Author's Note: Posting this chapter early because of the upcoming holiday.

Then Came Love

Chapter 24

Kate felt a jolt of energy as she returned to her desk, thanks to Castle's suggestion that the murder might not have anything to do with Donaldson's gambling habit. It might be true, as he'd said, that this theory wasn't supported by the evidence right now but then again, that was what detective work was about, finding the evidence that would lead them to a new theory of the case.

She turned away from her computer and pulled the papers they had taken from the victim's desk in his office at the college towards her but then paused as she caught the quickly-withdrawn glance of Sanchez, one of the uniforms.

"Hey, Sanchez," Kate greeted, just a little pointedly.

Sanchez was too much of a cop to wince or react too visibly to being caught out but her smile was pretty obviously forced, awkward. "Hey, Beckett. I… uh, wanted to say congratulations and, well, I should go file… stuff. See you around, Beckett."

"See you later," she responded but was already speaking to Sanchez's back as she had turned and almost sped away.

Kate huffed out a little breath. It really was, as she'd said to her dad, as if her colleagues had never seen a pregnant woman before with the way they were all taking to studying her as if she were some sort of exotic species. She understood that obviously news of her pregnancy had come as a surprise to her coworkers (just as it had surprised her, for that matter) but she had really hoped that her colleagues would have recovered from the surprise by now. It had been five days since she'd told the boys, after all.

"Sanchez too, huh," Castle murmured.

She glanced at him with a wry grimace. "Clearly."

He gave her a sympathetic twist of his lips. "Sorry. I'm definitely understanding why you were nervous about people finding out."

She inwardly grimaced. Yes, he had good reason to understand that, especially considering all he'd done this week to try to deflect attention from her.

Wait. She might be being paranoid (an occupational hazard of being a cop) but was it possible Castle had simply suggested his new theory in order to make her feel less superfluous to the case? She tried to tell herself she was being silly, overly suspicious, but she couldn't quite shake the little niggle.

She turned to the paperwork but after more than an hour of going through the papers related to the victim's life with nothing to show for it, the niggle was a little stronger.

"Still nothing?" Castle ventured.

She darted a sideways glance at him. "Nothing," she confirmed. "Castle?"

"Hmm?"

She hesitated but then asked, "You didn't just come up with your suggestion to make me feel like I'm not just doing busy work, right?"

He blinked and then widened his eyes at her in a look of saintly innocence. "Would I do that?"

Actually… yes, she rather thought he might, would. This week alone had shown her just how much Castle was willing to do to help her, to make things easier, and Castle had noticed her frustration earlier.

She met his eyes steadily and he sobered, abruptly dropping the act.

"I almost wish I had thought of it like that but I didn't." He paused. "I wouldn't do that, you know. Mislead you about a case, I mean. It wouldn't be fair to the victim but more than that, this is your work and I know how seriously you take it. You'd kill me and I like being alive." His lips quirked into a faint smile at this rather obvious declaration.

Her lips twitched almost in spite of herself. She did believe him and she felt a quick pang of guilt for ever doubting. He might be willing to do more than she'd ever realized in order to help her but he also knew her too, knew the limits of what she would tolerate. She might appreciate what Castle had done this week to spare her the worst of the curiosity of her co-workers but as a rule, she would not want him or anyone else to try to protect her or comfort her or anything. She was still herself, damn it, even if she was pregnant, and she took care of herself. "I guess you do have some sense of self-preservation after all, Castle," she observed wryly.

He pretended to preen. "I'm a fast learner."

"Uh huh, except you've lived how many decades without learning self-preservation already?" she drawled.

He made a face at her. "Okay, so maybe not that fast."

She couldn't help but smile and thought, not for the first time, that he really was kind of adorable with his self-deprecating grimaces–and he looked so very young, like the little boy he'd once been at these times too. She pictured a baby boy looking like a miniature Castle but maybe with her eyes or a baby girl with something of Castle's slightly-crooked grin. Something in her chest seemed to melt at the image and she remembered what Lanie had said about how their baby was pretty much guaranteed to be gorgeous.

"Beckett? Do I have something on my face or anything?"

Castle's voice, his now-quizzical expression, brought her back to the present and she flushed a little. "Huh? Oh, no, I was… thinking about something else." Picturing their baby–oh god. And she wasn't sure if the warmth in her chest had more to do with her emotions for the baby or for Castle.

