Chapter Four


His life is strange.

Of course, he isn't complaining, but there's really no other way to describe it.

Three and a half months ago, he had been contemplating changing genres entirely to try to find some new inspiration for another novel. Just a week later, he met Kate Beckett. Now he's written more in a short time than he had in years, is heading – sort of – a civilian murder investigation, is being followed by the mob to make sure he's not being followed by someone worse, and is sleeping with the head of a crime family.

All that on top of being a dad who braids his daughter's wet hair after her baths at night, and sends her off to school in the most embarrassing way he can think of.

And yet, somehow it works. Or, at the very least, it hasn't blown up in his face yet.

He won't be greedy, either, but if there's one thing he hopes will go in his favor, it's that soon he'll be able to wake up with Kate Beckett. Every time she leaves, his tongue itches to whisper for her to stay. But he understands why she doesn't, why each time she's come to him over the last few weeks, she has wiggled out of his bed before dawn, and he has no doubt that asking too soon will probably end the good thing that's building between them.

Instead, he makes sure to brush his fingers over hers as he offers her the coffee he brings each morning. Instead, he returns the slight smile she sends his way with a lopsided lift of his lips. He can be patient and wait for the right time.

Today, however, Kate is nowhere to be found. The booth she favors toward the back of the diner is occupied by someone else, and her office door stands wide open, the room empty, which isn't like her at all.

Since day one, he's made a point not to look too hard into what goes on behind closed doors at the diner, and the logical part of his brain says to stay put and wait for her in his chair.

The part of him that makes decisions flexes his fingers around Kate's coffee cup and starts looking around. A little bit of snooping won't hurt him, right?

He hears her voice before he makes it even halfway down the hall, and it stops him in his tracks. She's been intimidating before, firm, but today he hears her stony and cold, hard.

And hot. Very hot. (Though to be fair, that part isn't anything new.)

"So let me get this straight, Donnie. You really expect me to believe that you and Eddie were 'out for a stroll,' and you just happened to be walking everywhere my associate was?"

Rick stops. Is she talking to the guys who were trailing him?

"Yep. Just an innocent stroll. New York's a funny place. You encounter all kinds of people, you know."

Behind the closed door, Kate scoffs. "That's some kind of serendipity; all kinds of people in this city, and you manage to find one of mine. And not just once, but twice in less than a month."

"Free country, sweetheart. I can walk wherever, around whoever."

"Come on, Don. Who hired you? A couple weeks ago and then again today. Who told you to follow him?"

Something tingles at the back of his mind, some flicker of recognition, but he can't quite figure out why.

"My doctor. Said I needed to get more exercise. S'good for my heart."

"You really wanna bullshit me?"

The guy snorts, and Rick pictures him leaning back in a chair, cocky to a fault.

"Don't see why not. Not like you'll do anything about it. Word on the streets is you're going soft. Holding hands and having tea parties instead of conducting business. Grandpa would be so disappointed."

He doesn't need to see Beckett to know she's taking a moment to breathe. Staying in control is a point of pride for her, he knows.

"Okay, Don, I'll tell you what. Why don't you take some time, think about things a little bit harder? Going soft or not, I think you'll enjoy our hospitality."

A moment later, the door swings open, forcing Rick to take a hasty step back in an attempt to avoid being caught eavesdropping.

Kate steps out, coming just inches from colliding with his chest.

"I– hi," he breathes, hoping his innocent face is up to par today. "I was just… looking for you. Coffee?"

He thrusts the cup between them, stretching his lips into a wider smile. Innocent; he can look innocent.

"Castle." Her voice is flat, betraying nothing. He licks his lips, dropping the act and taking a step back.

"I'll wait in your office."

It must be the right answer, because she steps back. "I'll meet you there."

"Kay."

She stalks off first, leaving him to cast one last glance at the room she had just exited and wonder.

He's still pondering what he'd heard – both the force behind her words, the way she had goaded the guy, and the interrogation itself – when she steps into her office. As she pushes the door shut and straightens her shoulders, the gentle tug at the back of his mind strengthens to a yank.

"Rick –"

"Oh my God, you're a cop!"

Kate freezes, surprise sliding across her features. He's right, he has to be right. It explains so much. The way she moves, the way she commands a room.

"Castle –" she tries again.

"You are, aren't you? You walk like a cop, you interrogate like a cop, you know all about –"

Her head shakes, her face morphing into a mournful grimace.

"No. No, I'm not. I'm… I thought I might be once, but I'm not."

"Oh."

She nods shortly, stepping around him to sit at her desk. "He'll give up who had you followed. He just needs to stew for a bit."

