Kate Beckett's hand hit the speed dial of her cell phone before her feet even hit the pavement. She paced back and forth anxiously in front of the coffee house waiting for a voice on the other end of the line.
"Come on, come on," she muttered testily, waiting for the call to connect.
"Esposito," answered a cool, calm and collected voice, a minute later.
"Espo! Thank heavens!"Beckett exclaimed. "Listen, I need you to put a rush on the USB drive we found at the scene of the crime."
"Well, hello to you too, Beckett. I can't right now, I'm running down one of your leads." His voice was distracted. Muffled traffic sounds told Kate he was driving.
"No, Espo. You need to do it now," she insisted.
"It's Friday, Beckett. Even if you put a rush on the results now, the -" Beckett smashed her finger down on the screen, hanging up and redialing the next instant. She pulled at her hair and started pacing even faster, as she waited for several rings.
"Ryan," answered a new voice.
"Hey Ryan, I need you to put a rush on tech to finish processing the USB drive." She blurted, not bothering with familiarities. Ryan took a second to process this before answering, and when he did, his voice was a little stiff and stilted.
"Oh hey Mike, thanks for the update on the USB drive. So, you think Monday?"
"Crap. Montgomery is with you isn't he?" Beckett changed her voice to a whisper.
"I would say that's correct, Mike. Can I get that information from you later? I'm just in the middle of something with Montgomery right now. Okay. Later." Ryan hung up the phone abruptly.
Beckett cursed and kicked the brick facade of the coffee shop several times. She thought about her mom's case at home, and the years she had poured into it. She thought of poor Harper Munroe and her family. The piece of evidence that could crack both cases wide open was being analyzed by tech right now. She needed to get her hands on the results before Monday. She couldn't wait. She had to take things into her own hands.
Rick had been watching as Kate paced outside of the coffee shop window, as she abused the brick wall, and finally, as she stalked back in through the door, muscles tight, and sank back into the couch cushions, glowering. Ignoring the glare from Rob, who had definitely seen the force with which she attacked the storefront, Rick walked over and gingerly sat a safe distance away on a neighboring chair.
"Is everything okay?" He asked, after a moment, shooting a concerned look her way.
"No. It's Friday." Beckett was practically pouting, but there was a dangerous edge to her voice, a slight icy growl that Rick did not miss.
"I see," said Rick. He did not see.
"The lab is working on the USB, but they'll probably let whatever program they're using analyze it over the weekend and report any evidence on Monday." She stared very fixedly at a point on the distant wall of the coffee shop, not looking him in the eye.
"Monday? That's good. So we just wait until Monday." He tried to sound upbeat. She shot him a look that could be best described as 'vaguely homicidal'. "You're not going to wait until Monday, are you?"
"I'm going to do what I need to do," she said quietly. She started plotting ways to get her hands on the evidence.
"Let me help you."
"Oh, sure. Do you want to break into the precinct and steal the USB drive for me?" she asked ascerbically. Rick pondered for a moment. He desperately wanted to say yes, but it seemed like the sort of thing that could cost him his job. He had been there and done that and he couldn't say he liked it very much.
"No." she answered for him, after a period of silence. "I - forget I said anything."
"Why is this so important to you?" he asked with exasperation. "Why can't you just wait until Monday for the evidence?"
"Because, Rick. Things go missing. People go missing. Evidence goes missing. It gets lost, redacted, doctored. People like Harper get tossed into alleys because they know too much, because someone, somewhere thinks it's okay to play God. People think they can just hide in the shadows and never be brought to justice, and I'm tired of it. I'm so tired, Rick." Her voice dropped to a trembling whisper and her eyes shone with hot, unshed tears. Unconsciously, her hand reached to grip the chain around her neck, squeezing it tightly. It was the first time that Rick had noticed it, and he stared at it with interest. She took a deep, stuttering breath, stared at her closed fist, and then back up at Rick.
"I won't tell a soul. Whatever it is. I promise," he said, trying to coax the story out of her, and for once he didn't want to file it away, or write it down later. This wasn't for the book, or his little game of assigning stories to people. He wanted to know Kate as a friend, as a - whatever they were. He wanted to support her, or console her, or be whatever she needed him to be. His words must have carried some weight, because she studied his face very closely, and nodded to herself, opening her mouth to speak again.
