12th Precinct, East Village
October 26th, 2011
Wednesday, 8:32 PM

Darkness had conquered all compass points by the time Richard Castle and Katherine Beckett exited the precinct. Friday had dawned without a murder and its end was creeping closer beneath the same furtive calm.

"It already smells like winter."

Beckett hummed her agreement while belting her overcoat. There was a sharpness in the air indicative of a precipitous drop in temperature. By morning the rows of cars on her street would likely be pale with frost.

The pair walked side-by-side towards Beckett's distant automobile. Contrasting reports of high heels and oxfords struck to a familiar meter of compromise. In the occasional lapses of distant traffic the wind was audible as it whistled and moaned through the five-story rows of the East Village. Dead leaves and detritus tumbled across the pavement with papery scrapes and skitters.

Beckett glanced to her left at Castle as they diverged around her Dodge Charger.

The influence of evening rendered his piercing blue eyes into wells of black sapphire. They roved up and down the shadow-draped length of 5th Street. He looked like she tended to feel amidst wide-open space these days: distrustful, apprehensive.

I feel ya, partner.

She genuinely did.

His presence at her side was owed to nothing more than a hasty text early that morning, an irrefusable moment of paranoia in which she had dithered, hesitated, and then in a sudden flurry messaged him to stay out of trouble. Trouble implying, but not limited to: dumpsters, strange women's hotel rooms, and banks.

More surprising than the novelist's mid-morning arrival at the precinct—fresh coffee in-hand—was that he had managed to wile away the workday without making a nuisance of himself. The soft clicking of him typing on his laptop had been curiously comforting while Kate had punched up her case notes and slogged through paperwork.

Presently, Castle attuned to her pause of evaluation. He met and held her gaze across the roof of the Charger, still strangely wordless. He smiled.

Slowly, almost grudgingly, Kate smiled too.

Within the confines of her unit, the faintness of her companion's cologne tickled her senses. He eased down into the passenger seat, leather creaking, clothes whispering, silence. Slim fingers clasped the top of the steering wheel while in her other hand the keys chimed out metallic notes. The engine awoke with a guttural growl. The machine had hardly come to life before the centrally affixed radio console gave a staticy squawk and a grizzled voice came on the line.

"One-Lincoln-Forty, callback."

Beckett blinked at it, nonplussed, and reached for the mic. "One-Lincoln-Forty, go."

"Hey, kid."

She recognized the voice. More pointedly, the informal epithet. David Nellis was seventy-eight. Most people were kids to him. The former Sergeant's days of policing were long done but he remained attached to the NYPD, and the 12th Precinct specifically, as an invaluable civilian aid at the front desk.

"I saw you head out a second ago," Nellis said. "Sorry to reel you back in, but there's a situation that needs resolving and we're spread a little thin tonight."

Beckett gave Castle a wan smile. "Mind calling a cab?"

He shook his head in easy acceptance.

She keyed the mic and answered, "It's no problem, Sarge. What've you got?"

"Well, that's the thing. I'm not entirely sure. A few minutes ago, the One-Three got a call from a, uh—one moment—here it is: a Dr. Leya Narayan. She works in the emergency room at Mount Sinai on 1st. Apparently, they have someone in their ICU who was attacked pretty viciously."

"Uh, okay. Why do they need me?"

"Yeah, that's the confusion. They're requesting a homicide unit, but the vic is alive as far as I know. Maybe the prognosis is grim. I haven't been able to get in touch with Dr. Narayan and the Thirteenth's duty sergeant is being less than helpful."

"Jeez," the detective issued aloud to herself, off-mic.

"Territorial dick-waving," Castle observed with a sage nod. "I knew our day was missing something."

Beckett amusedly shushed him and radioed, "Let 'em know I'm headed into their yard if you can, Sarge. I'm oscar-mike in two."

"10-4, detective. Good hunting."

"No rest for the wicked," she said as she hung up the mic.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

"You don't have to be home?"

"Not presently. My robins are on the wing tonight."

Kate considered him a moment longer, reading in his posture the preparedness for a bit of extra mileage. Her frown eased away in favor of a subtle smile. "You sound disappointed by that." She buckled her seat belt, checked the view behind, and pulled away, heading southeast down 5th to the red light at 1st.

"I think it's finally starting to hit me that I'll be an empty-nester soon."

"Yep. You'll be a grandpa before you know it. Blink again and you'll find yourself being wheeled off to the old folk's home."

"Thanks," he said dryly and she couldn't help grinning. "That's an image that'll linger. You recall it was Dave who ruined your evening plans, yes?"

"I know, right? My wrath is pitifully short-sighted. It's one of those—whadda ya call 'em—charming quirks of personality."

"Oh yeah," he feigned grasping. "Similar to dick-waving, huh? Nice."

They passed a couple blocks in silence, watching the nightlife unfold around them. Diners sat by couples or groups in the glowing rectangles of restaurant bay windows. Some ate with quiet relish while others engaged in animated discussion. Pedestrians filed through the crosswalks like schools of fish.

