More of the same for this A/N. Thanks for reviewing, I own nothing, T rating, yada, yada, yada.
Enjoy!
A total of five targets met their bullet-ridden demise before Lisbon felt like she was ready to stop. A glance at her watch told her it was getting kind of late, and the range had officially closed for business hours ago. Luckily, she had come to an understanding with Chris the manager a few years ago, after arriving in hysterics one afternoon fuming about Jane's latest exploit.
Chris had taken her into his office, made her a cup of strong coffee, and listened patiently as she ranted and raved and cursed her consultant to the seventh circle of hell and back. Eventually, when she'd raged herself into silence, he told her that he'd heard other agents gossiping about Jane when they came in for target practice, and that from what he had heard, he wasn't surprised she was close to breaking point.
He'd had a key cut for her that very day and told her she was welcome to come whenever she needed to blow off a little steam. Unsurprisingly, she had become a frequent visitor.
Tonight, she stowed away the gun and her unused bullets, scribbled a quick thank-you note to Chris like always, and then stepped out into the night, locking the door behind her.
Her SUV sat alone in the parking lot, the moonlight winking off the shiny paintjob. She looked forward to getting home, taking a nice long shower, and changing into some fresh clothes that weren't covered in gunshot residue. She'd only gone a few steps when her senses alerted her that she was not alone. There was another presence in the parking lot; she could feel it. She looked carefully around with her hand hovering over her holster, ready to draw her weapon.
Suddenly, a shadowy figure loomed out of the darkness to her left.
"Hey," it said, and she automatically grabbed for her Glock.
"Hold your fire, Lisbon," said the figure exasperatedly. "It's just me."
Jane's voice, clear and unmistakeable. But what was he doing here?
The figure took a step forward, activating the security light, which flooded the area with light. Patrick Jane was thrown into sharp relief, with both his hands at shoulder height, and the beginnings of a smile playing at his lips.
Now satisfied that she was in no danger, she re-holstered the Glock again, and glared sternly at her consultant.
"What the hell were you thinking?" she demanded, without preamble. "Don't sneak up me when I've got my gun. I could've shot you."
He chuckled. "Two problems with that, Lisbon," he said, lightly. "Number one, there are very few occasions when you are not carrying two or more firearms, so the chances of me finding you unarmed are remote. And number two, as accomplished a shooter you are, even you couldn't hope to hit me when it's pitch-dark."
'I can try," she retorted. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be locked away in the attic brooding right now?"
"I want to talk," he said sincerely.
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked. "Because I really don't have the energy for your jackassery tonight." She hoped he would take the hint. He didn't.
"It's important," he persisted.
"OK fine," she said, thinking it was probably best to just hear whatever he had to say and get it over with. She could stand here arguing with him all night, but she'd have ended up doing it in the end anyway. "What is it?"
"Not here," he said. "Why don't we head to your place and talk about it there?"
Only once had Jane ever been to her apartment, when she'd been accused of murdering McTeer the child molester last year. She'd only invited him out of sheer desperation to try and unblock her memories and prove her innocence, but it had made her uncomfortable to having him wandering around, examining all her stuff, making judgements and assumptions about her. Though prepared to put up with his crap anywhere else they went, her apartment should be her sanctuary, her one respite, where she could have peace.
"Just spit it out," she said impatiently. "Nobody's around, it's not like we're going to be overhead."
"Please Lisbon," he beseeched her. "It's not something I want to discuss out in the open, and I really need your help."
She scowled. He'd done it now. To have him standing before her with those sad eyes and his usual smile gone and literally begging for her help was her kryptonite. She couldn't stand to see him vulnerable and helpless, as though the burden of the world had suddenly become too much for him and he was drowning under the strain.
It was moments like this that made her realise that she'd never be able to cut out when the going got tough. In the early years, she'd always told herself that if it ever became too much, nobody would blame her if she threw him to the wolves, but as time went on, and she got to know him better and to understand more about the pain he suffered, she knew she couldn't do it.
Maybe it was partly because she was stubborn and didn't like to fail, so she kept on trying. But mostly it was because she couldn't bring herself to be another person in his life that had failed him, like his father, who had abused his son's extraordinary skill in order to help him con and deceive. Or Sophie Miller who thought she'd been able to reach him in the psychiatric hospital, but never truly had. All she'd done was teach him how to compartmentalize all the conflicting emotions and make him focus on one: revenge. And then she'd let him back into the world with his new mentality, (not intentionally she was sure) confident that he was not a danger to the general public, but apparently failing to see just how dangerous he was to himself.
Sometimes Lisbon wondered if he wouldn't be better off in psychiatric care. Of course, it sickened her to think of him in locked rooms with nothing to do but let his thoughts eat away at him, but at least there he would be safe. But it seemed she was the only one who saw this.
To most people, he was just a man, arrogant, but charming, and so brilliant and practically able to perform miracles just by observation. Those who knew him better, like the rest of their team, sometimes caught a glimpse of the ruthless, calculating would-be killer within that he tried to keep hidden, and occasionally wondered which side he was really on. As for her, whom he had confided the most to about his past, she saw it all, the good and the bad. She also saw the things everyone else missed, like his fondness for classical music, and way he lit up around children. She loved to watch him interact with kids; it was like he became a different person. The years and the anguish just fell away. His eyes seemed to brighten, and the smile got even wider, if possible.
In those tiny fleeting moments, she saw the man he had once been, and he was worth saving.
"Fine," she said now. "Follow me back to my place."
