Chapter One: In Which Life Begins to Imitate Art

Up to his elbows in paperwork—as usual—Javier Esposito sat back in his chair. Tilting his head, he was rewarded with a savage pop. Smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he spared a glance at his partner. The neck cracking usually made Ryan a little queasy—a fact which had struck Esposito as odd after he'd learned Kev had dated a girl who drank blood. He was slightly disappointed this time however, as it didn't seem as though Ryan had even noticed.

From the stack of files on Ryan's desk—on the side Esposito knew he habitually set his "done" pile—he'd already finished his share of the paperwork, leaving Esposito to wonder just what had him so engrossed. Ryan was leaning forward in his chair staring at the computer, scrolling through some list. An occasional smile twitched on the other man's lips, and he'd click on a link.

Esposito gave a soft grunt before reaching for his next file. At least one of them was having fun.

Twenty-five minutes later he had just wrapped up and was pondering heading out to grab something to eat when his thoughts were interrupted by a strangled noise. It was so odd and incongruous that it took him a while to realize that it had come from his partner. Ryan was still staring at the screen, only now it was with a shocked, frozen expression of horror. It was so intense, in fact, that for a moment Esposito's heart fell into his stomach. Maybe someone had died?

"What's the matter, bro?" He asked quietly, coming up slowly behind his partner's chair. "You're looking a little pale-er."

Ryan didn't make a sound, though his hand lifted helplessly to gesture toward the screen. Javier let his eyes scan down the text on the page. When he leaned over to take the mouse, he felt Ryan flinch slightly in his chair. His head tilted slightly, an amused smile forming as he realized what Ryan had been reading. His partner could be such a geek sometimes, and never more than when it involved their cameo in Castle's book.

Though, that amusement evaporated abruptly when he reached the end of the chapter. The choking sound he made was very nearly identical.

"That's—" He stated numbly, mind scrambling for words. There really were none.

"Not cool." Ryan managed. His voice sounded incredibly small.

"So not cool." Esposito agreed, taking a step back from his partner's chair.

"We—"

"Need to do something about this."

Castle was standing in front of the coffee machine when the detectives managed to corner him.

They were very discreet about it. One moment they were just there, each with an arm hooked through the crooks of his elbows. Before he knew it he was standing in the precinct's men's room with Ryan locking the door and Esposito leaning menacingly into his space.

"We need to talk."

"Aw, fellas, if this is about the shaving cream, I thought we were good."

"Capillary damage, Castle." Ryan stated emphatically as he turned away from the door. There was an odd frown creasing his forehead as he flicked a quick look at his partner. "But, uh, no, that's not what this is about."

Esposito picked up the conversation, drawing on his partner's momentum. "This is about the defamation of our good names."

"Defamation..." Castle's face slackened slightly as the answer occurred to him, his tone growing amused and his expression a little indulgent, almost condescending. "Wait, this is about the book?"

The two of them stood with arms crossed and matching, stony expressions. Esposito pulled this off far better than his partner, but an uncharacteristic moment of wisdom told Castle that now was definitely not the time to say so. Fierceness wasn't an expression that most people could picture on Ryan's face. It certainly wasn't something that many had seen, but Castle had witnessed it himself. He'd seen it the night Holliwell had come stumbling their way leaking blood from a bullet, with Esposito was nowhere in sight—a hot, wrathful blaze burning in those open blue eyes like a laser. The intensity facing him down now was only a pale ghost of that fire, but still formidable, and not something Castle wanted directed his way.

Running his hands over his jacket to fix the wrinkles left by their assault , Castle straightened his posture, offering the two detectives a smile.

Maybe it was his apparent lack of concern that did it. Then again, perhaps it was simply reluctance on their parts to put whatever had gotten under their skin into words. From the way they each threw the other an uncertain, uncomfortable glance, Castle thought it was almost certainly latter.

"Ryan," he addressed the detective earnestly, "I know for a fact you've read Heat Wave... In fact, you read it twice. You didn't have a problem either one of those times, and the new book isn't even finished yet. My characters were completely on the level. So what new bit of information prompted all this?"

Before either man had a chance to answer, his own question inspired Castle to take a second glance at the pair.

When properly inspired, Ryan and Esposito could, just the two of them, present a defensive line any pro football team could be proud of. Castle had spent almost a year at the 12th with observation the official goal of his presence. While most of that observation had, quite obviously and naturally, been focused on Beckett, it was not exclusive to her. One thing Castle had noticed early on was how at ease the two men were in each others' personal space. He remembered the first time he'd noticed, watching them as they mulled over the facts of a case, each lost in their own thoughts as they scanned the evidence on board, standing nearly shoulder to shoulder.

Shoulder to shoulder, or back to back, or one headed off on Beckett's orders with the other following close behind. Castle had realized at that moment just how closely linked the two men were in his mind. Imagination seemed to treat them almost as one entity, inextricably merged so that the thought of one without the other was nearly as alien as the thought of Kate without those knockout legs...

Almost tragic.

