For a long time, Rick just sat there in the hallway, stunned. The walls swam and blurred in his vision, and he reached up to gingerly probe the back of his head, finding it both tender and a bit warm to the touch. It hurt unbearably - not just his head, but the realization that she didn't trust him. His heart sank when he thought about the last couple of weeks, how much he'd done and how close he'd gotten. Across the hall, through the partially open door, he heard her agonized wails. Then heard her body slide against the wall, and drop to the floor with a thud, and her wails turned to horrible. gasping, desperate sobs, and then shaky breaths, and then nothing.
After a long time of nothing, the hallway eventually stopped spinning around him, and he dragged himself up the wall into a standing position, staggering over to the door, which remained halfway opened. He swallowed heavily, before placing a hand against it, and then pushed it slowly, silently, just enough to peek his head through. Her body lay on the now-empty floor, curled around itself, still clutching the photo tightly against her chest, tense, even in sleep. Her brow was contorted in agony, and she inhaled in sharp, jerky, little breaths. He should be angry at her - for not trusting him, for accusing him of being involved with these horrible people , whoever they were - but her world had fallen apart. The pain had etched itself in stiff lines across her face as she slept, and he wanted desperately to smooth them away for her, even after all that had happened. After a few moments, he found that he couldn't look anymore and he shut the door soundlessly.
He walked for hours and hours after he left. He wandered the streets, block after block. They say that New York is the city that doesn't sleep, but to Rick it seemed deserted. By the time he reached his apartment, the sky was lightening, and his feet ached. He flopped down on the lumpy sofa and laid his head in his hands.
"Just getting in dear?" came an optimistic voice from behind him. Rick jumped at the sudden sound, jerking away.
"Mother!" he shrieked, exasperated. Martha was leaning over the back of the couch in a satiny, fluorescent, leopard print robe, with her sleep mask pushed up onto her orange curls and some sort of green goop slathered on her skin. She gave him a small, affectionate smile, and came to sit beside him on the couch.
"So you found Detective Beckett, I presume," she teased. Rick nodded glumly. "What's the matter dear? It couldn't have been that bad if you're sneaking in during the early hours. Did she kick you out of bed?" Rick looked at her wearily.
"We had a...misunderstanding." Rick finally settled on the word he thought was most suitable to the situation. He was far too tired, and his head hurt far too much to go into the details.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that darling. I'm sure everything will work itself out. You want to talk about it?" She patted his knee in a supportive manner.
Rick sunk back into the couch, wincing as the wayward spring hit his shoulder blade. He didn't know where to start. Even if she didn't trust him right now, Rick didn't feel right telling anyone about Detective Beckett's secret murder board - even his mother. Luckily, he was saved by the electronic chirp of his phone alarm. .Ah, work. Yes, that made everything perfect.
"Not right now, Mother. I should probably get moving. I've got to work today," he grumbled, peeling himself up off the couch and shuffling wearily on blistered feet towards the bathroom. It was going to be a long day.
When Kate awakened, the first thing her eyes settled on was the floor. It was bare, and empty, just like she felt. She struggled to her hands and knees and noticed the picture of her mother, slightly torn, and rumpled from where she had clutched it against her chest all night. She flattened it out with the utmost care.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I let you down. This should never have happened. I should have never let him in." She shook her head furiously, tears escaping her eyes once more. She tacked the salvaged picture to its usual spot on the wall, now surrounded by nothing. The first piece was back in place. She would rebuild. She looked around the room desperately for something, anything to add, but she couldn't find anything useful among the scraps of paper on the floor. Frustrated, she turned and released her fury on the only thing left in the room, the barren couch. It released a cloud of dust in protest of its disturbance, and slid backwards, uncovering a flash of white.