Rick nods, in return, nudging the coffee her way. "Are you… what does making him stew entail?"

Her shoulders sink in relief and he knows he made the right choice in letting the subject drop for the time being. Not for good, of course, because he needs to know what she meant by that, but for the time being.

"Sitting by himself, maybe being stared at by Espo for a while."

"Not –"

"No," she cuts him off quickly. "None of that."

"Got it. So who do you think had him trailing me?"

Beckett gives a noncommittal shrug. "Someone you annoyed, obviously."

Deflecting, okay. He can play along.

"Yes, well, I do manage that from time to time."

Her lips twitch. "I'd say it's one of your best skills."

"That?" he asks, one eyebrow arching. "Or… another talent of mine?"

She moves quickly, closing the distance between them once more. Her fingers bite against his scalp, her mouth already claiming his. Her tongue slicks over his lip, inviting him to reciprocate, to tease right back.

They're both panting, dazed, when she tears away.

"Well," she says, pressing her thumb to his mouth, "maybe it's one of your second tier skills."

Hmm, he can live with that.


"Kate," he murmurs later, stretching his hand across the desk to brush his thumb against her knuckles. They've been sitting in silence since she had returned for a second time from the makeshift interrogation room (having declared it off limits to him, of course), and he needs to know.

"What?"

"What'd he say?"

She exhales. "He still maintains that he was just out for a walk."

"That's one hell of a walk. All over Manhattan."

Kate snorts, curling her index finger around his. "Donnie's a fitness guru now, apparently."

"Somehow I doubt that. How well do you know him?"

Her head lolls to the side. "Why, Ricky? You jealous he might be my high school sweetheart? My mob family betrothal?"

Rick snorts, "Hah double hah. I'm just curious."

"Relax, baby," she croons, patronizing. She stretches over, patting his cheek. "Donnie the Doofus was never my high school heartthrob."

"Uh huh. So who's he with? Which family?"

Beckett shakes her head. "He's freelance. A kid who, while not too bright, figured out that doing favors was the way to go. Petty stuff, mostly. Intimidate a Bodega owner or two, sit on someone's apartment stoop to make a point, stuff like that."

Rick's head bobs. "So is this something I should worry about? Someone paying this guy to follow us to make a point?"

She swallows, squeezing his fingers. "I won't let anything happen to you. Either of you."

"I know, but–"

"But nothing. We're going to find out who hired him."

"You're evading, Kate," he says. "I'm not asking for me – well, not solely for me – I'm asking for Alexis. Because I can hire someone to protect her at times you can't."

She bristles. "You don't trust me?"

Two months ago his answer might have been different, but today he shakes his head. "I trust you, Kate. But you have to admit you can't send a member of a crime family into a school to sit with a bunch of fourth graders during the day."

After a moment, she nods. "Okay, I concede that."

"I trust you. And I trust you with her. But as a dad? More protection for my daughter is better than less. No matter how good it is."

Kate's head dips. "Okay, okay. I want to know more before I sound the alarm, but the moment I find out anything, I will tell you if extra protection is necessary. At this moment, I don't think it is."

Licking his lips, Rick nods. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Do you think it's because I'm looking into your mom's death?" he asks a few minutes later, finally putting a voice to the conspiracy theory he's been entertaining all morning.

Her pen never falters against the page, but an assurance that the two events are unrelated doesn't come.

"I don't know," she admits finally, dragging her teeth over her lip. "The thought has crossed my mind, though. And I… if you want to stop, I don't blame you."

Maybe he should stop. The last thing he wants is to put his daughter in danger, or to put her life at risk if someone is hell-bent on keeping the truth of what happened to Kate's mother from seeing the light of day, but he needs to help.

Not for himself, but for Kate. For the woman beside him, the one with brilliant hazel eyes and a sad twist to her smile, the one who arches into him and gasps his name from the haven of his bed, the one who makes him laugh and busts his chops over the silliest of things, he needs to help.

"No. No, I'm staying." Her eyes lift to his, forcing him to elaborate, "If it… if things escalate, I'll reevaluate, but right now, I'm staying."

"Castle, I don't – what about your daughter?"

"Will have a protective detail that rivals the president's if necessary," he says. "Let's get this done, Beckett. You've waited a long time for answers."

Her face softens, something resembling relief flashing in her eyes. "Have you heard from him? This Doctor Murray you turned everything over to?"

Rick shakes his head. "No, but he has the information. I took it to him personally when he got back from Germany the other day; he said he'll call as soon as he knows something. He said it could take some time, though. Part of why he's so good is because he's so thorough."

