Montauk, Long Island, NY
October 28th, 2011
Friday, 5:22 PM

Despite the chores-of-sorts he mentioned waiting elsewhere, Castle accompanied the others as they exited the mustang. Kate popped the trunk and joined them, rising stiffly from the driver's seat. Her body was an electric web of soreness, but she was still tingling with energy from the sense of progress achieved by finally being out of the precinct and on the move. For now, that momentum had hit another lull. Not a bad place for it to happen, she mused while gawking at the home.

Home indeed. The mansion was massive. A quick rough estimate of what was immediately apparent pinged in her brain at ten thousand square feet, at least. It sat on five or six acres of property, which were mostly populated by pine and coastal cedar. Jeez. It smelled like him for crying out loud: light and woodsy, cool and natural. That's not fair.

"Whoa," Ryan murmured as he stood before the sprawling structure.

"Yeah," Javier echoed to his right. "Not too shabby, bro."

"Huh?" The author peeped over the lifted trunk edge and grinned. "Oh, thanks."

"Someone else here?" Javier asked, assessing the time-worn exterior of a pale blue 1966 Dodge van. It was parked in the driveway nearer the doors of a detached, two-story garage. It appeared to Kate like it was in excellent shape for its age, oddly at-home in the vicinity of the vintage mustang.

"That's Genie's van—John's wife. Ugliest beast you've ever seen, right? I once tried to buy her a new one disguised as a Christmas bonus. She refused and gave me a stocking full of coal as a present that year. Coal!" he complained. "Um, anyway, she runs a cleaning and caretaking business. In fact, she's pretty much the final word on upkeep for seasonal residents."

Unbeknownst to their narrator, the woman had emerged from the front door and was making her way towards them as he spoke. She was a tall gal, a full six feet in a pair of old sneakers, long and lanky in a sleeveless yellow t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. Mousy brown hair was pulled back and pinned at a loose bun, overlaid with a white polka-dotted, pink handkerchief. The presumed Genie assessed the visitors one by one with aquamarine eyes, neither frowning nor smiling. Her features lit up when she heard the author exclaiming about his lamentable present. She beamed and waved to the detectives, then skulked around their group to approach the mustang from behind.

Beckett was just rounding the far side of the vehicle's muscular haunches as the woman leapt onto the author's back. Richard startled with a yelp.

"Wha'chu sayin' 'bout me?" Genie simpered and snatched his left ear in her teeth.

Castle flailed and dropped his suitcase with an overdramatized bellow of protest. Kate found herself grinning as the man shook himself like a bull trying to dislodge an unwelcome cowboy. The rider clung stubbornly and worked the fingers of her left hand into his ribs, tickling. It earned an immediate and unmanly squealing from her mount.

"I give!" he howled.

The brunette grinned, smooched his bearded cheek, and hugged the writer tightly around the chest. "Hey, Swals. Long time no see."

"Hey, sissy. Not long enough," the author bitched, but turned at the neck to reveal a matching grin. He pecked an answering, awkwardly placed kiss just below the interloper's right eye, which she didn't seem to mind at all. "We saw your better half at Waitefield's. What're you feeding that mammoth?"

"Pussy," Genie chirped, and Kate laughed along with the boys in surprise.

The woman finally let go and lowered onto the toes of her sneakers. With a parting smoothing of the author's left bicep, she faced Kate with a smile and stretched out an open hand. "Well, well. No need to ask your name. Welcome to Montauk, Detective Beckett." There was strength in the other's grasp that Kate immediately liked. It was firm without being overbearing and the well-callused grit implied a woman who wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty to get shit done. My kinda girl.

"Thanks," Beckett replied warily, "I think. Call me Kate, please. I didn't realize the groundwork had been laid out so capably ahead of me." She joined the woman in an assessment of their nearby host, who tinted slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. Both women grinned at his discomfort while facing one another again. "The other two you saw," she nodded across the back of the sports car to indicate the boys standing nearby, "are Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito."

"Welcome," the brunette said to the pair. "I recognize the realistic counterparts from Nikki Heat now. You guys should sue for royalties and demand more page time."

"Damn. This girl's alright," Javi said with a smile. "Nice to meet ya, Genie."

Kevin nodded eagerly in agreement, adding, "Thanks for getting things ready for us here on such short notice."

"Meh," Genie issued with a breezy wave of one palm. "This place is easy-peasy. I conned the owner into buying all'a the best toys. Plus, it's a labor of love. No Alexis?" she asked with a hopeful, searching glance around the immediate area.

Castle's amusement wavered for an instant. "Ah, not this time. She'll be along with me come spring vacation, I'm sure."

"Pfft. Dream on, Swals. At seventeen? She'll have better things to do than hang out with her Dad."

"I assumed she'd come along to see you."

Genie rolled her eyes at his feigned show of innocence and shook her head. "Good gravy, stop. You couldn't convince ice to be cold with that kinda guile." She paused and reassessed him with her amusement wavering. "Dang, dude. You're all jacked up. What do?"

Richard jerked a thumb at Javier. "My personal trainer will happily accept all credit."

The burly Boricua grinned and confirmed, "Not bad, right?" He swatted the author across the belly a couple times. "We're gonna trim it all up soon and get him nice and cut."

"Blech," Genie protested with a momentary loll of her tongue. "Don't make my bubba hot. He's insufferable enough as is."

"Too late," Ryan said. "Right, Beckett?"