Jane saw the taillights of Lisbon's car turn a corner as they made their way to her apartment. Thus far, his plan was going smoothly. He'd known going in that persuading her to let him come to her place was going to take some time. Fortunately, he'd also known that if he painted a good enough picture of wretchedness and self-doubt, she wouldn't be able to resist. She just couldn't fight the inherent urge to make his supposed problems her own, and to try and 'fix' what simply wasn't fixable.
A thought had come to him an hour ago, as he'd been engaging in some quiet reflection in the attic (or to use Lisbon's word 'brooding.) Lisbon didn't look well. Not ill exactly, but run-down, drained of energy. He hadn't consciously noticed it until she'd left the CBI this evening, but as he thought back on the several times he'd seen her up close today, he realized he should have seen it a lot earlier. Her skin was pale and drawn, her eyes slightly red. She moved just a fraction slower than usual, and her whole demeanour was distinctly careworn. He knew the symptoms of sleep deprivation when he saw them, having quite extensive experience in that area himself.
It was probably a justifiable call that he himself had a fair bit to do with her insomnia; he did put her under an enormous amount of stress and that was just on a normal day. Today, everything had gone topsy-turvy and it was taking its toll on her.
It seemed her whole life was a big game of give and take. She would give all of herself over to doing to the right thing, and the rest of the world did nothing but take, take, take from her. He wanted to do something for her, give her something for a change. Something only he could give.
He arrived just after her, and she was already letting herself in as he illegally parked his car, but that was no matter, he wouldn't be staying long. He watched her enter the apartment but leave the door ajar for him, and smiled to himself. When he got inside, she was waiting for him, hands on hips.
"OK, Jane," she said, as he closed the door behind him. "What is so important and so secret that we had to do this here?"
"It's hard for me to talk about," he said, in a long-suffering voice. "You're the only one I can go to."
"And it couldn't wait until morning?" she asked, irritably. "What if I'd had plans?"
There was a silence, as neither dared to say what they were both thinking; outside of work, she never had plans.
"You're right," he said sadly, and her eyebrow twitched in surprise. "I shouldn't be bothering you with it. I might as well just head back to the CBI." It was a stone-cold bluff of course, for he had no intention of leaving just yet. It was a risky move as she could easily just order him out of the house, but he knew Lisbon and her tender heart; she could never handle seeing anyone in pain.
Sure enough, she took the bait. "There's no point you leaving now," she said, still a little snappishly. "Not after you've gone so far out of your way. It must be important."
"Are you sure? I don't want to put you out." He laid the fake suffering on thick, and for good measure, gave a tiny little half-smile as well as though it took great strength through his supposed turmoil to give her even that much.
It worked. Her expression softened and her eyes filled with concern. "I'm still angry with you," she said, though with far less venom than previously. "But if something's really bothering you, you know you can always come to me, right?"
He nodded, but at the same time felt a little bad for deceiving her again. Lying to her just wasn't the same as lying to everyone else. He always felt a prickle of guilt as he looked into those beautiful eyes that he never felt any other time.
"I can't guarantee I'll be sympathetic if you've done something stupid," she went on, with a small smile. "And I reserve the right to throw things at you if you deserve it."
"Duly noted."
"But I'll listen."
"I know," he said. "Thank you."
"Why don't you go sit down in the living room?" she suggested. "I'll make you some tea."
He smiled to himself as she left the room. She hardly ever drank tea, and certainly not often enough to justify her keeping a stock at home. He suspected it had been bought for his benefit, in case he ever decided to drop by unannounced, like today. That was Lisbon, prepared for every eventuality.
He glanced around the living room as he waited for her to return with the tea. Everything looked exactly the same as it had when he'd last been here a year ago, as if the passage of time didn't apply to this room at all. The same cluster of photographs depicting her four brothers. He wondered if she ever intended to update them. The same CD's, the same books. He knew she didn't like to spend a lot of time here, the CBI was where she was happiest, but it was sad to imagine her coming home to this emptiness each night.
Of course, it was infinitely superior to the long-stay motel where he slept, but he felt he deserved his crappy 'living' (though he used the term loosely) arrangements. He had to atone for all the terrible things he'd done.
She came back into the room holding a cup of tea, which she handed to him and then settled herself on the couch next to him. She sighed as she sat down, and rubbed her eyes.
"OK," she said, as he took a sip of tea. "What did you want to talk about?"
He held out the tea. "Want some?" he offered. "It'll help you sleep."
She snorted, but accepted the cup nonetheless. He waited for her to take a sip, and then he began to speak. But he didn't talk about his past, or his plans. Instead he spoke of warmth and relaxation and safety. He told her to let herself fall into it. He counted backwards from 100.
He knew she didn't approve when he used hypnosis at work. She said it was unethical, and illegal. He supposed she was right, but it was also a damn good way to get information out of reluctant people. There weren't many moments outside the CBI that called for hypnosis, but every now and then he made an exception. He knew she hadn't been sleeping, knew she hadn't had more than a couple of hours over the past week. It was starting to catch up with her. Being a mentalist tended to create a lot more problems than it solved, but this was something he could fix for her, and he owed it to her to do so.
It didn't take long to put her under. She was so exhausted her mental threshold was lower than usual. After only a minute, her eyes began to close, and he took the cup of tea out of her hands and placed it on the coffee table. She was asleep within moments of him taking it from her, and her head fell onto his shoulder. He let her stay there for a while, enjoying the human contact, and feeling her soft breaths tickling his neck. He could've happily stayed there all night and watched her sleep, but after about twenty minutes, knew he should go. Reluctantly, he guided her off his shoulder and stood up, setting a cushion under her head instead. She murmured something in her sleep, and he wondered what she was dreaming about.
