Time says, it's the end of the day.

My inside says, for your lips to forget what time says.

Or do I let go of the feeling, when you steal the logic around me?

Oh God, save me, I'm trying.

How do I slow down?

I can't relate to my heart now.

I've thrown what I've known (Is it enough for me?) out.

I'm running on empty.

I've gotta find someway to fumble right through this new heartache.

It's torn me apart.

Oh lovesick mistake, turn me away.

Lovesick Mistake – Erin McCarley


When he leaves her, he doesn't go home. Instead he goes to his bar and spends the rest of the night trying to forget her naked flesh and the way she feels pressed against him. He shares a drink or two with some cute coeds but it's not enough anymore. He doesn't want to have just another fling. He doesn't want to follow the girls back to their apartment.

What he wants is the woman he left standing half dressed in a puddle of wine. Frustrated and not nearly drunk enough, he goes home and crawls into bed where he stares at the ceiling and wishes his phone would ring.

It doesn't.

In the morning he decides to stop by the precinct. He knows that he won't be able to concentrate on anything else until he sees her and makes sure she is alright. Though he doesn't know why he thinks she would be anything less than. He is the one who wants more. He's the one who isn't really alright. She's probably just fine without him. She always has been.

It comes as a surprise to him that she isn't at the precinct and neither are the guys. He knows they can't be working a case because she would have called him. She wouldn't hold what happened the night before against him. Would she?

He brought coffee and pastries to smooth things over but notices her mug, half empty and cold on her desk, which is unlike her. She always tidies up after every case, and she would never leave her mug half full overnight unless she had been called away unexpectedly.

He sets the bag of pastries down on his chair and notices her desk is covered in paperwork, glances over his shoulder and sees the murder board.

She doesn't call him for every case, he tells himself. She never has, he justifies. She deals with plenty of the typical garden variety homicides that he never gets involved in. But this...

He sets their coffee down on the only clear spot on her desk then wanders over to the murder board.

"Hey, Castle. Do you think he did it?" Ryan calls out from across the room as he and Esposito walk in. "Where's Beckett?" He adds as he stops next to the murder board and picks up a marker.

It's clear to him that Ryan thinks he's involved in this case. And as Castle watches Ryan add a few minor details to the board, he wonders if he should be.

Their victim is none other than the former Senator Jacob McAllister, and from what he can gather they already have a person of interest with ties to the famous Lucchese family.

With former senator and a suspect with mob ties it was no wonder the guys just assumed Beckett had called him. She should have. He should have been her first call. She knows how excited he would be to work on a case like this.

Maybe he was foolish to think that they could just forget it happened and work around it like they do so many other things. But he thought she'd call. She always still calls. He doesn't understand why she didn't this time.

"Earth to Castle?" Esposito says, breaking the silence that has fallen upon them.

"Yeah. Sure." He answers, something inside twisting at the knowledge that she is writing him out of her life one phone call at a time. He doesn't have the heart to admit she never called, not to them.

"You do?" Ryan raises his eyebrows as disbelief crosses his face.

"He doesn't. He's pulling your leg." She says as she steps up beside him. He turns to look at her, and she doesn't meet his eyes.

"Don't you two have something to do?" She directs at his counterparts and they nod and scurry back to their desks, sending looks over their shoulders back at the two of them.

"It was late." She says under her breath as she grabs her coffee cup off the desk and heads to the break room to dump it down the sink. "It wasn't a good time."

Translation: She didn't want to see him.

"Look, if it's too weird between us just say so. I know I can help you on this case but not if you don't want me around." He whispers back as she shuts the door behind him and Ryan stands up at his desk to peer into the room they entered, pretending to stretch to justify his movement.

"It isn't that. I was going to call you... We should talk." She sighs as she sets her mug down on the counter, her back to him.

He doesn't want to talk. Doesn't want to hear her tell him that it will never work between them. Doesn't want to see her ripe lips form around the words that will pierce him cleanly through. Can't hear her soft voice speak those fears that eat her alive. Her hand on his shoulder as she explains why she can never be his. He can't do it.

He steps up next to her and catches her hand under his, wraps his fingers between hers.

"No."

