Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the characters used in this story.
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Monday ~8:15 AM
"We need to steer clear of Gates today?" Ryan says as he nods towards the Captain's office as Beckett makes her way from the elevator toward her desk.
"Why?" Beckett asks, wondering what Ryan's question presages for the week.
"If you're asking, then you must not have seen this," Ryan says, as he holds up a folded newspaper that Beckett takes while walking by. Sitting down, she flattens the paper on her desk. It's from the front page of the New York Times' Business Day section
By Tysha Steinem. NEW YORK CITY – Authorities froze the assets of
an additional twelve foreign and domestic ancillary bank accounts
linked to the ongoing investigation of disgraced financier Leonard
Cartwright, III. This action brings to 32 the total number of accounts
frozen since Mr. Cartwright's initial court case ended in mistrial sever-
al weeks ago, with total assets estimated at $117.3 million.
"Our investigators will not rest until we have located all of the accounts
in which Mr. Cartwright tried to hide and launder the money he stole
from those who trusted him," said Dorothy Evers of the U.S. Securities
and Exchange Commission.
Disagreeing with Ms. Evers' characterization of the current investigation
as a "recovery action," the New York City District Attorney's Office con-
firmed that it continues to build its case against Mr. Cartwright on other
criminal grounds including tampering, extortion, and fraud.
"Even if Mr. Cartwright enters a plea on his federal financial malfeasance
charges," notes Assistant District Attorney Allan Carver, "the City will
not relent in seeking justice for those he harmed in other ways. We con-
tinue to build our case and prepare for trial."
ADA Carver was asked if those efforts included securing the testimony
of Mr. Richard Castle, whose participation in the events leading to Cart-
wright's mistrial has been a subject of dispute. "Everyone who played a
pivotal role in this investigation will contribute to our prosecution, and
that certainly includes Mr. Castle." When prompted to address why Cap-
tain Victoria Gates of the NYPD's 12th Precinct characterized Mr. Castle's
participation differently following Mr. Cartwright's mistrial, ADA Carver
offered no comment.
...
This isn't going to go over well with Gates, Beckett realizes. Even if she was just following orders at the press conference, and even if whoever made those orders holds her harmless for the media's assertions, she's still the public face of this fiasco for the NYPD. Beckett is surprised to find herself feeling some sympathy for Gates, and realizes that this would be an effective way for someone up the chain to prompt Gates to commit career suicide: tell her to make the comments at the press conference, then sack her when the resulting furor in the press questions her capabilities.
Be careful with Gates, bad NYT article Beckett texts to Castle wanting to make sure that he doesn't walk into a buzz saw if he calls her later today. She's just secured her phone when the elevator ding catches her attention. Looking up and expecting to see Esposito, she quickly schools her features when it is FBI Agent Daniel Wilson who steps out instead. Beckett mentally prepares herself to engage in a collegial conversation with Wilson, but he blows right by her and Ryan on his way to Gates' office.
While he knocks and gains entrance, Esposito sidles in from the stairwell. "Saw him getting on the elevator and didn't want to ride up with him," he explains. "What's going on?"
"Too early to tell," Ryan answers. "It might be about the Times article that called her out about Castle's relevance to the Cartwright case. Or maybe something else." Lowering his voice, he articulates the question that's on all of their minds. "Is Castle okay?"
Deciding to risk it, Beckett pulls out her phone, sending another quick message: You okay? FBI visitor here. That should be harmless enough she thinks. Technically, she shouldn't be communicating with Castle during his suspension, but this is pretty innocuous and she wants a quick response.
She's happy to receive a reply almost immediately. I'm fine, at breakfast. No worries. Using the code they've developed, she knows that the "no worries" sign-off means that he'll call on the burner during his lunch break shortly after 11:30.