She nods, exhaling. "Okay."

"But in the meantime," he starts, looking over the form she'd abandoned and finding it lacking just a few details. "Why don't we call it a day and get something to eat? Early dinner?"

Kate breathes a laugh, filling in the next empty line. "A very early dinner? Do you know what time it is?"

"Well… there are other ways to pass the time while we wait for it to get a little later." His fingers brush the back of her hand, tantalizing, teasing. "If you're interested?"

"What about Alexis?" she murmurs.

"Went home with a friend after school. I apparently authorized a sleepover the other night when I was falling asleep writing."

She snorts. "You know you're not making a case for your vitality here, Rick. Early dinners and falling asleep before nine-thirty."

"My vitality is just fine, thank you. And I'll prove it to you this fine evening if you're interested."

He watches her consider his proposal, hesitation – or maybe anticipation – making her squirm in her seat. They've eaten meals together before, but always impromptu, never planned. And never with the implication – no, the outright promise – that the night will end with her back against his front door and his tongue in her mouth. "Oh, all right. For the sake of appeasing your ego."

"Perfect." Rick claps his hands, getting to his feet before she can stall or change her mind. "Let's go."


She's gorgeous when she sleeps.

Not that she isn't stunning all the time, but sprawled on her stomach beside him in his bed, her fingers tucked under her chin and her mussed hair falling over her cheeks, it's the first descriptor that comes to mind. Gorgeous. Her face is soft with relaxation, unburdened by the tension she carries every day, and he can't help but trail a finger over her forehead and down her nose, tracing her features.

"Mmph," she grumps, swatting at his hand. "Stop, Rick."

Catching her fingers, he draws her knuckles to his mouth. "Sorry. Go back to sleep."

She hums, nudging her face deeper into the pillow. He watches awareness slip away once more, her fingers growing limp in his grip.

She doesn't stop very often, he knows. He's seen her at work; she's a force of nature, going until the job is done. But here she is, resting with him.

Kate grumbles again, rolling onto her side – away from him – yanking the covers up to her shoulders. He has to suppress a chuckle, but doesn't otherwise break the gentle spell they're under.

"Stopstaring. Hatethat."

He hums, slipping his palm along her side before settling his hand on her hip, keeping their connection even as the space between them grows.

"Can't help it, you're hot when you sleep."

She snorts. "Not gonna be hot when I'm kicking you onto the couch."

Squirming closer, he feathers his lips over her shoulder. "To be fair, that'd still be pretty hot. You standing over me, naked, growling a little bit," he teases, brushing his nose against her skin, feeling a shiver roll up her spine. "Kind of like you are now. Sexy."

Her arm twists, hand fumbling until it connects with the back of his neck. "Why are you still awake? You were passed out an hour ago."

"Second wind," he explains, leaning into the warmth of her body. "Thinking about you."

Her fingers tighten once against his skin, but she waits him out, waits for more of an explanation. He forgets sometimes that, as easily as he's learned to read her, she has some of the same instincts about him.

"What'd you mean when you said you thought you might be a cop?"

"Rick, I don't –"

"Please?" he tries.

Her head shakes against the pillow. "You don't need to know."

"Of course I do."

"No," she retorts, squeezing his neck once more. Less affectionate this time, more warning. "You want to know."

"Well yes. That, too."

Her hand falls away from his skin as she scoots out from under the covers. Pushing himself up, Rick watches her grab a shirt from the pile of discarded clothing and throw it on over her head.

He murmurs her name, waiting until she's at least cocked her head in acknowledgment to ask, "Where are you going?"

Her fingers scrub through her hair, failing to bring order to the sleep-mussed strands. "The bathroom, Castle. And no, you don't get to ask what happens in there."

She pads through his darkened bedroom without another word, leaving him to flop back onto the mattress and kick himself for pushing too hard.

He should've just shut up and let her sleep.

She returns a few minutes later, slipping back under the covers and reclaiming her spot at his side. At least there's that; she came back to bed.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out when the silence goes on a little too long. "I get too… sometimes."

Her lips purse, eyes searching his for a moment before she exhales.

"I washed out."

"What?"

She swallows hard. "I washed out of the NYPD. Right after college."

"Kate," he breathes, stunned.

"I was so desperate to know. I thought I would become a cop, reopen the investigation, find her killer, and that would magically fix everything."

"But it didn't?"

She shakes her head. "I didn't even get that far. I failed the psych exam in the academy. I was at the top of my class in everything – shooting, hand to hand combat, even in the classroom. But I failed the fucking psych exam and they wouldn't let me graduate. They said I was a loose cannon – that I'd get someone killed – and they couldn't, in good conscience, give me a badge and a gun."