Immediately, she was on her hands and knees, but it was only a napkin left over from Castle's pizza the night before. Some janitor he was. The thought occurred to Kate that maybe he wasn't a janitor at all, and she frowned.She hauled the napkin out from under the sofa, bringing with it a paper plate and...files? She pounced eagerly on the papers, quickly paging through a few of her mom's old case files and one of the bank records. She let out a surprised huff of a laugh at her luck. She would have to thank Castle for... No, he was the reason that she was in this position. Castle was one of them. A new wave of anger bubbled in her chest. She brought the files over to the wall and tacked them up beside her mother's photo, smoothing them over with care. She kneeled in front of her make-shift shrine with renewed hope. She had a place to start.
A few minutes later, she was disturbed by the electronic trill of her phone. Part of her hoped that Castle was on the other end, that the whole thing was some misunderstanding, a practical joke that backfired, but a quick look at the caller ID told her it was the precinct. Her stomach fell and she steeled herself for a moment before she answered.
"Beckett," she rasped forcefully into the phone.
"Yo Beckett," Esposito greeted her amiably, oblivious. "Vacation's over. We had a body drop overnight, and Montgomery wants you to take point." Esposito dictated an address.
"I'll be there in twenty," she sighed into the phone, before hanging up. Wearily, she drew herself up and trudged to her bedroom to find a mirror and something suitable to wear. She found Castle's coveralls folded on a pile of laundry beside the dryer. Growling, she threw them across the room into the trash bin. The whole thing had been a lie - playing janitor, pretending to have an interest in her work, pretending to have an interest in her, the kiss - it had all been a lie. She was such a fool. She thought back to how eager he had been to follow her everywhere. Now it made sense.
Angrily, she stripped down, put on work-appropriate attire, and then steeled herself before looking in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were red, and tear-streaks stained her cheeks. She splashed cold water on her face until her eyes looked clear, carefully fixed her makeup, and headed for the door. She heaved her bag up on her shoulder. It was heavy. Looking inside, she found Rick's manuscripts. Grimacing, she hauled them out, stormed back into her bedroom and headed straight for the trash bin where she had thrown his coveralls. She raised the manuscripts above her head, preparing to slam them down with some force, but a thought stopped her.
Why the manuscripts? They must have taken a long time to write. And there was no way he could know that she would read them, or that she would like him. They were strange - out of place. An odd sock. Her face lost it's hard edge, quickly replaced by a look of confusion. She set them down on her night stand carefully.
Striding towards the door, she paused in her living room and reconsidered the remnants of her murder board. Carefully, she un-pinned the small handful of papers from the wall and put them in her bag for safe-keeping. She retrieved her keys from the floor, and carefully locked her door. She surveyed the hallway carefully, half expecting to find Castle laid out on the floor where she had thrown him last night. She knew that she had smacked his head against the wall pretty hard the night before. Maybe 'they' - whomever he was working for, had sent someone for him. Conflicting feelings of guilt and anger traded places in her thoughts as she made her way to the crime scene.
She was still mulling it all over when she ducked under the police tape, nodding curtly to Esposito and Ryan as she strode over to them.
"What have we got?" she barked shortly, the hard edge of her detective voice taking over.
"Morning to you, too, Sunshine." Espo frowned at her. "I thought you didn't even like vacations." Beckett huffed.
"She's just mopey because she hasn't gotten her Coffee-boy coffee yet. Isn't that right, Beckett?" Ryan quipped, shooting Beckett a grin.
"Where is the damned body?" Beckett tried again, with a little more force. Both detectives raised their eyebrows at her and then simultaneously pointed in a direction behind them, where Beckett could see Lanie peeling a body off of a puddle of blood. She strode over, with purpose.
"I know that walk," Lanie muttered, crouched over the body, without looking up. "That's your angry walk. Don't be bringing your angry walk around me. Don't be bringing it up around him either. He's had a bad enough day as it is." She peeled the corpse's shoulder from the pavement and peered underneath carefully, before setting it back down. A pale face lolled into Kate's view. It was covered in welts and bruises, a black eye and a split lip completed the picture. Whoever had killed this kid had beaten him pretty badly beforehand.
"We don't have an ID yet, but..." Lanie started.
