Wait what!? Two updates in such short time!?
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Castle doesn't know what to do with himself now that Beckett has left. He doesn't have a task or an objective right now, other than to wait. It's not like doing nothing is unfamiliar to him, but even then, he's always doing something. Many people may think that he's just wasting away the time while he sits patiently next to Beckett as she fills out paperwork, or waits for a drop; the truth is that these are the times he's doing the most.
He's learned everything, the good and the bad about Katherine Houghton Beckett, while resting his elbow on her desk or making chains out of paper clips. Right now, he's apart from her, because this is what they need to do, in order to be together again. He'll let the time pass if by being patient, they'll live to see another day.
Monica had followed Scully inside William's room the minute that Beckett and Mulder left. He's sure they want to regroup. He should be nervous, but in reality, he's just frustrated.
Ally has been sitting across from him all this time, concentrating on her portable video game. He's been tempted to ask her, even thought to bribe her, to share it; anything he could do to distract his mind from the fact that he feels like he could bounce off the walls out of his growing anxiety. Pen and paper, that would help, he thinks.
The man, Doggett, leans against the far wall, snoring softly. He's sure that they have bunk beds far more comfortable than the chair he's awkwardly sitting on, but he also suspects the man's trying his best to keep an eye on him… He's failing miserably.
Castle's leaning on his elbows on the tabletop, hands resting on each side of his face, absentmindedly massaging his scalp and threading his fingers through his hair. He berates himself for doing so; it won't be long before it starts feeling grimy. The stubble on his face though, he won't be able to stop that. He runs a hand down his cheek and instantly wishes it was Kate's, her touch far softer and luxurious than his own calloused hand.
The image of her floods his senses; sitting on the bathroom counter two days ago, her smooth legs bracketing his hips. She had insisted on helping him shave, nothing new, but it had been such a welcome change of pace. Usually, she would be the one rushing him, but lately she seemed to squeeze in every ounce of intimacy she could. He was not about to start complaining; especially when they had to watch their backs so fiercely at the office.
A sudden sense of dread starts to creep in when he realizes that this situation is so far out of his control. He cannot help but to feel powerless, regardless of the fact that he assured her that he'd be here to look after William. The truth is that, while he's indeed there to oversee that the boy is safe, he's also pretty convinced that they don't mean him any harm.
They'd probably kill him before they let anyone hurt William. And isn't that why they're here, in this situation?
"Can't sleep?" Monica's voice brings him out of his head.
The woman takes a seat in front of him; he must have been deep in thought because Ally is no longer in the room and he didn't even notice her leave. A guard change, he thinks.
"Well, you've confiscated my iPhone… and I usually play a round of Angry Birds before dozing off," he explains to the woman, who nods in understanding. "That… or I make phone calls."
She gives him a soft smile and tilts her head, eyes bright in mirth.
"To her?" she says, suppressing a happy sigh.
He nods, embarrassed. He wonders if it reads all over his face how much in love he is. He's no poker player when it comes to Kate Beckett. His feelings for her have made him stronger but at the same time, those emotions engulf him, making it very hard to hide that she's also his biggest weakness. She plowed through all his defenses, and without her, he stands naked. He might have torn down walls, but so did she. He's had to learn to embrace this new state of being, where he's no longer the careless Casanova with a smug force field, but a man that is bent up on making the woman of his life proud of the man beside her.
"I think it's cute," she comments, sounding somewhat reassuring. The woman seems like a mix of motherly and innocence… if that's even a logical combination. She's calm but alert.
"It's the only chance we get to have normal couple conversations," he explains to her, no sense in being secretive about it, they've already seen a lot. "Without prying eyes or ears, that is."
"No one knows?" she asks.
"Some do. Our closest friends," Castle clarifies, and his thoughts go immediately to the circumstances that made them aware of their relationship. He still owes Ryan quite a few rides in his Ferrari for not going overboard with the bragging rights of being the one to figure it out first.
