Chapter 9

"So you've made no new progress at all?" Although it's phrased as a question Captain Gates isn't looking for an answer. "I put you on this case because you're meant to be the best and yet you've uncovered nothing. I'm very disappointed Detective."

Her face is an expressionless mask as Beckett listens to the Captain upbraid her for the supposed lack of progress on Agent Shaw's murder. It scrapes across her nerves to be dressed down like she was some rookie on her first day but she has to admit that on paper it looks like they're at a dead end.

"Detective Beckett, do you know how many calls I've received from the Feds? The tally stands at thirty-one and counting, I think that they must have me on speed dial. It's getting beyond embarrassing to explain to them that we are no closer to finding Agent Shaw's killer. It makes us look like we're the damn Keystone cops. I don't enjoy looking like a fool."

Gates' fierce glare would make a lesser person buckle but Beckett keeps her eyes fixed on a point just to the left of the Captain's shoulder. The brunette is almost biting her tongue to prevent herself from answering back. It would feel good to defend herself and her team; to let the Captain know exactly how far they've really gotten. But it's too dangerous; she has no idea who they can trust so for now Beckett stays mute.

"They don't have the jurisdiction to take over this case but the Chief is willing to let them have one of their agents join the investigating team. I've argued against it and we've got a reprieve until Monday. Do you think that you can handle this Beckett? Or am I putting my faith in the wrong person?"

"No sir. I can handle this … my team can handle this."

"Well you've got five days to prove it. I want you and your team to do whatever it takes to close this case. I'll authorize the overtime and any extra personnel that you need; just make sure that you catch the guy. Do I make myself clear Detective?"

"Yes sir." Beckett's words and her tone are beyond reproach but both women know that there is no love lost between the two of them.

"Don't make me regret this then because I won't hesitate to put someone else in charge of this case if I think that you're not up to it," are the Captain's dismissing words.

Beckett makes a point of softly closing the door to Gates' office as she leaves instead of slamming it like she'd prefer to do. There's no way that she's going to let the other woman know how pissed off she is. The team is gathered around her desk and they all look up as she walks across the bull pen but instead of stopping there she just stalks right past them. For now she needs to be alone more than she needs the support of her colleagues.

The three men all exchange a look amongst themselves. There might not have been any shouting but they can all tell that Beckett's interview with the Captain did not go well. Three very disparate faces but they all mirror the same anxiety. It's obvious that someone needs to go and talk with Beckett but it would take a fool or a brave man to attempt that feat before she's ready.

"I'll go talk to her," Castle volunteers even as he wonders whether it makes him an idiot or a hero.


Anger, frustration, and a real fear that she might fail make for a nauseating concoction of emotion. The detective doesn't bother to turn the light on as she ducks into the first empty room. The dark offers an illusion of sanctuary, a retreat from the burdens of the world that are pressing down on her.

It's times like this that she misses Montgomery the most. His quiet support was something that she took for granted. With him at her back she was fearless; he made her the cop that she is. Unfortunately Captain Gates comes from a completely different mode. The woman has questioned Beckett's methods at every turn; turning a hard job into one that is nigh impossible. Added to this stress is the task of trying to keep Gates in the dark as to the real nature of the investigation.

As if that wasn't enough, she's now got a deadline to work to, only five days before this case is taken out of her hands. Five days to solve a case that she's been working on since her first day on the force. If this is taken from her then who will find justice for her mother, for Roy and for Agent Shaw?

Maybe it is arrogance on her part to think that she is the only one who could solve this case. All Beckett knows is that she is the one who has the most to lose if they don't catch this guy. If someone else is in charge will they be able to look past the surface explanations and grasp the truth? Or will it end up being another cover up? The inconvenient facts being ignored in favor of closing the case with some dupe offered as the sacrificial lamb.

History so could so easily repeat itself; another family being told that their mother and wife was the victim of a robbery gone wrong. Beckett is no Detective Raglan; she made a promise to Shaw's daughter which she means to keep, she's going to do her very best to nail the bastard who's responsible for all these broken lives.

With all of that weight bearing down on the detective who could blame her for being tired? Her head hangs low, shoulders slumped as she lets it all just wash over her for a minute. Beckett gives herself over to the luxury of wallowing in self pity.

"Beckett … are you ok?" the writer asks hesitantly as he pokes his head into the observation room.

She's standing with her back to him, seemingly immersed in a staring contest with her own reflection from the glass.

"Kate?" he tries again when she doesn't answer him the first time.