He affected seriousness. "I know, my rugged handsomeness can be very distracting."

She rolled her eyes. "I think your vanity's more distracting."

He made a small face at her. "Anyway, I was thinking, are we sure there wasn't anything with his job that might lead to a motive?"

They had no reason to think so, and yet… "We should go back to Donaldson's office."

"We already looked through it."

"Only briefly, looking for any obvious red flags since it was so early in the case. His calendar didn't show anything that unusual. He'd scheduled a meeting to talk to one of the administrators but the administrator didn't know what the meeting was about and on its own, there's no reason to think the meeting was related. Now we'll look closer, look into the records from his classes and into his students. Unless you have some other helpful suggestion?"

"No, but," he hesitated but went on, "will the Captain allow you to go to the vic's office? The boys are out looking into another gambling den."

She scowled at the reminder of her duty status. "I'll check with him but it's not like the office was the actual crime scene," she reasoned.

Which was true but from Montgomery's expression as she explained this, he was less than impressed.

"I trust your instincts about needing to go back to the vic's office but you have to take a uniform with you. Castle can't be your only backup anymore."

"But sir–" she began, planning to argue that it was a waste of resources since the victim's office at the college was a public place and right now, they had no concrete reason to think anything directly related to the murder would be found there anyway. It was a better argument than the fact that she did not want to take a uniform everywhere she went.

"That's an order, Beckett," the Captain interrupted her and she subsided. She knew by now when the Captain could be worked around and apparently, her restricted duty status was not one of those things. Damn it.

"Yes, sir," she duly agreed, trying not to sound as reluctant as she felt, and then added more briskly, "I'll keep you posted if we find anything."

Montgomery nodded and accompanied her to the door of his office, hailing one of the uniforms in the bullpen. "Whalen."

Whalen, a young but promising officer just a few years out of the Academy, straightened up as he changed direction towards them. "Yes, sir."

"You're going with Beckett this afternoon since she has to head out to check up on a hunch of hers."

Whalen darted a quick glance down to her stomach and then back up at her face but had the grace to look a little sheepish as he met her eyes and realized she'd caught him at it, before focusing on the Captain. "Yes, sir, I understand."

Kate tried not to visibly grit her teeth but instead pasted on a reasonably bland expression. "Come on, Whalen, we're heading to City College." She looked over to Castle, meeting his eyes since he was already looking over at her (watching her, as usual–and when had she stopped minding the way he watched her?) and didn't even need to speak before he immediately leaped up and hurried to join them, returning Whalen's nod of greeting with one of his usual friendly smiles. "There you are, Castle," she said as nonchalantly as she could. "Sir," she nodded a goodbye to the Captain and then turned to leave the bullpen.

At least, she was still allowed to drive, she thought rather sourly, as she started her car. There was a briefly awkward moment as both Castle and Whalen headed for the front passenger door before Whalen conceded, rather to his credit, although she supposed Whalen could have been deferring more to Castle now that it was known he was the father of her baby (and still her suspected boyfriend) rather than any acknowledgment of Castle's status as her unofficial partner. Either way, she wasn't any happier about having him along.

Castle kept up an easy conversation with Whalen during the short drive to City College, talking about the Yankees' series against the Rangers in the postseason. Deliberately, she was sure, since Castle was not normally one for much talk of sports, and it served to distract from any awkwardness stemming from Whalen's presence in her car as if she needed supervision or protection.

Her irritation at Whalen's presence–which she tried valiantly not to take out on Whalen himself since he wasn't to blame–bubbled up again once they actually reached Donaldson's office in one of the City College buildings as Whalen made a point of preceding her into the building and scanning every hallway they passed before making a thorough sweep of Donaldson's actual office as if expecting the killer might be hiding behind the potted plant in the corner.

"I'm not sure how long this will take. Why don't you wait in the hallway," she suggested to Whalen, not making it a question, no matter the phrasing.

He obeyed and she purposely shut the office door so as not to be constantly reminded of the fact that she essentially had a babysitter, before moving to sit down behind Donaldson's desk to start going through his drawers.

"Whatever it is, I hope it can run very fast."

