Close Encounters

*in case it was not made obvious, this is an alternate universe set during 'Close Encounters of the Murderous Kind'*

She let out a breath and laughed. "I don't have it. Nice try, Agent Castle, but I got nothing you want."

"On the contrary." Suddenly his hand was at her neck, thumb stroking over her lips. "You're exactly what I want."

He felt her body so rigid, so hard in the chair, the way she tensed her jaw to keep from letting a single thing betray her.

And that alone betrayed her.

He had her.

It always worked best when he played Good Cop.

He stood, dropping his hand from her, surprised at the way his palm tingled, the way his fingers ached to touch her, slide through that soft hair, tug her closer until her mouth slanted over his and opened-

His methods of interrogation usually didn't affect him like this.

Of course, none of his subjects had been Smoking Hot Detective Beckett before.

"Come with me," he said gruffly, heard the arousal in his voice and was damn grateful he'd had the forethought to turn off the recording devices.

"Where are we going?" she said, but she stood even as she questioned him, on her own two feet, taking it as it came.

She'd fight to the bitter end, but if he could make her trust him, she'd fight with him more than against him.

"I'm going to show you what we're up against," he said finally. "And then you decide if you're what I need."

It was still dark, but he knew his way, so he put his hand to the small of her back and guided her towards the door.

To her credit, she walked gracefully at his side, her steps never faltering.

"When did you start tracking my car?" she asked quietly.

Castle shot her a look, surprised, but he shouldn't have been. She was intelligent - scarily so. It was damn attractive.

"When you first showed up at the science center," he admitted. Eastman would chew him out for going entirely off-book on this one, but his father would back him up. Eventually. When he got results.

Beckett frowned. "I didn't notice until the next day," she said, shaking her head slightly.

"The next. . .you knew?"

She smirked at him, quirked an eyebrow. "Of course. I saw you following me, Agent. You're not such hot stuff as you think."

It was only his training that kept him from stopping in surprise. "You. Saw me?" He was one of the best. Sure, he hadn't been on high alert, but he'd been careful.

"You followed me to get coffee, you were in Remy's for lunch twice, and again outside the Science Center this afternoon."

Hm, okay. Only four of the nineteen times he'd surveilled her. That wasn't acceptable, but it wasn't as bad as he'd first thought. "You're good," he admitted.

"And you underestimated me." She crossed her arms as they walked. "Tonight. You took out my car with-?"

"An EMP."

"Electromagnetic pulse," she sighed.

"Yes."

"So it's a routine you do," Beckett said, following at his side down the corridor. "Knock out the car, phone, radio, then the bright light. And what? You drugged me?"

"Works," he said simply. "Most people are too embarrassed to say what happened. Bright light? Lost time? Works well for us."

"You pick up all your women with the alien routine, Castle?"

He barked a laugh and found himself slowing down as he looked at her. She stopped because he did, because he was leading the way, and he liked the look of her - brassy, sharp, mysterious. She was making him break all his rules.

"So far, just you," he answered finally.

She lifted an eyebrow. No words necessary.

You haven't got me.

Yet.

"Why all this fuss over an astrophysicist who analyzes radio signals?" she murmured, pausing before the door that he was holding open.

Castle nodded with his head for her to enter, but she still refused, balked in the hallway.

"Maybe Marie Subbarao wasn't who you thought she was," he answered finally.

"Who was she?"

"Come inside, will you?" He lifted a hand and snagged her hip, manhandled her through the door. He knew her well enough now - after four days of round the clock surveillance - to know that she'd never let a soul touch her like that.

But he had. And he'd lived.

So she was his. He had her already.

"Agent. . .Castle? Maybe you'd like to explain what's going on here." She was glaring at him again, arms crossed over her chest as she stood just inside his command center. The hum of computer fans, the monitors just behind her head, the vast interactive digital screen just to her left - she ignored it all, kept her eyes on him. He shut the door behind them and leaned back against it, surveying her slowly.

She had the grace and composure not to blush; she merely perused him back. When her eyes traveled up to meet his, he saw the momentary flicker of her gaze down to his lips and it clenched a fist in his guts.

"Why don't you tell me?" he said, watching her tongue touch her bottom lip and retreat. His blood was pounding in his hands, his neck, his chest. He wanted to touch her again.

"A murdered astrophysicist. I've got a guy on my team who's freaking out about little green men and how his cousin once got raptured or abducted or whatever, but. . ."

He waited for it, watched her mind work behind her eyes. Startling, intense, brilliant. Brittle in a way he couldn't yet understand, couldn't pull apart - something to do with her dead mother, her calling as a detective. And while that was usually his m.o. - pull them apart, put them back together as his own - he wasn't sure he wanted to break her like that.

This was his job - interrogation, the story - and while he had no qualms breaking down suspects, witnesses, assets - anyone who became involved in national security - Kate Beckett was nominal, unique. He wanted to preserve the stubborn streak, tease it out, play with it.

Let it run wild.

