Chapter 8

Beckett's eyes snap open and the fog of sexuality clouding her head instantly disappears. She takes one comprehensive look at the scene and is off the couch while Castle's still recovering from the shock of the ringtone. Her pants and heels are back on and she's buttoning her shirt and her jacket's trailing as the door slams behind her. What the hell just happened? How did a civilized drink after dinner to resolve an uncomfortable situation end up with her being thoroughly kissed and undressed and her moaning and squirming as if the only thing she needed was Castle's voice and words and body.

What had she been thinking of, allowing it? That was a huge mistake and she can't even blame Castle. He'd stepped back and given her every chance to leave. And she hadn't. She'd told him not to stop. She'd sat on his lap and pulled him into her. Oh God.

Just when had he worked out that deep inside she just wanted to give in to someone stronger? Let him – someone. A generalized someone. Not a specific him. Certainly not a playboy who's never committed to anything, who's only looking for a rebound relationship. Oh God. If he's seen that, what else does he suspect about what she keeps locked down. He only broke up with Gina a few weeks ago. Oh God. This is a disaster. She has to get away from it.

She draws Detective Beckett-ness round her and pulls on her work persona with her jacket. By the time the cab's delivered her to the crime scene she's just about capable of coherent thought. Lanie's on the ground taking technical measurements and flashing looks at Esposito, whose face looks pretty frozen. Ryan's interviewing a passer-by and very deliberately not getting between Lanie and Espo. Clearly someone else has had a … difficult … evening. Thankfully that's not her problem. She left her problem behind in a Tribeca loft.

Ryan trots up. "Hey Beckett, got a good one here. Looks like someone mugged him on the way out of that club" – he gestures vaguely leftward to a flashy neon sign – "took his wallet and ID and fled across the Park."

"And you got me out at this time why? Can't uniforms deal with a simple mugging these days?" If this is that easy why's she here? (And she isn't frustrated because she's been…interrupted. If anything that was lucky. It was. Really. Don't think about it. Concentrate on the corpse.)

Espo butts in. "There's some odd things. We thought it might be Beckett-flavored." He looks around. "Didn't you call Castle to come along? I think he'll like this one."

"No," Beckett snips out. "I think we can manage without him."

Ryan, Esposito and Lanie all exchange a look which it is probably fortunate Beckett doesn't see. They're all thinking the same thing. Basically it's a combination of (Esposito) oh Christ they're fighting again and (Lanie) can't they just get it on already because if they just fall into bed that would fix this and (Ryan) tomorrow is going to be horrible because Beckett in a bad mood is everyone's worst nightmare and Castle will turn up and she'll be stressed and angry and we won't be able to do anything right and (all of them) I hate it when she's like this.

The body's taken away and Beckett snaps out orders to the boys to get started in the morning. When she leaves Ryan and Esposito look at each other and sigh. "Do you think we could get Montgomery to make her take her personal days? Tomorrow is going to be shit if she's like that."

"No chance, bro. When Beckett looks like that she doesn't listen to anyone. We'll be lucky if she leaves the precinct for the next week."

Ryan looks uncertain. He doesn't normally like to get involved but he's the only one in a relationship – well, something that anyone normal would actually understand is a relationship, as opposed to some complicated subtext that you need three doctorates, a hot kick-ass detective and a multi-millionaire mystery writer to interpret. "Javi," he says hesitantly. Esposito turns around from the car.

"What?"

"Do you think, well, um, well…"

"Just say it already."

"Er, Beckett looked a bit odd. Do you think something's really wrong? Like, more than just one of their fights? I mean, if Jenny and I have a fight it's nasty but Jenny doesn't go off with that sort of an expression."

"What sort of expression?"

"Well…" Ryan pauses and tries to think of the words. He's a good detective, intuitive, but this is a bit outside his comfort zone. Interpreting Beckett is (thank heavens) not his job. They all know that's Castle's specialty. A word he's never used floats into his head. "Ravaged. She looked like someone hit her." His thoughts flow a bit more easily. "She looked like she did back when Castle first tried to interfere in her mother's case. You remember, when that Feebie Sorensen got shot a year and some back?"

"Oh shit," bites Espo. That had been absolutely-fucking-dreadful. Beckett had buried herself in work and all she had said to them for weeks had been rapped orders to do this, interview that, find the other. They'd barely been out the elevator door in the morning when the next batch of instructions hit. No matter how early they got in, she'd been at her desk. She'd had no patience or tolerance. Every time someone slipped up she'd ripped them a new one. Their clear-up rate had been phenomenal but the atmosphere had been shit. Espo's sure that Beckett had slept on the break-room couch every night for weeks. She certainly didn't leave the Twelfth before them. He doesn't know why, but he thinks it was so Castle couldn't get her alone. It didn't get better till the summer was over and Montgomery let Castle back in over Beckett's protests and somehow they patched themselves up. He doesn't reckon that Montgomery can pull that trick again. He doesn't reckon that Beckett will let Castle get back under her skin. Why can't the pair of them just fall into bed and screw each other's brains out like any normal couple?

"We can't go through that again," he says. "Are you sure she looked that bad?"

"Mmm." There's a pause. Ryan looks as if he wants to say something but he's not sure he likes the taste of the idea in his head. "We could call Castle."

"And say what? What have you done to Detective Beckett, you asshole? Don't bother turning up tomorrow because we're going to shoot you?"

"No, just…get his side of the story. Interview him. We're detectives, let's detect."

"Okay," agrees Esposito. "But if it all goes wrong this was your idea. Not mine. And if Beckett finds out we'll be toast."