Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm only borrowing them for the summer. Andrew Marlowe is doing a spectacular job. Way better than I could ever do.


And All The Mornings Ever After

Chapter 54 – Refuse To Be A Victim

They huddled together on the sofa, taking care not to touch anything else, mentally cataloguing where they'd been since they'd entered the apartment not twenty minutes ago.

Ryan was on his way over with a team from CSU close behind. Gates had agreed to put a priority on it – one of their own, she'd told the shift leader, working her way to the head of the line. In a job with as few perks as theirs, unless you found yourself a victim of crime and who wanted that, Kate would take what little help was on offer. She was just praying 'priority' didn't mean their Captain showing up at her apartment too. The less time she spent around the woman the better, and with Castle here…

She shook her head, and felt Castle's fingers tighten on her waist as he tipped her over against his side. Kate let her head fall onto his shoulder, grateful for the comfort he gave her, but hating the fact that she needed it at all.

"I should go in there," she said, gesturing towards the bedroom. "Grab a few things before they…"

She trailed off, closing her eyes, fighting back an angry sob at the thought of a stranger, or Cole Maddox, whoever, rooting through every little crack and crevice of her life. And now another group of strangers, crime scene technicians, with their bad jokes and their messy fingerprint powder, would invade her apartment, marking dirty tracks everywhere, as they chased down this…this creature, hunting for clues.

Castle's capacity for reading her mind always amazed her, and today was no different.

"We'll get someone in to clean up," he whispered, standing with her, his lips brushing her temple. "One of the professional crews, Kate. A good one. Your housekeeping leaves a lot to be desired anyway," he joked, drawing a strangled noise from her throat, half laugh, half sob, as he led her back into the bedroom.

"What do you need?" he asked, his eyes falling to the discarded swimwear on the bed.

"I…" she hesitated, looking around. "These, I guess, and maybe some more underwear, my black dress pants, and a couple more shirts."

Castle fetched a small leather holdall from the closet, ignoring her look of uncertainty.

"Whatever they touched, there's got to be enough to fingerprint around here that they're not gonna miss this," he said, quashing her objection.

He helped her fold her clothes and pack them into the bag. They worked together in silence, a good team. He made no comments about her underwear, ignored the silk chemise she grabbed on a whim and stuffed into the bag, and went out to open the door for her colleagues when the buzzer sounded, leaving her to make a last sweep of her bedroom, before making her way into the living room and placing the bag close to the front door, more than ready to leave. Then she went to the bathroom to wash her hands.


"Hey," said Ryan quietly, scanning the living room for Kate.

"She's in the bathroom," said Castle, tilting his head in that direction.

"How's she doing?" asked Ryan, sounding breathless and jumpy, feeling the weight of this pressing on him without the support of his own partner to back him up.

"She's…she hates this," he said, matter-of-factly, "needing help, the intrusion, the damned invasion of her privacy in the first place."

"Yeah, figures," said Ryan, starting to look around the room for a place to start. "Who wouldn't? And she's sure this isn't just some random, weird burglary thing?" he asked, already shaking his own head in time with Castle's.

"No. No doubt. The only things they took relate to her mom's case. She…uh…she had this…" Castle swiped at his mouth, lips dry, swallowing thickly. "She had a kind of murder board, in the office, over by the window. All of the information that was pinned up there – photos, crime scene reports, stuff like that – it's all been removed, and files have been taken from her desk drawers too."

"Right," nodded Ryan, trying desperately not to judge or comment. "You knew about this?" he asked, watching Castle's face, wondering if his boss had been doing this alone and for how long.

"Yeah," he nodded gravely. "Yeah…I…she showed me over a year ago, before she got shot. Set it up the summer I went to the fucking Hamptons with Gina," he spat, scrubbing his hand harshly over his face. "Stupid, stupid," he cursed, walking in a tight circle, running his hands through his hair.

Ryan said nothing, and it only made matters worse. Castle's guilt at his own needy stupidity, his inability to wait for what he'd known he really wanted burned and twisted in his gut. He'd left her alone here because what? He couldn't bear to be by himself for one stinking summer?

"You'd better not be doing what I think you're doing, Richard Castle."

Kate's voice rang out cool and clear across the room.

Castle and Ryan both whipped round to look at her. She stood with her arms crossed, one eyebrow arched as she eyed her partner, her lover, her best friend.

"This is not your fault," she said, walking over to him.

She pressed her fingers to his forearm and squeezed briefly, then let go, dropping her hand back to her side.