"I don't believe in the alien thing," she murmured. "This isn't Men in Black. You're with what agency? You've kidnapped an NYPD detective, sedated her, gone with the alien-abduction scenario. . .CIA? NSA? Homeland Security?"

He grunted at the affront. "Please. Homeland Security?"

She let loose a slow smile that seared his guts and made him stand up straight from the door.

"CIA, then."

He lifted an eyebrow. She took it as the confirmation he'd intended and her arms dropped to her sides, her body opened up to him.

He had her. She was his.

"So what do you need me for?" she said carefully, lifting an eyebrow to match his, a smirk teasing her lips.

"Subbarao procured sensitive information. We need that information back."

She narrowed her eyes and stalked forward; he could see her mind again at work, and he wondered how closely she'd brush against the truth, how closely she might brush against him as well.

"We found cigarettes at the crime scene. Chinese cigarettes. Are you telling me Subbarao was a spy? A traitor selling secrets to the Chinese?"

When he said nothing, she took that last step, her body hot and riddled with tension, practically humming before him. He found himself squeezing his hands into fists to keep from touching her, his eyes trapped by the movement of her lips, his mouth parting involuntarily as she stood in his space.

"Castle," she murmured quietly, intensely, her voice like raw silk. "Just what is this information you think she had?"

"Something that can get a lot of men killed," he said gruffly. "Transmissions between the Pacific fleet and the Pentagon. And if the Chinese have them. . ."

She quirked a triumphant eyebrow and he slowly shut his eyes.

Damn.

He didn't have her at all.

She had him.

"Nothing I say leaves this room," he started.

Beckett stepped back, pleasure humming in her blood. She'd flipped him, just like that. He'd been so smug, so arrogant in that interrogation room, but the moment he released her from the cuffs, she knew she could work a confession from him.

"Beckett," he grunted. "I need your word. Nothing-"

"-you say leaves the room. I got it." She half-turned in her spot, let her eyes trail his equipment, the wide space of conference table, monitors, satellite uplink, some kind of fancy projection screen. "Nice Batcave."

She heard his grunt of surprise and turned to face him, saw that he wasn't a man often taken by surprise.

He cleared his throat, took one step closer. "Batman fan?"

"Comic book fan." She lifted an eyebrow, saw his lips twitch. He kept his face as carefully guarded as she did; she liked how she'd managed to break that facade. "Didn't discover that while you were following me, did you?"

He sighed, but his eyes were amused. "You're like an onion. Just when I thought I knew what I was dealing with. . ."

Beckett lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "So many layers, Castle. How ever will you peel them all?"

His lips twitched and he sank down to the edge of the table, pushed a chair out with his foot for her. She declined, propped herself up against the table as well, wanted to remain on eye level with him.

"Last month we determined that an enemy operative had obtained access to a classified, coded data stream between the Pacific fleet and the Pentagon. The seller of this information was never pinpointed, but we've seen a slow leak ever since."

"And you think my dead astrophysicist is involved?" She arched an eyebrow beause, frankly, she didn't believe it for a minute. Marie Subbarao was all about nerdy star searching, and while, yes, she'd had a life-altering event - it'd been in the past week, not a month ago.

"I think your dead astrophysicist wouldn't be dead if she wasn't."

"Where's your proof, G-man?"

He grinned at her, a full-fledged thing that made his eyes wrinkle at the corners so that the blue was all but eclipsed. His mouth was tempting like that, the hard line of his jaw. She leaned back to keep from leaning in.

"What'd you pick up at Plainsboro Observatory?" he countered.

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you," he said softly, and even though he still kept a fraction of that smile on his face, the warmth had disappeared. He was disappointed in her?

"I truly got nothing. She made an image capture, erased the data after she did it. I'm not holding back on you, Agent Castle."

"An image?" he scoffed.

"Well, most likely a series of images - the woman I spoke to seemed to think it was a fragment of video."

"A video," he frowned, but she saw he was working on something. He was putting the pieces together.

"You gonna share with the class, Castle?"

He lifted startled eyes to her and shook his head. "What?"

"I shared. Your turn. What does this have to do with the Chinese?"

He narrowed his eyes, studied her slowly. She didn't mind - his gaze was electric and piercing at the same time, arousing and cutting. She found herself wishing his hands would follow, but maybe after this all was over. . .

CIA Agent?

No, Beckett.

If she thought life with Will had been bad. . .

"Give, Castle. The Chinese. The Pacific fleet. My murder case, remember?"

"She's our source."

"I highly doubt that," Beckett countered. "Doesn't fit the timeline."

"She tasked her radio telescope to point at our satellite during the very times that coincide with our intercepted transmissions. How's that for timeline, Beckett?"

"She showed absolutely no signs of it. No one's that good," she shot back, standing up now to crowd him. "Earlier this week, she freaks out, heads to the observatory - not her own research station - and takes a video, a picture, something. And then she ends up dead. That's not the action of a woman casually selling state secrets."

"You'd be surprised," he gruffed.

"I wouldn't."

He watched her a long moment. "We need that information."

