—-

Walking through the immense lobby of the Langham Hotel London was enough to make her want to drop through the floor to the fiery heart of the earth. The marble pillars with grey veining, the cascading waterfall chandelier, the black and white mosaic tiling (oh God, it wasn't tile, of course it wasn't; she was just too poor to know what it ought to be called) - the whole effect of grandeur and regal nobility was humiliating.

She stood beside him at the wide front desk with its teak and cherry wood finishings, the leather embossed detailing, the black marble…

And tried to pretend she wasn't wearing work clothes from yesterday (two days ago?) and that she had, somewhere recently, brushed her teeth with more than a pack of gum she'd bought at an airport Starbucks (because the duty-free shop was outrageously expensive and she'd felt like she didn't deserve toothpaste and a toothbrush for her flight-of-shame home).

Castle booked them a room (one room, only a suite had been available and she hadn't summoned the energy to protest; she was going to fall asleep the second her head hit a pillow or arm of a couch anyway, and what did it matter?)

He asked for something from the concierge, a murmur of pleasantries and obsequious of course sirs and then Castle was nodding towards the discreet bank of elevators towards the left side. He punched the call button - a bellhop had disappeared from their sides once he'd seen they had no luggage - and the elevator came with a slide of massive doors.

It was beautiful. It was too much. Never had she felt so hopeless.

"Fourth floor," he murmured. Turning a brass key over in his hand. "All they had with - with a suite."

"It's fine," she sighed. What did she care what floor they were on? She didn't want to be in such a gorgeous royal hotel, but it was a good reminder that Castle moved in a world she'd only been allowed glimpses of.

Even if her mother had never… she still wouldn't measure up to this.

The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and Kate stepped off first, turning her head to check down the hall. She saw a man in a strangely muted uniform heading towards them, his whole form looked as if… as if he'd been washed too many times.

Weird. She couldn't quite make out his face.

"Kate? We're down this way."

His voice caught her attention, and when she turned back to look, the man was gone.

"Kate?"

"I… did you see that?"

"Not funny, Kate."

"What?" she said, confused by the irritation on his face as she followed. She glanced back over her shoulder, searching for the guy who'd been right there. "He was just - I thought he was about to ask us something. I think he was lost."

"Kate. Seriously. I'm not in the mood for another haunted house trick of yours."

"Haunted…" She laughed, too bewildered to make sense of his statement. "Castle, what in the world are you talking about?"

He grimaced, giving her a sharp look as he turned the corner and started down another hallway. She couldn't help glancing back once more, certain she'd seen someone approaching them.

But there was no one.

Goosebumps prickled her skin; the hair stood up on the back of her neck. Chills down her spine.

"Castle," she said slowly. "Castle, what made you pick the Langham?"

He scowled and stopped in front of a door marked 447. "Just be glad I knew enough not to accept 433."

"What. Why?"

"Because Room 333 in the Langham Hotel is so severely haunted-"

"What?"

His shoulders hunched. "Look, Beckett. The only hotels I know of are ones on my London Supernatural Tour. So… here we are. I hope the ghosts will be kind, because this has been a shitty week."

"That was not a ghost in the hallway, Castle."

He narrowed his eyes at her and finally got the door open. It moaned as it swung inwards. "You're the one who saw it, Beckett. Not me."

—–