Everyone looked at her. The female officer could have happily dove under the mustang to hide. She sniffed in a show of being unaffected and replied, "Maybe you guys should get your bags and lug 'em inside. Unless you wanna do it in a way that voids the warranty on them—and your asses."

Genie gave a musical hoot of amused appreciation that sang a fine counterpoint to a chorus of masculine notes. "She's right though. It's chilly-willy. My nips are gonna pop if we don't flee. Come on inside. I'll give you the grand tour if you'll help me lug in the rest of the groceries."

"Sold," Ryan announced and his partner nodded agreement.

"I'm going to leave you guys to it," Richard stated, looking at the housekeeper with a subdued smile. "I still have to swing by the marina and a few other places. I'm sorry to be abrupt. Can I make it up to you by inviting you and John to dinner this evening?"

"Ooh, goodies," Genie said with a few claps of her hands. Despite the evidence of crinkles here and there, the woman did not speak like someone tipping the early forties. It suited her though. Youthful vibrancy shone through her movements and mannerisms too. "I've already gathered the raw materials. I hope you're all dedicated omnivores," she added with a look around the group. "We're doing up some porterhouses, lobster stew, and shrimp scampi."

"Oof. I may never leave," Javier groaned approvingly.

Beckett remained at the author's side as Kevin and Javier followed along behind Genie. They were quickly out of sight behind the lifted trunk door and she faced her partner. "You don't need any help with your errands?"

Richard's fond smile shifted from the backs of their companions to her. "Huh? Oh, no, I'll be fine. I'm, uh, meeting with people. It's more task delegation than participation given our limited time-frame, but I prefer to do the asking in person. We're lucky. There are a lot of good souls out here who are happy to help on short notice."

"I'm starting to realize as much, yeah." She studied him for a silent beat and shifted her arms into a loose cross at her sternum. "I didn't realize Montauk was such a personally significant place for you. I thought it was just a…" She shrugged lamely.

"Just a place for a house the size of my ego?" he suggested with a grin and she nodded with a slight wince. "Hey," he rumbled softly with his amusement fading, "it's okay." She tingled pleasantly from what he surely meant to be a comforting rub of her shoulder and left bicep. "There's no way you could've known differently."

"That's just it though, isn't it? I could've," she continued more softly while tucking a strand of wayward hair behind her ear. "You invited me out here once before. I wish I'd known then what you were really offering me. Gina would've been in for a proper catfight if I had. The hair-pulling would've been epic."

Castle grinned momentarily, maybe as excited by the implications of her words as Kate felt while speaking them to him, but he sighed too with an expansive sink of his chest. "I probably should've explained as much. I, uh—" The novelist stopped, shook his head. "The personal history buried out here is too long a story to unfurl now. I'll tell you about it another day. In the meantime," he stepped in closer to swallow her waist in his hands, "we're here now." His thumbs stroked over the bones of her hips like a match head being dragged across a striking film of powdered glass. Whoosh. She kindled to life with receptive warmth as he repeated the motion again, and again. "Circumstances notwithstanding, I couldn't be happier about that fact."

"Prove it," she whispered with a brush of her nose against his.

His proud chin tipped down as she lifted onto her toes and their lips came together with almost frightening ease. The clasp they held to lingered for long moments, a gentle apology for bygone choices and miserable timing. All it took was an eventual little lean from him to have her pushing back in kind. One of his palms at her waist slid around, up the small of her back beneath the overcoat and blazer. If he had detoured straight down her slacks she would have folded open for him like a night-blooming flower, without a second's hesitation. Phew. Down girl, jeez. She opened up greedily at her mouth instead and speared through his lips for a languid stroke of her tongue along his. His swirled around the tip of hers in a sensual little dance that tasted like winterfresh gum. The sensation combined with the heady thought of precisely who was doing it to her made Kate forget what the heck she was engaged at for a second. And when she remembered the detective growled softly and dove in deeper. More. My god, more.

She wove into his kiss as if signing the warm cove of his mouth with cursive strokes of indelible graffiti: Katherine Houghton Beckett was here. Yay! When he suddenly came apart from her with a soft, wet smack, Kate blinked in bewilderment from the chilling lack of him. His looming, kill-me-now blue eyes roved her face while a little smirk tugged at one corner of his lips. It took her a moment to realize what game he was playing.

Kate huffed with a roll of her eyes and slapped his chest. "It's not gonna be that easy to finish me again, you arrogant dink. You can stop waiting for it."

The author's eyes crinkled around a quiet, resonant laugh. She pushed against his chest again when he leaned heavily back into her, but didn't exert herself to resist the satiny fall of his mouth against her left cheek, a nibbling strike of blunted teeth against her jawline, and—hmm—a tip over the ledge that skimmed his lips a short ways down her throat. A compulsive swallow from her was answered by a faint, enervating stroke of his tongue. She leaned in heavily with her hands gripping his shoulders.

"Hey," They heard called from farther across the driveway. "Leggo those bongos, Swals. You're messing up tour time!"

"You're definitely not messing it up," Beckett said breathily against his temple and felt the man quake around her with silent humor. He reluctantly withdrew nonetheless and she claimed a final smooch before stepping apart to help him withdraw the remaining suitcases from the trunk. She grabbed hers and Lanie's and tucked Tessa's under her right arm. It was a cumbersome but manageable load and she was privately pleased when he didn't try to help. 'Cause he looked at them like he'd been about to.

"Do pay close attention to the tour," Richard cautioned instead with a smoldering stare as he straightened and waved her towards the house. "Especially the way to the master suite. You never know when that information might prove useful."

