Chapter 10

Back at the Twelfth Ryan and Esposito have put up all the new evidence on the murder board and are surveying it dismally. It's looking more and more like they called Beckett out for nothing last night. Lanie thinks that the weapon was a bit of pipe (that's so not their sort of case) which the uniforms have just brought in for testing. When Montgomery tells them that they'll just have to work the case themselves because Beckett's gone sick on them and he's told her to go straight home from the morgue and not come back in till she's better, it's the last straw.

And then they realize that Castle hasn't shown up today either. Since the case isn't exactly interesting and the only other thing they've got is paperwork, they're ripe for any other sort of detecting. Speculating about the Beckett-Castle situation is always a good way to pass the time, and there's certainly plenty to speculate about if both of them are missing. Why, anything could be happening.

"Do you think Castle could have lied to us last night?"

"Nah. Castle can't lie to us." But then Esposito thinks about all those poker games and how Castle always wins unless Beckett does because none of them (except Beckett) can read him. He gets an evil smile. "Ryan. Let's go find Beckett. Something's up. I don't like that she's called in sick when there's a live case. 'Snot like her."

"Why not Castle? Why Beckett? She'll not be happy with us."

"We're her team. We need to make sure that she's got what she needs and isn't dying alone," he says in pious tones. Ryan quirks an eyebrow very much attempting the Beckett style and Espo adds, "Besides, we tried Castle last night and if we leave him to stew we might get something. You know he likes to talk, and if we ignore him maybe he'll spill 'cause he can't bear to keep his mouth shut. Anyway, I think there's a lot more to this story than we got told."

Ryan looks at him sceptically. "You're just bored, man. You've been spending too much time with Castle, and you're trying to write stories now. You want to be the next best-seller? Dream on."

"Nah, c'mon. Beckett's never ill. Gotta be something else."

They try Beckett's phone a couple of times but it goes straight to voicemail. Esposito runs an illicit check to try to find it but the last place he can get a location is in the Bronx and that seems somewhat unlikely. Nothing to do, if you're a pair of ...concerned...detectives, but go to Beckett's sublet and try to raise her. Or break in, if necessary. Esposito's sure he can still pick a lock if he has to. Old skills die hard. He's fairly sure that Beckett will forgive them when they explain how ...worried... they were. He hopes. Tweaking Beckett's tail can be a short route to a painful end. She's not shy of inflicting a little casual maiming when she thinks it's deserved.

Over at Beckett's apartment they tailgate in behind some resident by flashing their badges and go on up. Ryan points out that she hasn't picked her mail up. They exchange a look and carry on, a little faster than before, a little less teasing and a little more concerned.

"Why's she live in a block without an elevator?" Ryan huffs, halfway up.

"Think it's all she could get after the bomb. 'Snot like she would stay at Castle's forever."

"She should have," humphs Ryan. "That way I wouldn't be killing my knees climbing this staircase with an evens chance of getting shot by another cop at the end of it."

And now they're at Beckett's door. The hallway's dingy and the door a bit grimy and it's so very much not what either of them expect Beckett would live in. "Was she so keen to leave Castle's that she couldn't wait to get something better? If I'd been staying in Tribeca you'd've had to pry me out with a crowbar."

Esposito bangs on the door but there's no answer. He flicks a cop glance around and looks at the lock. "I don't hear anything. I think we better go in. She could be really sick. Need help. Could be an emergency." He pulls out a couple of stiff wires and furtively wiggles them in the lock. When the tumblers rattle he throws Ryan a satisfied grin and pushes open the door.

It's empty. Not a trace of a Beckett. The kitchen's clear, the place is tidy, the bed is neatly made. Apart from the stuffed bookshelves, her sublet gives away about as much of her personality as a puddle on any rainy Manhattan street. "This is not good," frets Ryan, frowning. "This is really not good at all."

"Man," mutters Esposito. "Does Beckett actually have a life outside the precinct?"

"I know where she could get one, right over in Tribeca," murmurs Ryan, and then says a bit louder, "Maybe she went to Castle's." Esposito looks at him like he's finally lost his marbles. "Well, she might have. If it wasn't Castle that upset her then it's possible. Anyway, we ought to tell him she's sick so he doesn't come into the precinct for nothing. Can't stand him looking at her empty chair and whimpering."

Castle's got a hangover the like of which he hasn't had since he was a regular on the party circuit. When he peels open his eyelids the whole evening before unrolls in his thumping head and all he wants to do is pull the covers back over him and hope it will all go away. At least the latter half. He'll happily hang on to the visions of the earlier part. Still, he stumbles out of the (irritatingly empty) bed and into the shower, hoping that inspiration will strike and he can get his Beckett back where she ought to be (under him in bed every night, for preference) with a minimum of fuss and a maximum of mutual pleasure.

The shower helps the hangover. Unfortunately, since it's warm, it doesn't help other things.

And then the doorman buzzes and it's Ryan and Esposito again and they come up and after a certain amount of Castle you look like shit (thanks, boys) they tell him that Beckett's called in sick and when they went to her apartment it looked like she hadn't been there for a couple of days and, a good deal more menacingly than last night, is there something you'd like to tell us, Castle?

He's just constructing an answer which involves we had a drink but then she left and definitely does not go anywhere near and we were way past second base when you called and ruined it all when what they've said actually penetrates his brain and he just completely and utterly loses it.

"The hell you say," he bites. He's furious and terrified. She's run away again instead of talking and he is not having it.