He tapped her shoulder once, to bring her out of the trance part, and into a true sleep. She would wake in the morning refreshed, and hopefully with no recollection that this had even happened. She was beautiful when she slept. That was the last thing he thought of as he quietly slipped out of the door.
He went to his place for a change of clothes, before heading back to the CBI to spend the night there as usual. The nighttimes cleaning crew didn't so much as glance up as he walked inside at a few minutes to midnight. A handful of agents working the graveyard shift nodded to him as he passed, but nobody bothered him as he lay down on his couch. People were used to his routine by now, they considered him a part of the furniture.
It took him a while to settle, but he must have slept at some point because all of a sudden, the sun was pouring in through the window, and it was uncomfortably warm where he lay. It must still be quite early. There was no chatter from the bullpen, or the hiss of the coffeemaker to break the silence. He could hear the cars on the street below, and once a horn blared as an unseen person lost their patience with the Sacramento morning traffic snarl. He was contemplating getting up and raiding the communal fridge for a snack, when he heard the ping of the elevator, and approaching footsteps.
He listened intently to those footsteps. Not heavy enough for Cho, Rigsby or any of the guys from the NYPD. Not stilettos, so probably not Beckett. He didn't hear a bag be put down on a desk, so not Van Pelt, which left only one possibility. He kept his eyes closed as Lisbon's footsteps came closer, finally stopping when she was standing right next to him. He didn't have to look to know she was there. He could feel it.
"I know you're not asleep," she said. "And I know what you did."
He remained impassive, but couldn't help wondering if she really did know what had happened last night or if she was just pretending in the vain hope he'd spill the beans.
"Next time you want to be in someone's house without them knowing it, try cleaning up after yourself," she said, with a hint of a smile in her voice.
What was she on about? He hadn't touched anything while he'd been there, except for the cup of tea she'd made for him. Which he remembered now, he had left on the coffee table. She must have found it this morning and extrapolated from that. Clever girl. He tried not to smirk, but she must have seen his mouth twitch because she chuckled to herself.
"You know how I feel about hypnosis," she said sternly. "But I suppose I can let it slide, just this once."
She was quiet for a moment, and he thought she would walk away, but instead to his great surprise, he felt her hair brush against his skin as she leant down towards him, and then she gently kissed his cheek. He would have loved to turn his head and capture her lips with his own instead, but resisted the urge. They had to work up to couch make-out sessions; he needed to be patient until they were both ready to take that step.
Besides, he wasn't going to start something here, now, when they were guaranteed to be interrupted. If they ever did manage to make it to that point, he did not intend to be rushed. He wanted seclusion, and hours and hours of time to devote to making it as satisfying in reality as it was in his imagination.
"Thanks," she whispered, and then she walked away. Jane made a mental note to himself that if he were going to be rewarded like that every time he hypnotised her, he should really try and start making it a regular thing.
Castle arrived at the CBI to find Lisbon making herself a coffee. She looked brighter this morning than he had ever seen her; she was practically glowing. Half her luck. Of course, it was unlikely that she'd had her heart stomped on by the love of her life twelve hours earlier. And why? Because he was sure she wouldn't be that stupid.
In all honesty, what had he expected Beckett to do? Fall into his arms like a woman in a rom-com and say that of course she loved him too and that they should get married immediately because she couldn't live another day without him? Get on the phone and break it off with Josh right away so the two of them could spend the rest of the night making sweet, passionate love?
Of course not, he told himself stubbornly. He knew her better than that.
So what had he expected then?
More than this, he answered himself. A smile. An answer, instead of a million more questions. He hadn't seen her since their conversation in the corridor. The whole time they'd been here, they'd met in the hotel restaurant for breakfast every morning before heading to the CBI. This morning he hadn't been able to face it. In fact, the very thought of eating made him sick.
As soon as she arrived though, the game would be up. He wouldn't be able to hide from her anymore. Also, he wouldn't be able to hide from Jane, whose sharp eyes would certainly notice that something was amiss.
"Hey Castle," Lisbon greeted him as she reached for sugar.
"Morning Lisbon," he said. "You look well."
She smiled. "Good night's sleep. How about you?"
"Not so much."
She eyed him curiously for a moment, but didn't pursue it. "Where's Beckett?" she asked.
Castle was saved from answering by the arrival of the elevator, out of which stepped the woman in question, Esposito, Ryan and Cho. The moment she saw Lisbon, Beckett made a beeline for her. Castle felt his stomach twist into knots with every step she took.
"Ready to break Van Keil?" Beckett asked, without preamble.
"Absolutely," said Lisbon. "Let's see if he enjoyed his stay in the Holding Cell Grand. I'll just go grab the case file from my office and get someone to bring him in to an interview room."
She left, and for the first time, Beckett seemed to notice Castle was there. The air seemed to be humming with tension.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hey."
"How was the rest of your night?"
Terrible. Torturous. Torment. All of the above.
"Fine. Yours?"
"Yeah, fine."
He hated this. They were talking like complete strangers. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen. He didn't want his desire for something more to jeopardise what they already had. And now here they were, making the kind of polite, disinterested conversation you might have with a random at the bus stop. It just wasn't right.
Mercifully, Lisbon reappeared at that moment. "Ready Beckett?" she asked. "Castle, do you want to watch from the viewing room?"
