Thank you so much for all your kind comments & reviews
The following morning Richard Castle walked in to the Twelfth Precinct for the first time since the alleged death of his partner, determined as he'd ever been. Though he had barely slept the prior evening as he googled and researched everything he could about Denver, Colorado and its surrounding areas, his eyes and mind were clear; his goal was singular. That morning he'd showered, shaved, and even stopped for a haircut. He was unquestionably ready for whatever was about to transpire.
Despite coming across more than a few surprised greetings, Castle walked steadily through the bullpen, purposely ignoring the man now seated in his partner's former space. Ryan and Esposito looked up when he passed, but Castle only nodded to them curtly before standing in the doorway of the captain's office and knocking against the frame.
The elder man looked up and his brow rose. "Castle…it's been a while since we've seen you around these parts."
Too determined to waste time with pleasantries, Castle stepped in the man's office, shut the door behind him, and approached the desk steadily. "She's in witness protection."
Montgomery blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Beckett." He clarified. "She's in witness protection."
The elder man skimmed his index finger and thumb across his mustache before pushing himself up from his desk and walking around the other side. Castle took note that he did so with a slight hitch in the leg that had been injured forty-nine days earlier. Standing just a foot from the writer, the captain spoke cautiously. "Mr. Castle I understand that as her partner you took this hardest of all of us. Believe me, I do. I wish I could give her back to you, but Kate Beckett is dead."
Castle's faith was unwavering. Never once since the cardboard coffee sleeve fell into his hand did he stop believing that she was alive—out there, somewhere. "She's not."
"And what makes you so sure of that?"
From the pocket of his coat Castle pulled the white envelope. While the sleeve itself remained tucked safely in his desk drawer, too precious to venture out into the dangerous world, the envelope and its clearly marked Richard Castle Fan Mail address would suffice to make his point. Holding the envelope up so the address displayed towards the captain, Castle said, "I received this in the mail yesterday postmarked a week ago in Denver, Colorado. It's her handwriting. She's alive and I'm pretty sure that means she's in witness protection."
Montgomery's expression remained stoic as he shook his head and walked back around to the other side of his desk. "She's gone, Castle. You need to leave this alone."
Castle huffed out a breath. He couldn't say he was shocked at the captain's response. Truthfully, he would have been surprised if Montgomery willingly parted with the information. Fortunately, in this particular instance, Castle felt even more persistent than usual—which was saying something. "With respect: I can't do that sir. There's things…there are things that need said between us. I won't lose my chance again." To hold her, to see her face, to spend just one minute memorizing the flecks of green in her eyes—he'd be dammed if he'd give that up, especially given the heartache he experienced over the prior six weeks.
"Listen, Castle, I honestly don't know what you think you're doing here. If I knew about someone in witness protection I couldn't tell you anything about them."
Castle's heart lifted, knowing that if Montgomery had truly witnessed Beckett's demise he would not have entertained his witness protection theories at all. "I understand that."
"And even if I could tell you exactly where someone in witness protection was—which I couldn't, because I would never even know—but if I could tell you, you still could not go and see them. Anyone in witness protection is there because they are in mortal danger."
"I understand that, too. And believe me, the last thing I would ever want to do would be to put Bec—a person," he corrected, keeping his conversation on theme with Montgomery's statements, "in danger, but I need to do something. At least let me help with the investigation. If we can solve-"
"Enough Castle." Montgomery's tone was sharp as he ended their discussion of hypotheticals. "This case is too dangerous for anyone, particularly a civilian. I am very sorry about this—truly. No one had to question how much you cared for her Castle, but Beckett is not coming back and you'll just need to accept that."
Accept that—right. Castle would accept that Beckett was gone forever—on a cold day in hell. No, his conversation with Montgomery had only fanned the flames of his determination; it was time for Phase 2.
Exiting the captain's office, Castle walked right past Ryan and Esposito while subtly waiving for them to follow him. Once the trio was secluded in the break room, Castle began speaking to them in hushed tones. "I need your help with something—something that's probably ridiculously, crazy dangerous."
"It's about Beckett's case, isn't it?" Ryan asked.
"She was our partner. You know we'll do whatever it takes to find the sons of bitches that did this to her." Esposito added.
Castle shook his head. "That's just the thing—she's alive; she's in WITSEC."
The two detectives exchanged looks and then looked back at the writer. "What do you mean 'she's in WITSEC'?" Ryan asked. "How could you possibly know that?"
Once again, Castle pulled out the envelope and explained its origins. Both detectives examined it closely until it was Esposito who clicked his tongue with annoyance. "Man I thought Beckett was smarter than that. Writing a letter from WITSEC? Is she suicidal?"
