Chapter 16

Beckett tapped politely on Montgomery's door.

"Enter."

She marched in, followed by Castle, who promptly shut the door and then did his best imitation of a hat stand by sidling into a corner and remaining absolutely still and quiet.

"Detective Beckett."

"Sir." She stood at formal parade attention. "I have to make a report to you." Her voice was dead level, completely devoid of emotion.

"Proceed."

"I have to report Sergeant McMahon, of the 22nd Precinct, for conduct unbecoming to an NYPD Sergeant."

Montgomery's jaw dropped. "Say what? Conduct unbecoming? Explain," he continued in cold tones.

"Sergeant McMahon called me at approximately ten p.m. last night to ask me to collect my father, who had been picked up for drunkenness in a public place. Again," she couldn't help adding bitterly. Her voice returned to dead level. "I refused. I cannot help my father by bailing him out. Sergeant McMahon asked again, and when I refused, he, knowing that I was an NYPD detective, threatened me with being written up for disciplinary measures if I did not immediately report to collect my father."

"He said what?" Montgomery expostulated.

"I refused, and informed him that I would be reporting his behaviour to you this morning. On hearing that, he claimed that he had not meant it and that I must have misunderstood. I did not mishear and I did not misunderstand, sir." She swallowed. "I further consider that, if Sergeant McMahon is prepared to make threats like that against a fellow NYPD officer, then he may be using similarly unprofessional methods against both other officers and members of the public. Sir. Therefore I am reporting him to you so that you may decide on the best course of action."

A long moment of chill silence passed, in which Montgomery clearly considered the situation and all of his options, none of which, from his sucked-lemon expression, were palatable. Beckett continued to stand at full parade attention, though her fingers trembled.

"Is there anything else which you said to Sergeant MeMahon?"

"I informed him that if you ordered me to collect my father, as my Captain, I would not do so. Sir."

"An order which I would not have given," Montgomery said dryly, "since it is not an order which should ever be made." He breathed out. "You've done the right thing reporting to me, Detective Beckett, but you've left me with a pretty problem. Still, that's why I'm the Captain."

"Sir, there is another matter."

"Oh?"

"Uh, Castle wants to sit with a Robbery detective same as he's been sitting with me, for Storm. May I introduce him to someone, sir?"

Montgomery grinned impishly, and met Castle's nod. "Really? Okay. Um, there's a newish guy in Robbery…Demming, that's it. Detective Tom Demming. You can make his acquaintance at a point where it doesn't interfere with either of your shifts. And since you've left me with one problem, you can work out how to introduce Mr Castle to him. Dismissed, Detective."

"Thank you, sir." Beckett made for the door.

"Mr Castle, wait a moment."

Beckett exited with alacrity, and Castle shut the door again.

"Rick, what the hell?"

"Pretty much exactly what Beckett said. She was furious. She didn't hesitate about reporting to you for a second."

"Actually, I meant the Robbery information. I have no doubt of Beckett's integrity."

"I'm thinking about a Storm plotline where someone's assets have been stolen by a trusted relative – including commercial secrets."

Montgomery clearly didn't believe a word of that. "Hm. Well, if Detective Demming will assist, far be it from me to get between you and your so-called genius. Bye, Rick."

"See you."

Castle whipped out of the office before anything could go wrong. At her desk, Beckett was on the phone, but she finished up the call as he arrived.

"Okay. Detective Demming will be able to meet you" –

"Us. You have to come too and introduce me – vouch for me – otherwise he might not realise what a wonderful person I am."

Beckett spluttered. "Yeah, right. Try doughnuts. Much more likely to work. Anyway, he'll meet us at five, when shift ends. Just come here, and then we'll go down to Robbery."

"Come here? Can't I stay?"

"No. I've got paperwork, and surely you have to write?"

Castle pouted at her. "I can do that any time. I wanna stay here and watch how it all works."

"Not my call. Montgomery said you could be here after shift so that's what you're allowed. I have to get down to work."

"Okay," Castle grumbled. "I'll go. I'll be back just before five." He wandered unenthusiastically out of the precinct, towards the subway.

Halfway home, inspiration hammered him on the head. He almost ran back to the loft from Spring Street, opened a new document, and began to write. He didn't lift his fingers from the keyboard until his bladder became painful, and then he simply made himself comfortable, set an alarm – loudly – for four-thirty, and returned to his new idea.

