"How do you catch a guy who is always one step ahead, somebody who puts another person between him and the crime?"
Rubbing her forehead in aggravation, Beckett leaned back against the couch, unable to turn her mind off the day's events, her tight shoulders pressed into the soft cushions and making them squeak.
Working on diligently tossing a wok full of stir-fry, Castle shook his head as he leaned against the kitchen island counter, one hand tightly wrapped around a half-empty glass of merlot.
"This isn't out first triangle.", he countered cryptically when he looked up, meeting her glance for a brief moment.
"What do you mean?"
With his lips pursed, he sighed, then turned down the burner before approaching the couch.
"Bracken. 3XK. Nick's Pizzaria oven incident. The list goes on and on. If the past eight years have taught us anything, it is to follow the trail of money. And power. We need to figure out who has the most to gain from what has happened. You don't just…I don't know…you don't just recruit a killer, send him out on the streets to start killing people for no reason. There has to be money. And vested interest. And hate…lots of it."
Despite the morose nature of their conversation, Beckett smiled when he sat down next to her, his hand instinctively reaching for hers.
"The boys said that Oseguiro did most of his business in cash and they're running into tracking issues. I looked through his previous prison records, but nothing stood out. Every prisoner has a reason to hate cops but not everybody will go out and start killing. Without a true connection between our victims, it's going to be impossible to-"
She didn't get to finish the sentence when Castle put a gentle finger on her lips, silencing her at once.
She raised her eyebrows in undisguised confusion, surprised when she saw the flicker of annoyance in his gaze, only to be replaced with by an intense glare that demanded her utmost attention.
"You're not at a press conference.", he reiterated calmly and retreated, "This isn't about what we don't know or why we don't know it. It's not about being put into the defense. This is about us working together as a team, using our vast backgrounds to find the missing pieces."
"That's what we have been doing. Just like we've always done."
"Is it?"
Letting those insightful blue eyes do the talking for a moment, Castle fell quiet, allowing her to think on an answer.
"You listened in when I talked to Espo."
"Of course, I did. So did Ryan. Come on, you two duking it out in there? Who wouldn't have, if given the chance?", he countered boastfully, pointing his thumb at the imaginary Irish detective.
"I asked you to give us privacy."
Her words seemed to slide right past him when his expression changed from the momentary lightheartedness back to somber certainty.
"He does have a point, you know."
"I know."
Sighing as she admitted the truth herself, Beckett leaned forward, letting her elbows rest on her knees, hands clasped as she pondered on the earlier conversation.
Next to her, Castle shifted uncomfortably, torn between wanting to say something and giving her time to think.
"So what do we do to fix this?", she finally asked and glanced over at him, expecting a monologue filled with life advice. Instead, Castle drew in a deep breath and looked down at his lap, sorting his thoughts.
"I think the best way is to start being…straightforward in our actions."
"And we haven't been?"
"Not really. Look at us. We hid our…our rekindled marriage from everyone around us. We still are keeping secrets about LokSat. Everything we say or do is shrouded by layers upon layers of concealment, half-truths, watching our every step."
Nodding wearily, she was about to speak up when he was faster.
"What if this whole…blockage that we find ourselves in is deeply rooted in all that…that secrecy. What if we have become so accustomed to deflecting and hiding the truth that it has destroyed the open-minded way of thinking that made us who we are? Let me ask you this…when was the last time you answered a question without having to think about it?"
As he continued on, she could sense the immense pressure and pain escaping his soul, the exhaustion and insecurity from the last few months that had taken a toll on a man who was accustomed to a lifestyle of creativity and flamboyant carelessness.
The same man she met eight years ago and thought of as a hopeless dreamer and optimist, who boldly walked into any situation and made himself at home in other people's business, solving countless murder cases by doing so; that same man had now become so quiet, his thoughts and feelings kept inside an impermeable layer of false lightheartedness, his warm eyes so full of doubt and fear - and she was the root cause for all of it.
With a shuddered breath, she shook her head, fighting the stubborn tears that threatened to well up.
"I…I don't know…", she finally said, scrambling, "And I am scared to death that it might be too late to fix this."
His warm hand appearing on the side of her face was both soothing and supportive and she leaned into the touch, relishing it for several long seconds.
"If there's one thing I learned in the many years of writing…it is that us modern day humans have a tendency to throw in the towel far too soon. In the thousands of years of evolution, we have removed ourselves from the primal concept of fighting until the very end. We've traded our spears and loin clothes for air-conditioned apartments and ferrraris, favoring financial success and material wealth…and in doing all these things, all these changes that have made us complacent, we somehow convinced ourselves that immeasurable odds mean we should consider surrender, that an uncertain outcome may not be worth the fight, that resistance is uncomfortable and we don't want to be uncomfortable. Where are our soldiers of Agincourt, all 5,000 bowmen who fought off a 30,000 strong French infantry army? Where are the 1999 St. Louis Rams with their 300-1 win in the Super Bowl? The…the Diego Maradonnas, who use their private and professional struggles and turn them into super powers, making him a soccer icon?"
Castle hesitated when his examples caused her to smile warmly, then nod. For a brief moment, he shamelessly studied her features again, in awe at the intelligence hidden beneath those brown eyes, the childlike curiosity and enthusiasm he was priviledged to witness over the years despite all the horrific events that had scarred her.
He wondered how many people would have quit long ago if faced with the same adversity.
"You see, all these immeasurable odds, all these certain outcomes who weren't certain after all are here to show us one thing; it is that we need to remember that those bad situations, the hopelessness and despair are the very things that fuel who we truly are. Hardship challenges us, our core values and our dedication to our beliefs. Who's to say that this…this situation here can't be fixed, that the damage can't be repaired? If you want for things to go back to what they used to be, you have the strength and determination to do just that. You can do it. Even if it's hard, and even…even if your attempt at redemption fails, I think you'd do yourself…and the team…a great disservice if you won't at least try."