Whiteout

Chapter 20

Beckett rested, naked and satisfied, on her side, curled into an equally naked and satisfied Richard Castle. She smoothed her right hand over his chest, mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall as he breathed. Closing her eyes, she nuzzled into him, inhaling deeply the scent of him and them. She wanted to stay like this, linger for a moment longer in the afterglow of their lovemaking, but there was a murderer to catch, and they didn't have much time left to do so. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered something from when Castle had first arrived in her quarters.

"What were those papers you brought?" she asked, pushing up slightly on her elbow to glance down at his relaxed features.

"Huh?" Castle's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her with a befuddled expression. He groaned, flopping his head back down in the pillow. "Really, Kate? You wanna talk about that now?" he questioned, trailing his fingers down her back and palming her ass. "We could be doing so much better things," he added with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows as he squeezed the toned flesh.

"There's a killer to catch," Beckett asserted, patting his chest, before sitting up and scooting over to the edge of the bed.

He lazed back, watching with a dopey expression as she stood up and stretched. She felt good. Loose and limber. Great sex would do that, she supposed. A grin worked its way onto her face. She could feel his eyes on her—specifically her backside—but said nothing, deciding she would let him enjoy the show. It was only fair, Beckett assumed as she looked back at him and bit her lower lip, letting out a soft hum of approval at her view of a naked Richard Castle sprawled out on her small bunk of a bed. It only took her two to four steps to reach the small dresser where he had dumped the stack of papers an hour or so ago.

Picking them up, she turned around to see Castle sitting up, trying to smooth down his adorably rumpled hair. He glanced up at her, eyes unashamedly drifting up and down her long and lean form, clearly appreciative of her lack of clothing.

"Fegetter?" she asked.

Castle frowned. It took him a second before he recalled the task she had assigned him prior to their sex-filled interlude. "Oh yeah, emails sent to all the bases with attached photo," he asserted. "But nobody's seen him yet."

She'd expected as much. Tilting her head, Beckett rifled through the papers, discovering them to be faxed photos of three different types of canisters with Cyrillic writing on them. Holding them up so he could see, Beckett asked, "What are these?"

His eyes had wandered again, this time lingering longingly on her breasts. She snapped her fingers to regain his attention and then presented him with the photos again.

Sighing, Castle squinted at the photos, trying to remember, and then shook his head, his eyes lazily drifting back to her naked body. "Huh?" he hummed. "Sorry. I find it difficult to concentrate when you're standing there naked." His eyes greedily skimmed up and down her slender form once again, most definitely appreciating her nakedness.

Beckett suppressed a smirk, trying not to congratulate herself on thoroughly dulling his mind with sex. "Deal with it, stud," she quipped back, earning a delighted grin from him.

"Stud, eh?" he quirked up an eyebrow, leaning his shoulders back and puffing out his chest. "Hmm. I like that."

She bit her lower lip and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Castle," she placated. "You're a stud. My stud."

"I like the sound of that," he primped and preened, his ego growing larger by the second. He reached forward, snagging her by the hips, and tugged her into the v-shaped opening between his legs. His head dipped forward and he pressed his hot mouth lightly against her flat stomach, teasing her navel with his wickedly talented tongue.

She squirmed back, shaking her head, suppressing a moan as very pleasant warmth pooled in her center, her insides screaming with want. "Castle, stop," Beckett gasped. "Get a hold of yourself." She shoved the photos back into his face. "I need you to focus."

"I am," he asserted, fingers drumming against her hipbone.

"On the case," she replied, half chuckling.

Waggling his eyebrows at her, he surrendered to her demands, and redirected his gaze to the faxed photos. "Oh, yeah…," he said, leaning back and snapping his fingers. "Those are what the Soviets used to transport weapons grade materials in." He shifted, becoming more alert. "I contacted Carrie, filled her in on what we found. So, she sent me these."

"Carrie," she all but bit out, absurdly jealous and irritated with his use of the FBI agent's first name, especially considering what they'd just done.

Castle gave her a look, and she pursed her lips, refusing to admit her reaction was unwarranted. He was hers now, and Kate Beckett didn't like sharing.

"Anyway," he went on, wisely not commenting further. "The FBI matched the dimensions inside the safe. We're looking for six of those." He gestured to the printout photos of the canisters. "Stetko thinks it might be Hexafluoride, which is a derivative of Uranium."