At four-thirty he dragged himself away from his laptop and dashed off to the precinct and Beckett. He had no great hopes of Demming the Robbery detective being anything other than short, fat, and, well, ordinary.

"Hey, Beckett."

"Hi. I'm just finishing up." She efficiently tapped into a form, put all the paperwork neatly into a file, and shut down. "Let's go find Detective Demming."

"Do you know him?" Castle asked as they passed through a beat-up door and into a dingy back stairwell.

"Nope, but I haven't really had a chance to get to know anyone outside Homicide and the people I met as an officer." She smiled. "It'll be nice to hear about something other than murder."

Robbery Division looked very much like the Homicide bullpen, but the terminology was quite different: instead of gruesome medical detail, violence and gore there were cold financial words; money and assets; and only the occasional reference to violence or mugging.

Beckett looked around, a little uncertain, and then asked. The cop she spoke to waved a hand over to the far corner.

"Hey," Beckett said, "Detective Demming?"

"Hi. You're Beckett? Nice to meet you." He looked up, and then stood up.

Castle got a good look at him, and nearly gasped. Detective Demming was tall – taller than Castle himself, blue-eyed, clean cut, and (Castle supposed) good-looking. He was also staring at Beckett as if he'd never seen a woman before in his life.

"Call me Tom," he said to Beckett.

"Okay." She didn't give her own first name, which Castle noted with a little stir of happy malice. "This is Richard Castle. He writes" –

"Storm," Demming said. "I like those books." He turned to Castle and extended a hand, which Castle shook with a rather firmer grip than usual. "What did you want to know?"

"Why don't we go find a room and talk about it?" Castle said. Originally, he'd planned to invite Demming out for a beer, but he wasn't going to welcome someone who was quite obviously eyeing up Beckett.

"Sure."

"I'm going back up to Homicide," Beckett said, somewhat to Castle's surprise. "Bring him back up when you're done, please – we don't want him wandering about the precinct getting into trouble."

"Okay."

Beckett disappeared. Demming ushered Castle to a comfortable space and, for the next hour, answered Castle's list of purely business-related questions.

"Can I come back to you if there's anything more?" Castle wound up, with the same polite formality he'd used all along.

"Sure. Looking forward to the next book." Castle managed a tight smile. Demming was a fan, after all, and he tried never to disappoint a fan. "Let's get you back upstairs."

Back on the Homicide floor, Beckett had been occupying herself with the never-ending paperwork. She'd noticed Demming's interest immediately, and decided that absence would be the better plan. When the two men arrived, Castle excused himself.

"Uh, Beckett?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, look, would you like to go for a drink sometime?"

Castle returned just in time to hear Demming hitting on his girl. Beckett gave Demming a slightly apologetic grin. "Sorry, I'm already seeing someone," she said.

Demming's face fell, to Castle's delight, but he took it bravely. "I guess I should've expected that," he said. "Oh, well, if it doesn't work out, you know where I am."

"Yep. Thanks for the offer."

Castle took some care not to show his reactions as Demming bade them farewell and disappeared to the bowels of the Robbery floor. For Castle's money, he could stay there forever and rot.

"Jealous?" Beckett asked, amusedly.

"Of course not."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not!"

"Better tell your face that, because it's a delicate shade of green. Or was that just your lunch not agreeing with you?"

Castle abruptly realised that he hadn't had any lunch – and further, that he hadn't seen hide nor hair of his mother today. Both were worrying for entirely different reasons.

"I'm starving," he complained. "Come back to mine and I'll make us dinner. I've got to prove that I can cook too."

"It's not a competition, you know. And you don't have to prove anything to me," she said as she shrugged on her jacket. "I turned him down."

Castle humphed. With very little effort, Beckett heard hitting on my girl I'll show him. If it meant she would have a good meal that didn't involve cooking for herself, she'd take it. He'd get over his momentary jealousy by the time she'd snuggled into his side on the subway.

Snuggling proved perfectly effective, and better still it accorded precisely with Beckett's own desire. Not that it wasn't nice to be asked out, but…workplace romances were never a good plan, and she didn't want to be regarded as fair game by her co-workers in any division. She wriggled a little to be totally tucked in, and stayed happily in place until they reached Castle's apartment.