She blinked and looked up at Castle at his faintly dry tone. What nonsense was he babbling about now? "What?"

He quirked his lips at her. "Whatever it is that's making you scowl like that, I hope it can run because otherwise I'd be afraid for its life. As it is, I keep expecting the papers to go up in flames."

A little prick of amusement broke through her irritation. "Do I look like Superman to you?"

He scoffed. "Don't be silly, Beckett," he returned airily. "You're much better looking than Superman is."

A small laugh escaped her almost in spite of herself at the absurdity of his response. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

He puffed up with mock pride as if she'd just complimented him. "It's a talent."

She snorted but couldn't help but think that he might be right after all because the way he had of making her laugh, of teasing her out of a bad mood, was a talent. Not that she had any intention of telling him that.

"I'm just annoyed, that's all," she found herself admitting after a moment, surprising even herself. It was hardly like her, to share what was bothering her, but well, this was Castle and they were alone–since she'd closed the door between them and Whalen–and somehow, it was… easier to share since she knew he already knew what was aggravating her. And all this was just one of the changes facing her with this pregnancy and it had started to seem almost normal to talk to Castle, at least a little, about things relating to her condition. "I don't like that Montgomery's suddenly acting like I need a babysitter before I can go anywhere."

"I don't think Montgomery thinks you need a babysitter."

His tone was mild, placatory, and she bridled a little. "His thinking I need protection isn't any better. Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm helpless."

Just the word 'pregnant' had Castle's expression softening and she felt a corresponding throb of emotion at this evidence of how much he already cared about–no, loved–this baby, their baby. Just as much as she did and it hit her all over again that she and Castle really were in this together. He was the only other person on earth who had felt the same emotions she had on seeing the ultrasound of the Sprout, the only person who would feel the same emotion when they held the Sprout for the first time, the only person who would feel the same level of love and worry and joy as the Sprout grew up.

Dangerous.

The word, a little niggle of warning, whispered in her mind, bringing her to her senses. Reminding her all over again why she'd resolved to be careful, to keep some distance between herself and Castle, because how could she be sure how much of what she felt for Castle–because yes, she did feel something for him–was actually because of him and not just getting tangled up in her emotions for the baby, to say nothing of her hormones?

"I feel like I've already been benched to desk duty, as if paperwork is all I can do. And I didn't become a cop in order to sit behind a desk and push paper," she rather hurriedly tacked on, bringing the subject back to work. Which was what they were talking about.

"Do you know why I decided to base Nikki Heat on you?"

She blinked at this seeming non sequitur. What was he getting at now? "No, why?"

"Because you're tall."

A crack of half-reluctant laughter escaped her at this cheeky, unexpected answer and he smirked.

"I'm flattered," she drawled.

He sobered. "The Captain told me you're the best detective he's ever known and he's right. You are a great cop. But what makes you such a great cop has nothing to do with your physical fitness or how good a shot you are or anything. It's because you never settle for the easy answer or take the easy win; you put in the work and you never give up or slack off." He paused and she heard in her mind his remembered voice telling her why she was extraordinary. "It's like in the John Allen case after his body was found the second time, remember?"

"A dead body being stolen, yeah, it rings a bell," she responded dryly. It had only been a month or so ago after all. And she wasn't likely to forget Castle's first case after she'd told him the news about the baby either.

His lips twitched before straightening. "You made that suggestion to Lanie to cut open the glove and check for prints inside the glove. How many cops would have thought of that?"

She flushed a little. She didn't think there was anything amazing in the suggestion but the look in his eyes, his tone, suggested something along the lines of slaying a dragon single-handedly. "It was desperation, really," she demurred. "We needed another lead and desecrating a body like that, what would that do to his wife and kids? Drugs aside, those guys needed to be caught."

His lips curved faintly. "That's what I mean, that's what makes you amazing. The way you try so hard and think outside the box in order to get justice for the victims. I get that it's annoying to have these restrictions but you don't even need to be on full duty to be a better, more effective cop than just about everyone else, including the boys. But if you tell them I said so, I'll deny it."

She huffed a small almost-laugh at this aside, so very like Castle.

He smirked but then sobered again. "Restricted duty or not, you're still a cop, Beckett, and a damn good one at that."

(How had he guessed or known that what she meant was that she didn't feel like a real cop anymore?)

