises, guiltily. Damn if he doesn't feel like he's being interrogated and the Detective has only said one word.

"You were drugged."

Kate sighs, still behind him. He feels her knees graze his calves as she plops back down on the bed. "We figured. We're symptomatic."

"And naked," Espo includes.

Kate has acquired some God-given patience (he'll take some of the credit for that thankyouverymuch) and ignores him to forge ahead. "Do you know who did it?"

"The bartender."

Castle wracks his brain to get a picture of the man in his head, to no avail. He hates having parts of the puzzle missing, and right now it feels like he's just built the outer shell with the corner pieces and is waiting for the essential stuff to click into place. He just watches as Kate and Esposito hash this out; he wants to take notes, but doesn't have paper or his phone.

"Access through our drinks then, I'm assuming? What did he use?"

"Benzodiazeptides."

"Rohypnol?" Kate inquires. Some of this medical jargon goes over his head, but he's heard that one before.

"Probably. Amongst others. He had quite the cocktail on his person."

"I don't get it. Why?"

"He was stealing purses and wallets, jewelry, you name it."

"Phones," Castle adds.

"I guess." Esposito shrugs. Kate rolls her eyes. "Apparently he watched and once they got loopy enough, passed out, whatever, he'd strike, quick and painless for the most part."

"For the most part?"

"He hit a ninety year old lady. Too large of a dose. Massive heart attack."

"Damn," Castle adds. They were lucky, then. "Why were we different? Why take our clothes?"

"He didn't take your clothes, Bro."

"Obviously he did." Beckett adds. "And our phones," she includes before Castle has the chance.

"We found all of your belongings in the room next door."

"Weird."

"Uh huh."

"What, Espo? What are you not saying?" Kate interrupts, because yeah, he's hiding something.

"Ryan's got Edwards—the bartender—in custody. Asked him to try to remember how many people he drugged." Castle's leaning forward, interested in where this is going. Esposito is a good story-teller, nice pace.

"And?"

"Six. He remembered them all. The deceased, a young couple, an older gentleman, and you two. The other three thought they had food poisoning, went to the hospital for treatment. He was doing CPR on the deceased when we found him. Admitted everything."

"How'd you know we were the other two he referred to?"

"Said you were bickering, but making goo-goo eyes at each other, knew what you were wearing. Lanie's the one who figured it out." Kate tries to interject, but Esposito keeps going. "Ryan pulled surveillance video of the conference room and lobby. And the entertainment commenced," he smiles.

"What's that mean?" Wow, they really do manage to get into some messes, don't they?

"Means that we needed some popcorn for the show." Lanie is standing in the doorway, hands on hips and wry, too wry, grin on her face.

"What show?" He didn't want to ask, but the question was just lingering in the air, waiting for someone to jerk it down. He sits down on the bed next to Kate and if she's upset by that she doesn't show it. This whole situation is awkward enough that their thighs and shoulders pressing together seems insignificant.

Lanie clicks the door shut and saunters towards them, on a mission, stops in front of Kate. "Let's see, which side was it?" Kate's eyeing her suspiciously, but Lanie gives the look right back, wins, and Kate looks like she wants to cover her head with the sheet. "Right about here, I think." Castle watches as she peels the starched white fabric back from Kate's shoulder and he, instinctively, wants to cover her back up—she looks uncomfortable. "Ah, there it is. I suspected you'd have one." Castle's breath catches as he sees the purple, mouth-sized bruise on her collarbone. Beckett can't see it, but when she presses her fingers to it, she must feel the sting, know what it is. He watches as she closes her eyes and swallows a groan, then pulls the sheet back over her shoulder.

Oh my God, he wants that memory back, stat. Oh my God, she's going to kill him.

But she doesn't look angry, looks confused, wounded, pained.

Lanie continues, rubbing the salt in those wounds. "We didn't have video past the lobby, but that was enough to know that you two were together."

"Why were our clothes in another room?" Castle asks, trying to fill in the gaps. "Why did we end up in here?"

"Hotel manager said this is the only room in the remodeled wing that has a bed. If construction runs late, the foreman sometimes sleeps here through the week."

"God, Lanie, how would I not remember that we-?" She lets the words trail off, and Castle's pretty sure that she's already forgotten that he and Esposito are still in the room. His heart lurches into his throat, beats there, closing it off, suffocating him.

"Made love?" Lanie finishes for her and Kate groans even more loudly. Yes, he could have warned her-. "Oh, baby, you probably didn't."

"What?"

"Do you think you did?"

Kate looks from him to Esposito, then back to Lanie. "Castle and I talked about this, and no. Neither one of us thought that anything happened."

"Well, a little sumptin' happened, but probably not the really good stuff." Lanie taps Kate's knee with her own and Castle relaxes when Kate looks a little less anxious. "Our boy over here," Lanie tilts her head towards Castle. "would have a really hard time groovin' with all those drugs in his system."

"Hey," he draws out in weak offense. He's relieved, but feels like his manhood should be defended.

"I can do a kit if you want confirmation one way or another."

"No." Kate answers quickly and he's soothed by it. "It's not—it wouldn't be the end of the world if it happened." Lanie's nodding her head slowly, speaking some non-verbal language with Kate. He needs a translator. "It would have been consensual."

Oh.

A/N: Feedback is like crack. But, since I don't do crack, I'll compare it to bread pudding or chimichangas. :-) Wanna give me some?