And then the damned door opened again, and a flock of college kids walked in, making their way noisily up to the counter. Anxiously, Rick looked back and forth between the new customers and his friend, knowing that she was about to tell him something personal, but at the same time having to leave her.
"Just, please don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." He hauled himself out of the chair, and walked back to his spot behind the counter, turning to catch her eye as often as he could, and stumbling over his own feet.
Soon the coffee shop was awash in customers, and Rick became embroiled in the afternoon rush. He flicked occasional worried glances over at Kate, who at first stared back eagerly at him, but then curled up with one of his manuscripts, throwing occasional glances at a watch that Rick had noticed before, one that seemed too masculine for her slender wrists. Absentmindedly, he wondered if it had belonged to someone she'd lost - a brother, or a fiancé. Maybe even a father, but Rick had no time for distracted thoughts, as the line before him grew longer, and he hustled to accommodate throngs of new patrons. Finally, after what seemed like forever, there was a break in the constant stream of customers, and he sagged in relief, ready to finally focus in on the mystery of Detective Kate Beckett-Homicide.
She was nowhere to be found.
"I'm going to do what I need to do," echoed in his head.
Kate stared up at the twelfth precinct from behind, concealed in the same spot she had hidden as a rookie, waiting for the uniforms and detectives to head home for the evening, so that she could sneak into the building. It had been years since she had needed to do this. As a detective, she had access to the building at all hours, to sneak into the archives whenever she pleased, but then it had been different. Sometimes she would hide out in the gym or the supply closet until most everyone had gone home. Sometimes she would pocket an access card and wait outside until after dark, slipping inside, and carefully replacing it the next day. She meticulously planned all of it, storing extra sets of clothing, living on the horrible precinct coffee and vending machine food, and dozing occasionally in the break room or her squad car.
She had broken down after her first couple of years - the lack of sleep making her snap, first on a suspect, and then on her partner. She had spent the entirety of her first week of 'vacation' in her apartment piecing together her mother's case and forgetting to return to the precinct the following Monday. They had sent her to therapy after that, with a serene, patronizing psychiatrist who kept suggesting ridiculous things like 'taking up a nice relaxing hobby' or 'finding a nice romantic partner'. So she took up tequila as a hobby (it worked for her dad) and 'dated' her way through a string of men that could only be described as ill-advised.
It was only when her career (and her access to the archives) was threatened that she made a better show of straightening up and flying right, ditching the booze and becoming involved with Will Sorenson, an FBI agent who mistook her obsession with her mother's murder for passion for law enforcement, and who didn't mind as long as she put on a pretty dress once and a while, or cooked him dinner. He had left eventually, choosing his career, and she couldn't blame him because she hadn't given him much of a reason to stay. When he'd called, months later, telling her he'd found a lead for her, she was overjoyed to finally have a partner in her investigation. Then, he had disappeared, turning up as a series of body parts, months later. Since then, she had been on her own, making sure that no one else fell victim to her crusade.
She had considered telling Castle everything in the coffee shop. She had considered telling him all about her mother's murder, how it kept her up at all hours of the night, how it drove her, how it was her single focus in life. She had considered letting him help her, but then she thought back to this morning and breakfast, how Castle had doted on his daughter, and she had imagined what it would be like for Alexis to find out he was stabbed in an alley, or worse, hear about his death through a series of phone calls, in a slow amalgamation of organs and limbs. She couldn't do that to him, to them. So she waited on her own as the sun set, hidden from view. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. She was going to do what she needed to do - on her own, just as she always had done.
Rick barely beat the first of the evening drizzle, as he arrived home, absentmindedly thumbing his phone. Kate had not answered any of his calls, or texts, and he was getting worried. He threw the door open, still preoccupied with his phone, and stumbled over a suitcase.
"Pumpkin?" he called out, disentangling his long legs from the luggage.
"Hi Dad!" A flash of orange hair zoomed in from the living room sofa to steady him. "Paige and her parents are going to be here any minute to pick me up. I can't wait! I'm so excited. I'm going skiing!" She shook him slightly by the arms and then began twirling him in a way that reminded Rick of his mother. Rick gave her his best enthusiastic smile. She eyed him skeptically.
"What's wrong, Dad?" she dragged him over to the sofa and sat him down. "Come on. Tell me what happened." She popped down next to him, and gave him her full attention.