Montgomery had tried to tell her something similar after he'd first told her about the restrictions, hadn't he, but she hadn't really taken it in and somehow, the words, the assurance, seemed to mean more now. They meant more because of the way Castle looked at her, her heart fluttering in her chest. He looked at her as if she really was extraordinary. It was thrilling and humbling and a little terrifying too because she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he ever looked and saw her for the very ordinary person she really was?

But at that moment, seeing the look in his eyes, she couldn't think of any of that, could almost believe that she really might be, could be, as extraordinary as he said she was.

Her mouth felt dry and she licked her lips unthinkingly, the movement making his eyes drop down to focus on her mouth, something in his expression changing. And she knew he was thinking about kissing her, remembering That Night–just as she was. The air abruptly seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe. And she couldn't seem to remember all the reasons she had for not pursuing anything more with Castle; she just wanted… him.

But then there was a muffled bang like a door being slammed from out in the hallway, the sound of voices, and the moment–whatever it had been–was over. She blinked and he coughed a little and she pulled open one of the victim's drawers with unwonted eagerness.

Case, they were in the middle of a case, that was why they were here, after all. She had to focus on the case, to prove she could still be useful. (And anyway, it was just hormones, had to be. It didn't mean… anything, it couldn't.)

She cudgeled her errant brain into focusing on the papers dealing with the various classes the victim had taught and it was a while later that she noticed something, a potential oddity. "Hmm."

Castle glanced over from where he'd been going through the file cabinets. "What? Did you find something?"

"Possibly," she returned. "It's the grade book for his Calculus class, the entry for Timothy Couglan. He's been pretty consistently skating on the edge of failing but then, on the midterm, he got an A."

"He could have suddenly decided to study harder, avoid actually failing," Castle reasoned but didn't sound as if he really believed it.

"He could have," she conceded.

"But it's an odd sock," he finished for her.

She shot him a quick smirk. "Listen to you, using cop slang so easily."

"I haven't been working with you for so long for nothing." He pulled open one of the file cabinets. "I think… here it is. I thought I remembered it, this is the file with all the midterms for that class."

He pulled out a file folder and brought it over to the desk so they could both look at it, bending over her shoulder to look at it. She glanced at his profile, his face so close to hers now, and caught a quick whiff of his familiar scent, a surge of heat flashing through her so strongly she was almost dizzy with it. She almost jerked back, away from him, but forcibly controlled her reaction, sternly breathing through her mouth instead as she tried to shove aside all thoughts not related to the case and focus on the papers in front of them.

"Timothy Couglan," Castle read, pulling one of the tests out from the stack. "Here it is."

She focused on the test, not entirely sure what to look for, but something was niggling at her, something that struck her as odd. "Wait. I was just looking at something…" She turned away, diving into one of the victim's other drawers and pulling out a folder she had glanced through earlier, of one of the assignments from earlier in the semester, riffling through the file until she found Timothy Couglan's.

She placed Timothy Couglan's assignment next to his midterm and then– "The numbers look different," she blurted out, her words overlapping with Castle's "it's not his writing."

They glanced at each other, exchanging quick smiles, before focusing again on the two tell-tale papers. Numbers weren't quite as characteristic as handwriting but there were notable distinctions, the falsified midterm had 7's with a little bar on them and the 4's were open rather than closed.

"He cheated," Castle summarized.

"And I'm wondering if that's what the meeting with the school administrator was about," she went on.

"To report Couglan's academic dishonesty," Castle finished. "It gives him a motive."

She smiled, feeling one of her usual familiar thrills when pieces of evidence fell together, all the more because in looking at him, seeing the light in his eyes, she knew he felt the same thrill. This was what she'd missed, she thought suddenly, in the months he'd been gone, she'd missed these moments when she and Castle were on the same page, this sense of connection, this rapport. It wasn't something she could ever remember feeling with anyone else but somehow, for all their differences in the way they approached cases, she and Castle just… fit. In the way they worked together, of course.

(They had fit together physically too, a treacherous voice in her mind that sounded a lot like Lanie reminded her. She ignored it. She wasn't going to think about that.)

She had work to do, anyway. "We need to talk to Timothy Couglan," she said briskly.