"His name is Phil. Phillip Cole. I spoke to him a couple of days ago." Kate cut her off, her voice tight. Poor, sweaty, pale Phil. He was no longer sweaty now, but still twice as pale, and the flop of hair across his forehead made him look younger than his twenty-some years. Now he lay in a puddle of his own blood, all because he dared to speak to her for a few minutes. His death was her responsibility.
Rick slid two coffees across the counter to a couple of college girls. They were Sunday regulars, and had ordered with big grins on their faces, eager for a bit of flirting and some girl time, but Rick couldn't be bothered with his usual banter.
"Have a nice day," he said, half-heartedly, leaning into the counter heavily. They looked at their cups and scowled at him, before stalking off. There would be no foam flowers or hearts for anyone today. There would be no flirting. Rick was miserable. His head hurt. His heart hurt. His feet hurt. Everything hurt. He swiped glumly with a rag at a spot on the countertop, not even bothering to look up when the bell above the door chimed, signalling a new customer.
"Can I take your order?" he asked, defeatedly, still staring at the spot on the counter.
"Ricky!" an over-enthusiastic voice squealed. Rick looked up.
"Gina?" he stared up at her in confusion. Gina was a Monday to Friday girl. She never, ever, came in on the weekend.
"Ricky, how are you?" She flashed him a predatory grin.
"I've been better." Rick admitted.
"Well, I am just so glad to see you. We never talk on the weekends, you know?" Rick nodded at her, morosely. "I also really wanted to talk with Kate. Is she around today?" Rick stared at her blankly for a moment, before sighing.
"No. I don't think she'll be around today, or any day for that matter," he gritted.
"Aww, thats a shame," Gina said, with an exaggerated sympathy. "It's okay. It will give us a chance to talk one-on-one." Gina reached over and patted Rick's hand solicitously. Rick looked at her guardedly. They had always flirted, but there seemed to be something different about Gina today, a renewed interest, and he wasn't sure that he was in the mood for it.
"Tell me about all about you, Rick" Gina continued. "What do you like to do in your spare time?"
Beckett glared. She glared at the murder board. She glared at the crime scene photo of Philip Cole. She glared at Ryan and Esposito when they dared venture over with new information. Most of all, she glared at the empty chair that opposite her desk. She glared at in with the same glare that caused hardened perps to go running to call their mothers, but it wouldn't budge.
She had all but given up on the case. A gun was found at the murder scene, wiped clean. There were no witnesses. There were no surveillance videos. But more than that, odd socks had been popping into her head all morning. If Castle had been lying to her, why did she meet his daughter? Was she his daughter? Did they hire someone to play his daughter? His mother? Didn't that all seem a little bit excessive? Something wasn't right. She frowned and laid her head on the desk, grabbing absentmindedly at a cup of coffee that wasn't there. She heard footsteps approaching.
"What is it?" she sighed woefully. Esposito and Ryan had been approaching her all morning as their searches turned up nothing.
"Someone didn't call me this weekend." A voice gently reprimanded her from above. Kate raised her head a fraction of an inch.
"Hi, Josh." Kate looked up at him dejectedly. He flashed her an enthusiastic grin, and placed a large, elaborately wrapped box on her desk, covering her files.
"Surprise!" He grinned at her, enthusiastically. She looked at him skeptically.
"Josh, this isn't a good ti-"
"Open it!" he cut her off. Kate sighed and started on the paper. She stared at the box, quizzically.
"It's an espresso machine! Top of the line! I know how much you like your coffee. Just think, you can make your own fancy coffee here, and then you won't have to go all the way down and wait in line to pay what's-his-name for them! Isn't that great?" Kate offered him a half-hearted smile.
"It's...it's great Josh. I could really use a coffee this morning." Kate admitted.
"Perfect!" Josh smiled brightly. His plan was working. He motioned to Ryan and Esposito over by their desks. "Boys! Come over here! Look at what I brought for you! Let's go get this thing set up in the break room and then I'm going to help you solve this murder." he proclaimed grandly, stuffing the large box under one arm, and grabbing for Kate's hand with the other, tugging her towards the break room.
