Author's Note: For all those who were looking forward to this, I give you jealous Beckett. Enjoy.
For All That You Are
Chapter 4
By the time the next morning rolled around, Kate was repenting her impulsive decision to order surveillance on Kyra and Greg.
She shouldn't have done it. Objectively speaking, neither Greg nor Kyra were likely suspects for trying to make a run for it, the circumstances of staying in a hotel surrounded by friends and family for what should have been their wedding made it unlikely.
It wasn't, quite, a total waste of police resources. She could justify it if she had to. Greg was their best suspect so far and he might panic and slip up in some way, incriminating himself. And Greg being brought in for questioning was going to be widely known by the entire wedding party, amplified by the forces of rumors about the discovery of Sophie's earring in his room, so even if Greg hadn't done it, the killer might choose to act to implicate Greg further. Surveillance on Kyra was… on shakier grounds. She had to admit it. Oh, as she'd said to Castle, it was possible Kyra had killed Sophie, just unlikely, if only because of the basic physical fact of Kyra being shorter than Sophie had been by several inches. And at this point, they had absolutely no evidence tying Kyra to the murder or to indicate that Kyra had known anything about Greg and Sophie, either before or that night before the murder. (And just going purely by the standard of a mere possibility of having killed Sophie, as she had with Kyra, every member of the wedding party except for Mike Weitz should have been placed under surveillance as a suspect.)
More to the point, there was every indication that Sophie's murder had been an act of impulse, a crime of passion, unlikely to be repeated, especially as there was no indication that any of the other wedding guests knew anything about Sophie's strange behavior.
Kate was too conscientious a cop—and too self-aware (at least usually)—not to admit that if it hadn't been for the personal aspect of the case, she probably wouldn't have thought to order the surveillance. But she'd been thrown off her game, flustered enough, by her surprise over Castle's very personal connection to Kyra and by her own emotional reaction to it, and she'd been angry at Castle for his practically accusing her of being biased against Kyra out of jealousy, and, well, emotions weren't known to make people wise.
She wasn't really a creature of impulse anymore but this one time, she'd relapsed, or something, and now she was sorry.
She huffed and dropped down into her chair only to have her niggling discomfiture over the surveillance be promptly forgotten and drowned out by a surge of annoyance.
He had done it again! She'd thought he'd have learned his lesson after the second time he'd appropriated her chair, not long after they'd started working together, and she'd snapped at him that if he ever messed with her chair again, she'd shoot off his hand and ensure he never typed again and was reduced to dictating his books.
Oh bother it all.
She directed a glare at her chair in lieu of being able to glare at Castle, the actual culprit for why her feet were dangling inches off the ground when she was sitting down. She hated the absurd feeling of being a child again so her feet didn't touch the ground. (Predictably, her chair, being inanimate, didn't respond, depriving her of any marginal satisfaction from her glare. She decided to blame Castle for that too.)
She was going to have words with Castle when he arrived.
And she still needed to look through the results of the surveillance she'd so foolishly ordered, the folders for which were sitting on her desk in her inbox. She might be regretting having ordered the surveillance and she might not expect the surveillance to have picked up anything interesting, but that didn't mean she could ignore the results.
She pulled open the folder on Greg, quickly flipping through the photos. It looked like Greg had spent most of the evening with his uncle and his brother in the hotel bar, nursing a Scotch, before going up to his new room. (Greg's old room had been marked off limits as a potential crime scene thanks to Sophie's earring being found in it, CSU combing through every inch of it.) He hadn't stirred from his room nor had anyone else gone to visit him.
Kate made a face. Well, that was boring. Served her right for giving into impulse. All she appeared to have done was give herself extra work to do and wasted a few minutes of her morning.
And then she opened up the folder on Kyra. And straightened up because Kyra had left the hotel. There was a picture of her getting into a cab.
Getting into a cab and going to another hotel near Washington Square. Going to another hotel and going up to the roof and meeting with…
Something twisted sharply in Kate's chest.
Kyra had met with Castle last night.
After she had told Castle to stay away from Kyra and after he had, grudgingly, even angrily, agreed.
The first picture wasn't so terrible, just the two of them leaning against the edge of the wall around the rooftop, although their ease in each other's company was clear even from the picture.
