Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.
A/N: If you're interested in this story, you might want to wait until more chapters are ready. I post this because it's been so long since I've updated, but my writing time is limited in the near future. More below.
oo0oo
October 27
Castle startled awake and groaned. It took him several long moments to remember why he was sprawled in a sleeping bag on the concrete floor and several longer moments (accompanied by low groans and winces) to lever himself into a sitting position. To be fair, he couldn't remember laying down, but he did manage to recall his current situation and the reasons he was in this forsaken place.
Once the room stopped spinning, he crawled over to the CVS bag that contained his meager supplies. Well, his medicinal supplies and snacks. He'd completely lost yesterday – sneaking out of the hospital was a bad idea, in retrospect. He'd had such plans but ended up barely able to secure access to this place and pick up a few basics before he nearly collapsed. He'd have to prioritize visiting some of the shadier 'guys he knows' later today to stock up on the essentials for his plan. It's highly unlikely that Cole spent enough time in Castle's head to unearth his connection to them, especially as Castle himself hadn't thought of some of them for years…
Still, those supplies weren't his biggest concern. In his time around Beckett's team, he'd picked up some comfort with firearms and even some munitions. Sure, he didn't think he could recreate the dirty bomb that had he and Beckett tearing through the city, but the surprises he was planning for Cole are well within his grasp. If not for the fact that the maniac was trying to hunt down his family, Castle might actually have some fun with this. After all, if Kevin McCallister could defend his house from two criminals, certainly a well-established mystery novelist could deal with just one?
But the young protagonist from Home Alone had one advantage that Castle desperately wanted: home field advantage. Sure, he'd figured out a location to use for a trap and was confident that Cole hadn't gotten near this memory. And yes, something very memorable happened here, but considering how things stand between he and Beckett, revisiting that memory was painful. So, he stayed away from it even without the prompting from a psychometric psychopath.
After downing more Tylenol and aspirin and washing it back with some kind of disgusting sports drink (red is supposed to be a color, not a flavor), Castle rose and started inspecting his location again. This, at least, was a good idea. The facility is nearly perfect for an ambush – which is exactly the improvised use Lockwood originally tried last year. And while it's not quite his home field, Castle'd had one melee here and came out on top. So, not the worst option.
No, he sighed to himself, the location wasn't the problem. The trick was how to lure Cole here. Ordinarily, that would be tough enough, considering that anyone involved in the plan was a liability – Cole could just brush up against them, read the plan, and either bail out (as Castle'd heard had happened at the NYPL stakeout) or, worse, use the purloined tactical knowledge to turn the situation to his advantage.
But the confidence that ran so high as he snuck out of the hospital and paid his surreptitious visit to the Precinct ebbed now. Castle realized, with a sigh, that he was in over his head.
But to whom could he turn?
Beckett? No, that wouldn't work. Cole would certainly suspect her. More, as much as he hated to admit it, Castle didn't trust her with this. Even before Cole played his mind games, she wasn't a hundred percent. And though it made him feel like a heel, Castle admitted that he wasn't comfortable trusting the wellbeing of his family on the strained relationship with his partner.
Espo and Ryan? No, they were out, too. Like Beckett, either would be an obvious choice for Cole to intercept. And, while his working relationship with them didn't suffer over the summer of Beckett's absence, the things Cole revealed about them left Castle with lingering doubts. Oddly, he almost felt the most affinity for Espo, the one who was least likely to treat him well. Plus, Espo had some technical training that could come in handy. But, with his and Ryan's partnership on rocky terrain, Castle wasn't willing to risk the distraction.
No, Castle slowly admitted to himself, there was only one option. Even if it was a disturbing one.
oo0oo
"Hey, Beckett, I'm going for a coffee run. You want anything?"
Beckett looked up from the files that were taunting her. Her efforts on the "finding Castle" team were as disturbing as they were ineffectual. So far, she'd "enjoyed" brief conversations with both of Castle's ex-wives. And, because she clearly ticked off some deity, she also drew the assignment to contact Kyra Murphy nee Blaine, another ghost from Castle's past. That call was even more stilted than her talks with Doctor Burke.
Crap, she realized. Doctor Burke – she'd completely forgotten her last appointment with him. Not that she'd figured out how to explain Cole's foray into mind to her therapist. Perhaps caffeine would help.
"Yes, I'd love…," she started to answer before looking up to see Ryan cutting his eyes to the stairwell. After a quick pause, she amended her answer. "Actually, I could use the chance to stretch my legs. How about I join you. Espo, you in?"
Espo, who'd been studiously ignoring Ryan's appearance, stubbornly refused to lift his head and replied only with a terse "No."