Deciding to look as unassuming as possible, the detectives go through their morning routine. With no open case right now, they turn to lingering paperwork. It's a day that Castle would typically skip or use to drive her crazy, but Beckett smiles as she recalls the he owes her a solid hour of best-behavior the next time he's here for this, in return for coffee she brought while he was watching Brooke at the precinct. Sure, he's brought her tens or hundreds more, but that doesn't mean she'll let go of her IOU. It'll be worth it just to watch him squirm while trying to not misbehave.
Her ruminations are interrupted by Wilson's departure. Again, he breezes to the elevator without breaking stride to pass his regards, fake or not, to the detectives with whom he recently worked. As he boards the elevator, Gates' voice sounds from directly behind Beckett.
"Detective Beckett," Gates begins, then pauses. "I'd like to talk to you. I notice that in Mr. Castle's absence, you are without coffee. Perhaps we could talk while we visit the shop?"
"Certainly, sir," Beckett thinks, mind spinning. This request is unprecedented. More, Gates has gone out of her way to avoid situations like this, to avoid what might be remotely considered fraternizing. Though they are pretending to be absorbed in their work, Beckett can tell from their body language that Ryan and Esposito have also noticed the deviation in behavior. Grabbing her pocketbook, Beckett falls into step with the Captain, who remains silent as they descend the stairs and exit the building.
They are half-way to the shop when Gates speaks. "Detective Beckett, I've just received a formal complaint from Agent Wilson regarding your 'interference' with Mr. Castle during his training at Quantico," Gates starts. "This complaint also noted that your recent work with Mr. Castle during his suspension countermands my orders and should result in disciplinary action."
Beckett remains silent, though her mind is racing. But, there is something in Gates' voice that suggests she might not be in the perilous position that's being painted at present.
"I don't care for others telling me how to run my precinct," Gates begins, "and I'm even less willing to tolerate interference from outside the NYPD. And while I might not be happy about detectives who disobey orders," she says while looking Beckett in the eye, "I find a few other aspects of my meeting more troubling."
Silence having paid well so far, Beckett decides to wait for Gates to continue. No use denying what's already known, or defending her actions if she's not being called to account for them.
"Is Mr. Castle looking to officially join the FBI?" Gates asks point-blank, eviscerating Beckett's plan for silence.
Playing a hunch, Beckett decides to roll the dice and try honesty. Mostly. "I know he's down there and enjoying his time," Beckett says, "but when we've talked about his future plans, they haven't included anything official. As far as I know, he's looking forward to returning to the precinct when his suspension is complete."
Nodding, Gates holds open the door to the shop. The two remain silent while in the bustling café, place their orders, and wait for the baristas to finish their work. Only upon exiting does the conversation resume.
"I note the coincidence between when Mr. Castle took 'a break' from his FBI training and the subsequent movement on a case that had seemed stalled," Gates begins, and Beckett braces herself for the direct question of Castle's involvement. There will be ramifications for a lie, but she's not willing to provide the truth.
"It's a good thing that I'm an investigator and deal with evidence, rather than coincidence," Gates says. "And as an investigator, I find myself focused in a different direction. I wonder, for example, how someone would presume to know about who works on our cases. I also wonder who is privy to our internal decisions about suspensions and discipline."
Beckett can hardly believe her ears. Not only is Gates not going after her for bringing Castle in on the Menendez case, but she's openly questioning information leaks that presumably led to Wilson's appearance in the precinct this morning. Unless Beckett is mistaken, Gates is telling her that there's something bigger going on, and that she needs to tread carefully. This might just be sour grapes from the press conference fallout like this morning's article, but it feels different.
"Something to ponder, Detective," Gates offers for a parting shot as they re-enter the precinct.
Monday, ~11:40 AM
"What do you think, Kate?" Castle asks, "Was she acting on her own or was this coordinated with Wilson or someone else?"
Beckett ponders the question as she takes in her surroundings. Concerned that their storage room location might have been compromised, the detectives opted to take Castle's call from a seedy bar about four blocks from the precinct. It's hardly a popular lunch destination and the patrons that subscribe to the "it's five o'clock somewhere" philosophy are already too incoherent to pose a security risk. Plus, Esposito physically blocking anyone from approaching the corner table is a useful deterrent. Ryan's badge on the table before him provides their third line of "don't screw with us" defense.