The gesture was fleeting, but profound, and then she was back to her professional best.

"Ryan, I think you should start in the office," she said, leading him through her apartment towards the makeshift murder board, leaving Castle standing alone by the kitchen island.


He was still pacing the living room floor when there was a tap at the front door.

"I've got it," he called out, walking stiffly towards the hallway.

He opened the door expecting the navy jump-suited forms of a couple of CSU techs, hands loaded with bulky aluminum carry cases. Instead, what he got was the steady, steely gaze of Captain Victoria Gates staring back at him, coldly.

"Sir," he said, taking an involuntary step backwards, as if she was Kryptonite and he was Superman.

Oh, how he wished he were Superman right now. The things he would do…

"Mr. Castle?"

Gates' barked greeting, half question-half command, snapped him out of his daydream.

"Uh…yes. Sorry, please, come in?" he offered hesitantly, wondering if that's what Kate would even want – her boss prowling around her apartment on top of everything else.

Too late now.

Gates was over the threshold and looking expectantly at him before he even had time to close the front door.

"Well?" she said archly, arms folded across her chest, foot tapping impatiently.

"Right. Right. I'll just…I'll go get Beckett," muttered Castle, taking off at a jog across Kate's small apartment to find her before Gates dismembered him with a simple glance.

"What's wrong?" asked Kate, brushing her hand down his back in vague concern. "CSU getting set up next door?"

"That…eh…Kate…that wasn't CSU." He shook his head, and she gave him a quizzical look. "That was…eh…"

"Castle, what the hell?" she huffed in frustration, not up for any more surprises today.

She brushed past him and headed round the corner into the living room to see for herself.

The reason for his halting, bumbling explanation became all too clear, all too quickly.

"Beckett," said Gates, her voice getting about as warm as it ever got where her people were concerned.

"Sir?" said Kate, tugging on the front of her white shirt, and then running a hand self-consciously through her hair.

She frowned, eyes shifting across the floor, the dust bunnies under her furniture and the discarded Ziploc bags on the counter suddenly catching her eye. She huffed out a breath, as if her boss had really come here to get a tour of her apartment and check up on her cleaning skills.

"I appreciate the quick response, Sir," said Kate finally, feeling the air leave her lungs when there was a loud rap at the door and she had an excuse to go…over there.


The cavalry had finally arrived in the form of Jim Fienberg and Eric McNulty. The two men filled the entirety of Kate's hall once they were inside, equipment and large bodies crowding her simple, elegant space.

The men dropped their cases on the wooden floor and Kate cringed. They opened up a black nylon bag, pulling out two sets of white papery coveralls, the fabric rustling as they each stepped into a suit and zippered them up. Jim grabbed them both a pair of blue nitrile gloves, and then they followed Kate through her apartment for a briefing.

Gates walked behind them, her eyes scanning this way and that, taking in everything with both a professional and a personal eye – the arresting art, the many, varied books, the Union Jack throw pillow on the sofa, the iconic Eames chair, Kate's quirky, individual kitchen, the exposed brick walls, everything painted a retro putty color giving the apartment a restful, cocoon-like quality and a true warmth to the light, airy space. She studied it all, learning more about her best detective in those few short minutes than she had since she'd arrived at the Twelfth over a year ago.


"This is where I think you should start, guys," Kate was saying. "Dust for fingerprints, look for trace – hair, fibers, toenail clippings, I don't care. Just…find something," she said, clenching her teeth in frustration, the muscles in her jaw working hard underneath her taut skin.

"What was here?" asked Gates, pointing to the window space, her voice arcing over the top of the group from where she stood at the back of the little gathering.

Everyone turned towards the commanding sound and the group parted for her.

"A…"

Kate hesitated. The words murder board refused to leave her lips.

"My mom's case – reports, pictures, newspaper clippings," she said instead.

Gates nodded, silently.

"And they took them all?"

"Yes. Plus some files I had in my desk drawer," Kate added, closing her eyes, hoping Gates wouldn't ask where she'd copied the files from.

"Castle, why don't you show Eric the bedroom," said Kate, deflecting attention elsewhere.

Castle froze, thought for a moment that she'd lost her mind or he'd entered the twilight zone. But no, she was taking his elbow, angling him in that direction, asking him to do just that…in front of her boss.

"Show him the gun safe in my closet, the nightstand drawer," she added, giving him a soft shove to get his feet moving.