"I'll catch up," he said. Lisbon raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, gestured to Beckett, and the two of them exited the room. Castle saw Beckett glance back over her shoulder at him once or twice as she left. He didn't dare meet her eye, he was too nervous about what he would find there.
"Something happened between you two, didn't it?"
Castle nearly jumped out of his skin as Jane's voice spoke to him from just behind his shoulder. He must have gotten off the couch and made his way over while he'd been preoccupied with Beckett. He dropped into a chair and took a deep breath.
"We kissed."
"Right," said Jane, but without any real surprise, so Castle assumed that he must have guessed. "And what else?"
"Nothing else," said Castle hurriedly, but Jane smirked, and shook his head.
"Come on man," he said. "You two are more awkward with each other than ten-year olds at a school dance. That can't have been it, what else happened?"
"What else happened was that I opened my stupid, idiotic big mouth," said Castle, deciding not to bother with evasion anymore; it was a pointless exercise anyway. "If I'd had half a brain I would've quit while I was ahead but oh no, not me. Richard Castle doesn't think before he speaks, he just lets his mouth kick in before his brain and goes and on and on and-"
Jane cleared his throat loudly, cutting off Castle's self-loathing rant. To his surprise he found he felt a little better for getting it all off his chest.
'You told her, didn't you?" Jane asked, in the sudden silence. "How you feel?"
Castle nodded glumly. "More or less." He hadn't actually said the three magic words, but he was pretty sure he'd gotten the point across nonetheless.
"And how'd she take it?" asked Jane. "What did she say?"
"Well put it this way," said Castle. "It ended with her closing the door in my face."
Jane winced. "That's rough."
Castle sighed, and rubbed his temples. "Say it," he said. "I'm a moron."
"You're a moron," repeated Jane obligingly. Castle glared at him.
"Thanks a lot."
Jane shrugged. "Well, what did you expect me to say?" he asked. "Your timing could have been better, she was already pissed off at you anyway, and add on to that the fact she already has a boyfriend-"
"Yes, OK, OK," Castle interrupted grumpily before Jane could list any more of his shortcomings. If he'd been hoping for support on this, he was obviously looking in the wrong place. "And what makes you the expert anyway?" he snapped. "I don't see women throwing themselves at you all day either."
Jane held up his left hand to show his wedding ring. 'This makes a fairly effective repellent," he said, and Castle immediately felt guilty.
"Sorry," he said shortly.
There was a brief pause. In the silence, he could hear what sounded like Rigsby cursing at the coffeemaker in the next room.
"For what it's worth," said Jane quietly. "I think it took guts."
"Thanks," he said. He'd rather throw himself between her and a hundred more murderers than have to go through those few minutes again. "On the upside, I don't think she's mad at me anymore."
"Mm, spontaneous love confessions do tend to help speed forgiveness along," said Jane.
"You and Lisbon back on speaking terms yet?" asked Castle. Jane smiled mysteriously.
"We're good," he said.
Lisbon did seem to be rather happy this morning, thought Castle. Suspiciously so, now he came to think about it. And Jane looked even more pleased with himself than usual. They hadn't. Had they?
Before he could ask, Cho appeared around the corner.
"Shouldn't you two be in interrogation?" he asked, eyeing them coldly. Castle got to his feet.
"Right you are Cho," said Jane good-naturedly. "We're just heading there now." And he led the way out of the room.
It transpired that his night in lock-up had not agreed with Van Keil at all, thought Beckett as she and Lisbon entered the interrogation room. He was already there, looking tired and angry, glaring at them both as they took their seats.
"I trust you were comfortable last night?" Lisbon asked him. "Sorry we couldn't get you a private cell, but we're a little tight on space right now, what with the budget cuts and everything."
"I could give your superiors a few suggestions to cut costs," sneered Van Keil. "They could fire you and your team for a start."
"I don't think so," said Lisbon. "They'd have to pay out five severance packages, and the State just doesn't have that kind of spare cash lying around."
Van Keil opened his mouth to retort, but Beckett cut him off in the hope that they could proceed beyond simply exchanging thinly veiled insults for the next hour.
"Let's get down to business," she said. "We have a proposition for you Mr Van Keil, but this is a one-time offer, so listen carefully. We're going to pretend that you didn't hold two government employees against their will, and at gunpoint, not to mention the fact that you attacked four more and we're also prepared to forget that you resisted arrest."
'Oh really?" said Van Keil, looking as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "And what exactly do you want in exchange for this generous offer?"
"You're going to introduce us to your good friend Freemont," said Beckett. "You're going to tell us his real name, and how we can find him."
"And if I don't?"
"Then we'll charge you with kidnapping, assault police, resisting arrest, and obstruction of a criminal investigation," Lisbon reeled off. "So if we add all that up, you'll be spending quite a long time in state prison."
"And let me tell you, last night will have been a picnic compared to a jail term," said Beckett.
"You have no proof that I hired anyone to kill my wife," said Van Keil. "At least not anything admissible thanks to Starsky and Hutch back there," he flicked his eyes at the mirror behind their heads.
"We will find this guy, with your help or not," said Lisbon. "And when we do, how do you know he won't throw you under the bus? In my experience, most hitmen aren't the most honourable of souls."
Van Keil swallowed nervously.
"The way I see it, you've got two options," said Lisbon. "Either you deal with us, or you take your chances with him. What's it to be?"
Fifteen minutes later, Lisbon and Beckett left the interrogation room, both with small triumphant smiles on their faces. With the threat of a jail sentence hanging over him, and after making them promise to protect his identity when they caught the hitman, Van Keil had sung like a bird.