Beckett retrieved her pocketbook from her desk and rose to her feet while ignoring Ryan's defeated look. Soon, they were headed down the stairs, taking the quickest route out of the building. Minutes later they were walking down the sidewalk. Had anyone bothered to pay them attention, they would have been surprised by the two who talked in low voices while carefully navigating to make sure no one could surprise them by reaching out to touch them.
"Look, Ryan," Beckett started after they'd dodged around several people, actually stepping into the street to maintain a safe distance, "you just need to give Espo some time…"
"That's not why I wanted to talk," Ryan replied. "We'll work it out or we won't. But we need to find Castle."
"That's my team's job," she answered. "I thought you were working on the 'finding Cole' team?"
"Yeah," Ryan nodded, "but something's not right. Actually," he laughed with a chuckle while rubbing the back of his head, "maybe it's best Espo's not here. I don't think he'd listen to what I've found."
"You've found something? About Cole?"
"Yeah, but not about where he's going. Where he's been," Ryan answers. Beckett, meanwhile, finds herself wondering if her teammate learned how to draw out a story from her wayward partner. A gesture and a raised eyebrow prompted him to continue.
"I've been working on Cole's backstory. At least, that's what I've been working on when Hansen isn't paying attention." Another chuckle, this time shared by Beckett. "Anyway, his story doesn't make much sense. There's no record – nothing, not even a parking ticket – before the Feds got their hands on him."
"With what he can do, he was probably pretty good at avoiding any trouble."
"Or," Ryan disagreed, "maybe he wasn't doing anything wrong."
"Kevin, the Feds caught him stealing!" Beckett objected.
"Sure," he answered. "But they didn't tell us he was donating everything he took."
"What?" Beckett exclaimed as she stuttered to a halt. "Cole doesn't seem much like the Robin Hood type."
"But that's just it – back then, he was," Ryan continued the story and their walk to the coffee shop. "Cole's life is unexceptional until about six year ago. Remember that big accident during the ice storm in the winter back then, the multi-car pile-up on the Jersey Turnpike? Cole was right in the middle of it. Five people died; he was one of the 16 with injuries. That looks like it was the turning point for him. After that, he got involved. He volunteered, coached, and – when a local boy with leukemia needed financial assistance – he started his financial scamming that got him pinched. And, even then, he only stole from bad folks, the ones that got the NSA interested in the first place."
"What in the hell did the Feds do to him?" Beckett quietly wondered. "I can't even imagine the guy we had in Interrogation as a civic-minded volunteer. How did he end up a monster? I mean, come on! Are you telling me he went from coaching tee-ball to performing amateur autopsies on his homicide victims?!"
"Basketball, actually, not tee-ball."
"Oh. That explains it then," Beckett answered with an eye roll. "I guess the question is, how does this help us find him? Or Castle?"
"It doesn't," Ryan replied. "It just makes things worse." At Beckett's inquisitive look, he elaborated. "Think about it: the Feds did something to make Cole what he is. Remember what he told Castle in interrogation – he didn't recognize Castle's reference to Buchanan's theories on psychometry. But I bet Jeffers and Hansen recognized it. They've got the transcript, remember? And if they did that to Cole, what do you think they'll do to Castle for figuring it out?"
oo0oo
October 28
"Detective Beckett, in my office please."
Beckett cut a quick look at Captain Gates and nodded in acknowledgment. At his desk, Espo sent a quick, inquisitive look but Beckett only shrugged in reply. To be honest, she was happy with the distraction. She'd gotten no further in trying to track down her partner. Ryan's concerns from yesterday did not help, as they occupied her thoughts after prompting another panic attack the previous afternoon. At least there weren't many people in the precinct at that hour, and she was confident that no one recognized her distress as she made her way to a locked bathroom stall.
"Give her hell," Espo offered in a low tone as Beckett stood to make her way to Gates' office. With a short bark of a laugh, Beckett nodded in thanks for lifting her mood.
"Close the door, please," Gates greeted as Beckett entered. She then remained resolutely quiet while Beckett did so and made her way to the visitor's chair. Beckett was somewhat unnerved – unlike usual, Gates wasn't looking at the papers on her desk. She stared resolutely as Beckett moved into place, then continued to stare once Beckett was seated.
"Detective Beckett," Gates finally broke her silence, "do you know why they wanted me as Captain of the 12th?"
Danger! Danger! Beckett took a few moments to consider her reply, discarding her first several thoughts as impolitic in the extreme. "Because you're qualified. You're a role-model. You've got the experience and the savvy to manage."
Gates loosed an uncharacteristic smirk upon her subordinate's conclusion. "You're learning. That was a nice blend of flattery and caution. But it's not the right answer."
Beckett furrowed her brow, both at the Gates' statement and her unusual demeanor.
