Chapter 4: Undercover II
She had figured that by now Castle would have given up coming in. At least until one of them called him again. So she assumed it was safe.
But no, when she walks in, there he is, sitting in his chair. Like he's never left.
She chalks it up to the stupidity of one Rick Castle. Doesn't let herself think it means anymore than that.
Can't let herself think that way. Can't let herself feel—
Six weeks ago, it wouldn't have mattered.
She's sitting at her desk, reading through the phone records of a suspect, when Montgomery calls her into his office.
Upon entering she discovers the Captain is not alone. There are two suits in there with him. Feds, maybe?
She turns hesitantly to Montgomery. "Sir." But he won't look at her. His face is tight, angry.
"These gentlemen are from the CIA. They'd like to speak with you about a case they're investigating."
Montgomery takes his leave, then, his posture stiff, hostile, screaming that he doesn't agree with any of this. Once he's gone, she turns to face the two men. She figures she'll take her lead from her Captain. Besides, she's not in the mood to be polite right now.
"What do you want?"
The one on the right glances at his colleague, amused, before speaking. "What can you tell us about the Alex McKinney case, Detective Beckett?"
She's young, so, so young. And everything's still locked up tight. And all she can see is—her mother's death, stretching out so far. There doesn't seem to be an end.
So the offer seems like everything she needs. She's not stupid. She knows that just working hard and being a good cop won't be enough to get her promoted, not to the level she wants. She was planning to get into some undercover work eventually, anyways.
And so she doesn't see the job for what it is, doesn't see how they're asking for volunteers because the likelihood is whoever goes into this isn't coming out.
Alex McKinney knows they're after him. And they don't have the luxury of time.
Royce gets it. But she doesn't listen.
...
She and Royce go out for drinks the evening after the case breaks at the precinct. They're sitting at the bar, nursing a couple of beers, when she tells him.
"They want me to do some undercover work."
She watches his reaction closely. His face gives away nothing.
"Yeah?"
Royce is good at not pushing, not pressing. She loves him for that.
"I think I'm going to do it."
This time she catches the uneasiness in the shift of his shoulders, the way his hands grab at the glass. He's her partner. She knows what he's thinking.
...
It's a couple of drinks later when everything breaks. Because Royce sees everything she's missing. And this time, he's not going to back down. But neither is she. And so, they fight.
It turns ugly, fast.
"Kid, I taught you better than this."
"You taught me? You know what you taught me, Royce, you taught me to do what it takes."
"You know what, fine." He's standing up now. So is she. "You want to throw your life away, go ahead. Hell, you've been doing it for years now anyway."
She stares at him. Royce never brings up her mother's death. Never.
Royce looks uneasy. There's an apology on his face as he says, "Look, kid. I—"
"Go to hell."
And then she's gone.
The Feds dance around the subject for a while, but in the end it doesn't matter. She knows what's coming, knows what they want. Going into this with eyes wide open doesn't make it feel any different.
She says yes. And kind of hates herself for it. And thinking about that raises some issues she'd rather leave buried.
So she just pushes it all deep behind her thickest walls.
And goes and does her job.
It's a day after her unwanted encounter with Castle in the precinct. She's standing in the locker room, getting ready for what she hopes will be the last time she'll have to do this. And then it will be over.
She needs it to be over.
That's when she sees him.
Her first thought is that he can't see her like this. But before she can flinch, he is through the door.
Beckett, he breathes, even as his eyes are taking her in, sweeping over her. She feels naked in front of him.
She frantically tries to rebuild the armor, cobble together some defenses, but it is a losing fight. So she does the only thing she can.
"Like what you see, Castle?"
He flushes and tries to avert his eyes, but they keep on returning to her, keep on returning to her face.
She looks away. "Come on, Castle, this has to be like your biggest dream come true."
She feels rather than sees him step closer and she doesn't need to hear him speak to know that this is not working.
"Beckett."
And because she is backed into a corner and because she can't do this, not with Castle here, and because she is tired and hurting and there is nothing else to do, she lashes out.
And then she runs.
...
He finds her sitting in a side hallway, back against the wall, jacket off, face buried in her arms. Her lack of reaction when he walks in, sits down beside her, tells him all he needs to know.
They sit there in silence for a while. It's quiet enough that he can hear the hitch in her breathing, almost quiet enough that he can hear everything she's not saying.
Finally he feels her shift, can tell she's about to get up.
"Beckett."
"Castle." Her voice is a little desperate. "I have to go, Castle." She stands, but surprisingly makes no move for the door.
He doesn't look at her. Pretends this is the most ordinary conversation in the world. "Beckett—Can I wait for you?"
She stills in front of him and he's afraid to breathe. Then, so small he almost misses it, she nods, and then she's walking out the door and then he's sitting in an empty hallway—
The case is over. She and Royce feel over. Everything—
He waits at her desk as morning bleeds into afternoon falls into the night.
Montgomery makes her a deal. She goes to therapy, she can come and work for him.
She says yes and is grateful her voice holds steady.
The precinct has long since gone dark, only the night shift providing the occasional spark of light among the work stations. Beckett walks out of Montgomery's office. She was in there for far too long. Surely they didn't need to debrief that very night. Surely it could have waited. Surely—
But then he forgets everything because she's walking towards him.
She comes and sits down at her desk. She seems bent, somehow, burdened under the weight of so many things that he knows nothing about.
As if she senses his thoughts, she shifts in her chair.
"Ask the question, Castle." The words are weary, resigned.
But the question that comes out is not the one he meant to ask. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
He doesn't say anything. And the longer the silence sits, the more it becomes an accusation.
...
So this is what they've become.
She thinks sometimes that if he could see what was really going on inside her head, he wouldn't be so trusting, so eager to follow.
She's not extraordinary. And she's afraid that one of these times he's going to find her out. On the good days she thinks that maybe that moment is still a ways off. On the bad days…
She wants to scream at Castle, tell him to get out, to leave.
You don't know me. You can't know me.
Today is a bad day.
A/N:
So...not really sure where all of that come from. This is my first time writing in the Castle fandom, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Love it, hate it, let me know.