At first he had thought it was some unconscious partner thing, something that came naturally from spending all hours with a person that you trusted with your life. But the more time he spent at the precinct and the more officers he had come to know, the more it had become plain to Castle that the bond he saw was something singular to the two men. And thus the seeds of inspiration for Roach had been sewn.

The word "tragic" crept its way into his mind again during his brief study of the two men, and it was with a sliver of discomfort that he realized why. Esposito and Ryan had been prepared for him to try and make a break for it, something he unashamedly would admit had crossed his mind. Ryan had locked the door, but still there was always an outside chance. They stood in front of him, arms crossed, feet spread, presenting as solid a human wall as any he had seen two men make. But...

There was a gap.

Physically it could not have been more than six inches, but for the men he knew it might as well have been a mile. It struck him as ironic that their attempt at intimidation should leave them both seeming so vulnerable. A vulnerability he realized had been visible in their earlier glances, though he only now noticed: Hesitance, uncertainty, screaming at him that something was wrong.

"Alright," he said, his train of thought leaving him uncharacteristically sober. "What's up, guys?"

Moments later, sitting at Esposito's desk, Castle couldn't help but think he should be laughing. It should be funny. And perhaps it would have been if it hadn't managed such an obvious change in the two men. But the anxiety, the diffidence, that was serious. Though, as his eyes scanned the page, the detectives seemed bound and determined to shatter his powerful moment of insight with their kvetching.

Ryan had maintained a running monologue as he read, rambling about "Elton John" and "Beefcake" and something about the elevator scene on page forty-nine. It was public knowledge around the station that Esposito had never read the book. He had always been more than vocal around the station that he never would read the book. His comment that quote reading a hot scene about Kate would be like watching my sister have sex unquote had managed to ruin a whole week by invoking the subtle yet terrifying wrath of Beckett, a fact which soon had also become public knowledge. Despite this, Javier maintained a counterpoint of small noises of agreement with his partner, as though everything Ryan was saying was completely accurate.

"All completely out of context." Esposito broke in finally as Ryan paused for a moment, scrambling for either breath or more of his damning 'proof'. "It's libel is what it is."

Castle could not help but note that his solid, reasonable tone nonetheless managed to hold a sharp edge of menace.

"First of all, I'm a novelist," He chimed in cautiously, closing the window and doing his best to scrub what he had just read from his mind. A remarkably diplomatic, unconcerned smirk was in place by the time he swung the chair around to face the detectives. "You can't charge me with libel for a work of fiction. And second... Your problem isn't one of context, it's a problem of subtext."

Warming up to the sound of his own voice, Castle stood, pushing ahead with his explanation.

"See, that subtext Rook and Heat keep talking about in the book can be a powerful tool, but it's also a double edged sword. If an author is subtle enough, they can convey their meaning without actually stating it outright. When the reader has to put it all together themselves, it's so much more personal. But, at the same time, you can't stop the fans from seeing what they want to see. I learned the hard way with Derek Storm that nothing can.

"This is why I never read the fanfictions…" Castle muttered wearily. "Those people scare me. If you're ever feeling especially adventurous, try looking up a story called 'Stormchaser'..."

He trailed off, unable to suppress a shudder at the memory.

That goofy line found its way back onto Ryan's forehead, the squirming effort at digesting the situation visible in his eyes. Esposito's eyebrows dropped above his puzzled frown. Castle could tell they still weren't sure. He took a step forward with a sigh, laying a reassuring hand on each one of their shoulders

"Don't worry about it." He insisted, stepping past them toward the elevator. "It's not the book, it's not you two. It just...happens. Trust me. Patterson has this problem like nobody's business."

Halting at the elevator, he took a final look over his shoulder at the two men. He hadn't fixed the problem, at least not entirely. It was possible, even likely that the two would get over this weird bump on their own. He'd just have to keep a concerned eye on the situation.

Kate would never forgive him if he broke her detectives.

When Castle had gone, Esposito and Ryan remained for a moment, dumbly trying to digest the situation. Ryan was the first to shake himself out of it, a thoughtful frown on his face. Esposito looked at his partner, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"So..." The curiosity in his partner's eyes and tone were so plain and unguarded that Esposito couldn't help but immediately know why.

"Oh hell no," he warned Ryan, the corner of his mouth pulling in a lazy smile. "You know that was a trap. I mean, we both know how twisted Castle can be, so if he's disturbed..."

"Then we so don't want to know." Ryan finished, shaking his head.

With that it seemed the situation had been defused. The day wound down without much noticeable difference from any other, and if conversation in the elevator on the way down was a little more subdued, neither felt the need to mention it. They confirmed their plans to play Madden that Friday, agreed on who would bring the beer and who would pay for the pizza.

Neither of them did end up looking up "Stormchaser", though Ryan found himself typing it into the search exactly twice. But, later that night, a fan-writer by the name of "4n6goddess" did noticed two new reviews added to the prologue of her story, "Roach Motel". One was from a commenter called "fab54th", who simply informed her that she had way too much time on her hands. By contrast, "TheOriginalRaleyFan" left a far more specific critique, going on at length about how rude it was to twist the characters like that.

If she had a response for either, it was left unsent.