His hand skims her cheek without waiting for permission to touch her, but she doesn't shrug him off. Instead, her eyes slip shut and she releases a shaky breath, her cheek turning into his palm.

"After that, I was just… drowning. My mom was gone, my dad spent his nights – and most of his days – in the bottle, and I had just lost my chance to get answers. When the rest of my family reached out to me, they were like dry land. They had loved my mom as much as I did, they missed her as much as I did. And they were angry as hell that she was gone, too."

There's nothing he can say to that; sympathies would ring empty, apologies useless. His mouth brushes her forehead, tracing a gentle line over her brow.

"So," she clears her throat. "There you go. There's your story. Still want to base your new character on me? A police academy wash out turned mob boss? And all because my mommy died?"

"Yes," he breathes. "A character, an entire fucking novel. Hell, Kate, everything I can. Because you are remarkable. Your story is remarkable."

She snorts. "I'm not."

"You are," he argues. "You survived all of that, and you're still here. You're leading your family away from a lifestyle that your mother detested, and you're setting them right. That's extraordinary, Kate."

Her eyes shine deep jade in the pale sliver of moonlight coming in from the window, but the tears don't fall. Without a word, he presses his lips to hers in the gentlest of kisses.

"And you and me, we're going to find her killer, no badge necessary – unless you count the chocolate one Alexis bought me for my birthday last year."

She puffs a laugh against his mouth, drawing him in for another kiss, a lazy one this time.

The band around his chest eases; already they're back on a somewhat even keel.

"I hope so. Otherwise, I know people."

Rick pulls away, eyes narrowed, only to find her lips arcing upward, her tongue poking out between her teeth.

"Funny, Kate."

Her fingers slip into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. "Espo offered to do some of his best work on you, you know."

"Are you messing with me?"

"Maybe. You want to test it?"

"Evil woman."

She laughs, flashing her teeth. "Call it payback for waking me up."

Pulling her closer, he slips his knee between hers, cards his fingers through her hair. "I am sorry for that."

"Uh huh. What else do you desperately need to know? Might as well get it out, 'cause once I go back to sleep, I might shoot you if you wake me up again."

"Ryan and Esposito." It's not a question, but she nods anyway.

"Friends from the academy. They… when they found out I'd been cut, they tried to get the deputy commissioner to reconsider, and when he didn't, they tried to quit. I wouldn't let them do that, and we all went our separate ways once I left. Then three years later, they walked into the diner and said they were there to be my backup. They've been with me ever since."

That isn't even close to what he would've expected, but knowing the rest of the story, it makes sense. The fierce loyalty, the protective streak both of the other men have toward Kate, even the fact that they're not part of the traditional family but they're trusted like they are.

"You're your own mob. A mini mob within the mob," he murmurs, thumbing the curve of her ear. She shivers, making a half-hearted attempt to squirm away from the touch.

"No, we're… we're something, but we're not that. The attitude, the tough guy acts… it's for show, reputation," she exhales, dropping her head against his collarbone. "Anyway, has your curiosity been satisfied?"

"For now," he says, pushing the remaining questions out of his mind, making himself open to the gentle tide of slumber. They have time for more. Plenty of time.

"Good." Her lips pucker against his bare skin, barely a kiss, before she rolls onto her other side. "Then go to sleep."

His foot nudges hers, lending her cold toes his warmth. Kate hums, flexing her ankle once before sinking deeper into her pillow.

The next time he opens his eyes, he finds the curve of her smile dusting against his mouth. It's early, albeit not as close to dawn as she's prone to leaving, but still Rick groans.

"Gonna get going," she whispers. "Sleep some more before you have to go get Alexis."

"Could stay," he suggests, cupping the ball of her shoulder. "Don't have to leave."

Kate brushes her lips over his nose. "I know. Another time."

"Mhmm, holding you to that."

She bites her lip, already scooting away from him. Instead of annoyance or frustration, though, he sees something resembling desire in her eyes. Desire to crawl back into bed and rest with him?

"Good; do that. See you later."

He echoes her goodbye, wiggling his fingers.

Yeah, she's totally going to stay next time.


A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. I'm adjusting to a new schedule and commute, and didn't have the chance to prep the post last night or this morning. Thank you all for your patience, your kind words, your encouragement, and every bit of enthusiasm you're offering this story. (And I know it's been quite some time, but I promise that Our Best Selves has not been abandoned - I'm working on that as well!)