"Castle, leave it alone ok? I just need a minute." She meant it to come out strong and menacing, instead she just sounds tired. That sums up how she's feeling now that the immediate anger has past. The burn of that rage kept her spine stiff throughout the humiliating lecture but in the aftermath she just feels drained. Her whole body language screams a message of despair.

The sight of a broken Kate Beckett would be enough to shatter his heart if it was still whole. He's only seen her like this a handful of times before. Each one of those occasions had something to do with her mother's case. It pulls him forward despite her request for privacy. Hesitantly his hands reach out for her. There is a pause before he touches her, uncertain of the welcome that he would find.

It should feel like another burden to be borne, the weight of his hands descending on her shoulders. Here is another life that she's responsible for, someone else that she has to keep safe. Instead it feels like home as he pulls her into his arms so that her back is flush with his chest.

It's greedy of her to take the comfort that he offers. It's selfish for her to lean back against him, for a moment he can be the wall that props her up. It's wrong to do this because at the end of the day she knows that she can't give him what he wants; letting him do this only gives him a false hope. When this case is over then they will be as well. Her mind shouts its protests even as her treacherous body gives in to the temptation of his.

"I'm here Kate," Castle murmurs into her hair. He doesn't offer empty platitudes or promise to make everything better. Montgomery's death has taught the writer that some things just can't be fixed and not ever case will be a win. All he can offer her is his presence, here and now, and hope that it will be enough. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" he asks her.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up her throat. It holds no hint of real humor and she's helpless to stop it. Tell him what's wrong? That list would fill entire books, maybe even an entire encyclopedia. Do they even make encyclopedias in this age of online information? The stray thought that goes through her head is a symptom of exactly how tired she is; she can't even concentrate on one thing at the moment.

The sight of her coming apart frightens the novelist. Over the years the writer has seen the many faces of Kate Beckett before; watching her has been his job. He's seen her angry before. He's seen her face down death. He's seen her uncertain and scared of failing, but he's never seen her unraveling right in front of him. It's taken the perfect storm to bring her right to the brink.

"Kate, talk to me," he gives her a little shake, hoping to jolt her out this odd mood that has taken hold of her.

This only elicits more maniacal laughter from her as if this was all a grand joke. He changes tack and turns her around so that he can see her face. His hand cups her chin forcing her gaze upwards to meet his own.

Beckett is silent as she studies his face, it is a mixture of the achingly familiar and the painfully new. The faint scar on the forehead is an old friend, a legacy from a moment of teenage bravado gone wrong. The laugh lines that bracket his mouth tell of a man who is happy by nature. The bright blue orbs meet hers directly like the writer is trying to see right into her soul.

What is new is the way his eyes seem sunken; there is a new wariness in them, a lesson hard-learnt from these last few months. She thinks that she can see a few more grey hairs shadowing his temples. Her fingers reach up with a mind of their own to brush through those short bristles. This is what she's done to him. Those slim digits continue on their journey; softly traversing over the prominence of his cheek bones down over the fine sandpaper texture of his jaw and finally arriving at the fullness of mouth.

"Kate … what are you doing?" Castle stands perfectly still as if any slight move will spook her. The fact that she is touching him intimately of her own volition is like a dream; if it is then he never wants to wake up.

"Shhh, don't talk," she whispers before her tongue ghosts along the seam of his lips. The cop just needs to take a moment from the worries that press down on her. She wants a reminder that not everything in the world is bad, even though it might feel like it at present. Beckett reaches out for the comfort that only this man can give her.

Passion isn't the overwhelming emotion that colors the air as his arms pull her even closer. He can sense that those darker drives aren't what she needs right now. Instead the kiss is as gentle as the stroke of a feather, an almost chaste meeting of lips. His hand rubs against her back in small comforting circles.

The detective basks in the strength that he offers until finally she has replenished her own supplies and can face the task once more. He can sense the change in her immediately; the emotional withdrawal that precedes the physical one. She doesn't want to hurt him but it still stings when she takes a step back re-establishing the boundaries between them.

"I'm sorry Castle." Her apology encompasses more than just this episode and they both know it.

"Tell me what happened," he coaxes her.

"Five days … we've got five days." Her voice comes out as a low whisper.

"What do you mean? Five days for what?"

"Gates is getting pressured by the Feds so she's set us a deadline. We've got five days to close this case before it gets taken out of our hands. Castle, who knows what will happen then? The more people that become involved in this case the bigger risk that one of them will be working for the other side. One whiff of danger and the dragon will have covered his tracks so well that we'll never get him. He'll get away with … everything."