The second picture—they were hugging, Kyra wrapped in Castle's arms. The height difference between them seemed to accentuate Castle's height and his bulk, making him look taller, stronger. Protective. Kate felt a weird little shiver of something go through her at the image, had a sudden flash of sensory memory of the heat of his hand on her back, the solid warmth of his chest beneath her hand as she stepped in to kiss his cheek. (What would it feel like to be really hugged by Castle?)
The third picture… Kate's heart (yes, fine, it was definitely her heart that reacted) plummeted. Oh, the third picture was the worst. Kyra was still in Castle's arms but now her face was turned up to his, their noses almost touching. They weren't kissing. They were almost kissing—and in a weird way, Kate thought that was worse. Because it was as if all the attraction, the potential passion, of the unpictured kiss floated between them, radiated out from the image. She stared—she couldn't help it—until it seemed as if the image was seared onto her retinas, as if in punishment for having ordered the surveillance in the first place.
In the next picture, Castle and Kyra had separated, were exchanging companionable smiles.
But the damage was done. Kate couldn't get the image of Kyra and Castle almost kissing out of her head, couldn't help her imagination wandering further, to picturing them kissing, touching. And it hurt. Looking at the picture, the way her heart twisted inside her, she couldn't deny the ugly twist of jealousy and, worse, the slash of hurt. She cared about him. Had let herself get drawn into the warmth of his family life and let him slip past her guard with his eyes and his smile and his humor and his kindness…
Damn it! She'd known better! She'd known he was a risk and messing up her neatly-organized life and all that and he'd still somehow managed to insinuate himself past the scaffolding she'd set up around her heart, still managed to throw her well-ordered life and emotions off-kilter.
She couldn't—she wouldn't do this.
She didn't know what Castle was thinking—Kyra was still engaged to Greg—but it was a salutary reminder of how close Kate had come to… a mistake. It was even a good thing, she told herself. Really. She'd always thought Castle was a risk and now she knew. It didn't matter that he said he was thankful for her or that he said she was extraordinary; clearly, she wasn't the only woman he thought was extraordinary.
The stab of pain triggered her automatic instinct for self-preservation, gave voice and strength to her fears. The walls and scaffolding around her heart were meant to keep other people away, keep herself safe, hidden. If she never let anyone close, she couldn't be hurt. Because people left. Whether through death or drowning in the bottle or retiring from the job when she was promoted or for bigger and better opportunities in another city, people always left.
Leaving her alone.
And she was just fine on her own.
She'd woken up in time, saved herself. Just like always.
She and Castle were friends. That was all. And she was fine with that.
She quickly flipped through the rest of the pictures—not that many, of Kyra and Castle talking, Castle showing Kyra something on his phone with both of them smiling. (And something about the quality of Castle's smile had Kate guessing that he was talking about Alexis. She knew that look, his Alexis look, as it was one she'd only ever seen when he was talking to or about Alexis.) They looked so at ease together, the physical easiness of people accustomed to each other's nearness. And it occurred to Kate how much it revealed about their past relationship that they could recapture that so easily even after so many years. If they'd met in college—Kate could do the math; they hadn't seen each other in well over fifteen years and still, after all those years, they looked… well, like a couple of long-standing.
So Castle was capable of a real relationship, capable of a love that was strong enough to have survived a separation of more than a decade. A real relationship with Castle—
Kate cut herself short. Nope, not going there. It didn't matter to her because she and Castle were only friends.
She put the folder of surveillance photos to the side and busied herself with looking over some of the other information on the wedding party's background checks that had come in when she heard his familiar step. And was presented with a cup of (familiar) coffee and a white bag that she knew without looking contained a bear claw.
A knot of tension inside her chest loosened a little almost in spite of herself. He'd brought her a bear claw. Again. He'd mostly stopped bringing her bear claws or pastries of any kind, sticking with only coffee, after she'd snapped at him once last summer that he couldn't bribe his way back into her forgiveness for digging into her mom's case using pastries. Today, he'd brought her another bear claw. And coffee, of course.
He really did make it hard to stay annoyed with him.
Well, sort of. Her still-dangling feet reminded her of her other issue with him. She would mention that first, make it seem as if she was more upset over that than… the other thing. (Also, a tiny corner of her mind admitted that she wanted to see if he would bring Kyra up himself. A test of… trust, or something. Since he had broken a sort of promise not to see Kyra.)
"What did I tell you?" she demanded coolly, foregoing a greeting.
He blinked, looking discombobulated. "What?"
"Did I or did I not make myself clear?"
