Chapter Four

With a sigh, Kate Beckett gazed out the car window at the street lamps zooming by overhead. She was not a particularly good passenger; never had been, but even more so since she became a cop. But this? This was just bizarre. Never had she been in a car before when Castle was the one driving, but he had insisted on taking the first leg of their journey, so she let him, though at the time she had thought relinquishing control of the wheel would be easier.

At that hour, even on a Friday night, the traffic was minimal. They had made it through Brooklyn and across Staten Island, slowing down only minimally. Now, judging by the exit signs they passed, they were about a third of the way through New Jersey.

As she sat with little else to do, Kate gazed over at the writer. He had shed his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to the elbows when he got in the car. Five minutes into their drive he began complaining about the car having a stuffy smell and subsequently turned the air conditioning on, though it wasn't necessary. Kate could see on the car's dash that the outside temperature was a pleasant sixty-one degrees. The Toyota Corolla they rented seemed quite new and she could not detect any malodors, so she thought perhaps Castle just wanted the air on because he felt warm while driving. This didn't bother her, though; she shut the air vents directly in front of her and remained at an acceptable temperature.

As her eyes scanned down the length of his arm she saw that his right hand rested casually atop the wheel while his left rested at the very edge of the bottom. Just then they came upon a slow driver so Castle glanced over his left shoulder, skimmed his left hand up to turn on his signal, and then eased into the left lane to pass the dawdling car. As she watched his left hand return to its position, the skin at the back of Kate's neck prickled and she inhaled sharply.

Shit! She wasn't attracted to Castle, was she? No; of course not. That was ridiculous. She wasn't attracted to him—he was irritating, arrogant and a ridiculous man-child. He just happened to have very strong, broad, capable hands. Hands that he used to write his many novels. Hands that he also could use to-

No. No, no. Castle was not the only man in the world who hand strong hands and she was simply overtired and half delirious from their trying evening. She just needed to—wait, what was Castle doing? He had moved back from the passing lane to the regular right lane, but was now signaling to the right again and moving into a lane labeled "Service Plaza Exit Only."

"What are you doing?" she asked. She could hardly believe he had to use the restroom; they had only been in the car for forty-five minutes! And the car couldn't be in need of gas—rental cars always came with full tanks.

"Getting some snacks."

"Snacks!" She repeated, half shocked, half annoyed.

"Of course," he said with a tone that could not have indicated more how obvious his decision was. He drove their vehicle cautiously through the rest stop's parking area and pulled into one of the spaces out front of the lone building, where just two other cars were parked at that hour. "You can't road trip without snacks, Beckett. What do you want?"

"Nothing."

He bobbed his head as he pulled the keys from the ignition. "So just coffee then?"

"No—no coffee."

Castle looked at her as though she'd grown a second head. "No coffee?"

"No."

"Why?"

She groaned at his inability to accept her answer—did she really have to give that graphic of a reason why? Keeping thing vague, she said, "Because if we're going to drive over seven hours, I want to stop as little as possible."

Fortunately, he caught her implication. "Limited bathroom breaks; got it. No coffee. You sure you don't want any pretzels or anything?"

"Castle!" She snipped. "We're wasting time. Just get your snacks—and leave the keys."

The writer gazed down at the key ring in his palm and then back up at her tentatively. "You're not going to-"

"I'm obviously not going to drive away and leave you here because we are not in high school."

He gave a conceding nod, dropped the keys into an empty cup holder in the console, and then left the vehicle. Kate unbuckled her seatbelt, got out of the car, and walked around to the driver's side. She was definitely not a good passenger. Driving would make the time pass more quickly—or so she hoped—and would also afford the writer an opportunity to munch on his precious snacks. As an added bonus, Driving would keep her focus on the road and not the man in the seat beside her. She had thought about him for quite enough that day; she definitely needed a break. Six and a half hours to go.

Exiting the convenience store portion of the rest stop with a plastic bag of treasures hanging limply in his left hand, Richard Castle breathed in deeply the crisp night air. Crazy as it seemed, he was almost looking forward to spending the night driving with the lovely detective. True, the night was just beginning and he was sure weariness would eventually set in, but he was getting to spend an unexpected additional five hours in her presence and he certainly would not complain about that.