"Do you think he realises that we're going to drag him right back in here later and charge him for conspiracy to commit murder the second we find some evidence?" asked Lisbon.
"I think he's too busy congratulating himself on his lucky escape for now," said Beckett, as the door to the viewing room opened and Jane and Castle came out. She glanced at a piece of paper in her hand. "Warren Hunstrom," she read. "That's not the name of the man we know as 3XK."
"Could be an alias," Lisbon suggested. "And at least it's a place to start."
Jane grinned at them both when he reached them.
"Nicely done, ladies," he said. "Isn't there just something so satisfying about giving people the rope they'll use to hang themselves without them even knowing it?"
Lisbon rolled her eyes at her consultant as he fell into step beside her, and the two of them soon got ahead of Beckett and Castle who walked together in an uncomfortable silence.
There seemed to be so much she wanted to say, but she had trouble finding the words. She hated the way they'd left things last night, and hated the way it had carried over into today. Apparently, this was not one of those things that would go away on its own if she ignored it for long enough, but something that sooner or later, she would have to face up to.
She supposed she should have known it would come to this. Castle had bared his heart and soul to her last night, and at the very least, she owed him the dignity of a proper response.
Up ahead, she heard Jane murmur something to Lisbon, who chuckled, and then playfully swatted him on the arm. She'd give anything to have that easiness with Castle again, like it had used to be.
If things weren't so weird between them, she might have been able to tell him that Josh had broken up with her last night. He'd called about half an hour after they'd arrived back from dinner to tell her he thought it was time that they called it a day. She'd agreed. He'd then said he knew he was making the right decision for she'd never really cared for him at all if she could take the news so easily. That had been unfair. She certainly had cared for him, once. Indeed, he had played a very important role in helping to fill the void left by Castle's departure last summer. She would always be grateful to him for helping her through that time.
But then Castle had returned, and though she'd kept seeing Josh, she'd slowly begun not to need him so much anymore, particularly when Castle's ex-wife Gina had been out of the picture. With her best friend back, and all to herself again, her relationship with Josh had eventually become superfluous. They both knew it, and she suspected they'd only stayed together this long because it would have been inconvenient to break up.
But now they had. Under normal circumstances, she'd have told Castle right away, but now, she feared what he would make of the news. She wasn't used to having to be so guarded with him, but she didn't want him reading more into it than there was. Perhaps there was a correlation between her conversation with Castle and the break-up, and perhaps there wasn't. But she didn't want to be asked that question until she had an answer ready.
In the end though, whatever happened, she knew that she and Castle were going to be OK. They always were. And he'd promised.
With a name and a contact number for their hitman, finally they could put a plan in place to track him down. Grouped around the whiteboard again, the two teams devoted an hour to planning their fake hit. After some discussion, it was decided that Van Pelt would be the target. Cho and Esposito were to stick to her like glue to protect her until Hunstrom made his move. During this time, they would remain in radio contact with the rest of the team, who would be ready to spring into action to help take him down.
Beckett had deliberately arranged to keep herself back from the main action, in the hope that Castle would follow suit without too much complaint. She knew both he and Ryan felt that they had a score to settle with Jerry Tyson, and she didn't want to risk anyone getting ahead of themselves and possibly being injured.
The other major problem was the issue of the $80,000 fee Hunstrom required to engage his services. Of course, Castle offered his assistance right away, but she felt guilty about taking it. She didn't want him to have to drop a ridiculous amount of money on another scheme that might turn out to be fruitless, but Jane told her not to worry about it, and that he could come up with the money. She looked curiously at Lisbon, who shook her head and told her not to bother asking.
Jane then disappeared for a couple of hours, and when he returned clutching two briefcases, cheerfully told them that he'd just been banned from his 15th casino. The NYPD detectives watched on, flabbergasted, as he opened the briefcases, extracted handfuls of cash and began ostentatiously to count them out, only desisting when Lisbon barked at him to quit showing off. He snapped the cases shut, and slid one across the table to Beckett.
"That ought to cover it," he said. "Or would you prefer me to write you a cheque?"
"This'll do fine," she said. Her eye strayed across to the remaining briefcase at Jane's elbow. "What's in there?" she asked before she could stop herself.
Jane spared the case a brief, careless glance. "There's a bit of money left over."
"How much?" asked Castle.
"Oh, about fifty grand, give or take," said Jane casually. Ignoring the startled looks on everyone's faces he began to look longingly towards his couch for a power nap after a hard morning of swindling.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked Esposito, eyes fixed on the briefcase.
Jane shrugged. "I'll think of something."
"Why do you work at all?" asked Ryan, in wonderment. "With your skills you could make enough money in a few hours for you to live on for a year."
Jane picked up the briefcase and carried it with him over to the couch. He set it down, and collapsed onto the couch, yawning widely.
"Well, you know what they say about idle hands," he said sleepily, closed his eyes, and didn't speak anymore. In spite of themselves, most of the team's eyes were drawn to the cash-loaded briefcase at his side, all except, Beckett suddenly noticed, for Lisbon, whose gaze was trained on her consultant.
Lisbon hadn't seemed the slightest bit surprised or impressed when Jane had arrived with his spoils. On the contrary, she'd barely reacted at all, except for when she'd told him off for his showboating. Now she was watching Jane, frowning slightly, and Beckett also thought she looked a little sad. But after a moment, she seemed to shake herself out of it, and cleared her throat loudly, bringing everyone else's attention back to work.