"Does it make you sad?" Beckett asked at length.

"Your so-called personality? Constantly."

She shot him a look.

"It's, uh…" Castle stopped to reconsider. Traces of humor waned to a furrowed brow. "It's a complicated tangle of emotions. I'm happy for Alexis. I'm excited to see what she'll do with her life." His attention tracked away from her to the passenger window as their course resumed. His baritone rang quieter and deeper with the added reverberations. "She's much better prepared than I was at her age."

"Kids these days need to be."

"Mm. That they do. In more than merely academics, which is probably what worries me more than anything else."

The driver glanced over at him but the two nearest streetlights were suffering malfunctions. Only vague hints of his profile were apparent in the reddish glow of taillights bleeding off the SUV ahead of them.

"What do you mean?"

"Just that she's led an admittedly sheltered life."

"She…has," Beckett haltingly agreed. They came to a stop again beneath the light at 11th Street. "But Alexis is no wilting flower. She seems less naive than most upper class kids. Less than I was at her age and that's saying something."

"You talk to her?"

Perpendicularly glaring headlights of crossing traffic revealed Castle's surprise.

In the stark play of brightness and shadow, it struck her anew how his face had thinned out over the summer. It was not a return to the leanness from a few short years ago. Indeed, it was less about weight loss than a determined redistribution of muscle-to-fat ratio.

That made a sad kind of sense. A sudden exposure of vulnerability such as what had happened at the cemetery could easily provoke a seeking of new armament through the most primordial form of weaponry. To be fair, he looked good. More importantly, he looked like he felt good. Despite the health benefits, seeing him so different still tied knots in her stomach and awoke a quiet ache in her chest. Some level of culpability on her part was undeniable.

"We talk," Kate answered, softly at first as if her breath truly had struggled up from around an impediment. "Of course we do."

"Regularly? Alexis never told me that."

Kate shrugged, unsure what to say.

"Perhaps she wanted to make her own connection. She does admire you."

The detective shifted in her seat as a lick of warmth invaded her cheeks. She was glad for the dimness which concealed as much. "I like her too. So does Lanie."

The author gaped. "You all hang out together? Without me?"

"Maddie, Rose, and Jess too. And we may have assimilated Ann last weekend."

"Rose? Oh, Karpowski. Wait, who's Jess?"

"Jessica Margolis. You met her a few times. It was a ways back."

Castle arched an eyebrow in dramatized annoyance. "Yes," he struck with overstated clarity, "I recall, thank you. I didn't realize you two became friends after that case was concluded." He tilted his head at her. "In fact, I didn't know you had such an active social life in general."

"What?" She frowned over at him. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you're intense and broody—classic indicators of an introvert."

She gaped back at him. "Wow. Okay, there's a lot going wrong with that statement, but let's stick to the part where it was made by the most glaringly extroverted person I've ever met—who writes for a living. Does employment even get more solitary? But, yeah, go ahead. You were giving me shit about my contradictory behavior."

Her companion arched both eyebrows, considered privately, and snapped his mouth shut.

"Good choice," Beckett muttered. She lifted a palm, asking, "How did you think I ended up being a bridesmaid six times? A lottery?"

Castle chuckled and shook his head, eyebrows still tilted in surprise. "Yeah, no. It makes sense. It does. Look, you don't have to tell me of all people why others would want to be your friend, okay? I didn't know you allowed yourself to indulge, that's all. At least, not on a regular basis."

"Well," Beckett huffed, her indignation tempered by the compliment, "I do."

"Good." Castle's surprise was mercifully gone, or at least firmly under control so that it didn't present itself. In its place was a smaller smile that was echoed by fine crinkles bordering his gaze. "I hope you won't take this as me being patronizing, but I'm pleased to hear that. You deserve to be meaningfully connected with others and I know they must be grateful to have you in their lives."

Beckett shifted her weight in the driver's seat again, still partially annoyed by his supposition but growing more embarrassed by the assurances on her behalf. "Shuddup," she grumbled and he chuckled deeply. "Don't say anything to Alexis."

"I won't. I, uh… Thank you. For taking an interest, I mean."

They slowed to a crawl while the sedan in front of them made a right turn. "No offense," she began gently, "but I didn't do it for you, and the only reason I'm telling you this is so you understand that I'm not trying to reassure you with empty words. Alexis really is smart. She's funny and pretty insightful for her age. I'd call her a great kid, and technically she is, but when she's out with me and the girls she fits in like another adult."

"How many ladies are in this NYPD club?"

Kate heard herself blurt, "NYPS." She nearly slapped herself afterward.

"Huh? You actually have a name? What does it stand for?" Her partner didn't even wait for the answer before theorizing aloud to himself. "New York Police—hmm, no. That'd exclude Jessica and Maddie. Next Year's Parade Stoppers. Not Your Problem Solvers. New York Penis Slicers? Whoa. Where'd that come from? Please tell me that's not it."