She turns her head to look at him, a ghost of a smile touches her lips and he almost believes he's wrong.

"You don't even know-"

He cuts her off with a squeeze to her hand.

"We have a case." He explains.

He can't look in her eyes and misread what's there. If she looks even a bit hopeful he knows it will destroy him when her cold words come later. It's best he brace himself for the worst. Best he learn how to look at her and not remember just what lies under her practical button up and badge.

"After, then." She says softly and he nods. Their backs are to the window facing the bullpen and he knows that no one can see their faces or the fact that he is holding her hand, but he feels their eyes. Knows that at least two pairs of eyes are boring holes through the glass. Wishes they were alone so he could do more than hold her hand.

He thinks he can still sway her. But he can't do that here. Can't convince her that they are perfectly suited to each other when her heart is on display. He's surprised she has allowed this much in a public forum.

"I really was going to call you. You know that, don't you?" She asks as she frees her hand and picks up her mug again, facing him. "I thought you might want some space and..." She murmurs and looks away as he turns to face her.

He believes her. Believes that she hasn't given up on them, not entirely.

"It's ok." His voice is low and his fingers ache to dance across the smooth skin of her cheek and guide her eyes to his so she can see the truth of it there. Instead they lightly graze the inside of her wrist as he turns back to the door they entered. "Though you better catch me up. The guys think you did call me and that I know about it. I thought it best to let them believe that."

"Thank you." She murmurs and leans back against the counter, watching out the window as Ryan and Esposito suddenly find something on the computer screen in front of them particularly interesting.

He backs up and leans against the counter next to her.

"Any time. I've got you, you know that." He meets her eyes and smiles.

"Always." She whispers back and he wonders if maybe she wasn't going to tell him they could never work. He wonders if maybe she wants to try.

"Look, about last night..." She starts again after a moment or two of silence spent searching each others eyes for some hidden truth. "...I'm sorry. Things just..."

"Uh, Beckett?" Esposito questions from the doorway. He hadn't heard the detective approach and as she jumps at the intrusion he knows he wasn't alone.

She rips her eyes away from him and looks to Esposito.

"What do you have?" She asks, her soft lines suddenly hardening as every muscle in her body seems to tense. Her professional persona slipping back into place almost effortlessly. He thinks that one day he's going to really enjoy trying to crack her. Toying with her and trying to break her resolve. Whether it's to coax her back into bed for an hour or to try and get her to quit for the night, he doesn't care. He just knows that he's going to enjoy feeling her relax under his fingertips. Knowing that he can get around her shell.

"Bridger called. He was wondering if you needed anything more from Moretti. He wants to move him to a safer location." Esposito informs them.

"You're kidding me." She rolls her eyes and Esposito shrugs.

"Come on, Castle. We're heading down to see what else we can get from him." She says as she grabs his sleeve and tugs him from the room before letting go. Calling out some last minute directions for the boys and making a pit stop at her desk to grab the coffee he brought in and the bag of pastries before she rushes him to the elevator.

When they stop in the parking garage he's confused so she explains.

Marco Moretti aka Mark Miller was in Witness Protection and being held at a local hotel until Marshal Bridger decided to move him for his own safety. Which meant talking to him would become increasingly difficult, if not impossible.

Moretti had earned his place in WITSEC from his involvement in a drug deal gone wrong. It had resulted in the death of two innocent bystanders. Rather than face charges he had offered to turn on the "family." His testimony had led to the arrest and incarceration of several key players, which made him a very unpopular man.

As they drive she continues with what they know.

"Moretti's grandmother was dying so he decided that a visit was in order, even if it violated his agreement with the U.S. Government. He figured he could sneak in and out before anyone caught him." She explains.

"Right. Because that always works so well." He says and rolls his eyes.

"It was what he did to avoid getting caught that made him an eye witness to the senator's murder. Which in turn led to him getting caught." She knew he'd enjoy this part of the story the most.

"Oh what a tangled web..." He sighs melodramatically.

"He was ducking into an alley to avoid running into one of the cops involved in the case that put him in Witness Protection. The alley just happened to be the same alley that would become our crime scene mere minutes after he hid in one of the dumpsters." She continues, the car stopping for a traffic light.