"You say that like I wouldn't pound on every door in the house in the dead of night if I had to in order to find it," she replied with a grin. Ugh. It was painful to step further apart from the man and turn to follow after Genie and the boys. They were already on the porch and headed inside by then, each with an added paper bag worth of last-minute shopping. The van doors were closed, indicating they'd acquired what remained of the housekeeper's resupply.

Beckett turned at the yawning, double-door entrance to look back.

He was watching.

She smiled and winked before slipping inside and hip-checking the door closed. The singular growl of the mustang was audible moments later as it pulled away. Kate toed out of her heels with a hum of relief and followed the stream of voices through a sumptuous two-story main foyer, through a secondary east hallway, and into the open sprawl of a combined kitchen and dining area where the others were.

Genie made quick work of putting the groceries away. She shooed away their offers to help with assurances that it was faster as a solo effort, but did pause long enough to show Kate where the items and ingredients were so the detective could brew everyone a mug of tea. It helped banish the chill, those arising externally and from within, as the group gabbed throughout it all, getting a little better acquainted with the woman.

The tour the housekeeper provided soon afterward was both informative and mercifully brief. It became swiftly apparent that the woman knew Castle well, enviably so, and while she didn't gleefully spill stories about their youth together, the woman made enough allusions to imply those stories existed in abundance and she remembered them fondly. Their host would've been pleased with the way their guide spoke of his beach house more in terms of its history and the care of its construction as opposed to drawing attention to its array of collected artwork, antique furniture, and general grandeur. The place was quite different from his city loft. It seemed to her the beach house was given more love and extravagance somehow, as if the outwardly allotted roles of home and vacation abode were in fact the precise opposite.

Even amidst the last vestiges of twilight the house clung to an abundance of natural light. Invitingly large windows ushered it in at every turn. Predominantly white walls and ceilings and pallid maple flooring capably reflected its by then meager glow. The eventual shift to the warm, yellowish glow of soft-watt radiance was provided by what felt like very purposefully placed light sources. It was a soothing, restful home, gentle on the eyes except where visibility might be more necessary like the kitchen, dining room, and baths. But it was a romantic abode too, running rampant with fanciful flourishes by custom carved moldings and cornices. A few gorgeously set arches stood in places of doorways with hand-carved friezes that curved around all the way to the floor. The limited quantity of rooms allowed each to spread out comfortably.

Kate enjoyed the comparatively snug confines of her city-dwelling condo. It didn't feel limited to her. But the beach house had plainly been built to encourage its residents to breathe deeper, easier. It bore many qualities, but what it blatantly eschewed at every opportunity was any sense of constriction.

All five of the guest bedrooms were located upstairs. They were pretty much the only thing up there excluding the central, forward cutout of the two-story main foyer and a sprawling second-floor parlor—is that what it's called?—which included a full bar, two ten-foot billiards tables, and scattered arrangements of leather chairs and sofas.

Their group splintered off one by one as Genie showed them the available guest bedrooms. They deposited the girls' suitcases in the first two rooms on the right. Kevin stayed behind in the third, southernmost room on the left, then Javier, and Kate took the next in line which was closest to the stairs, because she wasn't choosy. Maybe so I won't have to sneak past their doors later too like a thief in the night. Each of the bedrooms laid claim to a distinct two or three strong palette of colors which carried thematically across the walls, rugs, and assorted furniture. Like so much of the home, they favored rich, earthy tones with the occasional romantic blush of rose, cerulean, and eye-catching lavender. All of the bedrooms had their own en suite bath and each of those bore the full compliment of amenities, including bidets, which were amusingly puzzling to the boys at first glance.

After setting down her suitcase on the queen-sized bed, the female officer looked over the guestroom with a puzzled smile and shook her head. "I dunno what to make of this place."

Genie had started to leave, but she paused and turned in the doorway with a small, curious smile. "What do you mean?"

"It's hard to describe. It's all very roomy. It's beautiful, don't get me wrong. Still, it feels a little off somehow. When I associate it with Castle I mean." Her guide had acquired a finite furrowing in her brow and a slight downward turn at the corners of her mouth. "Does that sound presumptuous?" she asked with a rueful breath of a laugh. "I guess it is. Two and a half years together, but I barely know the man in the grand scheme of things."

Genie's expression shifted easily into a creased, kind smile as she shook her head and entered to rest her butt against the edge of the bed next to Kate. The fixture was too tall to sit upon comfortably. "It doesn't," the housekeeper said. "I mean, maybe it is a little if that's true, but you've either learned enough to know better or you have great instincts where Swals is concerned. He's a nester," Genie confirmed with a grin, "one-hundred-percent. That kinda trait doesn't mesh perfectly with this place, it's true, but buying real estate out here can be a long waiting game. Even when you win it probably means you settled in some fashion. In his case, there's a bit more to it. When we were kids, you see, he had this insane idea that we were all going to live together in the same house when we grew up." The woman laughed softly. "He knew that wasn't how families and households worked, but that's what he thought anyway. For years he clung to that idea."

She paused with a look at the room surrounding them and smiled sadly. "I thought he'd finally given up on it when we were teenagers, but when he bought this place, I knew there must be some small part of him that still wanted the old dream to come true." To the detective's unsettlement, the older woman's pale green eyes filmed with wetness. "Ah," she gusted while dabbing at her nose. "He gets to me, sorry. Gah. I never cry. Unless John or bubba make me."

"Don't be sorry. Wh-what do you mean though? He 'gets to you'?"

