there should be stars
Shoutout to Jess and Jenny (hey! J squared. Cool) for being two of the sweetest people I've met. Thank you both. So very much.
The trip to the Candelas gives them nothing. She leaves the parents in the living room, cuddled on the couch with tissues and cups of tea. She wants to call Castle, update him, so she heads to the kitchen, fingers playing with her phone in the pocket of her jacket.
Sorenson is pouring out a cup of coffee from the fresh pot, turning to look over his shoulder when she comes in. "You want some?" he asks, holding the pot up.
"Yeah. Thanks," she says, leaning against the doorframe, taking the olive green mug from him when he hands it over. "Just heard from my team. Ellers was a dead end. The owner at Paradise Diner on East 62nd vouched that he was having his usual poached eggs this morning."
"Would have been too easy, right?" smirks Sorenson. He waits a beat as she starts to shrug. "Or over-easy."
Beckett laughs softly, smiling around the edge of the mug. "Sounds like something Castle would say." Sorenson quirks a brow so she lowers the cup, looking at the cabinets. "When a story seems too easy, he'll say 'That's a terrible ending.' Or 'The reader would never buy it.'"
"You like him." It's not a question. When she looks up at him, he's serious, face blank.
"I…" She sighs, touching the side of the cup. "I think he's interesting."
"So you're not…?"
Oh God. Oh God, he's going to dig and the last thing she needs is the two men on the case vying for her affection like some sort of medieval jousting contest. "With him?" Sorenson nods. "No." It's not a lie. She's not with him right now. Not officially. Sex isn't 'with him'. They haven't really defined the thing they're in right now.
"I meant to call," Sorenson says, stepping closer to her, placing the coffee cup on the counter. "Must have picked up the phone a dozen times."
"You meant to do a lot of things. That's why you left, remember?"
"San Francisco was a great opportunity," he defends.
She sighs, closing her eyes as she rests her head on the doorframe. "I'm not saying that it wasn't," she says, a little of the past bitterness making its way into her voice as she crosses her arms.
"You could have come."
"And done what? Joined the SFPD just so you can move to Cleveland and then Phoenix? We both know what that life is like."
His fingers dance over the inside of her elbow, catching on the fabric of her jacket. "Didn't stop me from missing you. Missing us. Sundays in the park. Those ridiculous neon ice skates at Rockefeller Center."
She laughs, shaking her head as she opens her eyes. "I'll have you know those ice skates are awesome," she says.
He steps closer, one of his feet edging between hers, hand cupping her cheek. "It wasn't the skates."
"Will, I…" she manages a moment before he kisses her gently, her head falling back onto the wood of the doorframe. Her eyes flutter closed as his lips move over hers, fingers twisting in her hair. And for a moment, she forgets about Castle, forgets that they're kind of in some sort of really thin relationship, and pushes up on her toes to stroke her tongue along Sorenson's lip, hands grasping at his upper arms.
"And here I was thinking that cops and Feds hated each other."
Fuck. She gives Sorenson a shove, fingers coming up to rub at her lips as if she can erase what just happened from the past. "Castle, I told you to go home."
"I did," he says, launching into a story about how Martha said something that triggered something else.
But all she can think of is how much she may have just screwed up whatever she and Castle are.
A second ransom call forces her to take sides. Sorenson doesn't want Castle in the field. Beckett insists that he's able to handle himself. The FBI agent storms off, hands in his pockets as he goes outside the apartment with orders to one of his aides to wire Castle for sound.
Beckett snags the equipment from the aide, grabs Castle's sleeve in the next movement, and pulls him toward the hallway. She pushes him into the girl's bedroom, closing the door. "This is where I'd ask if you've really thought this through," she sighs, collapsing against the door. "But then I remembered that you never think things through." She starts unbuttoning his shirt, clipping the little box to his waistband.
He smirks, moving into her space. "Not like you, right? You think through that kiss with Sorenson?"
She swallows thickly, sliding her hand with the tiny microphone up and under his undershirt, around the back of his ear. "That's not relevant and you know it. These people are dangerous. You need to stay focused and alert."
Her fingers are shaking a little against his neck as she makes sure the wire for the microphone lays flat along his skin. He catches them, holding them against his chest even as his free hand tips her head up. "Hey. It's gonna be okay."