"Yes?" It sounded more like a question than an answer.
"Do you know how much it annoys me knowing what you're doing, touching things that shouldn't be touched, yanking on things that shouldn't be yanked?" Bad choice of words there, her mind immediately filling with images of Castle touching Kyra, of clothes being yanked off—no, stop it!
Now he looked wide-eyed with something like terror. Her annoyance was appeased, a little, at this evidence that her no-nonsense Detective persona could still intimidate, even Castle, who didn't often listen to instructions. "No, no, nobody yanked on anything!"
"Really, then how do you explain this?" She pushed back from her desk, letting him see her feet dangling in the air.
"Huh?" He gaped at her as if he'd never seen a chair before, let alone knew how to adjust the height of one.
She gave him a narrow-eyed look. "Oh, don't give me that look. I've told you a million times not to mess with my chair."
"Right, no, I'm sorry," he hurriedly said, almost visibly shaking himself. "And it won't happen again."
She nodded, silent acceptance of the words.
"And… uh… I'm sorry about something else too," he spoke up a little uncertainly. "I saw her last night. I know I said I wouldn't but she called and asked because she'd found out about Greg and Sophie and she needed a friend to talk to and, well, I couldn't say no," he explained in a frantic rush of words.
He was admitting it, not even trying to hide it. And it wasn't because he thought she already knew since clearly he didn't. It occurred to her that Castle might act impulsively and blurt things out without thinking but he didn't lie. It might not make him the most discreet person in the world but it did make him… trustworthy. He wasn't deceitful.
And that thought made the knot of annoyance inside her loosen still further.
"I know," she acknowledged, trying to sound bland.
He blinked. "What? How?"
She bit the inside of her lip. Well, if he'd come clean, she could hardly do any less. She pulled out the folder with the surveillance photos of Kyra, of Kyra and Castle, inside, opening it so he could see, just the first couple.
Something like anger flitted across his expression, chasing away the remorse. "You had me under surveillance?" (There was some betrayal there too.)
"Not you, Kyra," she corrected him quickly. As if she would ever have him under surveillance! She wasn't that far gone, would never be. She trusted him more than that. (Huh. She trusted him? When had that happened? Because she realized now she did trust him.)
"Why would you have Kyra under surveillance?"
"Because she's a murder suspect."
"Oh no, see, Sophie's murder was an isolated crime of passion. Watching Kyra after the fact would be a waste of police resources which we both know you would not do."
Damn it, he was right, or at least, not wrong. Leave it to Castle to be able to cut straight through to the heart of the mistake she'd made in ordering the surveillance. Even if her vague apprehensions had, sort of, been proven right. (She suddenly, irrationally, wished he weren't so perceptive. It would be so much easier to deal with him if he weren't so damn clever, clever enough that she knew if she didn't make an effort, he'd outstrip her easily, which wasn't that common, in her experience. And if he weren't clever, he would never have posed any risk at all to her heart—but he was that clever and he was a risk and she just had to resist. Which she could absolutely do.) "I had to make sure that you didn't do anything stupid. Which you did." Why oh why was she justifying herself when she'd already admitted she shouldn't have done it? And yet she simply couldn't admit that to Castle, her temper automatically rising at the challenge in his words.
He let out a huff of mingled defensiveness and irritation. "Okay, so meeting with Kyra wasn't my finest moment but she was hurt and she needed a friend who's not part of the wedding to talk to and I just wanted to make her feel better."
"By kissing her?" Kate queried caustically, not able to help it. "She's not a child who scraped her knee and needs you to kiss it better." (She sounded jealous. Damn it, why wasn't she shutting up?)
"I didn't kiss her."
"Not yet," she muttered under her breath (shut up, Kate!) but he heard.
"Not ever. Look, Kyra and I—whatever we once had is over; we're just friends now. And I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, about you suspecting Kyra out of jealousy. I know you wouldn't do that."
A little sore spot in her chest that had lingered at the accusation, even if she hadn't acknowledged its existence, healed at his words. And she felt her irritation softening yet further.
"I told Kyra that you're the best cop in the city and I meant it."
Yeah, there was the disarming side of Castle. She grasped at the last remaining strands of her irritation but found them slipping through her fingers as if she were trying to grasp so much mist. Oh, bother, couldn't she even stay annoyed with him for any length of time?