Speaking into the handset, Beckett replies. "I think she's tired of being caught in the middle. She's happy that we breached your suspension to solve the case, which suggests to me that she's not passionate about enforcing your suspension. And one other thing: she clearly said that Wilson complained, not that the FBI complained."
"Interesting," Castle says, thinking about the potential that Gates focused on Wilson. "She didn't seem opposed to the idea of me returning to the precinct?" Castle asks with what Beckett hopes is a note of optimism.
"I don't think so, but it was hard to tell, I'm afraid. It might just be that she's happy the Feds don't have their hooks into you yet," Beckett replies honestly.
"Well, if she's not opposed, then it might mean that there's a difference between the actual suspension and what she'd be willing to overlook," Castle says. "The problem with skirting the suspension, though, is that it would mean that I'm not working my way into the FBI, which might disrupt Bob's plan."
"You mean the plan that he's never told you about, never asked you to participate in?" Beckett replies sharply. "Sorry, Castle, I don't mean that to bite at you, I'm just frustrated that you seem to be getting jerked around for a plan that doesn't seem fully baked. It shouldn't have been that hard for Weldon to clue you into his plan."
"Don't worry about me, Kate, I can handle it," Castle replies. "I'll just keep going down here and we'll play it by ear when I get back." After a brief pause, Castle continues. "Actually, there might be something odd going on down here. One of the instructors made reference to the exams later this week."
"Exams? I thought you were just sitting in on classes," Beckett asks.
"So did I," Castle replies. "And the others here don't have anything on the schedule, so it looks like this might be some private testing for me. I'm weeks away from being qualified to take any actual exams, and I'm still getting my ass handed to me in the defense drills, so I don't know what's on the agenda."
"I don't like the sounds of this, Castle. First, Wilson is poking around up here, and now it sounds like you're getting diverted from the program down there … please, be careful," Beckett asks in a surprisingly shy voice.
"Kate, I'm looking forward to coming back to New York. I'm not going to let some exams hold me back," he says warmly.
"Good," Kate says directly, worried that too much soft talking will draw Ryan's attention. Thankfully, Esposito is still playing guard several yards away.
"What about communication?" Castle asks. "Are we concerned that Wilson got any of his information from us, via phone or location or bug?"
"We don't know, Castle," Beckett answers. "We talked about it up here, but it's hard to know. Maybe we should minimize the calls this week and switch the locations when we call. This'll be easier when you get back. Plus, we can still send innocuous texts with our regular phones."
"Yeah, that probably makes sense," Castle agrees, "though I'll miss your dulcet tones."
Beckett's about to reply when Castle interjects with "Oh crap."
"What's up, Castle," Beckett asks with some alarm.
"I'm an idiot, that's what's up," Castle replies, sounding worried. Beckett's raised eyebrows catch Ryan's attention. "I overlooked something basic. You remember the picture we looked at with our two friends in it, the school picture?" Castle asks.
Beckett thinks back to the picture from Breckenridge Prep that they inspected during the contentious night in the conference room, an electronic copy of which is on the flash drive that Castle provided then. "I remember, but I don't have it with me," Beckett answers.
"You don't need the picture, just the recollection. How many of the kids in that picture," Castle asks, "are the scions of wealthy, established families? Families that have at least three generations of success?"
"Oh, damn," Beckett repeats, causing Ryan to look even more inquisitive from the other side of the table. He's also starting to look highly irritated as a result of only hearing Beckett's half of the conversation.
"That might be the more plausible explanation for how he knew what we were up to. We'll look into it. We can't go through LDS, but we can at least look back at the family histories to see if they look like potential members," Beckett says while Ryan nods, having clued into the issue.
"Okay. I guess we should still limit our calls this week, just in case," Castle says, sounding disappointed. "How about Thursday night at 10? We can use the code words if we need to talk before then."
"Okay, Castle, see if you can stay out of trouble until then," Beckett teases, though they both know that there is a serious undercurrent to her words.