Genie shook her head once. "Sorry, but explaining that would mean unraveling a long story that's not mine to tell. Part of it is, and I'll definitely fulfill that role when you two are ready, but it's up to him to set that into motion. I wouldn't take that responsibility away from him for anything or anyone, even though I kinda wish I could."

A trickle of ice water spilled through her veins. "Jeez. You're scaring me now."

Genie rubbed at her face and stood. "You must've guessed by now that he's seen things—experienced things. Stuff most people haven't."

"He's cagey about the past, that's for sure."

"With good reason. But that's not why you're all here now, is it?" The other's expression hardened briefly after Kate nodded. "I thought maybe it was given that Alexis wasn't with you, but…no. He wouldn't bring a group. I have been expecting you though—for a while now."

Beckett flinched. "W-we've had a rough road getting this far."

"Oh, darling, I know the feeling. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. That's what I tell myself anyway. Some days I'm receptive to my own bullshit."

Kate rocked briefly with humor but sighed too. "Would it be wrong to ask about his past now, do you think? Should I wait until he brings it up?"

"It's Richard. You'll never go wrong by asking. He loves the attention." Genie smiled as the officer grinned in agreement. "Seriously, though, he won't initiate. Not about…that. Though if he ever does, good gravy, you'll know he's serious about you." The detective nearly squirmed with the urge to fall onto her back on the bed and flail her arms and legs like an overstimulated turtle, because he already had offered less than half an hour ago. "Maybe wait until you guys have concluded whatever brought you here. It's not an easy story to tell, not for any of us. You wanna be ready for it too, Kate." She moistened her lips and nodded once in self-agreement. "It's bad. It…it's probably worse than whatever you might be thinking. It'll change the way you look at him forever after you know. I can promise you that."

Oh shit. What in the world happened? Was it really that bad? Genie didn't look like a woman who was easily shaken. And she did look shaken.

"I'll wait. For a little while."

The other smiled in reply. "I've still got a few things to do downstairs before I start on dinner. It'll probably be a few hours before it's ready. Why don't you get some rest? No offense, truly, but you look like you could use it."

"No, jeez. I don't wanna—I mean. Especially now, I don't wanna—"

"Swals has a few miles of ground to cover before he'll be back," Genie interrupted mildly. "And when he gets here, he'll have me to keep him occupied," she added with a grin. "Consider it a favor to me: you're lending me time to catch up with my bubba. It's been a while. I'd relish the opportunity."

Beckett sighed. "It's pretty good bullshit. You would buy your own brand now and then."

Genie laughed. "Compromise then. I'll wake you up in a few hours."

"Okay," Kate relented and immediately yawned, which in turn made her grumble in embarrassment and provoked another titter from her guide. "Thanks, Genie. One thing though?" She waited for the other to give a nod of consent. "Why do you call him 'Swals'?" The query drove the humor from her companion's expression so quickly and completely that Kate sat up straighter with anxiousness. "Damn. That's a detail related to a bad part of his past too?"

The housekeeper rubbed at her cheek and nodded. "Almost everything about the three of us feels like it circles back around to relate to what happened out here. But I can give you this one if you'll accept a criminally abbreviated explanation." The detective hesitated, nodded. Genie slanted her skinny frame into a lean against the door jamb. "John's family traces its roots back to the Shawketwa tribe. You haven't heard of it, huh? Yeah, you wouldn't. They're long gone now. John's barely a quarter-blooded himself, though you wouldn't guess as much by appearances. Um. We used to spend a lot of time on the reservation. There were, uh, four of us back then."

"Four—" Beckett stopped and twinged, hard. "Oh fuck."

"Let's…leave that there for now, okay? It's relevant, though, so it had to be said. Anyway," the older brunette continued with a shaky breath inward, "we'd do that almost every other weekend over the summer, sometimes more. The tribe was so awesome, Kate. They could be stern people sometimes, but they never made three little white kids feel unwelcome. It was just the opposite." Genie paused for another, briefer rallying of her emotions. "I think we were six the first time we visited after, uh—th-the first time we visited when it was just the three of us. John's grandmother, Mulaeha, put together a kind of memorial service for us. Even as young and uncomprehending as we all were, I think we all needed that, badly. None of us more than Richard, and you can take my word for it: that's seriously saying something."

The speaker paused for half a minute, staring blankly, no doubt viewing an inward reel of memories. Kate waited without interruption, unwilling to push the woman but also unsettled and hesitant about what horror the narrative might contain when it resumed.

"The Shawketwa had a rite of passage into manhood for boys—girls had something similar, but it was a little less official. Go figure, huh?"

Kate offered only a weak smile.

"Boys who attended the rite were given a deed-name upon its completion. Runs-in-the-River-Grass, Leaps-like-A-Cat, stuff like that. Swals never participated. It was only for tribal members and it didn't normally take place until a boy's sixteenth birthday. John's grandmother gave Richard an unofficial deed-name anyway. It stuck too. It really stuck. I think she did it because she understood what John and I didn't—what we couldn't: that whatever boy Richard once been was fucking erased by what happened to him. Like that," Genie bit with a sharp snap of her fingers. It made Kate flinch. The other woman's anger faded to weariness.