Ryan and Esposito looked at each other skeptically and shrugged. Josh was no Castle, but whatever improved Beckett's mood today was okay with them. Besides, it was free coffee.
"But Ricky, tell me more about YOU," Gina said a little forcefully, as Rick was about to launch into another story about Alexis. She covered with a giggle.
"Me?" Rick searched his brain for something he could tell Gina that would amuse her. Over the past hour or so, he had talked about his daughter, about his semi-famous mother and her acting career, and it only seemed to make Gina irritated.
"Yes, you, silly. What do you do when you're not being the best barista in town?" she pried.
"I uhh...I do maintenance work for the city. I like to watch science fiction movies. I...uhh...bake?" Gina looked irritated again, and impatient to boot.
"And?!" she said exasperatedly. "Anything else?"
"Oh...uhh...I like to play this game when I'm not busy making coffees. It's uhhh...no, hear me out. It's kind of fun. It's...here, pick a customer." Gina sighed glumly, and pointed to a bearded man in a suit a few tables over. "Okay, now what you have to do is come up with that person's story. You know, what brought them here."
"A story! Why don't you show me, Ricky." Gina visibly brightened. Rick launched into his familiar routine.
"This is hopeless!" Josh fiddled with the knobs and nozzles and hissed as he burned himself again. Angrily, he stuck his thumb in his mouth to sooth the burn and returned to the manual.
"I don't - I just don't understand why this is so difficult!" he exclaimed. "I'm a heart surgeon, for Pete's sake! Okay, okay. I can get this." He turned and twisted another knob and pressed a button, and was met with a giant cloud of steam. Ryan and Esposito snickered in the corner. They may not have gotten a free coffee, but the free show was even better.
Kate sat preoccupied in the corner of the break room, surrounded by Phil's crime scene photos, paying little attention to what was going on around her. Lanie had faxed over a preliminary medical report, and her findings made Kate's breath catch in her throat. Every one of Philip Cole's fingers had been broken, and his body was covered in the same welts and bruises that peppered his face. Several of his teeth were gone, or broken, and he had been left to bleed out slowly, in considerable pain. Whoever did this made sure that Phil died in the most agonizing way possible.
Castle. Every bit of anger drained from her body as she imagined Castle lying in an alley in the same condition as Phil. Maybe, like Phil, he had just fallen in with the wrong people. Maybe he was looking to make a quick buck. Maybe. Maybe he was the one who put Phil in that alley. No. Castle wouldn't have done that. Besides, he was the one who identified Phil, who introduced them. Why would he introduce them, though, if he knew Phil had information she needed? Why would he help her steal the files? Just to gain access to her apartment? Powerful people like the people who killed her mother could have just broken into her apartment at any time. It was all so confusing.
Her train of thought was broken by a shrill scream, and she looked up in time to see Josh cradling his hand and jumping up and down as Ryan and Esposito looked on laughing. Her mind was made up. As mad as she was right now at Castle, she couldn't bear the thought of one day finding him in the same position that she found Phil's body this morning. Gathering the papers and pictures up in one pile, she stood with determination and walked towards the break room door.
"Hey Kate!" Josh protested. "Where are you going?"
"I need a coffee."
Kate stood outside the cafe where Rick worked, staring through the window, trying to gather her courage. She took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, but then inside Gina giggled and stroked Rick's arm as though it were a cat. Her cheeks burned. The nerve of that woman! Gina had promised her that they would discuss Rick's book before she approached Rick. Ugh. Kate paced back and forth with renewed vigor, casting glances at the pair who were leaning in close over the counter to have their secret discussion. Gina stroked over Rick's thumb and he broke into a grin, but then he looked up and locked eyes with Kate standing just outside the door. His face fell and he pouted, giving Kate an accusatory glare as he probed the back of his head. Steeling herself, Kate strode inside.
"Coffee, Detective?" Rick said icily. Gina followed his gaze.
"Oh! Hi, Kate!" she smiled nervously. "Just the person I wanted to see." But, neither Rick nor Kate looked up from their staring match.
"We need to talk Castle."