"Try not to miss me, Kate," Castle challenges.
"Don't worry, Castle, you've made yourself redundant. If that happens, I'll just pick up one of your books," Beckett says.
"I recommend page 105 of Heat Wave," Castle whisper-growls in her ear as he disconnects the call.
Damn him, she thinks with a small smile as Ryan clearly notices her blush.
Thursday, ~10:00 PM
"Hey Castle," Beckett says as she answers the burner phone. She's in an enclosed study carrel at Columbia's engineering library, having blatantly abused her credentials to gain entry.
"Hi Beckett," Castle says, sounding exhausted.
"You sound rough, Castle. Been too long since college for you to suffer through exams again?" she asks, trying to set a nice, light tone for the call.
"I never had exams like these in college," Castle sighs. "And I've got a few more hours left tomorrow."
"Tell me about it?" Beckett invites.
"It's basically been a deposition, or an interrogation. I was in a chair in front of a panel of five people, three agents and two shrinks. And they hammered me with questions for eight hours," Castle sighs again. "About a third of the time was casework – examples from past cases that I've studied. Another third was hypothetical – case studies, I guess they'd be considered, literally. The last third was the worst. They have files from some of our cases. It was a litany of second guessing the decisions made during those cases and questioning the consequences of those decisions."
"They have our cases? How did they get those? What did they ask you?" Beckett's afire with questions.
"Half the difficulty was that I don't trust them – it was bad enough getting the questions, but I had to worry about what I told them when I answered," Castle says, and Beckett nods on her end of the phone. She's glad that he allayed her concern that the testing was a ruse to collect information on them.
"The worst, though, was dwelling on all of the failures – why did I miss my chance at Dunn, why didn't I figure out Tyson's play sooner, why didn't I prevent Tyson from taking Ryan's weapon, why did it take me so long to figure out Kitty's counterfeiting operation, how could I let myself get locked in a refrigerator, how many times have I been drugged or otherwise incapacitated…" Castle trails off, clearly demoralized.
"Rick, that sounds awful," Beckett commiserates. "What were they trying to do? Don't listen to those bastards. You did well on those cases, you do well on all of our cases. We might be guilty of not telling you that along the way, but you can't let some armchair quarterbacks second-guess situations that they never saw, never experienced."
"Thanks, Kate," Castle says, sounding slightly cheered. "I think I held my own and brushed them back a few times," this last bit was accompanied by a slightly evil laugh. "Still, I'm glad it's over. I think tomorrow is going to be a change of pace, maybe some time on the mat."
"Do you know exactly why you're being tested?" Beckett asks the obvious question.
"No idea," Castle laughs. "For kicks and giggles, maybe. Or hazing. I guess I'll find out tomorrow afternoon."
"And then you get to spend some time with your daughter," Beckett reminds him to cheer him up.
"Definitely looking forward to that. Tell Ryan that we're having dinner with Paddy Moloney. See if he actually turns green with envy," Castle teases.
"Who is she?" Beckett asks, curious.
"Philistine," Castle chides. "Paddy's a he, the founder of The Chieftans, the greatest Irish musical group of all time. Mother introduced me years ago and we keep in touch. He's performing at Strathmore, just north of DC, and we're going to hook up for dinner on Saturday night before his show."
"Sounds like fun. Are you going to go all Riverdance on me, Castle?" Beckett asks with a smirk.
"Not really my style, Kate, but I'm game if you are," he challenges in response, and Beckett grins at the image.
"You up for a slight topic change?" Beckett asks. "We heard about your tests, so maybe we should talk about my homework."
"Does Gates have you studying, too?" Castle asks.
"Nope, this is from Dr. Burke," Beckett answers, knowing that she's got Castle's attention even though she can't see him.
"He gives you homework? That's just not right," Castle laughs.
"I don't know, Castle, I think I asked for it this week," Beckett says coyly. "I think I really knocked him for a loop today."
