Chapter Fourteen – Technical Knock Out

Technical knock out: when a fighter is unable to continue, usually due to injury.

Author's note: Even though the story isn't told from her POV (except for the one flashback), I still had to get into her head. During that process I found that Kaleidoscope Heart by Sara Bareilles is a great soundtrack for Josie.

It took him exactly 43 minutes to locate her. When he got to his place and found that she had totally cleared out, he worried that she had already disappeared. But then he realized that would have been difficult to do with Angel in tow. So he went to her home and found the lithe brunette, Kate, staying there with Angel. Joelle was gone. Kate said she was at the dojang working out.

When he walked into the dojang, he found her dressed in yoga clothes, not a dobok, sitting in full lotus pose, supposedly deep in meditation. Even though she must have heard him enter, she did not open her eyes. She looked… almost serene.

"I'm not buying it, Sister," he said, walking toward her.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her face showed no emotion. He knelt down in front of her and examined her face, looking for signs of dirt, sweat, tears… something. There was a fine sheen of sweat over her skin, but nothing more.

"You're sweating," he said.

She ran her eyes over him. He was still wearing his black cargo pants, black t-shirt, and combat boots, but had left the tactical vest and most of his weapons at Castle. "So are you," she said.

"I just watched a man die," he replied.

"I just finished 70 minutes of Ashtanga yoga."

"Did you hear me? I just watched a man die."

She gave a slight shrug and gracefully came to her feet. "I'm sure you've watched plenty of men die today."

She turned her back to him and started to walk away. He grabbed her arm with his left hand and spun her back around to face him. "I just watched Peter Smythe die."

She hesitated for only a moment, but still didn't show any emotion. "No you didn't."

He held up his right hand. "His blood is still under my nails," he growled.

She actually looked at his finger tips for a moment. Then she looked back into his eyes. "Peter isn't dead."

Casey stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head. "You're either crazy or a really good actress."

She shrugged again.

"Either way, you're coming down to Castle with me right now."

"Are you arresting me, John?"

"Don't be an idiot," he snapped. "I told you a long time ago, you fall under the Patriot Act, Caldwell."

XoXoXoX

He let her sit in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table for over two hours while he talked with the team, reviewed the scene findings, and briefed the General.

The aftermath was almost as crazy as the event itself. Smythe had set bombs around the entire perimeter of the meet area and the bomb squad was still working to defuse them. The sniper had neutralized nine Russians and 12 Yakuza without killing a single one. She also put a bullet through the Russian's laptop. The device that Smythe had stolen was now on its way back to DC. Her gear was found on the roof of a warehouse about 800 yards from the meet site.

There were only two deaths from the whole fiasco: Smythe and the Russian computer genius, who was killed by the bodyguard's Uzi. Even the surveillance team at the original warehouse was okay. Smythe had found them, but only tranqed them.

"Colonel, there is video footage of Ms. Caldwell going into her gym at 1230 today and not leaving until you dragged her out in handcuffs," the General said.

"There are ways around that, ma'am."

"There is no physical evidence of any kind to put her at the scene or tie her to the murder weapon or any other equipment we found."

Casey frowned. "Who else would back him up like that and then turn on him?"

"Smythe had a lot of friends, Colonel. And a lot of enemies."

"She did it, ma'am, I know it," Casey gritted.

"And I believe you, Colonel Casey, but unless you get her to confess, we have no choice but to let her go. Call me when it is done."

The screen went black. Casey snarled, grabbed Chuck's laptop and walked toward the interrogation room.

Walker came to her feet and matched his stride down the hallway.

He glanced at her. "Don't need any help, Walker."

"You're not going in there alone, Casey."

He stopped in front of the interrogation room door. "I can handle this," he said.

Walker shook her head. "Your interrogation techniques tend to be somewhat heavy-handed," she said. "I don't think that's going to work with her."

Casey thought back to Caldwell's Afghanistan imprisonment and had to agree.

"Fine," he growled. "But let me take lead." She gave a quick nod. He put his thumb on the security scanner and the door slid open.