"I'm at the 12th because of my time in Internal Affairs. Even if we still don't know the full story," she said while leveling a fierce look at the detective, "we know Montgomery was involved in something he shouldn't have been. So, the brass at 1PP wanted someone from IA on the scene, both to poke around and to contribute to the perception of control in case anyone started questioning the Montgomery situation."
Though she was uncomfortable with the notion of Gates digging around into Montgomery's past, she nodded. It was a surprisingly rational justification for Gates' assignment, far more than she'd come to expect from the Commissioner's office or the NYPD bureaucracy in general.
"But that's not why I wanted the job," Gates continued. "There aren't many female captains. Sure, getting the nod is something I wanted for myself for a long time. But the bonus was getting the opportunity to groom another."
This time Beckett offered not a nod but a look of shock in reply to her boss' comment.
"Yes, there are people who've watched your career and have hopes for how high you could rise. I won't lie," Gates continued, confident that Beckett was highly attentive, "your shooting was a setback. Not a permanent one, but one that would've delayed the timeline. But, we can't wait any longer. I'm not going to be here as long as I'd hoped, so we need to start working hard on your professional development."
"Are you moving to another precinct? Or maybe to 1PP?" Beckett added, wondering if Gates, too, had caught the attention of the NYPD higher-ups.
"No," Gates replied, sounding somber. "I'm not sure how much longer I can expect to keep working. We need to take advantage of my time here while we can."
Gates' tone, her look, her posture – all of it screamed out to Beckett. The only conclusion wasn't a comfortable one.
"Is this…," she paused, wondering about overstepping professional boundaries with someone who'd just expressed an interest in helping her, "Is this about what Cole said?"
oo0oo
It was late in the day when Captain Gates finally took her leave from the precinct. The conversation with Beckett had proved utterly exhausting. First, she had to fend off Beckett's objections about believing Cole's comments regarding her health. These mirrored what she'd already heard and dismissed from her sister, except the conversation with Beckett was far more stilted and halting due to the captain/detective power dynamic.
Then, once they moved on to Beckett's professional development, the day became even more taxing. For a crack detective, Beckett was shockingly obtuse about political realities and the balancing act required to run a precinct. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the most shocking aspect of that training involved Mr. Castle. As much as Gates disliked having the writer foisted upon her, there was a certain karmic reckoning when Beckett realized that Castle's presence created an aegis shield for her team, earning the favor of her superiors by facilitating positive stories and news coverage for the NYPD. Apparently, Beckett had been laboring under the delusion that she was somehow doing the world a favor by putting up with the writer when doing so had demonstrable benefits for both her own career and the 12th as a whole.
That moment of sweet realization was drowned out by the rest of the afternoon's session. Still, as tiring as it proved to be, Gates was glad to have done it. Beckett might be woefully naïve now, but she's clearly intelligent and a quick learner. A few more intense sessions and some oversight in her remaining time… yes, Gates was confident she could have Beckett on the right trajectory before things became too bleak. She might not have the time to enjoy the position herself, Gates accepted fatalistically, but at least should could ensure that the seat would be well-filled after her departure.
With these admittedly dire thoughts as company, Gates didn't pay much attention to her drive home. She chastised herself, remembering that Cole was still on the loose, but that admonition didn't last beyond two red lights before she returned to her maudlin, meandering thoughts.
Her old habits kicked in as she pulled her car to a stop, letting the engine whir and click while she collected her belongings and wits. She exited the vehicle and moved with a purpose. Something seemed amiss, though. She thought momentarily about calling for backup before dismissing the thought, less than the potential embarrassment of a false alarm, she decided against providing a distraction. Besides, Cole had already told her that she didn't have long, so why would he bother to shorten her time even further?
Her hand flew to the service weapon on her hip as she saw a note taped to the handle of her door. From several steps away, she could read the large block letters that spelled out "Please don't shoot me!"
Wondering about the missive, she heard a cough off to the side. Spinning in place, she was surprised to see who stepped around the corner of her building, moving slowly with hands raised to avoid startling her.
"Mister Castle?"
"Hello, sir," Castle replied, leaving his hands in the air. "I was hoping we could talk. I need a favor."
oo0oo
A/N2: Hello again! I hope you're all doing well in lockdown. As for me, I'm going a little stir crazy cooped up inside while the weather's been very blah. My work hasn't slowed at all (and is ramping up), which doesn't always feel like the blessing I know it to be. On the plus side, there's 20 percent less of me than there was for my last posting - nothing like a quarantine to help enforce the diet.
As for the glacial pace of my updates, sorry about that. I'll finish this story, but as I mentioned at the top, it might be better to hold off on reading until I post the last bits. Probably just a couple chapters after this one.