Up to that point she had been a little bit snippy with him, but he could not say he blamed her. The evening certainly had not turned out how any of them expected and she was most likely tired and a bit drained from everything that had happened before she arrived at the airport that evening, but he hoped she would be able to relax as he drove. With her relaxation he hoped came a more positive attitude towards him. Then maybe they really could end the weekend on a positive note.

As he approached the car, Castle's eyes scanned the parking lot and he did not pay close attention to the silver vehicle he approached. As such, he walked towards the driver's side door without question. Just a foot from the vehicle he look down and was almost shocked to see the detective sitting in his former seat. He froze and they stared at each other for ten seconds before she pointed her index finger towards the passenger side. Somewhat reluctantly, he changed course and took his new seat.

"You want to drive, I assume."

"Yes."

She gave no more explanation and instead stuffed the key back into the ignition, turned the vehicle on and backed out of their parking space. Deciding it was wise to pick his battles Castle buckled his seatbelt and then reached into the plastic bag of goodies now resting by his feet. "I've got slim jims, chips, and two Snickers bars. Want one?"

"No, thank you."

He pressed his lips together, thinking. From what he saw, she had not eaten since their two beers and sandwiches at dinner, over four hours earlier. Back when he shadowed her and they stayed up late into the night with a case, Kate was usually snacking. Generally it was light finger food like pretzels or peanuts, but occasionally, depending on the seriousness of the case, they would branch out to something more substantial like eggrolls. Rarely could he recall an all-nighter that didn't involve food, and he didn't see why this should be any different.

"You sure? You shouldn't drive hungry. Or hangry, as the case may be."

She glanced at him briefly before turning back to focus on the New Jersey Turnpike in front of her. A moment later she sighed, lifted her right hand off the wheel, and held it out towards him, palm facing up. He quickly placed the Snickers bar in her hand and she thanked him softly.

Now quite pleased with himself, Castle tore open a Slim Jim, bit off a rather large piece, and leaned back in his seat. "So what should we talk about?" They had not yet done much talking since getting in the rental. Castle had turned on the radio to a news station when they got in the car and he'd mostly been focusing on taking the right exists since he had never driven that exact route before. For the next several hours, though, they would be cruising down I-95, which left plenty of room for talking.

"Nothing."

He was undeterred by her negative response. "Nah c'mon we gotta talk about something. How about the past year? Dating anyone?" Castle was not sure why that question popped out of his lips first, as it was the one he was least interested in knowing the answer to. Well, least interested if her answer was yes. If it was no…

What are you thinking, Idiot? He chastised himself. The best he could ever hope for after everything that had happened—after he had dove into her mother's case against her wishes and subsequently burned their partnership and whatever relationship they'd managed to forge to the ground—was that she did not outwardly hate him, but regarded him as a casual acquaintance. As much as the concept of something more intimate with the detective intrigued him, he feared that ship had set sail permanently.

"No." Her answer was short and to the point, but it made him smile.

"Me neither." Then, not wanting her to think he'd spent the prior year sitting in his underwear in his office, wallowing in his failure (which in actuality was not too far from the truth), he hastily added, "I mean, I went on dates of course, but nothing really-"

"Castle."

"Yeah?"

"New subject."

The writer bobbed his head. Okay, no relationship talk. That subject clearly resided inside the iron walls that surrounded her and her emotions. "Okay…tell me about your last road trip." Travel was sure to be benign enough topic for her.

As she passed a slower vehicle she skimmed her hands down the wheel so they rested closer to the bottom. Without looking at him she said, "I…I don't think I've been on a road trip."

Castle gasped and nearly choked on the hunk of Slim Jim he was chewing. He shifted in his seat and gaped at her. "No road trip!"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"But road trips are so fun!"

Finally, she glanced at him, slightly perturbed. "You act like it's completely shocking yet you also grew up in Manhattan. How many road trips have you taken?"