"Do tell," Castle says with curiosity. "If you're comfortable with it, that is," he fumbles.
Laughing a bit, Beckett's happy to talk. "The poor guy. He was still greeting me when I pulled your trick of wanding him for listening devices. I could just picture him diagnosing paranoid delusions and ordering a psych hold."
"I take it from your good humor that you didn't find anything," Castle assumes.
"True," Beckett replies, "but I still made us go for a walk for our session. It actually made him a little uncomfortable, which I'm not sure I'd expected to see."
"So, anyway, we start walking and I laid it out as directly as I could: that you think you discovered who's behind my mom's case, how I accused you of betraying me, fought to go it alone, offended you and the boys, questioned your dedication to writing, and left with things so terrible between us. Oh, and that you somehow saw through my lie about your graveside declaration, which is a topic we've discussed several times," Beckett confesses, laying things out in as damning a fashion as she'd used in her talk with Burke.
"Did he think he was being pranked?" Castle asks, trying to lighten the mood.
"He might have, except my tone made it clear that I was serious," she says, sobering slightly. "He's very good – he didn't react, verbally or physically, but I could still see that he was disappointed. Worried."
"But, Kate," Castle interjects, not comfortable with the recriminatory nature of the conversation.
"But then," Beckett interrupts, "I told him about where we went from there. I might not have handled Friday's conversations well, but Saturday went better, didn't it?"
"Absolutely," Castle confirms, "and it wasn't easy, especially after some of the harsh things I said on Friday."
"Funny, Burke said the same thing. I think he was surprised by what I did on Saturday. Maybe I should be offended that he was surprised that I addressed my mistakes head-on…" Beckett tails off, but with a smile in her voice.
"I'm sure he was impressed," Castle offers. "I know I was."
"He might have been impressed by me, but he was certainly impressed by you," Beckett says. "Way to kiss ass with the therapist, Castle, suggesting a joint session," Beckett teases.
"Yeah, because of the two of us, I'm more likely to be the teacher's pet?" Castle laughs. "I'm still the class clown."
"You don't fool me, Rick," Beckett replies. "I know when you're clowning to deflect, and I know when you're using humor to deliver hints or suggestions that might not otherwise be well received. I'm figuring you out, Mr. Mystery Writer."
"Never, Beckett," Castle challenges. "You'll never figure me out."
"We'll see, Rick," Beckett answers. "You've been so preoccupied with my walls that I'm not sure you've noticed me sneaking around yours."
"Was this your homework, to issue a personal challenge that you can't win? Are you guys exploring the nature of accepting that which cannot be overcome?" Castle taunts.
"Rick, do you really think it's a good idea to start a contest that encourages us to hold out against each other?" Beckett asks.
"Hmmmm. That's a good point. I might've gotten a little carried away there," Castle admits with a soft chuckle. "So, tell me what your homework was?"
"Just to tell you about our conversation," Beckett replies. "As you mentioned on the bench, we're not very good at talking directly about deeper issues yet. So, my homework was a nudge to start working on that."
"Gold star for you, Kate," Castle praises. "I feel like such a slacker in comparison."
Laughing, Beckett can't believe how good she feels in this moment. There might actually be something to this theory of direct communication. "Yeah, Castle, you were clearly slacking in bringing these issues to the forefront, to get us actually talking about the future."
"Did you tell Burke who we're up against?" Castle asks, diverting the conversation with a voice turned serious.
"No," Beckett said. "I told him that I wasn't sure that I wanted to live with the concern that he might be imperiled by knowing. He was curious, probably thinking about paranoia again, so I provided some general details – rich, powerful, connected, and very high profile. And guess what he asked," Beckett's inflection rises to indicate a question.
"If you could start seeing a different doctor?" says Castle.
"Ass," Beckett huffs. "No, he asked if that's why you're dallying with the FBI."
"Your doctor's a pretty sharp guy," Castle replies. "Now I'm more concerned about meeting him."
"Don't worry, Castle, I'll protect you," Beckett teases.
"You always do, Kate." Castle replies.
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