"You'd better call the boys," was Castle's response and any thrill she'd been feeling was abruptly stamped out in a surge of frustration as she was reminded–again–of her limited duty status. A biting response came to her lips but one look at Castle's face had the words dying. It wasn't Castle's fault; he was only the messenger here. Damn it.

She gritted her teeth a little but she did call the boys while she, Castle, and Whalen returned to the precinct with the two tests in hand.

At least from that point, with a suspect at hand, she could mostly proceed as usual with the case, the main difference being that Esposito went in to interrogate Couglan with her rather than Castle. A glance at Couglan's background had told them he'd come from the military and she and Espo had worked together for long enough that they only had to exchange a look and a nod before deciding on a good cop-bad cop routine, with Espo relying on his own past military experience to reel Couglan in, setting him up for her to knock him down. Which she did. Because she was still a cop and her experience in interrogations still held.

Kate was too experienced to show it but she felt a rush of satisfaction when Couglan cracked. A triumph that was not lessened as she heard his self-serving justification: how he'd served his country and he deserved his college degree but Donaldson just wouldn't listen to reason and had insisted on trying to report his cheating on the midterm to the administrator which would have resulted in the loss of Couglan's scholarship and getting kicked out of school.

Case closed–and she could call Mia Donaldson and tell her that her husband's killer had been brought to justice and her husband had been killed because he'd been trying to do the right thing.

She and Espo watched as Whalen and another officer took Couglan back to Holding.

"Beckett."

She paused, glancing back at Espo. "Yeah?"

"Nice catch, with the two tests and all." And then, being Espo and a cop, he added with mock reproach, "although you could have had your brain wave before Ryan and I spent the last two days going to gambling dens."

She ignored this last jibe. "It was Castle's idea, originally."

Espo glanced over to where Castle was chatting with Ryan. "You really okay with the baby and, well, everything?"

The words were low and hurried, as if it was somehow shameful to be expressing something like concern.

She met Espo's eyes, the cop she'd known and worked with the longest, second only to Montgomery. "I'm fine." She might technically be his superior but he was also a friend and the closest thing to an older brother she'd ever had. "I'm not thrilled about the restricted duty thing but," she shrugged a little with a casualness she didn't feel, one of her hands coming up to touch her stomach in the now-familiar gesture, "I want this baby." The remembered image from the ultrasound flashed through her mind and she felt a surge of emotion. Oh yes, she wanted this baby. Her little Sprout.

From the bullpen, she heard the sound of Castle's laugh at something Ryan had said and glanced over at him. Her and Castle's little Sprout. "And Castle's been great."

The set of Espo's lips eased a little into what in anyone else would have been a smile and he nodded. "Okay, good."

And she understood that it was Espo's apology of sorts for his initial reaction to the news, his suspicions of Castle, an apology that would no doubt be conveyed to Castle through some wordless gesture like a nod or clap on the shoulder in typical masculine–and typical Espo–fashion.

"Come on, we got paperwork to do."

She made a face at him. "Do my paperwork for me since I did the hard part of finding a motive?" she jokingly suggested.

Espo snorted. "Fat chance, Beckett."

She suppressed a smile. "It was worth a try."

He gave her a dismissive wave and she returned to her desk to see Castle's smirk.

"Nice work in there."

Getting a confession and closing the case–she had done her job, like the cop she was, just as he had assured her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't say 'I told you so.'"

He widened his eyes at her, lifting a hand to his chest in exaggerated innocence. "I wouldn't dream of it." He paused and then added airily, "It's enough to hear you admit that I did."

She opened her mouth but before she could even respond, he went on, "Well, case closed so that's it for me. I promised Alexis I'd pick up some things for dinner tonight. Good night, Beckett," and turned and walked away.

She narrowed her eyes at his back, at the way he'd neatly avoided letting her have the last word. That brat! Had she mentioned he was still annoying?

She dropped down into her chair with a huff, responding to his cheeky wave with a mock glower that made him grin before the elevator doors slid closed.

But once she was sure he was safely out of sight, a small smile escaped. He might be annoying but he did keep her on her toes, challenged her, and she could appreciate that.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: This is going to be the last update for this story this year, due to the upcoming holidays and the fact that I'm going to be traveling. I hope you all have very happy holidays and stay safe! See you all in 2022.