"Swals is my own goofy acronym. On one hand, part of me hates reminding him of that day, but on the other hand I'm proud of it. N-not so much of him, though that's also very true. It makes me proud to know how completely he adored the one we were mourning too though. I know he'll never forget them and in my own way I guess I'm trying to make sure of that. God. That's pretty fucked up when I hear myself saying it out loud. I hope by now it's a title he thinks about with more fondness than grief. I've tried to make it be. But I don't know for sure and I know I'll never have the courage to ask. The full version is, um," she stopped for a few seconds, wiped at her glimmering aquamarine eyes and took a deep breath. "It's short for Stands-With-A-Long-Shadow. Because we lit the memorial fire at dawn, you see, and he didn't move a muscle from its side until there was nothing left but hotly glowing embers late that night."

Beckett had no clear memory of the other woman leaving the bedroom. She had a vague recollection of lying down sometime afterward, feeling completely hollowed out. She didn't recall crying herself to sleep on the author's behalf, but she woke up in a stiffened curl centrally upon the bedspread a few hours later with streaks of mascara alluding to that fact. In the bleary aftermath, the details which shone most clearly in her mind were: a victim at five years old, a group of four friends reduced to three, and a dawn to dusk vigil that would've challenged any adult. She knew the missing fourth member wasn't someone he lost in an accident. Castle didn't write about accidents.

It's probably worse than whatever you might be thinking. It'll change the way you look at him forever after you know. I can promise you that.

My god, she thought. How much worse could it be than a murdered friend? Unless… Did he witness it?

Beckett was struck by a sudden memory of something Tessa had said a few nights ago at Lanie's place. After the neurosurgeon had given Castle his own basic check-up in the living room, she'd expressed concern that Richard's psychological fright from Kate's seizure at Beth Israel had almost been powerful enough to induce a physiological state of shock in the man. That's not normal, the neurosurgeon had said. Kate hadn't really understood what was being pointed out at the time.

She was certainly beginning to.

How am I supposed to take you to that island with me now? How do we make that happen without you? He would lend them his boat, surely. They had John to guide them and to make the visit official, insomuch as that thinly sliced legality could ever be. Get real, Katie. Rick will never go for it. He hadn't left her side when bullets had started flying during their cases, or when two separate serial killers had fixated on them, or when they'd been standing in front of an honest-to-god nuke while it had been counting down its last. He'll never let me go. Not like that. From what little she could discern, there was no getting around that certainty and maybe there never had been.

Beckett lowered her forehead into her palms and sighed, long and quiet. What do I do, Mom?

She heard Lanie's voice come to life in the upstairs hallway. It was still tinged by what sounded like fading notes of laughter, some token of amusement that had accompanied her up from the gathering below. "Katherine Beckett! Get that narrow ass up and at 'em, girl. This is yo' wake-up call." Seconds later, the medical examiner gave a rousing staccato of knocks on the door.

The detective took a moment to ease the roughness of emotion from her throat and claim a couple private breaths. And when she felt duly prepared, called out, "I'm up, I'm up, you noisy bitch." The woman outside her door giggled. "Lemme shower, sweetie. I'll be down soon."

"Atta girl," Lanie replied approvingly, and mercifully left.

9:34 PM

Beckett took a fortifying breath at the bottom of the stairs in the main foyer twenty minutes later. That wasn't enough. I've barely dipped my toe into whatever blackness haunts the man and it's already too much. It's just that he was so…so fucking good. So loving. Giving. This was the guy who'd followed her into hell she couldn't recall how many times, and despite that he remained the same man who maintained a mansion he didn't need in Montauk just in case everyone he loved wised up one day and consented to move in under the literal manifestation of his desire to shelter and protect them. Jeez. It was too much. He was too much.

You better find the room for him, Katie. There's no turning back now.

The rebellious teen buried somewhere inside of her wrinkled her nose at the thought, but even that part of her quivered excitedly as Beckett came through the east hallway to find the kitchen brightly lit, awash in a myriad of tempting aromas, and alive with friends old and new, including their copper-haired host.

"Hey, there she is," Kevin said as she shuffled in. "Welcome to the party, sleepyhead."

Kate squinted dourfully aside at him, which elicited a few snorts and giggles from the others. She kept on trudging to Richard's side where he stood at the centrally fixed island. With a press onto her toes she smooched his bearded cheek. He beamed aside at her.

"Damn," Lanie commented. "No hesitation or nothin'. Am I dreaming?"

"More like a nightmare. It's like running into her before her morning cup of coffee," Tessa said. The blonde set her jaw into a neanderthalic jut and grunted, "U no talk at me. Ball of bigg'um fire much too low. Gib, gib magic pep juice and smoochie-smoochie first."

The kitchen exploded into laughter.

"You are all sooo friggin' hilarious," Beckett droned and yawned behind a nestled palm. She dropped onto a stool neighboring Rick and plopped her head into the fold of her arms upon the already crowded countertop. He stroked her back a few times, long and slow with just enough roughness carved in by his nails. M'yes please. All'a that.

Thankfully, the others had been engaged in animated conversations before she had entered and fell back into them easily enough. The group was in fine spirits. No one was discussing the mission that lay ahead of them. Most everyone had changed into more relaxed attire. She had done the same, moreso from a lack of options. Castle had packed her a pair of casual khaki slacks, a scoop-necked camisole top, and a roll-neck white sweater. And since he'd had the gall to not pack a bra with the outfit, she had damn well been bold enough to wear it that way. He knows they hurt a little. That's what I get for telling him as much. Her partner was still in his black slacks and azure dress shirt, but the sleeves of the latter were rolled back a few times around the meaty girth of vascular forearms, which subtly flexed and rolled as he used a pair of tongs to turn and fluff around a metal bowl stuffed with salad. He was mixing in Thousand Island dressing, which the others must've been okay with. She was too.