The same babysitter as last time was paid off and departed, but Castle's mother was nowhere in sight. Alexis, by contrast, bounced up to her father, hugged him and was swept up off the floor. "Hi, Daddy!" she chirped. "You brought her home again."

"She is Detective Beckett, Alexis," Castle chided gently.

"Hi, Detective Beckett."

"Hello," Beckett said awkwardly. Pre-teen children weren't her natural society – they rarely committed murder or other crimes, and though she'd done her share of babysitting to earn money, it had tended to babies. Children who walked and talked fluently were outside of her skill set and her limited social circle.

Until now, it seemed. Still, she was pretty sure she wouldn't need to have much to do with Castle's daughter, and she certainly wasn't intending to get involved in his family life. Dinner would do just fine.

"Have you come for dinner? Daddy, is it dinner time yet? What are we having?"

"Yes, Detective Beckett has come for dinner. No, it won't be dinner time until I've cooked it. We'll have a chicken pasta bake with ratatouille, and then you can have ice cream."

"What are you having?"

Castle grinned at his daughter. "Chocolate mousse."

"Daddy!" she wailed. "That's not fair!"

"Oh?"

"I want chocolate mousse too!" Castle coughed. "Please?"

"Of course," Castle conceded, in a tone which the little girl obviously recognised as teasing.

"Daddy, you're mean. Detective Beckett won't like it."

"Come on, then. Let's go and make dinner."

Castle and daughter trooped off to the kitchen. Beckett stood, rather nonplussed, until Castle looked back. "Come on, Beckett. You can sit and drink wine while I slave over a hot stove." She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, okay. I like cooking." He turned to his daughter. "If you're careful, you can chop the zucchini and tomatoes."

"I'll be careful," she promised.

Castle poured himself and Beckett a glass of wine each, which she tasted cautiously and then took a larger sip. "Nice," she said.

"Good." He went back to chopping chicken into small cubes, fast and accurate. His daughter sat on a high stool, tongue poking out of the side of her mouth in concentration, chopping very slowly and carefully. Castle flicked quick glances at her every second stroke of his knife, but didn't interfere.

The vegetables went into a large stewpot, to which Castle added a handful of unidentified herbs. Shortly it began to simmer, and emit enticing smells. Castle stirred it gently, tasted it, added another batch of herbs and a pinch of salt; and then tapped Alexis on the head.

"Where's Grams?"

"I don't know. She went out when Rina got here."

"Okay. Now, you can go read until dinner's ready." Alexis dashed off, clearly (and thankfully) far more interested in reading than Beckett.

Castle ambled over, after he'd whipped up a chocolate mousse in bare moments, and slung an arm around her. "On balance," he said, "I think I made one tiny little mistake with dinner tonight."

"What?" Beckett asked suspiciously, sure that Castle was plotting something.

"We should have stopped off at your apartment first."

"Why?"

"Because after I've provided you with the best dinner ever" – she made a disgusted noise at his conceit – "you'll have eaten so much you won't want to go home. But you don't have a change of clothes, so that means you'll have to get up far too early, which isn't fun."

"You're making an assumption there."

"I am?"

"You're assuming I'd stay."

"Well, I can think of lots of things we could do if you stayed." He smirked rakishly, and waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

"So can I," Beckett replied, with a sultry smile and a nibble of her lip.

Castle kissed her. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Might be," she flirted. "Were you thinking of Monopoly?"

Castle spluttered with laughter. "Witch," he said. "We can play Monopoly if you like. But it's not nearly as much fun as some other things."

"No-o." She peeped through her lashes, and Castle promptly kissed her again. "I like sleeping, too."

Castle's eyes crinkled. "I like sleeping," he said. "I especially like sleeping with a companion."

"I'll bring you a teddy bear."

"Not quite how I would describe you, but if that's what you want…" He ran down in the face of Beckett's glare. "Anyway, it would have been nice if you could have stayed, rather than going out into the cold dark night."

"I have to be on shift at eight. That means I have to go home."

"But you don't want to," Castle said, letting his thoughts out of his head without benefit of filters or thought.

"I – that's not relevant," Beckett said, privately absolutely horrified about how much she didn't want to go home. It was ridiculous. This wasn't attraction, it was wholesale infatuation. Too much, too soon was a bad idea - "Isn't that the oven timer?"