Jane snoozed on in the corner as the others proceeded to make arrangements for the afternoon, when they would make the payment to Hunstrom and put the plan in motion. Beckett noticed that Lisbon glanced over at the couch every now and then, almost as though to reassure herself that her partner was still there.
In turn, she herself could feel Castle's gaze on her, but determinedly didn't look at him. Today would be stressful enough without further complications. Over her dead body was this going to turn out like the Rathborne debacle. This time, nobody was going to die.
As the sun began to set over Sacramento, Lisbon could be found in the SUV, parked in the shadow of a tall building, with Jane at her side. Across the street, Van Pelt was framed in the window of a small café, sipping from a cup beside her.
"You OK there, Grace?" Lisbon said into the radio.
Van Pelt put the cup down. "This coffee's good," she said, in a low voice. "Boss, you really should come and try it."
"Maybe another day, when we're not in the middle of a covert operation," said Lisbon.
"Fair enough," mumbled Van Pelt, for at the moment a man had passed by her table. She shot him a winning smile. Lisbon chuckled as the man tripped over a chair leg in his haste to grin back.
"Sometimes I think that there's nothing more dangerous in this world than a beautiful woman," Jane said, as they watched Van Pelt's would-be suitor pull himself up from the floor and dash out of the café in embarrassment.
"I hate this part," said Lisbon, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. "Waiting around for something to happen is so irritating."
"Try and have patience," said Jane, leaning back comfortably in his seat and closing his eyes. "I understand it's very difficult for you."
"Shut up," she said, automatically. A crackling sound issued from the radio.
"Com check," came Beckett's voice, distorted by the static. "Everyone in position?"
Lisbon answered in the affirmative, and after a moment, Cho did as well. He and Esposito were also in the café, a few tables away from Van Pelt, lying low until Hunstrom showed up. The cash transaction had been made by wire transfer, and eventually Ryan had been the one to phone up the number provided by Van Keil. He'd been given an email address to which he'd sent a photograph of Van Pelt.
In the interest of covering all bases, Lisbon had asked Van Pelt to try to trace the email address, but the address had dead-ended somewhere in cyberspace leaving them with no hope of finding out who it belonged to. It had been worth a try, but now there was nothing to do but wait.
After sleeping through the initial stages, Jane had been surprisingly willing to take part in the execution of the plan. After relocating the second briefcase to the attic, he'd then offered to join Lisbon in the SUV rather then go with Beckett, Ryan, Rigsby and Castle in the van. He said it was because the van was tight on space, but she also hoped it was his way of trying to be a better partner by being there for her. Either way, she was glad for the company.
"Will you relax?" he said to her now. She hadn't realised she'd been drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "Cho and Esposito will look after her," he went on. "She'll be fine."
Lisbon didn't think she'd ever be completely OK with putting her team at risk like this. While Van Pelt had been more than happy to accept the job, Lisbon still felt guilty. If she'd had her way, she would happily put herself into every dangerous situation they encountered, in order to spare the others, and to spare herself the sense of responsibility if something went wrong.
She had volunteered to be the target in Van Pelt's stead, but both Beckett and Jane had shouted her down, Beckett saying they'd need her for backup if things got ugly, and Jane pointing out that she'd already stared down the barrel of a gun enough times in this case, and it was time for someone else to take a turn.
If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he'd actually been concerned.
Across the street, a waiter appeared in the window, bringing a sandwich to Van Pelt. Lisbon looked at it jealously. She hadn't eaten all day; there hadn't been time what with everything else going on. Her stomach chose that moment to growl in protest, and Jane glanced over at her with a smile.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"I'm fine."
"Of course you are," Jane agreed, with a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "Food is only necessary for the weak, average human, not the great Teresa Lisbon after all." He opened the glove compartment, and with much crinkling of paper, took a paper bag out of it and waved it in front of her. "So I don't suppose you'll be wanting this bear claw then?" he asked.
"Where did you get that?" she demanded.
"Oh, I picked it up on the way back from the casino," he said. "But seeing as you don't want it-" he broke off, smirking, as she reached over and snatched it from him. "That's what I thought. I couldn't give it to you earlier because if the others knew I'd bought you a bear claw, they'd all have wanted one."
"So why didn't you bring some for everybody?" she asked as she unfolded the bag and took a large bite.
"The rest of them all found time today to feed themselves. But I knew you'd need a little more encouragement to take a break. You would have kept on going until you dropped."
She didn't bother denying it, and in fact, said nothing at all until she'd polished off the bear claw, crumpled up the empty bag and put it back in the glove compartment to be thrown away later.
"Thanks," she said. "I needed that."
"I know. You're welcome."
Another glance at Van Pelt, who was now daintily nibbling on her sandwich, and flicking through the newspaper. They were all fairly sure that Hunstrom wouldn't make his move until she left the café, but Cho and Esposito were on high alert, just in case. Lisbon tried not to think about snipers. Any decent marksman would have a clean shot through the window. Though their hitman seemed to favour hand-to-hand confrontation, she had insisted that Van Pelt wear a Kevlar vest as well. It could mean the difference between injury and death.
Beside her, Jane blew out a sigh.
"I'm bored," he complained. "Can't we have some music on or something?"
"No, the others could need us at any time. If we have music on we won't be able to hear properly."
"Spoilsport," he muttered.
Another brief silence followed, and then she asked him something that had been plaguing her all afternoon.
"What are you going to do with all that money?" she asked.
He chuckled. "I knew you were more curious than you were letting on," he said, and then shrugged. "If I can't find something useful to do with it, I'll ditch it. I don't need it, and I don't want it."