"Look," she says, unable to look away, "about last night in the kitchen…"
He kisses her. It's not soft or gentle or sweet. He nips at her, his tongue pushing past her lips and stroking hotly along the roof of her mouth. The resulting quiet moan from her is captured by him, kept from being heard in the hall. And when he steps back, it's sudden and she finds herself leaning forward after him, dizzy.
"Nothing to explain, Beckett," he says with a shrug. He buttons up his shirt, tucking it into the waistband of his pants, careful to keep the mic box and wires untangled. His hand is on the doorknob when she hooks her fingers in his jeans.
"Be careful, okay?" she asks, trying desperately to keep the wavering from her voice.
He turns, thumb coming up to brush at her swollen lower lip. "Do I detect concern for my well-being?" he teases.
But she's completely serious when she answers. "Yes. Castle, I might still be in love with you," she whispers into the dark room.
Castle doesn't get a chance to respond before one of the FBI agents is gathering him up, herding him toward the front door of the Candelas' apartment. As soon as he's out of her view, she sits on the edge of Angela's bed heavily, head falling into her hands.
The operation fails miserably. Their kidnapper is good, organizing the fake performance art piece to disguise their guy picking up the backpack full of money. Tensions are running high. The Candelas are asleep, probably not sleeping well but at least they're not sitting by the phone anymore. She sent Castle home. Sorenson might have gone back to his place too. But she spent the night in Angela's room in the old rocking chair near the girl's bed, trying to figure out what piece she was missing.
Until Castle crawled in – literally crawled in – and chattered about Alexis and her Monkey Bunkey, the ratty stuffed animal Beckett remembers the girl carrying around every waking hour when she was living with Castle in the loft. She knows about the connection to a favorite stuffed animal, something that can make you calm even in the scariest of thunderstorms. And Castle figures that whoever took Angela had to have known about the girl's attachment to the little stuffed bunny that Angela is clutching in almost every photo in the apartment.
It leads them to the little girl's aunt. They find Angela in a little plastic play-pen in the private playground, Nina watching over her. The bunny on the bench next to her. Sorenson goes to Nina, reading her the Miranda rights. But Beckett bends over, picking Angela up and settling the girl on her hip.
"Hello, Angela," she says softly, tapping the girl on the nose and letting the little fingers wrap around her forefinger. "I'm so happy to see you. Wanna go see Mommy and Daddy?" she asks, picking up the abandoned bunny from the bench, holding it out to Angela who grabs it, bringing it to her chest.
As she passes Castle, she sees something flash through his eyes. It's barely there but she catches it. He smiles, pulling the striped hat on Angela's head down further. "Hey, pretty girl," he murmurs, snagging the bunny as it nearly falls from Angela's hands.
The joy of finding the girl alive and well drains when they get back to the apartment and Theresa's plan falls apart in front of her husband and the team.
They book Theresa and Ryan and Esposito bring the woman down to Holding. Castle is calling Alexis, letting her know he'll be back later in the evening. And Sorenson is in Castle's chair, leaning an elbow on her desk.
"He's more than interesting to you, isn't he?" the man asks.
She opens her mouth to respond but he shakes his head, hand resting on hers lightly.
"I'm a trained profiler. You don't need to say anything." He gets up, leaning over to press a kiss onto her head. "Talk to you later, Kate."
Beckett is shrugging on her coat when Castle steps in behind her, hands smoothing over the sleeves of the khaki trenchcoat. "Hey," she says, turning as she fastens buttons. "You wanna get a drink or something?"
"You're not going out with Sorenson?" he asks, following her toward the elevator.
She shakes her head. "We gave it our best shot two years ago. He moves with work. I don't. I can't." As they get into the elevator car, she blows her bangs from her eyes. "Castle, about what I said before, in Angela's bedroom…" Her fingers play with the belt of her jacket as the numbers of floors descends to the lobby. "I meant it. I might still be in lo -"
His finger over her lips cuts her off. "We made a promise. No using that word."
She takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as the silence settles in the elevator.
Then, right before the doors open to the lobby, he speaks, looking ahead at the scarred metal of the interior. "I might be too."