"You make a valid point, but I have been on a few." As a Manhattanite, he, like presumably she, did not have frequent access to vehicles. Sure, he took a taxi now and then, but as money was tight growing up, he mostly used the subway, buses, or walking to transport himself. He had been in a private car on occasion, but the first times he really remembered were his days at boarding school beginning when he was fourteen. The parent of one of his much wealthier friends would occasionally drive them around, but that was only around the city—one to long island. His first road trip came a few years later. "Starting when I was seventeen."

"How? Did you steal a car?"

"No."

"Oh, right, you only steal horses."

His eyes grew wide at her below-the-belt comment. He should have been annoyed, but as it was her first attempt at humor that evening, he took it in stride. "Funny, Beckett, but no. It was the summer between junior and senior years of high school for me. A friend's older brother had his license and we drove to Boston; it was fun." "Fun" until the drive home when they got into an accident and feared they'd have to hitchhike their way back to the city, but that was all part of the adventure.

The detective was silent for almost a full minute before she offered, "I drove with my aunt and cousin to Colonial Williamsburg once."

"Ohh!" Castle's tone brightened. "That's a road trip!"

"Not really; I was twelve."

He shrugged. The trip would have technically qualified, though the concept of a road trip did generally imply that everyone in the vehicle was an adult or at least close to being one. "Did you at least have a nice time?"

"I got food poisoning."

Castle rolled his eyes. "You're killing the conversation here, Beckett."

"Then maybe we should just turn on the radio." With that, she reached over and punched the "on" button beneath the radio display.

"You know…I really think we should stop." Castle gazed tentatively over at the detective, hating to even make such a statement, but it was becoming a necessity as he could no longer see the lines on the road and he doubted she could either.

They had been traveling for almost six hours. An hour prior, just shortly after they made a bathroom and gasoline pit stop, rain had begun. At first it was just a nuisance—enough to need windshield wipers on the lowest setting, but not really slowing their progress any. The further they drove into Virginia, however, the worse it became.

Soon their pace slowed to right at the speed limit, then below it. For the prior twenty minutes, the rain had been driving so hard that the highest windshield wiper setting—the one Castle referred to as warp speed—barely made a dent in the deluge assaulting the front of their vehicle. The storm had also been coupled with lightning and thunder, meaning their pace had been further slowed.

Using the weather app on his phone, Castle took note that the severe storms were supposed to last well into the morning which meant that they would not simply drive out of them, as Kate continually suggested. He had offered to switch places with her at the rest stop, but she refused, saying she preferred to be the one pressing on and she didn't need to sleep. He very much doubted that, but also did not want to argue with her while she was already in an edgy state.

"If we stop we won't make it," she said, just as he predicted she would. Luckily, he was prepared with a defense.

"We also won't make it if we die in a horrible crash."

"Are you questioning my driving skills, Castle?" she sniped.

"Of course not, just the severity of this storm. Plus what's to say another driver doesn't lose control and hit us?" She remained silent, so he tried a different argument. "Think about it this way: you're barely going twenty-five miles an hour right now, which is slowing our progress. We've got about two and a half hours to go at regular highway speeds. If we stop at a motel, sleep for three, three and a half hours, and get up and go, we'll still make it there in plenty of time and we'll probably feel better."

Kate didn't take her eyes from the road, but she did grumble something and grip the wheel a bit tighter.

"What was that?" he asked, not having heard her clearly.

"Nothing." She sighed dramatically. "It just throws me off when you make a valid, rational comment."

Had he been more lucid, he would have been perturbed, but in his delirious state he laughed. "I have been known to have a good point or two here and there. It's just—oh!" He pointed at the sign that passed by their car window. "That sign says the next exit has a motel. Let's get off here."

Wearily, she nodded her head. "Fine."

Turning to her, he offered a smile. "Don't worry Beckett; we're totally going to make it."

Sitting in a car outside the Good Sleep Motel just north of Fredericksburg, Virginia, Kate gazed wearily at the clock on the car's dashboard and watched it turn from 3:59 to 4:00. Good lord was she tired. She had not felt it too much on the road, but now that they had stopped and she was waiting for Castle to emerge from the motel office, it hit her like a bag of bricks.