"Well, it's my guess that whoever killed her also wanted that information. So if we work together to catch her killer - you just might find your information."

And then he lifted his head and his eyes bore straight into hers, deadly, accurate, cold.

"I already know exactly who killed her, Detective Beckett. And it won't do you a bit of good."

"Her handler?" Beckett sneered. "Right. I know you're used to seeing conspiracies at every turn, but let me clue you in. Murder is much simpler than that."

"Not when you actually are in the middle of a conspiracy," he groused, crossing his arms as he glared at her.

Seriously, he was like a petulant child. She scraped a hand through her hair and breathed through it, started over again. "Marie Subbarao freaked out the last week of her life - everyone thought she was acting strangely. What self-respecting espionage agent would risk blowing her cover?"

Castle was staring her down, but she could see the hint of doubt had taken seed in his eyes.

"She. . ."

"She's not the spy," Beckett affirmed. "Doesn't fit the timeline."

"You and the damn timeline." He scrubbed both hands down his face and suddenly he looked tired, weary of it, and she wondered how long he'd been doing this. How long this case, how long this life.

"It doesn't fit," she said again. "Marie's not your spy. She's a murdered astrophysicist, and I need to find her killer."

He looked so defeated that she had the urge to reach out and brush the hair off his forehead, take his hand and squeeze.

"That information is out there," he said hollowly. "A lot of lives are at stake."

All that boyish charm was subsumed by the cold reality of his job; he wasn't just moping about being wrong, he was seriously in trouble.

"Look, you want your information back? Then help me find her killer. She was murdered for a reason - it was her telescope that intercepted those coded data streams."

His eyes lifted to hers, hope flaring. "Someone at that science center is our traitor," he said slowly. "And they probably killed her when she started making waves. So. What's our next move?"

"Our move?"

"You're the homicide detective. Detect." He wriggled an eyebrow at her, and damn, he was attractive. And so very smooth. Had the crestfallen look on his face been an act to garner her sympathy, draw her to his side?

It'd worked.

"You have a phone I can use?" Beckett asked, holding her hand out. "Your EMP toasted mine."

"Why do you need a phone?"

"Call my team. I'm sure we've made headway in the time I've been. . .abducted."

He didn't blush, but his eyes darted away. No shame, then, just a slight unease. He wasn't happy he'd abducted her? Or all too happy, maybe.

"Phone, Castle."

He slid his one out of his pocket, touched in his passcode, and handed it over. "No funny business."

She snorted, dialed Esposito's phone. "Are you serious? This coming from you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and gone was that charming, adorable man. In its place was the calculated agent, the man who'd created an elaborate ruse to put her entirely at a disadvantage, perhaps even to scare-

Esposito answered.

"Javi, it's Beckett."

"Yo, where are you? You never checked in at the 12th."

She lifted her eyes to Castle, saw the intensity in his eyes. "Tell you later. Get anything from the lab before you guys left for the night?"

"Lanie sent over the test results just as I left. Sodium pentothal in her system."

"Truth serum?" Beckett huffed. "Are you serious? This case-"

"Yeah. This case. Man. Ryan's going nuts too."

"Jeez, Ryan. There are no aliens. Anything else, Espo?"

"Not so far. Hey, where are you calling from? Said the number's blocked."

"My phone bit the dust. When I get a new one, I'll let you know."

She ended the call before Esposito could ask more and handed the phone back to Agent Castle. He was smirking at her.

"It's yours."

"I can't take your-"

"Not mine," he shrugged. "We're also overhauling that POS car of yours. We broke it; we buy it, Beckett."

"I doubt that's CIA policy," she murmured, glancing down at the iphone in her hand.

"Code's the first four of your badge number," he added. "To unlock it. Already synched it to your account, but I left the number block in place. Security measure-"

"I don't need you-"

He shrugged elaborately at her, raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Once we're through here, you do what you want. But for now, the - let's call them added features? - the added features remain. On the phone, and on your car, Beckett."

"On my car?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him. "More tracking devices? Is it rigged so that you can listen in at your leisure?"

"Yes. Pretty much. Also installed a panic button on your phone."

"A panic button."

"It's necessary - you might need backup. Hey, look, see?" He pulled out his own phone from a back pocket, called up the main screen to show it to her. "I got one too. It's just a good idea. Another agent - it was her thing. Comes in handy."

Her thing. "Your girlfriend's panic button aside, I don't want your fingers all over my case, all over my stuff, Castle."

"She's not my girlfriend," he insisted sharply.

Beckett raised an eyebrow, surprised that had found a mark.

He huffed and twisted away; she saw his fist clench around his phone before he shoved it back in his pocket. "The car, the phone - it's just so I can keep track of you."

"Exactly," she said, stepping around the table to get in his space, make him see her. "I don't want you to be able to keep track of me."

His eyes lifted to meet hers, something desolate in them that nearly made her flinch. "It's just for back-up, Kate. In case something happens and you need help."

"I won't need help," she answered carefully, alarmed by how soft her voice was, how her body canted into his without her say. "I work alone."

"Not on this one."