"Her boss doesn't know. Or so we believe." He still wonders if the woman is completely in the dark about their relationship. "Though that would speak badly about Capitan Gates' detection skills. There've been some close calls, though."
"Gotcha." Monica nods, winking at him. "We used to work in a basement. No one cared to visit. It was a nice deal."
Her face blushes just slightly as she throws a look toward her sleeping husband. Castle's mind races at the one hundred and one scenarios that run through his head; of these two former FBI agents, sneaking around. He instantly wonders if he could convince Kate to do a thorough examination of the evidence locker. Focus, Castle, he repeats to himself. Do you job, find the story.
"So, I have a brief idea of how Mulder and Scully got into this business," Castle begins, prodding into the woman's past, taking advantage of her admission. "But what about you guys? Care to share?"
"I guess that if we're going full disclosure already, yeah, why not?" Reyes says candidly while getting up from her seat. "Freshen up that cup for you?"
Castle looks at his plastic coffee cup, the potion now cold and bitter.
"Sure," he says, accepting her offer.
Monica starts the Keurig coffee maker, setting up the pods for a Starbucks dark roast. The pour of the coffee comes fast, the welcoming aroma filling the stark space as she hands him back his cup while she waits for hers.
"I met John before I ever met Mulder and Scully. Summer of '93," she says, while handing him the small portable containers of cream and sugar, compact and slim, in total accordance with the rest of the gear that they have set out. "His son was abducted while he was riding his bike around his neighborhood. Luke was seven at the time. The reasoning behind it all is still not entirely clear; a tangle of pedophilia, the mob and corrupt FBI agents."
This part of the story takes him by surprise, but then it begins to makes sense. The man is weathered, the passage of time and circumstance evident in his stance, in his skin. She retrieves her coffee cup and returns to her seat. The chair groans a metal complaint as she leans on its back legs, propping her feet on the table.
"I was going on my first year out of Quantico when I got transferred to the New York field office and was assigned as the lead investigator on his case." She takes a sip of her coffee, taking a pause in her story. "Three days; it was a hellish search. Trying to not give up, turning every stone."
"John was an NYPD detective at the time, with the Fugitive Enforcement Division." Monica looks at her husband again, eyes soft and caring. "He knew what we were up against. He knew what the looks on our faces meant. I witnessed how the hope dissolved as the clock ticked away and the suspect list got thin. And then we found him… In a barren, frozen field."
A shaky sigh tumbles past her lips and she focuses back into the murkiness of the hot beverage in front of her. Castle cannot help the sickening feeling that settles in his stomach as he imagines the crime scene in his head.
They have encountered grisly murderers, they've seen much of the worst that New York can put out on the blood spill, he has combined all of these scenarios to come up with chilling narratives for his books… but luckily, they've never had to encounter a fatal child crime. Beckett has, and he can recognize the same expression on Reyes' features. It's a level of understanding that he hopes he never gets to experience.
"I requested reassignment to the New Orleans field office shortly after that. I couldn't stand New York, and my sensitivities were better appreciated down south." Monica continues, clearing her throat in what Castle is sure is an attempt to regain some sobriety. "We kept in touch and he tried hard to get his life back together, but his marriage ended shortly after that."
"Did he continue at the NYPD?" he asks, taking a sip of his coffee, coaxing her to continue along the timeline.
"He eventually joined the Bureau," she explains. "He busied himself in the cases, I guess we both did. The job became our lives. We saw each other a couple of times on the road, a few beers on random nights."
The setup is so familiar, another version of Beckett's life splattered over other people's traumas. He's always been aware of it, but he doubts that people ever stop to think about the real cost of searching for the truth. While justice seekers are out there trying to make things right, they unwittingly carry with them the leftovers of every battle; there's never a blank slate, and even if healed, the scars are deep when the wounds are personal.
"We never worked together again," Monica continues, the impetus of the story winding down to a revealing tone. "Not until he got assigned to lead a manhunt… a manhunt for Fox Mulder."