"Oh – yes!" Castle hurried over to it, brought out the pasta bake and gave the ratatouille a stir. "Could you put some plates out, please? That cupboard, and I'll set the table." He took cutlery, calling for Alexis as he set it out.

Dinner disappeared in silence and with a speed appropriate to its savour. It was delicious. The chocolate mousse left Beckett in chocolate heaven, out of which she barely emerged to notice Castle's mention that he was off to say goodnight to Alexis. She curled up on the couch, as food-comatose as after her own cooking for Castle, and digested, half-dozing after a tiring day.

"Oh! My dear, I didn't mean to disturb you. Has Richard deserted you? Disgraceful. You'd never believe I taught him manners, would you? Now, while he's missing, let's get to know each other." Beckett woke with a bang to see Castle's mother standing almost over her. "I am Martha Rodgers, actress. And Richard's mother, of course." Ms Rodgers caught Beckett's surprise. "I was a terribly young mother, my dear. And I use the best moisturiser." She smiled. "Now, who are you? Richard monumentally failed to introduce us the other night."

"Detective Beckett," Beckett said.

"A detective? Don't tell me my son is on parole?" Ms Rodgers sat down with a thump.

"No." Beckett was flabbergasted.

"You're his girlfriend?"

"Uh" –

"You're certainly several cuts above his usual style. A real job, some brains, and beauty. Darling, couldn't you have done better for yourself?" Ms Rodgers looked Beckett up and down. "You'd be a smash hit in all the best places."

"To which I can take her if she likes, Mother," Castle pronounced, arriving from the stairs at – from Beckett's perspective – just the right moment. "However, unlike you and your theatrical cronies, she appreciates good food and not just good wine."

"I have only been home for two days" –

"And before that I lived with you – boarding school excepted – for twenty-one years. You taught me to make Bloody Marys."

"An essential life skill," Ms Rodgers said with a toss of her red head.

"Indeed, but not in fifth grade."

Beckett had to swallow her splutter of mirth.

"Nonsense, it's essential at any age."

"Mother, where've you been all day?" Castle diverted.

"Re-acquainting myself with the Broadway scene, darling. I shall have to follow up all of my old" –

"Flames?"

"Contacts," Ms Rodgers said in stentorian tones. "My genius will shine through the Broadway lights."

Castle hummed something, part way under his breath. To Beckett, struggling not to suffocate with her efforts not to collapse in laughter, it sounded very like: Give 'em the old Razzle Dazzle/ Razzle dazzle 'em/ Show 'em the first rate sorcerer you are/ Long as you keep 'em way off balance/ How can they spot you've got no talent? Possibly fortunately, his mother didn't hear it.

"I'm sure it will," he said. "Are you meeting your old enemies tomorrow?"

"I have no enemies. Merely rivals. Yes." She stood. "I must repair the ravages of the day and attend an elegant soiree to reintroduce myself to theatrical society. I shall, I suppose, see you tomorrow?"

"I expect so, Mother. This is my loft, after all."

"I was talking to this lovely young thing," Ms Rodgers said quellingly.

"I don't think so," Beckett said. "I have to work."

"What a shame. However, I'm sure that we can become better acquainted very soon." Ms Rodgers bestowed theatrical air kisses on Beckett's scarlet cheeks, and swished to the stairs in the best Grande Dame manner.

Beckett stared at her departing form in much the same way that she might have regarded a fabulous, mythical being. "Wow," she managed.

"Yes. That's Mother."

"Wow," she said again. "She's…something else."

"One of a kind," said Castle. "Which is probably a good thing. I don't think the world could cope with two of her in it."

"I shall ignore that, Richard," floated down from above.

"Just like she ignores most of what I say." He smiled lazily. "Anyway, I have a far better idea. Let's finish the wine and then…see what comes up."

"Okay."

"After Mother's gone out."

"Okay," Beckett said, much more enthusiastically.

Thank you to all readers and reviewers. Much appreciated, especially guests who cannot be thanked directly.

Reviews still appear to be broken when I set this up. You will be answered, however. In addition, apparently Fanfiction is not always registering updates on some stories, including this one. If that worries you, the schedule remains 2pm EST on Tue/Thu/Sun, on which you can rely.