"You could buy yourself some more suits," she suggested. "Or at the very least, a new pair of shoes. Those ones have certainly seen better days." She glanced down at the scuffed brown shoes that he'd been wearing practically every day, as long as she'd known him.
"What are you, the fashion police?" he asked. "I've got enough clothes to get me through. I don't need any more."
"It wouldn't make you a bad person if you kept it," she said. "You won it, fair and square."
Jane shook his head vigorously. "I don't need it," he repeated. "It's only a small step between entitlement and greed, and greed was what got me here in the first place, if you'll remember. Won't be making that mistake again."
Lisbon sighed. "When are you going to stop punishing yourself?"
"You know when," he said darkly.
She didn't believe him; in fact she wasn't even sure Jane believed himself. She knew full well that he would never stop punishing himself. He seemed to think that the destruction of Red John would be the end of everything. He saw nothing beyond it, nothing else to aspire to. What would happen when Red John really was gone? Who was to say that he wouldn't give up completely, and simply let himself sink into apathy, or worse, take his own life? All the pain and heartache she'd endured over the years on his behalf would have been for nothing.
She imagined that when he looked in the mirror, he saw nothing but a monster, who deserved nothing better than to live out his days in misery and despair, paying endless penance for his sins. But she still had hope that one day he would be able to forgive himself. After all, she hadn't sacrificed so much over the years for him to simply throw it all away. She'd spent their entire partnership defending him, supporting him, protecting him, damn it. He owed it to her not to give up.
"You're too hard on yourself," she said.
"It took my family being murdered to make me realise what an arrogant ass I was," he said. "I was so stupid, so ignorant. So blind." He gave a humourless smile. "I was supposed to be the all-seeing, all-knowing man, and somehow I managed not to notice the creature I became."
"Seems to me you're still missing something," she said. "Because I know there's a good man under all your playacting and smart-ass mentalist crap. And if I, the layperson, can see it, why the hell can't you?"
"Who knows? Maybe I need glasses." He said this with an attempt at his usual easiness and bravado. She knew what he was doing; he'd obviously had enough of this conversation and was trying to change the subject. She let him, for now wasn't the time or place for an in-depth character assessment.
"I think I'd look good in glasses," he said, with a proud tilt of his head. She privately agreed. But then again, with a confident air like his, he could probably get away with anything. He could turn up to work in a clown suit if he wanted to, and still be the sexiest thing in California, if not the world.
"Of course you'd think that," she retorted, nothing if not consistent. "You already think you're God's gift to women." It was her job to cut him down to size when he got too full of himself, it was expected of her. And it wouldn't do to stray from the script. Things could get weird.
Jane naturally ignored this jibe, and merely smirked.
Cho's voice cut through the static on the radio again. "We're on the move," he said. Sure enough, when Lisbon looked up it was to see Van Pelt exiting the café. Around thirty seconds later Cho and Esposito also emerged, and sloped after her.
"Heading southwest," Cho continued. "Beckett, we're coming your way."
"Got that," Beckett answered. "Lisbon, Jane hold your position for now."
Lisbon made a face at the radio. "Who died and made you queen?" she muttered under her breath. Beside her, Jane laughed quietly.
She gave an irritated sigh. "I shouldn't have said that," she said. "It was unprofessional."
"I won't tell anyone. But between you and me, I love it when you get all bitter and resentful, particularly at someone who isn't me. Makes a nice change. And it's good to see you take a break from the white knight routine every now and then."
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Loving big sister and pseudo-parent, defender of the weak and innocent, punisher of the guilty, a martyr to the cause of saving something that can't be saved," he gestured to himself. "Loyal to a fault and willing to protect those you care about with your last breath."
It all sounded so noble when he said it like that. But she knew she didn't deserve such a glowing account, for she only did those things because she felt she had to. She told him so.
He shook his head in disbelief.
"You honestly don't get it, do you?" he said. "You really don't see."
"See what?" she asked, impatiently, resigning herself to another lecture about his heightened powers of observation, finely-tuned skills, and sense of his own all-around greatness. That was why she needed him around; he could see the things that she couldn't, and blah, blah, blah. She could hear it all already.
He gazed at her with kind eyes. "You're perfect," he said. "Or as near enough to it as any person could be. And that's the truth."
Lisbon choked on nothing but air, and felt herself redden. She looked anywhere but at him as she tried to get herself back under control. It was the biggest compliment he'd ever paid her, in fact, the biggest compliment anyone could give anyone. What had made him say such a thing? She was far, far from perfect. She was a wreck.
"Stop it," she managed to choke out. "You're being an idiot."
"I'm not," he retorted. "You are-"
But whatever else she was, she never found out for at that moment, the radio burst to life once more.
"Cho, there's someone on your 6 o' clock," said Beckett.
"I know," Cho answered, so low she had to strain to hear him. "He's been following us for a few blocks."
"That's not him," said Jane suddenly. "Any hitman worth his salt wouldn't go wandering around in the open allowing people to get a good look at him. If it were me, I'd have got myself into a good hiding spot hours ago."
After a moment, Cho came through on the frequency again. "False alarm," he said. "He went into an apartment block."
Lisbon rolled her eyes at Jane. "Don't you ever get tired of being right?"
"You'd think so," he beamed. "But no, I really don't."
Cho and Esposito walked slowly along the street, keeping Van Pelt's bright red hair in their sights.
"At this rate, we'll be walking to tomorrow," Esposito complained. "How do we know that's it going to be tonight?"