Not that she could or would tell him that she forgave him outright. Instead, she finally settled for saying, with studied casualness, as if the last few minutes had never happened, "Thanks for the coffee and the bear claw."
Not that it mattered whether she said the words outright because as usual, he understood, his eyes clearing and brightening, as he sat up straighter. (He was too astute, knew her too well, not to understand.) "Anytime."
His casual dismissal of his own generosity made a traitorous, little tendril of warmth sprout up inside her. Bother, did he have to be so… nice to her?
She was being ridiculous, she knew it, but really, would it kill him to make it easier for her to resist him? Where was the jackass when she actually wanted him to appear again?
Castle went on, his tone switching to his theory-speculation tone. "And I was thinking, what if Greg's story was true? Why would Sophie—"
"Hey, the financials came back on the groom. Pretty modest, actually, for someone with a trust fund," Esposito interrupted because of course he would.
Castle subsided and then Ryan's info on Sophie's schedule led them further, to Sophie's financial problems and strange behavior, all of which fell into place to implicate Greg's uncle, Ted Murphy.
Which didn't please Greg at all. But Kate noted that although Greg's hostility to Castle hadn't markedly changed, Castle's attitude to Greg was noticeably less belligerent. The underlying streak of jealousy over Kyra was gone, Kate thought. That was interesting. Castle's words earlier about him and Kyra being just friends now appeared to be entirely true.
And by the end of the day, Castle's faith in Kyra was vindicated but more importantly, so was Greg's story as the truth about Ted Murphy's perfidy as the trustee of Greg's trust fund came to light and his motive for murdering Sophie.
Kate tactfully left Castle alone to explain to Kyra what had happened but couldn't keep herself from observing as surreptitiously as possible through the conference room window.
She couldn't hear what they were saying but she thought she was a good enough reader of body language and what she saw between Kyra and Castle… There was affection and, yes, a physical ease, but there was no sexual tension either. They looked like old friends. Only that and nothing more, to quote the line from Poe. (Not that it mattered to Kate. Really.)
Even though Kyra stood and bent to kiss Castle's cheek before turning to leave.
Kate hurriedly swiveled her chair away, making a show of going through paperwork as if wholly absorbed in it, when she became aware of Kyra having paused next to her desk and she glanced up to meet Kyra's smile.
"He's all yours."
Wha—he wasn't—she didn't—they weren't—it wasn't like that between her and Castle, Kate's stuttering thoughts finally managed a complete sentence. Not that it mattered as Kyra had already left, going to join Greg, waiting for her by the elevator. Kyra stepped right into Greg's arms, lifting her face for his brief kiss before they stepped into the elevator when it opened. And Kate became aware that she was still gaping after Kyra and deliberately closed her mouth.
She wasn't going to think about it. Whatever Kyra thought she knew about Kate and Castle's relationship, she was just… wrong. That was all.
It wasn't long before Castle too emerged from the conference room and though she tried not to, she found herself looking up at him as he stopped by her desk. He looked… wistful was the only word for it but he met her eyes steadily. "So Kyra and Greg will be happy."
"Yeah, I think so," she agreed.
He flashed a semblance of his usual cocky smile. "Well, the case is solved so I guess that's it for me. Until tomorrow, Beckett."
"Night, Castle."
She watched him go, his familiar stride, his broad shoulders, his butt, for a moment before she caught herself and realized what she was doing, and turned her attention back to finishing up the paperwork to close Sophie's case for good.
She and Castle were friends so it definitely didn't matter to her, not in the slightest, that Castle was most certainly single again, that Kyra had so clearly ceded any claim on him. It didn't make a difference. Nothing had changed from the last few days, from before she'd even heard the name of Kyra Blaine. Really.
She wasn't going to fall for him, wasn't going to let herself care (more).
But for all that, she felt an absurd little bubble of pleasure inside her when he showed up mid-morning the next day. He didn't always drop by when they had no active cases since he didn't do any paperwork but occasionally, he did, always bearing coffee (for her) and sometimes a box of pastries of some sort for the bullpen (his bribes, as he joked.)
And today, he had a box of donuts under one arm, which he proceeded to set out on Espo's desk (thus ensuring that Espo's desk would be the focal point for the ensuing feeding frenzy) before moving on to her. He set her coffee on her desk with a little flourish and then presented her with, not a donut, but a cupcake. A chocolate cupcake with her favorite cream cheese frosting and a smiley face drawn onto the frosting. (Clearly today was going to be one of those mornings where he didn't even make a pretense about not singling her out for special treatment, one of those days where the boys pretended to grumble about it.)