The muscles in his chest tightened at first sight of her. He had refused her request to change clothes, so she was still in her form-fitting yoga tank and pants. And it was obvious that she was cold. Her hair was pulled up in a tight pony tail. She sat stiffly in the chair, her wrists cuffed around a bolt in the table. Her face was relaxed and showed no emotion. When she moved her eyes to his face, her expression remained blank.

He cursed himself for still being attracted to her after what she had done.

He set the laptop on the table and then sat down in the chair so he was directly across the table from her. Walker stood at his left shoulder, her left hip cocked and her arms folded over her chest.

Caldwell's eyes went from him to Walker and then settled back on him. He held her stare for several long moments.

"You know what I find odd?" he asked. Caldwell didn't react. "You never asked me how the thing turned out." He paused, thinking she would respond, but she didn't. "Why didn't you ask?" Casey asked in his most menacing voice.

"Because I didn't care," she said.

"You cared about what happened to Smythe," Walker corrected, her voice edged with anger.

Caldwell didn't move her eyes from Casey's face. "You told me what happened to Peter."

"You said you wanted him neutralized," Casey said. "It should have been the first thing you asked me."

"You told me he was dead."

"But not right away," Casey said.

"You didn't ask, because you were there," Walker interjected. "You killed him."

So much for letting him take lead.

Caldwell continued to stare at him, saying nothing. Casey put his attention on the computer and pulled up the photo of Smythe's body at the scene. He turned the computer so Caldwell could see it. He waited until her eyes went to the computer screen.

"Thought you might like to get an up close look at what you did to him."

She looked at the computer for several moments, and eventually moved her eyes back to his face.

"You've got nothing to say?" he snapped, anger building in his chest. "This was the man you loved! The father of your child!"

The muscles of her face tightened and she leaned across the table, bringing her face close to his. "That's the man that tortured me for days," she said softly, "and then lied to me about it for years!"

Walker shifted her weight. She obviously didn't know the history.

"So, what's your point?" Caldwell asked.

"My point is that you should be showing some kind of emotion right now, knowing that he's dead…."

"He's not dead," Caldwell said, interrupting him.

"If he's not dead than he's a damn good actor," Casey said.

She shrugged. "He's a spy."

Casey paused for a moment, frustrated that she wasn't giving him any kind of opening. He exhaled and fought back the emotions building in his chest. He tapped the edge of the laptop, "That photo is the only thing left of Peter Smythe, and it won't be around long. He's been completely erased from the face of the earth."

"Good for him," she said. "He's wanted that for a long time."

"Oh, so you think you did him a favor by killing him, is that it?" Casey asked through clenched teeth.

"I didn't kill him," she replied.

Casey ground his teeth and pointed at the computer. "Then who did this?"

She looked at the photo for a moment. "You know what I find odd, John?" she asked, moving her eyes back to his. "Why do you care so much about Peter's fate? You labeled him an enemy of the State. He stole something from the government and was going to sell it to some very bad people. Most people would say he got what he deserved."

"I…" Casey started to object, but realized Caldwell made sense. Casey shouldn't be upset that Smythe was dead. Not just for the reasons she listed but also because Smythe had made it personal. Smythe abducted them, left them nearly helpless in a warehouse, and threatened Casey's life.

Casey stared at her, watching as her lips curled into a smug smile. Anger began rolling in waves through his torso.

"This is bullshit," Walker growled, stepping around the table. It happened fast. Walker punched Caldwell in the face. All Casey saw was Caldwell's head jerk towards her left shoulder.

"Walker, stop!" Casey barked, coming to his feet so fast he knocked the metal chair over.

Walker pulled her right fist back and went for another head shot, but Casey managed to get his hand out to stop her. He held on to her fist as he came around the table and pulled her away from Caldwell.

Caldwell turned her head to face them, her lip busted and her nose bleeding. She looked at Walker and smiled. "That was a decent hit, Walker. A little slow, but…"

Walker lunged back towards Caldwell, and Casey struggled with her for a moment to get control. The door opened and Chuck joined the fray.