Her belly gave a dreadful rumble when she sat up straighter.

Only Castle's attention was attracted by that low sound amidst the lively din. He might not have normally noticed either if he hadn't been making a point of observing her. Kate knew why. The sandman had been a grim harbinger of late. He would be wary. She felt great, actually. Two measly hours had bestowed a disproportionate restorative effect on her. The only dreams that had troubled her rest had been deliciously untroubling beyond her waking up lethargically aroused. Unknowing of such, but clearly amused and feeling playful nonetheless, Rick bent to rumble at her right ear, "Brought your appetite, hmm? That's my girl." A belatedly returned touch of his lips pressed against the curve of her ear before he corrected his stance. She could feel his breath skim her collar bones, chest, and the upper curves of her breasts. Mmph.

The man was correct in more ways than one.

C'mon, c'mon. Oof. Let's eat and disband. I've got a seven-month dry spell and three long years of sexual tension to start carving my way through.

Something of her frustration must have been apparent, because the author's lips tightened into a plump line of concern and he bent close again. "Dinner's almost ready, but I can get you something to nibble on if you're not inclined to wait. What would you like?"

Sheesh. You're gonna remind me that I'm horny and then act all sweet? Frig that. She turned into him with a lift of one hand at his far cheek and murmured in his left ear, "I'd like your cock inside me. And I'm not feeling terribly choosy about where," she added breathily. When the detective eased back, his blue eyes were shot wide and his mouth hung slightly open. That's better. Sorry, babe, but misery loves company. She kissed his cheek for good measure and allowed herself a sleepy little giggle.

"Swals, can you hand me a strainer?"

Castle jolted upright against the counter. "Now?" he squeaked.

"Sooner would be better," Genie replied dryly.

"Now's a, uh, bad time, sissy."

Kate chortled and slid off of her stool onto her feet. "I gotcha, Genie. Men are useless."

"Hey!" the boys protested in unison from across the central island a ways.

She flapped a wave of dismissal at them, snagged the handle of a white, plastic strainer from the island's surface, and joined the housekeeper at the stove. The older woman accepted it with a distracted smile, but looked back at her again for a more intense assessment almost immediately. "Hey. You okay?"

Beckett dithered for a moment and at length gave a slow, candid nod. "I will be. It's, uh, startling, you know? I know he has secrets, and I knew some of them might be rough. I didn't realize how much I would wish I could reach back in time and, I dunno, give him something better, you know? That'd change too much, though, wouldn't it? He'd be different." It sounded silly when she put it into words. The emotions behind them felt limitless in their ache and authenticity by comparison.

"We all would be," Genie agreed with a melancholy smile. "It's a nice wish anyway." She turned, laid the strainer in the sink, and poured in a pot of fettucine pasta.

Kate grabbed a wooden spoon and, while the other held the strainer aloft somewhat, stirred at the noodles to let the bulk of water seep out. "I didn't get the chance to thank you earlier, by the way. For telling me as much as you could." She met the other's eyes. "Thanks."

"I understand what you mean, but I don't want gratitude for something like that. I'd take our mutual history silently to the grave if I could." She puffed a wayward length of brown hair away from her face. "Some people need to know things like that. You seem like one of 'em."

"For better or worse," Beckett confirmed. "Anyway, I'm trying not to let myself drown in it. Especially now. He looks happy. This must be about as close to the dream as he gets, huh?"

Genie grinned with a backwards glance at the author. "Yeah, I suppose it is. Of course, he's doing better now," she stressed with a devilish twinkle of mirth. "The poor mope was all impatient frowny faces and sullen silence up until a few minutes ago. Isn't that interesting?"

"Ugh. You're as bad as those two," the detective said with a tilt of her head towards Lanie and Tessa.

"I'll take that compliment. They're fantastic." The other lowered her voice a notch. "The younger one does seem a little off somehow though. Is that accurate or am I being territorial?"

"Let's just say I'm eager to conclude the business that brought us here and get Tess back to the city. I don't wanna know how long it'd take her to flatten a cozy little hamlet like this."

Genie arched her eyebrows but laughed too. "Whoa. Well, you guys make for a welcome change of scenery around here at the very least. It's nice to see John meet new people. As an officer of the law, his relationships with people around here suffer sometimes. Well, look who I'm talking to. You must experience a similar dynamic even in the big city."

"To a lesser degree, thankfully, but I know what you mean, yeah." She paused to observe the giant in the room. The Deputy Lieutenant stood almost a full head and shoulders over everyone else in the room except for Rick. She couldn't help a soft laugh.

"He's fucking massive, right?" Genie commented knowingly. "I can't take him anywhere." The detective's soft laugh pitched into a more robust and melodic one. Her current companion giggled too. She shook her head while transferring the pasta to a large white bowl. "He and Swals are like peas in a pod, I swear. Biggest softies you'll ever meet in spite of their sizes. Isn't that right, bubba?" she concluded with added volume.

Richard looked up and turned their way, narrowed his blue eyes suspiciously. "No."

"Oh? My mistake then. I was just telling Kate what a good guy you are. But you're right. It's better to hit her with both barrels of cold, hard truth from the get-go."

"So he didn't rescue that puppy?" Kate played along with a show of disappointment.

"He ate it. It was like an Ozzy Osbourne concert on meth."

"I'm not falling for that," Castle sing-songed as he turned away.

"Yeah, you are," Genie sang under her breath as she cut a couple slim wedges of butter and nestled them into the bowl of fresh pasta.