"For you, Detective," he said with exaggerated courtliness.
Ridiculous man.
She wasn't going to fall for him.
But in spite of herself, when she looked at the smiley face on the cupcake, she couldn't help but smile. It was the cupcake, she told herself, not him. But he beamed in response and she felt a traitorous flutter in her chest. She had a flash of memory to how pleased he'd looked that she'd liked his stuffing on Thanksgiving, the way he'd looked so thrilled. How did he do that—look as if she were the one doing him a favor when he did something nice for her? (As if it were a privilege to make her smile, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind, but she ignored it.)
"Why, thank you, Mr. Castle," she returned instead, teasingly imitating his manner.
He grinned, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes, as always happened when she teased him. "And I also come bearing an invitation," he announced grandly.
"An invitation? To what?" she asked with a little return of suspicion.
He gave her a look of entirely feigned distress. "Must you be so suspicious when I'm only trying to tender a perfectly innocent invitation? Anyone would think you didn't trust me."
She snorted at his melodramatics. "What's the invitation for?"
"A wedding," he answered, immediately brightening up. "Kyra and Greg's wedding, to be precise."
She blinked. "Kyra and Greg's wedding?"
"Yes. Kyra and Greg apparently talked it over with their families and friends and the hotel and so the redo of their wedding is going to be this Saturday morning. Kyra called me this morning to tell me about it."
"And you're asking me to come?" Her heart was starting to thrash around in her chest. He was inviting her to accompany him to Kyra's wedding, as in be his plus-one to a wedding? Oh god, really?
"Technically, Kyra asked if you would come too so no, I'm not the one asking."
"Kyra wants me to come to her wedding?" She was sounding like an idiot this morning, even as her heart was no longer bouncing around in her chest because he was clearly not asking her to be his plus-one. Thank god. "But I barely know her." Well, sort of. She could hardly claim to be friends with Kyra; they'd only exchanged a bare handful of words.
"Kyra said it was sort of her way of thanking you for solving the case. You don't have anything else planned, do you?"
"No, but…" She shouldn't. She really shouldn't be spending more time with him outside of work. And at a wedding? With all the romance and, fine, love in the air at weddings? No. Oh no, that would be too dangerous. Too much.
"You know it's terrible manners to say no to a bride's request."
"I think that only counts for a bride's request on their actual wedding day," she retorted.
"You've already said you don't have anything else planned. Come on, Beckett, it'll be fun," he added cajolingly. "Just you, me, and Alexis at Kyra and Greg's wedding."
"Alexis will be going?"
"Yeah, Kyra said she'd like to meet her and I checked with Alexis and she agreed. So what do you say, Beckett? Go to a wedding with me?"
She wanted to. Kyra and Greg deserved their happiness after what they'd been through the last few days and she rather liked the idea of something happy to close out the end of a case, affirmation that life went on. And yes, fine, she wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of spending more time with Castle outside of work. As friends. (Not opposed—sure, Kate, who do you think you're fooling?) She shouldn't. But Alexis would be there, as a buffer and security. So it would be fine. She still shouldn't...
"Yes, fine, I'll go," she agreed before she'd realized she was going to, before she could think better of it.
"You will? I mean, that's great!" he grinned, literally bouncing in his chair. So… Castle-like. What other grown man would bounce in his chair?
She couldn't think of a single person, with the possible exception of her dad, who would look so happy that she'd accepted an invitation. And her dad would never bounce.
"So the wedding will be at 11, at the hotel, of course. Alexis and I can pick you up at 10?"
"Sure, Castle," she found herself agreeing even before she'd thought. Damn it, when had it become so hard to resist him—and why had it become so hard to say no? (Except, she suspected, she knew. It was in the way his eyes illuminated his entire expression whenever she agreed to something, when she said yes. He just looked so… happy… and she just… liked to see it. Liked him. Shit. She was in so much trouble.)
"Awesome," he grinned. "I'll tell Kyra she can expect us."
Oh god. She had agreed to go with Castle, and his daughter, to Castle's ex-girlfriend's wedding—what had she gotten herself into now?
~To be continued…~
A/N 2: Apologies in advance as I won't be able to post next week.
Thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed, or added this fic to their favorites—especially to the guest reviewers whom I can't thank directly.