Beckett nodded, filling in the rest. "I've heard of it," she said, eyes narrowing as she stared at the photos. "It's a component for nuclear detonation." She shook her head, putting the papers back down on the dresser. "These assholes were really in over their heads." Padding back over to the bed, she bent down to retrieve her clothing. "I need to wash up."

"Want some company?" Castle asked with a mischievous grin, his eyes once again roaming up and down her naked body.

"Sorry," she said, and she really was. "But showers here aren't big enough for two." Clutching the discarded clothes to her chest, she paused on her way to the tiny bathroom when she noticed his disappointed pout. On impulse, she darted back over and kissed him, and then, for good measure—or perhaps because she could now—she kissed him again. "I'll make it up to you, promise."

He beamed at her, watching with delight as she wiggled her naked butt into the bathroom.

XXX

Castle must have gone to use the communal showers, because when she exited the compact bathroom attached to her quarters, Beckett discovered him perched on the edge of her bed, fully dressed and impeccably groomed. Her chest swelled as she gazed at him, enjoying the feeling of seeing him so comfortable and relaxed in the small space that she called home down her at the bottom of the world.

"Feeling better?" he asked, gesturing towards her hand.

Glancing down at her bandaged hand, Beckett raised her eyebrows in surprise. She hadn't even thought of it since before they made love. "Um… yeah, it's fine," she said after a beat. "Still not used to it."

"It doesn't change who you are," Castle asserted when he noticed she'd been staring at the spot with the missing digits for a while. He met her wandering gaze. "You're still the same badass, mind-blowing hot detective I met all those years ago."

She laughed at that, grateful for him. "Well, I like to think I've grown some, become a better woman than I was," she replied, finishing toweling off, not in the least bit perturb at having Castle watch her do so. It was odd. She had never felt this relaxed so soon into a relationship. The thought had her stopping. She frowned and glanced at Castle, uncertain.

"Castle? We're together now, right? Like… er… a couple?"

He blinked, startled by the question. "I thought that was obvious," he said. "I love you, Kate. I'm all in."

"Good," she nodded, smiling. "Me too." She leaned down to kiss him, tenderly running her fingers along his jaw as she pulled back, humming in satisfaction. "Wow." Oh, she loved that look of bliss plastered over his face.

Turning around, Beckett finished drying off, and grabbed a fresh pair of underwear from her duffel. Tugging on the black cotton, she turned her mind back on the case, mulling over possible ways Fegetter was avoiding getting seen, completely oblivious of the awed and amazed look on her partner's face as she casually dressed in front of him. However, she did register his grunt of disapproval when she pulled her sports bra on. Beckett flashed him a look, and grabbed her pants, stepping into them and pulling them up. She was pleased that it only took her one try to latch the buckle. Next came her shirt, and then her cardigan. Just like before, she had no trouble sliding her arms in, but struggled when it came to the buttons.

"Here, let me help," Castle said, practically jumping up to assist.

She was still trying to work one of the buttons through the loop, when his gentle hands brushed over hers, immediately calming her. He stepped into her personal space and her senses were overwhelmed with his presence. She closed her eyes and let out a soft exhale, letting him takeover. It was incredibly intimate. And so very out of her comfort zone. Yet, at the same time, felt so natural. When he finished, she looked up to see him staring down at her with that burning need in his eyes.

"Kate—"

"Beckett, do you copy?" the radio sitting in a charging cradle on top of her dresser crackled. It was Murphy.

Castle sighed, and pursed his lips, stepping back to let her move around him and grab the device. She picked it up with her good hand and thumbed the button to answer.

"I'm here."

"Fegetter has just been spotted on the base," Murphy said.

"Where?" she asked, glancing over at Castle.

"He just left the science storage."

"Great, I'm on my way," she announced, already on her way.

"Where's the science storage?" Castle asked as he followed her out the door and into the hall, nearly bumping into a lab tech heading back to his berth.

"It's in this building, same level," she said, a hard and determined look on her face. "You go ahead, I need to get my gun." She cursed, regretting placing it in the office safe before returning to her quarters, even if it was procedure. There was a killer on the loose. She should have kept herself armed just in case.

Castle grabbed her elbow before she could move, stopping her. She spun around to meet his questioning eyes.

"You sure?"

She nodded. "I trust you, Castle. Go. I'll be right behind you."

"Right," he smiled, and let his fingers slide down her arm as he released her.

Beckett spared him one more glance, before taking a hard right and barreling up the stairs, gripping the railing with her good hand to help propel her up. Reaching the second level, she stormed through the recreation room, pleased to see it was empty this time.