Kate's shoulders rocked with a silent note of laughter. "Gimme that and I'll set it on the table."

"Ah, great. Thanks. Javier, can you get the steaks? That's the final touch, I think."

"With pleasure," the male detective gushed and stepped apart from John and Ryan. He passed by the table as Beckett was dropping off the pasta. "Grab that silver platter, sleepyhead. Could use some back-up."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered while gazing over the spread already laid out. It looked like a Thanksgiving feast rather than a Halloween meal. The lobster stew smelled divine in its white ceramic pot. Oof. The array of appetizers, including the shrimp scampi, were scattered around the table's interior. Plates and silverware were already placed and waiting. Dimly, the sight elicited a faint quivering of sadness and a twinging desire to flee. It was the kind of spread Johanna Beckett might have provided around the holidays.

"Kate?"

"Yah, got it." She plucked up the shallow, oval-shaped meat platter and turned. The darned thing had some heft to it. It's probably pure silver. Look at where we are.

Javier slid open the dining room's sliding glass doorway with a chilling intrusion of the breath of a moonless night. The portal exited onto a broadened deck portion of the greater wrap-around porch. It boasted a few potted plants, deck chairs, and tables. It hosted two different large grills, one of which was still dormant and blanketed by a nylon cover. Its neighboring, cousin appliance was emitting streams of fragrant smoke. The scent of the cooking meat hit her nostrils and made her stomach growl again, so hard that Kate paused and winced slightly from the pang-inducing emptiness in her stomach. Javi opened the lid and a thicker column of pale smoke slithered outward across the gentle incline of a dormant half-acre lawn. It dispersed well before it could reach the shore of the private beach that presided further below. Even from a distance the soft-spun and timeless rolling of the surf made her eyes droop with pleasant appreciation.

"So," her companion emitted while he gingerly started opening up several tin-foil wrapped bundles laid out across the grills, "are we gonna talk about it or no?"

Ugh. Beckett shivered faintly, as much from a wave of self-directed revulsion as she did from the cold. His fantasy at the precinct almost didn't feel real by then. It never had been, of course, but even within the confines of her mind it was hazy and oddly disconnected. The emotional dysphoria, unfortunately, did not render the imagined events any less crystal clear. She sure as shit didn't want to discuss it, but Kate tempered that feeling. He clearly needed to. "What's there to say? I told you I'm not mad."

"Of course you are," her peer replied easily. He stood comfortably, and she frowned while reassessing him as a whole. No obvious signs of embarrassment. No fear. No regret, she thought and felt a strand of icy expectation weave itself around her belly and heart. His dark eyes met hers as he smirked. "You are, and that's alright. It tracks."

Part of her scrambled frantically to wrap its grasps around the idea that she was reading him incorrectly. "Uh. Good. Thanks, I guess."

"But part of you liked it too. That's the part I wanna talk about."

Holy fucking hell, Beckett thought and literally swayed a moment on her bare feet. No way this is happening. She risked a glance up at Javier and found his dark eyes still in place on her—no. Roving her. They sank into the flirtatious neckline of her cami for a decadent moment before they flicked back up to her gaze.

"Are you kidding me right now?" she heard herself whisper.

"Does it look like I'm joking?" He grabbed one of the awaiting steaks in its tinfoil nest and drew the platter she held closer, and her along with it. For a moment, his fingers touched hers and she nearly dropped the thing. "I know," he spoke into her complete discombobulation. "The timing of this conversation isn't the best."

"The best?" she hissed, shifting her hand sharply out from under his touch. "You're standing less than fifty feet from your host, Javi—the guy I'm in love with and who fucking loves me back. Yeah, I said it. Love. Holy shit. And let's not forget about the other woman you're fucking, who in case you've forgotten is my best friend!"

"Shh," he admonished. "Damn, Beckett."

"Holy shit," she muttered again, blinking sightlessly at the distant yard.

It felt like a bad dream. He was so casual where he stood. While she clutched the platter she held like it was her last remaining tether to a sane and ordered world, he went on using the tongs to transfer the steaks from the grill to the plate like it was nothing.

Oh shit. Rick was right. You do have it, don't you? You've never been this confident around me—never this presumptive.

Javi looked sideways at her and grinned.

Oh god!

"Breathe, Kate." She flinched to hear him use her first name. It did not tingle inside of her like it did when Rick used it. Her partner whispered it like it was some kind of talisman in times of strife or, better yet, a forbidden and erotic keyword that might unlock a doorway in both of them to some sinful hideaway. Javier said it like he was wrapping a collar around her neck, as if it was some kind of vehicle towards putrid ownership. "You know you're safe, right? With me?"

Thoughts scattered, that was the first and only thing he'd said that she could agree with, and yet even as she issued a soft, "I—I know that. I do," she could feel herself questioning it. No, she wasn't. In fact, she was in no less peril right now than she would be in the middle of a shootout.

"You're safe," he denied. "I'd never hurt you."

"The fuck you wouldn't," she rasped.

Javier glared back at her and—oh god—the sonofabitch chuckled. "I mean, I wouldn't in ways that you weren't receptive to." He turned on her and before she could withdraw and grabbed around her right forearm. It wasn't hard. He wasn't hurting her. Not physically. "I know you care about him. I care about Lanie too, okay? I'm no more eager than you are to ruin the things we both have." His thumb rubbed at her skin. "But I can't fucking help wanting you too. I tried to keep that under wraps. I did for a long time, didn't I? You're the one who came looking for it."