"Sarah!" Chuck yelled, grabbing on to her arm.

Casey pushed Walker into Chuck and pushed them both towards the still open door. As soon as he pushed them across the threshold, Casey put his thumb on the scanner and the door slid closed.

Walker stopped struggling, but continued to glare in Caldwell's direction through the glass door. She slammed her open hand on the glass and then let Chuck pull her down the hall.

Casey turned around and looked at Caldwell. She smiled. "That was fun."

He lifted his lip in a snarl. "You channeling Smythe now?"

She shrugged. "Much of what I am goes to Peter," she said.

Casey thought over her words. "I've been over all your records," he said. "I never saw anything about you being clinically insane, but I'm starting to think that's the case." He watched her closely and saw the change in her eyes. Finally, an opening. A knife to twist to get some emotion out of the bitch.

"Yeah," he bent over and picked up his chair. "After what happened to you Afghanistan, that would be enough to make most women crumble…"

"Careful, Casey," she growled.

Casey sat down, enjoying that the tables had turned. "Falling for this lunatic and then finding out that he's the one that did it to you… that was probably enough to fracture you into tiny bits."

An angry blush crept over her face. "You prick!" she spat. "I knew you'd try and use that against me."

He gave her a Smythe-like smirk and nodded his head. "Sure! That explains it. There's the woman I first met. I'd like to think that's the real you. That's the Recon Force Marine. Then there's the sex-kitten that was all over me at the club."

"I'm warning you, Casey…!" she growled softly.

"There's the china doll part that needs protecting by a big, strong man. And then there's Josie, who is into passive-aggressive relationships… the female equivalent of Peter Smythe…!" He leaned over the table closing the distance between them. "All I need to know is which one of you killed Smythe?"

He felt her feet on his right leg, one on the side of his knee and one hooked around his ankle. He reached down to break the hold, but he was too late.

"Shut! Up!" she yelled and pushed one direction against his knee while pulling his foot in the other direction. He slid to the right to minimize the damage, but searing pain engulfed his knee cap. He grunted loudly and gave her ankle a sharp jab. Her foot slid off his knee and the pain receded a little.

She pulled both feet back and moved herself as far away from him as her cuffed hands would allow. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are way out of line, John."

Casey pushed to his feet and tested his right knee. She hadn't dislocated the kneecap, but he was going to be walking funny for a couple of weeks.

Casey shook his head. "And you are so clearly insane I don't know why I didn't notice it before! But you're right about one thing. Why should I care that you killed your lover? He was a traitorous jackass. You did the world a favor by getting rid of him. I'm done worrying about him and about you!" He fumbled in his pocket for the handcuff key.

He tossed the key on the table within her reach. He held her eyes, his stomach burning with unwanted emotions. "You're free to go, Caldwell, with the thanks of grateful nation, blah, blah, blah…!"

He turned his back on her and took a couple of unsteady steps toward the door. He put his thumb on the scanner and the door slid open. He paused in the doorway and turned his head toward his shoulder just enough to see her in the corner of his eye.

"Oh, almost forgot. Smythe's last words were about you." Casey turned a little more so he could see her more clearly. There was a brief flash of emotion on her face but he couldn't tell if it was fear or surprise. "He wanted me to tell you that he's always loved you."

He waited for a moment but she gave no more facial expression. He shook his head in disgust and walked out the door. It slid closed behind him.

He limped down the hall, and Walker stepped out of the observation room. "You okay?" she asked motioning toward his knee with her head.

"I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth. He kept moving.

Chuck appeared in the doorway behind her. "Yeah, but are you… okay?" he asked.

Casey knew he was talking emotionally. "Stupid question," he snapped and kept moving.

He noticed a third person in the observation room as he passed. It was Grimes. Grimes was staring into the observation glass. Perfect. Just what he needed. Grimes witnessing that woman getting the best of him.

Casey gave a snarl but kept moving. He didn't stop until he was alone in his apartment with a bottle of 12 year old scotch.