"Make a hole!" she shouted as she dashed to the left down the main corridor, her boots pounding on the metal floor plating. The staff and crew separated on her request, and she ran the gauntlet, spinning on her heel to take a sharp right, using a short cut to reach her office.

Bursting in, she slowed and approached the gun safe. Either she was still too jazzed from the mind-blowing sex she'd just had with Castle, or it had been the rush of adrenaline, but Beckett failed to notice that her office door had been unlocked. She was in the process of punching in her code, when she noticed the light behind her fade.

Alarmed, Beckett turned around just in time to see a man emerge from his hiding spot behind the once opened door, closing it as he stepped forward. She knitted her eyebrows and glared at him, taking in his haggard appearance and desperate, despondent eyes. It was the scraggily red beard that gave him away. Pursing her lips, Beckett greeted him with a slight nod, trying not to agitate him.

"Scanlon Fegetter?" she asked.

He brandished a knife, and held it up in a threatening manner.

Beckett held up her hands. "Easy," she said, falling back on all the training and experience she had as a cop. It was easier said than done. With everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, her nerves were frayed. She had gone from anguish to elation in less than a handful of hours. But she sucked it up, relied on her training. "I know about that plane."

Fegetter just stood there, staring at her. And then slowly, his features began to crumble, and his eyes started to water. His threaten posture immediately vanished, if it was ever really there in the first place. He raised one hand, scrubbed it down his face, and then just succumbed to the rising tide of emotions. Soon he had both hands up, cradling his face as a desolate noise escaped his lips. He still held the knife in his fist, knuckles turning white, so Beckett didn't risk moving.

"It's okay," Beckett reassured in a soothing voice. "Talk to me." This wasn't the first time she had to talk someone down. It was always emotionally draining, but it was better than the alternatives.

It took him a moment, but she waited for him to collect himself. He sniffed, ran his nose along the back of his hand. Regaining enough control, he looked back up at her, eyes large, carrying with them the horror of what he'd seen.

"We were out there looking for meteorite samples," Fegetter began, voice shaky. "We found nothing for weeks. And then," he almost smiled a bit, as if reliving the moment, "the radar went off the charts. We… we hit something big. We debated what it could be. We came back to base to report what we'd found, that's when we heard the story about the lost Russian plane."

He drew in a shaky breath and lowered the knife, staring blankly ahead. Beckett's heart rate eased a little at that. It was a good sign. She still didn't want to risk anything, but she wasn't as worried now.

"Instead of filing a report, we went back out there," he continued his tale. "We blasted our way through the ice and found the plane. And found that goddamn box. Herrera thought we could ram the bars with the crates. But he got sloppy. He was in a hurry and unhooked the crate too early." He stopped, shuddering. "It was over before we could stop it."

Beckett grimaced at the memory of Daniel Herrera crushed between the two crates.

"Bettis started to freak out," he went on, shuddering, tears forming in his eyes. "She wanted to bail, but Tallis wouldn't let her. Said we were all in together now. And then Beckcom got injured getting into the cage. She was losing a lot of blood. We tried to stop the bleeding, but we were afraid to move her. So… I radioed for help."

The moisture in his eyes flowed down his cheeks as his face pinched.

"The plan was for him to call us when he got to the Pole, to let us know he was okay," Fegetter said, trembling, silent tears running down his cheeks and getting lost in his scraggily red beard. "But Geoff was right. We couldn't trust him."

When he trailed off, Beckett felt the need to coax him on. She was finally getting the story. "Trust who? Who's after you?"

He only shook his head, looking down, inconsolable.

A knock sounded from the door. Beckett bit the inside of her cheek, hoping it wasn't Castle. Now was not the time. Fegetter's head jerked up, his eyes wide, spooked. He glared at her, scared, like a caged animal. She raised her hand, attempting to reassure him, but by the time the door started to open, it was too late.

"Kate, it's Doc," came Marston's voice. "I found some more of those painkillers."

"It's okay," Beckett told Fegetter, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. "He's a doctor. He can help you."

But her reassurances fell on deaf ears. Fegetter spun on their visitor, knocking Marston back as he dashed away. The Doc hit the doorjamb and let out a startled gasp, dropping the medicine bottle. Little white pills went flying, scattering all over the floor, along with the knife, which it appeared the burly Scot had dropped during his collision with Marston. Beckett jerked into action, rushing forward, only stopping to check on the doctor.

"Doc, you okay?" she asked, frantic.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he waved off her concerned, clutching his side. "Go. Go. Get him."

She nodded, and then took off, racing after her only lead.