"What?! I did not—"

"Didn't you?" he grit angrily. "Why did you look inside of me then? What'd you expect to find if not exactly what you did?"

"I didn't fucking look, Javi. It just happens—" she stopped dead in her tracks and a whole new level of ice wrapped itself around the length of her spine. Oh no. You...You can control it, can't you?

"It's a gift," he whispered with a feverish emphaticism blazing in his dark eyes. They gleamed in the wash of deck lighting like the lambent slits of a jack o' lantern, as if… As if hellfire burned behind them. Holy shit. Is Castle right about that too? Is there a fucking demon in you?

She didn't even think about him being privy to her thoughts.

For a moment, Javier's eyes went wide as if in fear. He let go of her forearm without seeming aware of the act. But they quickly shrank back to normal and then even into narrowed slits of anger as he shook his head. "Bullshit. This isn't evil, Beckett. It's a gift! Can you even imagine what we could do with it? Every case from now on: solved. Shit, we might finally have a chance at actually preventing crimes with this kind of power. You and me? A-and our team?" he hastened to addendum, which made her skin crawl for how blatant it was as an afterthought. "We could be a force for real, lasting good in the city. But, damn it, that's not what I wanna talk about right now, and you know it."

Okay. Okay, stop. Get your shit together, Katie. Think.

"Javi," Beckett began, trying to gentle her tone. To be calm.

"Don't tell me you don't want it too." He tapped his right temple and rediscovered his cocky smile.

"I don't," she snapped. "What the fuck do you think you're seeing up here?" she demanded with a sharp jab of two fingers towards her temple. "Me? That's not me. Fuck you for even wanting that broken, battered version of who I am," Kate snarled as she strode forward a pace, driving him back one. "You know what I'd do if I could physically materialize that side of myself the way you wish you could? I'd bend her over this railing too. And then I'd slit her fucking throat. I hate that part of me," she raged heedlessly, "and if that's the part you want then you can both go to hell. The three of you can!"

Silence. Esposito stared back at her for a long time without saying a word.

She knew he was groping around in her head, probing for a worthy retort, carving away at her tangled thoughts and emotions in the hunt for her fatal weakness. And he found it. He sighed and murmured, "I'm sorry." She knew he wasn't. "I'm sorry that you've let yourself get so twisted up inside, Kate—that you've let other people convince you that it's evil or immoral to want things. For fuck's sake, we all want things, hermana. They aren't always pretty, no, but that doesn't make us monsters for desiring them. I feel like allowing ourselves to acknowledge those darker impulses is us being honest with ourselves. We're just being realistic about who and what we are. I'm not trying to ruin things for you and Rick. You know I'm not looking for the same things he wants from you. Pursue that if you wanna." He winced and shook his head. "I mean, obviously you can, and should. Sorry. That came out wrong. The truth is, I'd love to see you be happy, Kate. But I know damn well we both have urges that Lanie and Castle can't address—that you and I can. Even that might not be true, realistically, but at least we have a shot at it. What's the alternative? Living only half of a life? Lying to ourselves?"

He grasped her forearm again, more gently than before. Heaven help her, the female detective didn't even think about trying to pull away from him. "In a way, I guess you and I do have demons inside of us, but they aren't gonna vanish with some holy rite or whatever we might find on that island tomorrow. We have to live with them, Kate. Forever. That's what I'm asking you to do. Help me live with mine. Let me help you live with yours."

Javier leaned in towards her and, for a moment, she couldn't move—couldn't speak.

He'd nailed it. If she could've cut herself open from stem to stern and let all of that ugliness inside spill out onto the deck, that would be precisely the argument her decrepit inner Other would plead her case with. The only thing more devastating than hearing it come from Javier's lips was the knowledge that no matter how determined she might become with time, part of her would always be that way; twisted up, blackened, raw with wounds of unanswered loss and a searing sense of self-loathing.

She stopped him with three fingers at his chest and with no more than an inch between her lips and his. Strangely, the anger and the outrage was very quiet in her heart and belly as she pressed him backwards. Pity, she realized. A soft but encompassing ache of pity was the emotion she felt gripping around her heart. "I made my choice, Javi. I'm satisfied with it. And I'm gonna grow into being so much more than merely satisfied with his help. You should've asked me years ago. I would've fallen without a care in the world alongside you. I won't now. I can, and I won't. Part of me does want to, but I still won't," she concluded, striking each word clearly and firmly. "Ever. I'm no victim to the darker thoughts in my head. Not anymore. I don't deny their existence. I'm not lying to myself. Being who I wanna be in spite of those feelings is part of what makes me feel alive. Alive and worthy of more." She started to turn, but paused with a backwards glance. "I hope you find that too someday."

She left. He didn't try to stop her again.

A/N: By this point, it's probably clear to some of you guys that certain elements from Secret are gonna carry over into this tale. For those who haven't read that story, don't fret. The pieces I wanna put here are mostly added flavoring for those who have read it. Genie is a prime example of that. I didn't get to use that character in my other tale, which was kind of a bummer. Those elements from Secret that do appear and that need their relevance explained (or maybe modified somewhat to fit into Demons better) will be handled more succinctly within this narrative. We're not gonna risk the repetition of diving into that aspect of Rick's backstory too deeply.

Thank you once again, 'cause I can never say it enough, to those of you who continue to offer your thoughts and/or words of encouragement. This monster of a chapter came together significantly more quickly than normal. I blame you. Next chapter will belong purely to Castle and Beckett. ;D Then we dive off the deep end with Lionheart.