Castle shook his head. "The letter was anonymous; meant to look like another fan letter. It's the handwriting that tipped me off. It's from her; I'm sure of it and when I confronted Montgomery he didn't deny it—we just talked about all these hypotheticals regarding WITSEC."
"Such as?"
"That even if he knew where she was, which he doesn't, I couldn't contact her without putting her life in danger."
"He's right about that," Ryan said.
Castle nodded. "I know which is why we need to use this as motivation to figure out who the hell is after her. If we stop them, she can come home….right?"
Esposito nodded in agreement. "But where the hell do we start?"
Richard Castle stepped off Mainstreet (not Main Street—Mainstreet) and into the Parker Mainstreet Center while puling the sunglasses off his face. Yep, he definitely was not in New York anymore. Parker, Colorado was about as one-horse as a town could get, or so the Manhattanite thought. He skimmed the directory board just inside the door and found the law offices of Hill Associates were located on the second floor. Perfect.
Stupid. Foolish. Idiotic. Moronic. Dangerous. Detrimental.
The insults poured through his mind as he stepped on the elevator just as they had when he'd jumped into the cab back in Manhattan and stepped on the plane in Newark and into his rental car in New Mexico. In a life full of questionable decisions this was undoubtedly his worst—and best. Funny how those two things so often coincided.
He was taking every precaution—he knew that. Fake ID to rent the car, paying cash everywhere not part of his "cover story," a very expensive private investigator assuring him his phone, bank accounts and apartment were not being watched by anyone. Still, the hairs at the back of Castle's neck prickled when he stepped into the second floor atrium. If he'd miscalculated, if one mistake was made he'd be signing both their death warrants.
He didn't want to put her in danger—he'd sooner hurt himself than her—but this trip was no longer a factor of desire but necessity. Well, okay, maybe a little bit of desire. A lot of desire. One hundred and forty-five days of it, to be exact.
One hundred and forty-five days had passed since Castle stood in Beckett's apartment and exchanged words of anger and frustration. One hundred and forty-five days passed since he saw her smile. For one hundred and forty-five days he'd been without his best friend.
Ever since discovering his partner was most likely in witness protection, Castle along with Ryan and Esposito had worked tirelessly to find the identity of the parties threatening Beckett's life. They traced every conceivable lead, every previously thought dead end until finally—finally!—ten days earlier they'd cracked the case wide open thanks to one of Castle's high priced forensic accountants.
Senator William Bracken had bankrolled Beckett's near extinction. They didn't know why or have any (legal) means of proving it, but he was their man. It had been Esposito who had given Castle the idea by saying, "Man if only we could ask Beckett some questions right now."
Castle had, of course, known Beckett's exact location for months. It had only taken his—again, very expensive—private detective twenty-five days to scour the greater Denver area to produce surveillance shots of a shockingly blonde former detective. Ever since he'd had the man check in on her every few weeks to make sure she was still doing all right.
He planned on staying away—truly, he did—but the faster they could take down Bracken, the faster she could come home, and if she could help them in any way… The risk, he decided, was worth it.
Stepping into the law offices, Castle plastered a smile on his face. If the petite auburn-haired woman at the front desk was a fan of the mystery genre, he was screwed. Other than growing a bit of stubble, he had not disguised his appearance in any way since at least for the first leg of his journey he traveled as himself. His temporary identity—Allen Alexander—was all but a carbon copy of himself—except for the wealth, disappointingly.
"May I help you sir?" the woman greeted him brightly.
Leaning his forearm against the countertop she sat behind, he turned on the charm. "Yes, um, I'm here to see Rebecca Perkins." The name was so strange on his lips, for she would never be anything other than Beckett. During his flight he wondered if she was able to choose the name or if it had been given to her; if there was time, he'd have to ask.
The young woman glanced down at her computer screen and then back up to the man. "Is she expecting you?"
"No, no—I'm an old friend. Just stopping by to say hello, maybe see if she wants to go to lunch."
The woman nodded and stood. "Okay, I'll check to see if she's available. What's your name, sir?"
"Alexander; she'll know who I am." Actually, he was pretty sure she wouldn't. He was pretty sure he would confuse and subsequently scare the hell out of her. And possibly make her angry—very, very angry. Considering how long it had been, though, he would gladly have spent an hour in her presence even if she screamed at him the whole time.
The woman returned not a minute later. "I'm sorry, sir, but she's on the phone. Do you have a business card or something I can give her?"
Sensing the WITSEC woman might be a bit hesitant when it came to strangers, Castle had come prepared. "Yes, actually. Would you mind giving this to her? I'll wait."