Walter Skinner hates the city, more than he cares to admit, but ever since he quit the FBI and took on consultant jobs, it made sense to be adjacent to it. The world is a very different place now; people had focused on the post 9/11 era, but over ten years later, security firms and politics were definitely aiming towards a different north.
It wasn't about patriotism anymore.
Skinner parked on a side street by the market that Mulder and him had met a couple of times before. The first had been right after he had resigned from the FBI, the second right before Mulder left for Africa in search of answers.
He had reluctantly agreed to let him go by himself, again. He still has trouble forgiving himself, even after all these years. In his mind, he's still responsible for allowing them to kidnap Mulder while under his watch.
He can still see himself so vividly, as he searched the woods frantically and then heard the loud boom of the aircraft taking off. He had been there to protect him, to prevent this from happening and he had failed; he had failed Mulder, himself, and he had failed Scully. It's a childish feeling, he knows it; there was probably nothing he could have done to stop them from abducting Mulder that evening.
The event though made him face the ultimate proof that everything that Mulder and Scully had sworn to him existed, was indeed real. Now Mulder comes to him again, dangers probably knocking at his door. But now it's different. This man is no longer just his coworker, or a dear friend… He's family now.
He walks towards the café in the back of the store; older women pick from the assortment of spices and exotic fruits that populate the makeshift shelves and wicker baskets. Skinner follows the couple of steps that lead to the service area, the smell of strong coffee overloading his senses.
It is just like he remembers it; a red hue floods every surface, dark wood trimmings and stainless steel chairs, awash in murky light. The surfaces lack luster, years of use showing in the deep scratches and faded spots on the counter. The morning traffic of customers rushing through the locale, minding their own business; completely unaware of who they are witness to, not even a clue of the battles that they've fought.
"Good to know you can still floor it," he hears Mulder say as he approaches the darker area in the back.
He turns in the direction of the voice, his eyes still adjusting to the change of contrast between the halogen lights of the market and the barely there light of the back café.
With the smoothing qualities of the shadows, he can almost picture the young man that used to storm out of his office in frustration, or slouch in his chair as he mocked the authority of his position over and over again. He's dressed just as if they had never left the hallways of the Hoover building, suit and tie, a professional demeanor, just like him. Skinner regards him with a side nod of the head, but Mulder pulls him into an enthusiastic hug that surprises him.
"Come on, you can't greet your son in law in that half assed way," Mulder says, giving him an energetic slap on the back and patting his bald head.
"Stop that, you know how I hate how touchy feely you've become." Mulder snickers at the man's awkwardness.
"Okay," Mulder says sobering up. "Let me introduce you."
They walk towards a table in the far end of the crammed hall; a woman sits uneasy, her eyes following their movements.
"Walter, this is Detective Katherine Beckett, NYPD." The attractive woman regards him from her seat, the lamps highlighting a mane of hair that points more to some glamour commercial than to being a cop, he thinks.
"How do you do?" He's surprised by her firm handshake, the power behind it, confidence.
"That's a good question," she says, and he can't pin point if she's being passive aggressive or just honest.
Both men take a seat around the table, checking their backs and settling into the conversation, their bodies hunched over and protective.
"So what kind of mess have you gotten yourselves into now?" Skinner begins.
Mulder trades a look with Beckett, and Skinner is already bracing for impact.
"It's bad, pretty bad," Mulder states, running a hand through his hair and stifling a sigh. "But it's good. We have him. We're almost there. We just ran into some unexpected… events."
Skinner can read it in his eyes; he should have known when he saw his clothes, when he read his message. They're going back in.
Thanks again for all the people that keep reading, tell a friend, bother a family member to read it, I promise to keep it interesting, lots of goodies to come!
Ky, you are the sunshine of my life in these rough times. Tiff, Joss, Becks and Co. Why can't I have you all in the same room?
PLEASE... Leave me a review, a shout out, what you liked, what you hated even what you'd love to see happen here. I'm having too much fun writing this.