"Kinda the opposite. New York Pussy Shakers."

"Shut the front door," Castle groaned while shaking his head. "That is awful. Good heavens. That has Karpowski written all over it."

"Alexis," Kate admitted with a rueful grin.

"What?!"

"I told you she's funny."

"Ugh," her companion grunted. A palm lifted to cradle the side of his head as if dazed. "How could she? My little girl. I gave her every vocabulary advantage I could."

"Castle, you better not say any—"

"I won't. I promise. I just…I need to process."

"Yeah, you do that," Kate said with a soft snort.

He did for about two or three seconds before asking, "How often do you all hang out?" She shot him a narrow-eyed glance. "What? I'm not going to try tracking you guys down. Trust me, there are some things a father never wants to see."

"Oh, hush. Alexis is fun, but she doesn't get into trouble. In fact, for the youngest member of the group she probably displays the most common sense. I suppose it helps that she kind of has to behave herself while she's still college hunting."

"L-let's skip that part, please. I'm only asking about the frequency."

"Oh, right. Uh. I dunno. We try to get together every couple of weeks. We all live in Lower Manhattan, which helps, but everyone has their own responsibilities. It's not exactly rare for one or two of us to be missing from the festivities. Plus, there are times the rest of us wanna go places Alexis can't yet."

"You've never snuck her in anywhere?"

Beckett's lips shaped themselves into a lowercase 'o'. "I mean, I never have."

"Lanie," Castle growled while lifting a clenched fist.

The driver quivered privately. Got it in one. Sorry, Lanie, jeez. He's been hanging around detectives for too long. Kate batted his bicep with the back of her hand. "We take good care of her. Relax."

Her passenger sighed and said, "That's not possible. It isn't from a lack of faith in any of you. No," he reiterated aloud. "I probably couldn't ask for a better line-up in terms of people least likely to let Alexis saunter off and get into any real trouble."

"Which she doesn't," Beckett reminded him, "by her own choice."

"It's hard to compute, isn't it? How far she fell from the tree."

"Ask me that again after she turns twenty-one and has a couple years of college living under her belt."

Castle groaned again.

Beckett grinned.

Another round of companionable silence settled over them. A couple more city blocks crept past their windows. Traffic was starting to show signs of thinning. They made it through the light at 14th without having to stop.

"You're unexpectedly informative this evening," Castle observed.

Kate had the distinct impression he was not referring to Alexis. She was peripherally aware of him studying her profile and did her utmost to sound casual. "You asked." She thought he smiled. It was hard to be sure in the dimness.

"Will Alexis be angry with you if she finds out that I know? Like I said, she hasn't told me—"

"It's an omission, Castle, not an intentional fabrication. I'll grant you, that's probably slicing the truth a little thin in some cases, but I think intent should factor in here and I believe her intentions are kind. She cares about you. She wouldn't be mad at you for being interested in her life."

He stared at her in complete silence and for so long that her heart started hammering against her ribs. Shit. Too thin indeed, Katie.

"Good to know," Richard murmured warmly. Nothing more.

He didn't push the advantage and that made it hard not to smile. They were supposed to be waiting, healing, and she fully intended to. But sometimes—oof—it was simply impossible to keep her distance. Every little exchange that jostled them closer bore the tingling thrill of a forbidden act. Even finite motes of progress felt like a barreling whoosh forward. It was almost dizzying and entirely galvanizing.

"That should be our goal up ahead on the left."

Beckett noted the sprawling white banner hung across the first-floor exterior even as it was being pointed out. Beth Israel was one of eight hospitals in the New York metropolitan area that operated under the Mount Sinai healthcare umbrella. An entire city block was swallowed up by the hospital and its associated medical offices.

Owing to the hour, they managed to secure an open parking space. She parallel parked into it, removed her seatbelt, and radioed in her arrival on-site to Nellis.

"Huh. That's an interesting coincidence."

Beckett glanced over and found her partner studying the looming edifice of the H-shaped building across the street. It was the old Stuyvesant High School. Technically it still served that function, but the building played host to more than one academic program now, inducing a high school geared towards prospective medical professionals.

Kate beheld the structure with a rueful half smile. "The old stomping grounds."

"What I wouldn't give to have met a senior-year version of you."

"That's not creepy at all."

He didn't laugh or even stir from his observation of the school. Clearly he had discovered the wherewithal to push his luck, because he soon asked somberly, "Was she very different from who you are now?"

"The senior-year version of me?" She followed his stare as her thoughts drifted. "I hope not 'very'. Lighter, I suppose. No. She definitely was." The detective self-consciously tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "She probably laughed more. She wasn't as scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

Beckett considered and soon sighed. "I dunno. Everything."

Castle turned, focusing on her instead. He reached out tentatively and laid his hand over one of hers where it was fisted atop her thigh. The appendage opened and relaxed. The lack of any vocal attempt at consolation was nice.

"Come on," she said, opening her door to the chill evening. "We have work to do."