The receptionist gazed at the plain cardboard coffee sleeve with notable confusion but took it anyway and disappeared behind the wall leading to the rest of the office. Again, she was gone but a minute. When she returned, the stunned face of Kate Beckett appeared behind her and all the breath left Castle's chest.
Kate.
There she was—alive and breathing. Admittedly, the blonde hair was weird. Really weird, actually. Weirder than whatever maroon thing she had going on when the first met, but her eyes, her nose, her lips—they were all the same. God, she was beautiful.
For the better part of thirty seconds they stared at each other before the receptionist broke the silence with, "Are you okay, Rebecca?"
"Wha—I—yes." Kate responded quickly before forcing out a smile. "I'm fine, Roxie just…surprised. I haven't seen A-Alexander in quite some time."
"Yeah," he said, his voice a bit rough, "it feels like forever."
Too entranced with each other, neither noticed Roxie eyeing them suspiciously before rolling her eyes and returning to her desk. In doing so, she knocked over her coffee mug, which landed against the desk surface with a clang loud enough to jolt the former detective back into reality. Her brow narrowing, she reached out and grabbed the writer's arm, using it to drag him along with her back through the maze of desks into what turned out to be a small conference room positively stuffed with a table and six chairs. Once the door was closed she whipped around and hissed, "What in the hell are you doing here?"
A dopey grin crossed Castle's face. God, he'd missed this. He took a brief moment to skim his eyes over her body before returning them to her scowled face. Her blouse and pants didn't make her seem any different than she had at the Twelfth—how he remembered her in his mind's eye. But the hair…yeah, that would take a while to get over. "Don't I even get a hello?"
She crossed her arms tightly in front of her body. "No, you don't. Are you insane?"
"Yeah but you knew that already."
Kate's nostrils flared. "You cannot be here."
"And yet…" He sighed and took a step towards her, opening his arms, palms up. "Here I am."
She grunted and took a step away from him, pacing the tiny area between the table and the wall. "Castle this isn't funny. It's dangerous."
God she was adorable when she was angry at him—how had he forgotten that? "Then…why'd you write me the letter?"
She stopped pacing and blinked at him. "What?"
"You started this by writing me a letter." As her cheeks turned pinker, he approached steadily. "Technically a note because I don't think it was long enough to be called a letter."
"I…"
He continued walking until she was backed up against the table and he stood barely six inches from her. "Why'd you write the note, Kate?"
"It's Rebecca," she corrected with a growl.
He shook his head. "I'm not calling you that. Why'd you write it?"
As he leaned closer, she leaned away, her back arching over one of the conference chairs. "What are you doing?"
The answer to that was simple: pushing her buttons like he'd wanted to for months. Nudging her towards the edge—the breaking point—knowing that would be the only way to get an honest response from her. "You wanted me to find you."
Her nostrils flared again. "Of course not."
"You didn't want me to think you were dead." It was the only conclusion he could draw. Kate Beckett was one of the smartest, most savvy people he'd ever met. She had to have known how risky it was to contact him in any way—even as anonymous as her communication appeared on the surface—yet she had done it by way of a touching thank you letter. She had to have known he'd figure it out. After all, they had been partners for nearly three years.
Her gaze dipped towards the center of his chest and then back up towards his face. "Well no but-"
"You didn't want to end our partnership."
"I-"
Castle couldn't wait another second. He skimmed his hands beneath her jaw and pulled her mouth against his. For half a second she remained frozen, but then her hands skimmed down his arms and she drew him in. Castle was immediately filled with the delicious, soul-warming memories of their very first kiss, but unlike that one this was not a ruse nor were they trying to rescue their colleagues; they could take their time.
When their lips separated for a brief moment, Kate's nose brushed against his and Castle felt his breath catch in his mid-chest. He couldn't imagine anything more perfect. Slipping his arms around her shoulders, he pulled Kate's body against him. When their lips met, her arms locked around his back and they kissed like he'd dreamed they would; like he feared they never could.
A minute later, breathless, Castle released Kate from his arms and took half a step back from her. She looked stunned, her lips plump and slightly parted; it made him smile. "I'm staying at the Super 8 under the name Alexander. All cash, fake ID—don't worry. Room 210. I'll be there all night, if you can make it. If not, know that the guys and I are doing everything we can to bring down Bracken and bring you home." He smiled, turned, paused, and turned back before adding, "Oh, and I love you."
With that, he walked out of the conference room, through the lobby, and back out on to Mainstreet. He wasn't positive she'd risk a second meeting, but if not he would be okay with that; the trip had already been better than he imagined it could be.