She had previously pulled all-nighters—many, in fact, but in the vast majority of those instances the adrenaline of a case kept her moving, kept her motivated. Somehow, when it came to something for her own life, for her personal happiness or enjoyment, she always found herself less driven. Had she not been so bone-tired, she might have thought about why that was or why she should try and change it.

Though her chin sank steadily towards her chest, when the writer hurried out of the motel office, blazer held up over his head to evade the rain, she sat up a bit straighter and rubbed her hands down her face. Hopefully his return would mean she would be lying down with her head on a mediocre pillow in less than ten minutes. Then again, with the way the trip was going, she didn't want to get too hopeful.

When the writer opened the passenger side door, water began funneling inside the vehicle and Kate opened her mouth to scold him until she remembered their car was not her cruiser. It was a rental and therefore she did not care if the seats got watermarked. Still, she cringed; it was quite a bit of water.

"Well." He huffed and pulled the door shut, wiping his drenched hand on his pants. "I got us a room."

"A room?" She repeated, now feeling more alert in the form of annoyance. "Just one?" Damn it. She had not even considered the need to remind him to get two rooms. Of course. Of course he would just assume they're staying together. Ridiculous, self-centered, idiotic man. "Castle-"

"Hang on." He held up one hand to stop her. "Before you berate me let me explain: the motel is being renovated. They only have one room available right now—but!—it has two double beds."

Without a second thought Kate reached her hand for the keys in the console cup holder. "We need to find another motel."

"Beckett." Castle placed his hand over hers to prevent her from using the keys; she glared at him. "C'mon. If we have to search for another hotel it'll take us at least half an hour—or more. Do you really want to lose sleep just because you don't want to lie down for three hours in the bed next to mine?"

The detective huffed. There he was again—being rational. It was really getting disturbing. Why couldn't he go back to just spitting out outlandish theories—like how much easier it would be for them to get the Virginia Beach if they just hitched a ride on a UFO? If he did that, it would be easier for her to keep him away; to brush him off as that crazy guy she used to work with. If it was being a good partner, she had less of a reason to push him away. Well, except for that really big thing.

"I hope you know how much it pains me to say this but: you're totally right."

The writer grinned and passed over a silver key on a white keychain that had, in black marker, the number 103 scrawled on it. "It's just over there. Go ahead and run in; I'm already wet so I'll get the bags."

"I—oh. Thank you." There he went again—surprising her. Twice in the span of less than a minute! She really needed to get to bed before she started to be glad to be on the road trip with him.

After passing the keys to her companion so he could get their bags from the trunk, Kate gripped the door handle and steeled herself for her race through the torrents of rain. She took a deep breath and popped open the door, trying to hurry as much as she could, but ended up being tangled up in the seatbelt, delaying her progress by ten seconds. By the time she reached the door to 103, she was drenched to the skin. And, unfortunately, the sticky lock to 103—and its lack of awning or overhang to protect her from the elements—made her even wetter.

Finally, after pushing open the door, Kate used both hands to rake her hair back from where it was sticking to her face. When she caught sight of their room, she groaned. She had not thought to ask Castle if their room was pre- or post-renovation. One look around told her it was the former. To put it simply: the motel had clearly been built in the 1970's and not much in the room had changed since—from the mustard-colored draperies to the matching shag carpet.

"Woah-ho. Totally retro!" The writer commented as he tumbled into the room behind Kate with both pieces of their luggage.

She turned to him and sighed, too tired to filter any of her comments. "At this point, I'm too tired to care."

"Sounds about right." With that, he passed over her roller bag and she thanked him. He nodded towards the door at the opposite end of the room. "Ladies first into the bathroom."

"Oh, um, thanks Castle; I won't be long."

Ten minutes later, her teeth brushed and her face wiped down with a washcloth she hoped was meant to be a tan color and not just a white one that had gone dingy with four decades of use, Kate attempted to get comfortable beneath scratchy sheets. Fortunately their room, which Castle had mentioned was sixty-nine dollars for the night, was not one she would be in for long. She was just about to shut her eyes when she remembered the need to set an alarm, for surely her body would crave more sleep than their timeline would allow.