"You know, I always assumed that when we had daddy-daughter talks, I would play the daddy, and you would play the daughter." Castle quipped, ruffling her hair.
"So is this about Detective Beckett?" she asked, coyly.
"Alexis, it's not like that..."
"So I didn't catch you two in a state of semi-undress on the couch in the morning?"
"Alexis!"
"Dad, relax. I'm growing up. I know about these things. You're an adult. You spend all all of your time working to pay the bills and pay for my tuition. I know how expensive that is. You should get to have a little fun once and a while. Besides, Grams and I talked to her while you were making breakfast. She totally likes you."
"She has a boyfriend." He moped.
"Does her boyfriend work through her cases with her and then make her breakfast in the morning?" Alexis questioned pointedly.
"Well, no, but..." Castle stammered. But. But he was a doctor. And he showed up with flowers. And shiny hair. And his stupid grin with his stupid perfect teeth.
"Go find her, Dad. Have some fun this weekend - for once." Alexis teased.
"I don't even know where she is. We were at the coffee shop today, and we were talking. Things got busy, and then she just disappeared." Rick sighed.
"Think about it dad. You're a smart guy. I bet you can figure out where she went." The phone rang, and she kissed him on the cheek. "That's them. Wish me luck." She bundled into her coat and boots, and grabbed her suitcase.
"I'd tell you to break a leg, but I'm afraid that's exactly what you're going to do." She gave him an exasperated eyeroll, and headed for the door.
"I'll be fine, Dad. Have a good weekend! Go find Detective Beckett." She shut the door behind her.
Castle sighed and plopped his head down on the couch. How was he supposed to find Kate when he didn't know where she was...wait a minute. He popped back up. He knew exactly where Detective Beckett was and exactly how he could help her. He could be her hero, just like he was in his books.
Kate shifted uncomfortably as the drizzle began to seep through her hair and onto her skin. Just about everyone had gone home for the weekend, and she was waiting for the next officer to step outside of the back entrance, so that she could catch the door and let herself in. It was dangerous, and there was a very good chance she would be caught, but her alternatives weren't very good either. She could walk in through the front entrance, hoping that no one in booking would see her or know that she was supposed to be on vacation. Then, breaking into the tech analysis department was even trickier. She had no clearance there. She'd have to break into an office and steal a pass key. There were so many ways that her plan could go so very wrong , but she was not going to wait until Monday. The information was too important. She crouched low, muscles tensing, waiting for any sign of movement.
"Why are we crouching?" came a theatrical stage whisper from her left. Kate whipped her head around, panicked, to come face to face with Rick Rodgers.
"Castle, what are you doing here?" she hissed back, hitting him in the shoulder. He winced in pain, grabbing it immediately, and she mouthed a sheepish apology.
"I thought you could use some help breaking into the station," he whispered back through gritted teeth. The sudden opening of a door caused Kate to panic and push both of them back around the corner of the building, this time more careful of his shoulder.
"How did you find me?" She pinned Rick up against the wall, threateningly, searching his eyes, and although it was in the barest of whispers, the look on her face told him that this was not a game. He took a deep breath to talk, and she clamped her hand over his mouth, her eyes shooting daggers into his. "As quietly as you can, Castle."
"You didn't exactly make it a secret that you wanted to know what was on that USB drive. When you wouldn't answer your phone, I put two and two together," he explained, his voice nothing more than a breath.
"So, you came down here with your lock-picking kit or something?" Some of her anger had dissipated. It was nice of him to come and try to help, as misguided as it was.
"Why would I need a lock-picking kit when I have clearance to clean the entire building?" he asked her, proud of himself. He produced a keycard, and a keychain full of office keys. Kate was rendered speechless for a moment, her mouth falling into a surprised o shape, looking from the keys to his face and back again. Suddenly, without warning, she launched at him and wrapped her arms around him in a joyous hug, her body heat sinking through her damp clothing and his own coveralls, right into his skin. He savored the feeling, but it was gone far too quickly. She made a grab for the keys, but he yanked them back.
"What are you doing?" she demanded angrily. He motioned to his work uniform.
"If you run into someone who recognizes you, you're going to have a problem, but nobody notices the janitor." He grinned, brightly. Finally, his job had some perks.