If this had been under any other circumstance he'd have kissed her and then fist-pumped the air. But with Gates eyeing him the way she was, he deemed that reaction somewhat inappropriate. So he jerked his head for Eric McNulty to follow him, squashing down his pride and excitement, trying for gruff and manly instead, and left the other four to it in the office.


Kate came and joined him a short time later.

Eric was bagging one of the wrapped condoms from the nightstand drawer, and Castle watched her watching him, the shame and fury that flashed across her face at the indignity of it all. The man silently, dispassionately dropped the small foil package into a clear plastic, grip sealed, evidence bag, wrote the content details and collection specifics – date, time, location - on the outside with an indelible marker, before signing and sealing it.

"I'd…have you finished with the safe?" she asked Eric, looking down at the bulky, metal box in her closet.

The visible prints Kate had spotted in the dusty layer on top of the metal casing had already been lifted with tape. Eric had found several other latent prints, and enhanced them with the white powder he'd dusted over the dark surface to make them stand out before photographing them.

"Sure. What do you need?" he asked, kneeling down beside her.

"I…" Kate glanced up at Castle, and then back at the safe. "My weapon. My back-up piece is in there. I just need to…eh…"

Eric nodded silently.

"Try not to touch the lock. Here's a spare glove," he said, handing Kate the blue latex. "Just, open it with the key and then close it carefully when you're done," he added, turning away to give her privacy.

He went back to examining the front of her creamy white nightstand, while Kate carefully withdrew her Glock 26 and a carton of Winchester White Box FMJ 9mm ammunition from inside the safe.

Castle watched her, warring with himself the whole time. Guns and Kate he knew went together, sure. There was a time when he'd even thought it was hot; this beautiful, fiercely independent woman with a weapon in her hands – every guy's fantasy. And he'd seen her handle her service piece plenty of times, at the Precinct, at the range, in her Crown Vic, out on the street in the middle of a bust or serving a warrant. But rarely in her home, and never in her bedroom, and it seemed so wrong, made him ache for all of this to be over so that they could really move on with their lives. Instead of looking over their shoulders and pulling up short in the middle of a happy, sunny day to deal with…this.


Once Eric heard the door to the safe click shut, he stopped dusting black powder across the light drawer frontage in his quest for more prints, and turned to address Kate.

"I was just saying to your husband, that I noticed some fresh scratches, possible tool marks, on the lock outside your front door. Could you maybe come take a look with me, ma'am, tell me if you've noticed them before?" said Eric politely, doing his best to break bad news lightly.

Kate and Castle's gaze collided, and then flew apart again. Her husband. Yeah, correcting that mistake was the least of her worries right now.

She was conscious of being worked by the older of the two CSU techs, handled. He was obviously so used to managing people, seeing the trauma in a victim's eyes…

Is that what she was now, a victim?

Kate shook her head, clearing the thought away. She needed to think like a cop, remind this guy that's what she was, not some traumatized housewife who'd had her damn wedding ring stolen and her panty drawer rifled.

"Yes, of course. Lead the way," she said, casting a glance over her shoulder at Castle before following the tech.

Castle trailed after them, no place else to be.

Jim Fienberg had strung Crime Scene tape across her front door, Kate discovered, when she opened it inwards and the yellow plastic ribbon fluttered at chest height across the threshold, black letters dancing like party bunting.

She turned away, examined the metal lock with Eric, squinting up close, and tried not to let a victim mentality settle on her and infect her thinking.

The lock looked as if it had been picked – professionally. The scratches were microscopic, but explained the difficulty Kate had had with her key that morning. Under the magnifier, Eric could see that the tumblers were slightly out of alignment within the barrel, most likely the after effects of a bump key. He promised to swab for trace, like lube, and print the door, before heading back towards the bedroom to finish up in there first.


"Hey."

The low rumble of Castle's voice close to her ear sent a pleasant shiver down Kate's spine.

"Hey," she said, turning round and leaning into him, needing to get close, feel him invade her space, her pores, the air she breathed.

"You doing okay?" he asked, rubbing her back while she rested her right side against his chest.

Kate was angled towards the three tall windows behind her sofa, and her eyes drifted across the space, alighting on the large, unframed, pop art painting by Alex Gross, 'Matasaburo of the Wind', that hung on the wall to the right. Her eyes flicked back and forth. The canvas was crooked, skewed off the perpendicular line created by the raised brick wall behind it.

"Rick, the painting," said Kate, patting his chest as she rose up off of him to move closer to it.

Castle followed her across the room.