"A natural habitat for a rat." He adds.

She smiles before continuing.

"Anyway, he sees the senator get dragged into the alley, and then shot in the back of the head. Gets a clear picture of his assailant, though he claims not to recognize him. Then when Moretti is climbing out of the dumpster, the cop he ran from walks into the alley and catches him trying to flee." The light turns green and they press forward again.

"Handy." He inserts.

"Reilly, the undercover cop, was actually investigating another 'family.' Seems they were tipped off some thing was going to go down in their part of the city. He sees the body and goes to investigate and catches our guy, thinking he has something to do with the murder he detains him."

Her eyes are on the road in front of her, and he takes the opportunity to watch her as his mind puts the puzzle pieces together. He's glad things aren't awkward between them work wise.

"Wish I could have seen that. Did Reilly recognize him?" He asks, his mind picturing what had to be a comic interaction between cop and criminal.

"No, actually. Back when Moretti flipped, Reilly was earning still earning his dues. He had almost nothing to do with Moretti's case. But Moretti had seen him around the precinct, and rather than risk being caught..." She pauses to let him fill in the blanks.

"He got caught." He fills in and she nods. "It's really kind of funny when you think about it. I mean forgetting the dead body." He adds after a moment.

She doesn't say anything for a minute as the reality of the case sinks back in, then answers him softly.

"Yeah. McAllister did a lot to help clean up this part of town when he took his first steps into the political arena. He never let up on pushing through any drug legislation later on in his career either."

He can tell she admires their victim. Imagines that she is not alone on the force, and feels bad that one of her heroes had to go out in such a manner.

McAllister had spent his life making up for his father's mistakes. Growing up in a less than ideal part of town, he had decided to stay out of the family business and had instead built a career tearing it down. Using what his father had taught him to uncover and end more than one criminal career. He'd used his influence to shine a light on the uglier parts of the city, causing all the worms and cockroaches to scatter to find another place to hide in the ever shrinking darkness.

"He made a lot of enemies." It was no secret.

She sighs and shakes her head.

"But he's been retired almost a year. Why now?" She asks, looking his direction as she switches lanes.

"Opportunity?" He offers. He doesn't know, but he knows there has to be a reason.

"Just doesn't sit right. Something must have triggered it." She says firmly as she pulls into a parking spot and stops the car.

"You think Moretti knows more than he's saying?" He asks.

"Possibly. He was in pretty deep before he flipped. I think he was lying when he said he didn't recognize the shooter." She admits as she opens her door and steps out.

"Isn't it in his best interest to share what he knows?" He asks as he steps out of the car. "I mean it's not like he's trying to make good with anyone on the other side. I doubt anything he does will make them want to kill him any less." He adds, waiting for her to pick up her coffee from the cup holder.

"He knows that as soon as the shooter is caught and he confirms the identity he's no longer useful." She says as she closes the car door. "I think he's hoping to broker a new deal. The only reason they're keeping him hidden is because he can confirm the identity. They're pretty strict when it comes to following the rules in WITSEC and he pretty much blew his deal. He knows they don't have to protect him and word is bound to get out that he stopped in. Especially if this is related to any organized crime family in the city."

He nods and slams his door closed as well, waiting for her to come around to his side of the car before falling into step next to her.

"If that's the case, he's not going to give you anything." He offers.

"Probably not." She stops walking and takes a sip of her coffee before continuing. "But don't you think this is an excellent opportunity for research." She smiles and he gets it.

"What did Marshal Bridger do to you?" He questions.

She plays innocent for a minute, casually sipping her coffee.

"I just don't like not knowing where my eye witness is." She tosses out before resuming her walk to the lobby doors.

"Liar. You want to be a thorn in his side." He teases as he opens the door for her.

"Maybe. Just a little bit." She admits with a smirk.

It's pretty clear when they get there just what the marshal did. It doesn't take him long to find himself agreeing wholeheartedly with her attitude.

Bridger barely recognizes her. Uses the word detective like it's a curse word. Looks at her like she couldn't possibly be smart enough, strong enough... man enough. Castle has a hard time not using force when the words: little lady, actually fall from Bridger's lips.