Pushing herself upright, she groped for her cell phone on the nightstand. After taping the unlock code, she brought up the clock app and stared at the time, debating the best course of action. If the wedding was at noon, they needed to comfortably be ready by eleven-thirty. She had already given up on the idea of curling or fixing her hair in any sort of fancy way, but she still needed a chance to shower and make herself reasonably presentable. That would take at least an hour. If Castle was correct and it would take approximately two and a half hours to reach their destination, they needed to be on the road no later than seven thirty, so she set the alarm for seven fifteen. Normally, she would have found that timeframe a little tight, but it was after four in the morning and she wanted at least three hours sleep, even if she wouldn't get more than a minute more.

After setting the alarm and pressing 'save' her phone pointed out that her alarm was set to go off in three hours and eight minutes. "Thanks," she said to it, sarcasm dripping in her tone. With that, she place her phone back on the nightstand and flopped down against the pillow, turning away from the bathroom and the nightstand lamp, at that point the only source of light in the room.

The pillow was lumpy. Perfect.

She had barely shut her eyes when she heard the bathroom door open. The writer asked softly, "Did you set an alarm?" And when she confirmed he thanked her and wished her a good night. A moment later, the room was bathed in darkness and the bed beside her squeaked under the weight of her companion.

The bed continued to squeak as the writer presumably slid under the covers and arranged head against the pillows. Kate expected the squeaking noise to soon stop, but it persisted. As time progressed, the squeaking tone took on a consistent pattern that sounded more like a squeak-sigh. The squeak-sigh repeated at such even intervals it began to sound like the brays of a very displeased donkey. Finally, Kate could take no more.

"Castle!" she snapped at him.

"I'm sorry." He hissed in a half-whisper. "I think my bed is broken."

At this establishment that really was not surprise, however, with less than three hours and eight minutes of sleep remaining, she could not bring herself to care. "That's unfortunate; goodnight."

Though the squeaking subsided for thirty seconds, a moment later it picked up again with a vengeance. She heard the writer huff and preemptively say, "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just trying to make this work—I keep sliding to the middle."

"Then lay in the middle."

"Can't. There's like a spring or something." The squeaking persisted as loudly as ever as he moved about. "Maybe if I just-" He cut off his voice when a loud cracking sound filled the room. Ten second of silence passed before the writer said, "That didn't sound good."

With a loud exhale, Kate rolled over onto her back. She looked towards Castle's side of the room, but could only see the slightest outline of him in the dark room; he appeared to be sitting up in bed. "No, no it didn't." She concluded.

She watched as the writer slid back down against the mattress. His movements caused a resurgence of the squeaking noises, only that time the squeak was coupled with a groan and a grinding sound. The more he moved, the louder the noises became. A second later, there was another loud crack; this coincided with the snapping of Kate's patience.

"Oh for the love of god just…just get in this bed!"

Sharing a bed with Castle was the absolute last thing she wanted to do; however, if she had to listen to one more second of that squeaking bed, their room was going to be a crime scene come morning.

The writer's silhouette popped up. "Really?"

"If it's going to allow me to get any sleep, yes."

She scooted over to the far side of the bed which, mercifully, caused minimal squeaking, and allowed the writer enough room to share with her. Given that the bed was a double and not even a queen, they would surely be in close quarters given his large frame. Yet, she was too tired to care. All she wanted was sleep.

The mattress sunk under his weight as he slid in beside her. She felt his arm graze up against her ass—a move she presumed to be unintentional and a result of the dark room—and gritted her teeth. Oh, yeah, this was a world-class terrible idea, but what other choice did she have?

"Thanks Beckett. I really-"

"Speak again and you sleep on the floor." She threatened.

"Got it. G'night Beckett."

The bed stopped moving as he settled against his pillow. Kate slid herself to the absolute furthest edge of the bed, shut her eyes, and was asleep within moments.

A/N: this chapter resonates with me quite strongly as I just spent last Monday night driving back home from Manhattan at 2 am.

Anyway - hope you guys enjoyed it. Just so you know there will be no update this weekend because i will be away.

See you again next Wednesday! Thanks!