"I can see that it's not hanging straight," said Castle, "but are you sure…"

Kate silenced him with a glance.

"I live alone, this is the biggest piece of art in here, you think I wouldn't have noticed if it was crooked?" she asked, giving him that look.

Castle wanted to say, 'you don't live alone anymore', but he realized that now might not be the time, and saying it would probably be more counterproductive than anything. She was so stubborn it might even drive her back here just to prove a point.

"Tell Eric or Jim then," he said instead. "Maybe whoever searched the place was looking to see if you were hiding something behind it," he suggested.

Kate nodded thoughtfully.

"You didn't? Hide anything, I mean?" he asked, a flash of excitement in his eyes, "because that would have been…"

"Stupid," said Kate, cutting him off, "considering I have a safe."

"Right," nodded Castle, suitably chastened.

"Just ruined another one of your theories with my logic, didn't I?" she asked, fondness and humor frolicking across her features as she looked up at him, her ridiculous man-child, her eyes sparkling.

"Might have," he admitted, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her to his chest. "Make it up to me later," he whispered into her hair, kissing the top of her head tenderly.


The sound of a throat being cleared, loudly, startled them both, and they let go of one another, moving apart guiltily. And since when had that been an acceptable reaction in her own home, thought Kate, turning to see Captain Gates staring at them, Ryan hovering apologetically by her side.

"I think we've got all we're going to get here today," she said, lips pursed in displeasure. "CSU will finish up, and Ryan is going to canvas your neighbors, see if anyone saw or heard anything by some miracle. My apologies for the mess, Beckett," she said, not sounding sorry at all, and then she was striding towards the door, re-buttoning the jacket of her black skirt suit.

Kate's mouth was hanging open, and Castle had to nudge her to bring her round.

"Sir?" she called, not even sure at this point what it was she wanted to ask.

"Get a good night's rest, Beckett. Come and see me at the Precinct tomorrow morning, ten sharp. You too Mr. Castle," she threw over her shoulder, before ducking under the crime scene tape without a backwards glance.

They looked at one another, wondering what the hell had just happened, and then they turned in perfect sync to look at Ryan. The Irish detective just shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, scuffing a toe against the wooden floor. Hopeless liar that he was, his eyes skidded to the right and then down to study his shoes, completely giving him away.

"Come on, dude. She must have said something," whined Castle. "Why does she want to see us?"

"Yeah, both of us," added Kate, looking at her partner, her brow wrinkling in worry and confusion.

"Well, she can't kick us out since we're already…out," pointed out Castle.

"There is that," said Kate, before rounding on Ryan.

"Do you want Jenny to hear about the time you made Javi wear you wedding ring because you wanted to see if strippers would still flirt with you?" she asked, and Ryan's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Because that can be arranged, Kevin. Tonight!" threatened Kate.

"She…she…" he stuttered, huffing out an uncomfortable breath. They were forcing him to be a snitch, and look where that had got him the last time he told.

"Yes?" hissed Kate, her hands on her hips, leaning towards him, kinda scary, definitely threatening.

"She wants you to brief her on your mom's case. She thinks you know more than she does, and…"

"And?" prompted Kate.

"And I think she's considering asking you to come back," he said on a long exhale, giving it all up and feeling like such a little prison yard bitch.

Castle slapped Ryan on the back, harder than intended and he lurched forward comically.

"See, it wasn't that hard, buddy," said Castle jovially. "Wait. She wants who back?" he asked, as Ryan's words sank in.

Ryan recovered enough to get a in little revenge.

"Who'd you think?" he asked, sending an exaggerated nod in Kate's direction.

Kate smirked, seeing the humor dancing in Ryan's pale blue eyes, and then she escorted him to the door.

"We still on for the Old Haunt tonight?" asked Ryan, "'Cause everyone would totally understand if…"

"Hey," said Kate, catching his arm. "We'll be there. Seven sharp. I'm not going to let this ruin my life anymore, Kevin," said Kate fiercely. "Let me know if the canvas gives you anything. Mrs. Schumacher in 4B swears she hears everything," she said, giving him a little wave as he headed off down the hall. "And good luck."

A/N: Feeling the love today, guys. Thank you so much for all your reviews! I know this didn't start out as a case, but there's no way I could have kept it going until Sept 24th without addressing the big issues, short of sending them on vacation or to the grocery store, and I think other fic writers already got that angle covered. I'll try to keep this as balanced as possible between fluff and casework so everyone stays amused and entertained. Have a great weekend. Liv