"Jane said so," said Cho simply.
Esposito shrugged, but raised no further objections. Cho glanced around the area surrounding them; not a person in sight, a lone car trundling down the road. All was quiet, and the sun was so low in the sky now that everything was bathed in a reddish glow.
Up ahead, Van Pelt turned a corner, and was screened from view by the side of a building. A moment later, a strange sound, like a strangled gasp, which suddenly cut off, and then a clatter. Cho and Esposito exchanged looks, and tore around the corner themselves.
Esposito exclaimed in surprise, and Cho stopped dead in his tracks.
Van Pelt's earpiece was on the ground. She was gone.
In the van, just down the road Beckett, Castle, Ryan and Rigsby sat in silence waiting for more updates. Castle found he wasn't enjoying this stakeout as much as others previously. He and Beckett had shared a great number of quality bonding moments on stakeouts together in the past. Just the two of them, in a darkened car; several of his Beckett fantasies had begun that way.
He glanced sideways at her. She hadn't met his eyes all day, and only spoken to him when absolutely necessary. Perhaps it was a good thing they hadn't been on their own this time, he didn't think he could have handled this uncomfortable silence if the others weren't with them.
Rigsby produced a candy bar. He broke it in two and offered half to Ryan, who took it and began eating it, but not looking as though he was enjoying it very much. Castle thought he knew what was on his mind. They could be mere minutes away from a reunion with Jerry Tyson. The last time the three of them had met, they had definitely come off second best. Ryan had lost both his badge and his gun, and they all knew he hated himself for that. More than once since, Ryan had been known to go quiet for no apparent reason, and Castle suspected he was wondering what Tyson was doing with them, what other havoc he could be wreaking with the added credibility the badge would bring.
"Oh hell," they heard Esposito say, and silence fell.
Beckett grabbed for the receiver. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"We lost her," said Cho.
Three things happened at once. Rigsby went ghostly white and dropped the candy bar, Beckett gasped and a shriek issued from the radio. "You what?" Lisbon exploded from the SUV. "You were five steps behind her, how the hell did you lose her?"
"He must have dragged her into this building," said Esposito. "Looks like a warehouse or something."
"Probably wanted to get her off the street, so nobody would hear the struggle," said Cho.
"Well, get in there after her," Lisbon ordered him. "But be careful, we'll be there soon."
"No, hang back Lisbon," said Beckett, using her free hand to start the van. "Just in case he runs out a back way."
"Like hell I will," Lisbon snarled. Castle had never heard such venom in her voice before. "My agent is in danger." The radio went dead.
Within moments, Beckett pulled the van up next to place where they'd lost contact with Van Pelt. The SUV was already parked halfway up the gutter. She, Ryan and Rigsby piled out of the car.
"Castle, stay in the car," she said, as she slammed the door.
Left behind again, Castle looked through the window of the SUV to see Jane in the passenger seat; apparently he had been relegated to a spectator as well.
A few minutes of tense waiting passed. Castle hated not knowing what was going on. He only wished he'd thought to bring his 'Writer' vest along, so he could take part, rather than sit around here like this.
Suddenly, the door to the building opened, and a tall man, dressed all in black came hurtling out of it. Hunstrom took off down the sidewalk, as Beckett and Lisbon streaked after him. Lisbon got slightly ahead of Beckett, took a flying leap, and tackled Hunstrom to the ground. His yelp of surprise must have been audible the next street over, and one of his flailing legs caught Lisbon in the chest. She let out a grunt of pain but didn't release him. Within seconds Beckett caught up to them, and pointed her gun threateningly at Hunstrom's head.
Beckett hauled Hunstrom to his feet as Lisbon got gingerly onto hers, wincing with the movement. Jane leapt out of the SUV and walked towards his partner with a look of great concern while Beckett deposited the now-handcuffed Hunstrom into the back seat.
With the action over, Castle declared his vehicular incarceration at an end and got out too. To his relief, this time Beckett seemed to have got through it unscathed.
"Van Pelt's OK," she reported. "We got to her just in time."
The door opened yet again, and this time Van Pelt emerged, supported by Ryan and Esposito with Rigsby trailing along behind anxiously. Cho brought up the rear.
"You're being ridiculous, you can't drive in that state."
A few yards away, Jane's exasperated voice scolded Lisbon. He appeared to have taken the SUV keys away from her and was brandishing them at her in annoyance.
"I'm fine," she said. But she winced again and Castle suspected bruised ribs at the very least.
"Prove it," he said. "You want them, take them back." He held them out to her. Stubbornly, she reached for them but cried out and doubled over instead, clutching Jane's arm for support.
"That's what I thought," he snapped, but Castle noticed his gaze was far gentler, as she heavily sucked in air beside him. "Cho's driving," he informed her firmly. "And that's final. I suppose it's pointless to suggest you go to the hospital?" he asked, and she nodded. "Fine, come on then, let's get out of here." She allowed him to slip an arm around her waist and the two of them lurched towards the car. Castle heard her call Jane an asshole as they did so.
As he turned back around to Beckett, his eye fell on Hunstrom in the back seat. To his bemusement, Hunstrom lit up with a brilliant smile.
"Most people wouldn't be quite so happy to be in the back of a police car," said Castle, coldly.
"Well, most people wouldn't just have been arrested by a personal hero," said Hunstrom. "Richard Castle. Jerry told me I might run into you."
I was hoping to get this done by Xmas but I guess it will have to be a New Year's gift to you, my lovely readers. I hope you liked it!