Moretti is slimy and has a less than average intelligence. But they learn nothing new.

Bridger scoffs a few times during the interview and Castle wants to slug him. Then as they leave he informs them that any further questioning will be set up through his office.

Castle can't say he cares much. Beckett is right, they won't get any more from that angle.

They head back to the precinct to check in and look at the former senator's financials. Nothing pops. But she keeps looking over at him like she wants to tell him something. Like something is stuck on her tongue and she wants him to loosen it so she can just spit it out.

When lunch rolls around he suggests a local burger joint, claiming a break would do them good. Really he wants to get her alone and find out what else is on her mind. He expected things to go so differently after their fight, and as the morning wore on he expected her to go cold on him, but she never did. So maybe she had changed her mind.

Either way he's never been all that great with patience.

They place their orders then sit and wait for their food to come. She doesn't look at him now and he wonders why she can be so obvious when there is no risk. So closed when they can actually talk about it.

"So about last night..."

"Look, this is weird..."

They blurt out at the same time and she smiles.

"We're being ridiculous. We're both attractive adults..." She starts.

"You think I'm attractive?" He teases and she rolls her eyes.

"Ok, one of us is an adult." She amends and he stretches his hand out to where hers rests on the table.

"I'm not asking you to sign your life away to me." He offers softly, his hand covering hers.

She looks at their hands as she speaks.

"I know. It's just..."

"A lot. I get it. I just can't play games with you anymore." He pauses and she lifts her head to meet his eyes. "I care too much."

"I know. I agree, it's out of hand."

He squeezes her hand then withdraws. It's not the answer he wants. He wants her to say more. To tell him there is some kind of hope. Some reason to keep trying. He looks away, his stomach sinking with each moment that passes them by.

"I do care." She says after what feels like an eternity of missed opportunities.

His eyes flash back to hers as a cashier drops off a tray with their food.

"I just don't know what it means. If it means anything." She admits, picking up a fry and playing with it for a minute before popping it in her mouth.

"I'm not going anywhere. If you need time..." He says slowly. He knows he risks going back to the way they were before. Pretending it all away. He knows that is, in fact, the most likely outcome.

But he can't say he would be sorry if that happens. At least he would still be in her life. That is a certainty he didn't have when he stormed out of her place the night before, and he can't say he liked the emptiness that threatened in those hours before hope returned.

It wouldn't be ideal, but he knows how to cope with that.

She nods.

"Thank you."

He watches as her body deflates a little. Like she's been holding her breath and it's finally free to rush out. Like every muscle has suddenly relaxed and she doesn't have to hold herself so tightly against the world. His brave soldier returning from battle.

He smiles and she smiles back, then shyly returns to her food. He can almost swear her cheeks pink a little.

His phone rings and it's his mother so he excuses himself for a minute. Her phone rings as he stands and walks around the corner down a long hall to the bathroom. He's distracted by his phone call and doesn't notice the two men that follow him.

His conversation is short, she just wants to clarify a few things for a charity event they are co-hosting. He decides since he's already up, that a quick stop in the bathroom is in order. He hangs up and tucks his cell into his pocket as he pushes the bathroom door open and disappears inside.

He doesn't come back.

She could tell when he answered the phone that it was his mother, so she thinks that they must have something important to talk about. Her phone call is just Esposito telling her that an ATM across the street from the back entrance to the alley caught footage of their shooter fleeing and that when the guys in the computer lab are done cleaning up the image they might have something more to go off of. Which means there is no rush to get back.

It isn't until she's halfway through her meal that she decides to check on Castle. She feels that tightening in her stomach and the adrenaline is already racing as she pushes back from the table.

Something is wrong.

He isn't in the back hall, but the back exit door is ajar and she wonders if he wandered out it. Her hand instinctively hovers over her weapon as she carefully pushes it open the rest of the way.

She doesn't have time to draw it. Doesn't have time to call out.

She doesn't even see her assailant, just feels the force of something solid against the back of her skull. The darkness closing in as her knees give out and she falls forward.

She's out before she hits the ground.


AN: Feedback makes for a great birthday present. Just saying...