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: Couldn't manage to stop myself from forging ahead with the story. So, a quick couple chapters a little ahead of schedule. Not sure when I'll post next, hopefully soon.
Not anymore? What in the hell does that mean?
"Beckett?" LT asks, finally making her realize that the elevator reached the Homicide floor and she'd just stood there, rooted to the spot and trying to figure out Castle's text. "You getting' out?"
"Yeah," she answers, casually slipping her phone into her pocket and trying to mask her upset. She's even further behind now. She really needed last night to wrap her head around all of the changes in her life and what she's going to do about them. It's not like she can count on having time here at the precinct to work things out, not under the fierce new regime.
That dour thought leads her toward her desk. The boys are in place already, also looking less than enthused about their jobs. Maybe she was a little rough on Castle for those times in the past where he pined for a new case. Given the mood around here, she'd kill for a good homicide.
Ryan's having a seizure or something, head twitching to the side. As she draws nearer, she can see he's tapping on his watch, too. Ah, the boys were concerned about her arrival. The new boss must've – yes, there she is, standing in the door to her office to make sure Beckett was here on time. Casting Gates a small smile, Beckett boots up her laptop. Her need for hot caffeine is nearly overwhelming, but she instead pulls up some paperwork, knowing Gates is watching her closely.
The paperwork's going nowhere, though. Her mind wanders back to Castle, back to his message. Not anymore is frustratingly vague, leaving the door open to many possibilities, several of them dire. The enormity of what's going on is finally starting to sink in, finally starting to leak through the cracks in Beckett's defenses. Castle was tortured. There's no other word that describes what happened to him. And not only was it because of her, but she set the stage perfectly for them, created a situation where Castle was left without help and without hope of rescue.
His insight into her has scared her in the past – still scares her – but she knows Castle, too. She can see past the jovial exterior that distracts most people. She's seen him with his family and she's seen him during stressful cases. Even still, she didn't realize how strong he must be. To have survived his torture and abandonment is astounding. As horrid as this sounds, maybe it's good that the people who took him threatened Alexis. Maybe that provided the spark he needed to survive, to take the steps he has since then. She'd like to think that the threats against herself would've rallied him the same way, but it's hard to imagine after her disappearing act.
She misses him, she admits to herself as she lowers her head and closes her eyes. She misses him terribly. On the long drive back from the cabin, she wondered and worried about how to reconnect with her partner, how to move forward after yet another dismal summer apart. But she was confident they'd find a way. Now, it seems unimaginable. Still, even thinking about him provides a small measure of solace. She can almost picture him, sitting next to her with a playful smile. She can hear him, making a wicked double entendre. She can smell him, the mix of his cologne and the coffee he used to bring her…
"Once more, for old time's sake?" she hears him rumble next to her.
Bolting upright and letting her eyes fly open, she's shocked to see Castle standing next to her, placing a cup of coffee on her desk. He's dressed to kill (hopefully not literally) – for a fleeting moment she thinks of his beloved James Bond as she takes in his beautiful bespoke suit, sharp tie, and crisp white shirt. His hair's coiffed perfectly and even the bags under his eyes seem less pronounced.
"Castle?" she asks, wondering if she's dropped into a fugue state and nearly reaching out to touch him, diverting her hand to the coffee cup at the last moment. His smirk is real, though, as he's amused by her reaction. "What are you doing here?"
"Yeah, Castle," Esposito interrupts as he calls out from his desk. "Come to confess?"
"Of course not," Castle replies easily. "My mild confessions would make even the people down in Vice blush," he promises with an unbelievably sinful voice. "No, I'm here for a meeting," he explains as he lifts a hand to show his slim attaché case while turning. "She's in his old office?" he asks Beckett as he starts walking towards the captain's office.
Still shocked by his unexpected appearance, Beckett can only nod as Castle strides to Gates' doorway and gives a crisp knock before entering and closing the door behind him.
"What in the hell is he up to now?" Ryan asks, articulating the common question.
"Mr. Castle," Gates greets him primly as she rises from her desk. "Please, have a seat."
Castle steps confidently toward the seat to which the captain gestured, pausing long enough to unbutton his suitcoat before taking a seat. He's hardly settled before Gates starts up.
"I don't know why you requested this meeting, Mr. Castle, nor do I know what kind of circus Montgomery was running for the last few years, but if you think for one minute…"
She trails off as Castle stands, wondering if he's going to turn and leave her office. Instead, he opens his attaché case and extracts a folder, from which he plucks a legal document before setting it on Gates' desk and sitting down again.
"What's this?" Gates asks suspiciously. "A reference letter?"
"It's my resignation letter," Castle replies evenly. "If you check the paperwork in my file, you'll note that this letter meets the specifications established by my consulting contract. My affiliation with the NYPD is officially terminated. The NYPD bears no responsibility or association with me from this day forward."
"I see," Gates replies uncertainly, wondering if that's the full agenda for this meeting.
"No, you don't." Castle answers evenly. "Considering your meteoric rise through the ranks, I expected you to be more attuned to the issues relating to my consulting arrangement."
"Are you trying to antagonize me, Mr. Castle?" she asks, surprised by his direct challenge. "If this document is what you represent it to be, there's nothing to stop me from tossing you out of this building or into a Holding cell."
"Both have been done," Castle replies with a chuckle. "I'd have thought you'd want to carve your own path to differentiate yourself from your predecessor. And to answer your question," he continues, preempting her reply, "I'm not trying to antagonize you. I'm trying to get you to realize the logic behind the 'circus.'"
This time it's Gates who chuckles, and not in a particularly kind way. "Logic? What you call 'logic' I call 'cronyism.' 'Pandering.' 'The old boys club.'"
Gates seems annoyed that Castle's nodding along rather than looking offended at her assertions. But he meets her stony look with a smile.
"I'm sure it looks that way. And I'm sure that's largely my fault," he admits with a shrug. "I developed a certain personality, a reputation, to sell books. It's worked very well," he offers, stating fact while understanding that it might sound like bragging. "But that reputation doesn't serve the NYPD well," he admits, again causing Gates to look confused. "So, a question for you, Captain Gates: why was it allowed to happen?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why was I allowed to stay on as a consultant?" he clarifies. "My original agreement was for a few cases, then until the first Heat book. That was two years ago."
"My answer remains unchanged," Gates replies. "Patronage of some form or another."
"Yes, probably," Castle answers. "That's probably part of it. But it's not enough. If I was a distraction or a fool or a troublemaker, I'd be long gone," Castle continues to tell his story, painfully aware that this is the weakest part. Thankfully, Gates doesn't seem to have reviewed all of their case files yet, or his more questionable moves were edited.
"So, what's your secret, Mr. Castle?" Gates asks, sounding almost interested. "Blackmail?"
Castle laughs delightedly, starting to enjoy himself now. "No," he answers, still chuckling, "nothing so fun. I'm a conduit," he answers simply. "A friendly conduit."
"What does that mean?" Gates asks, perhaps not even realizing her tone has lost its frost.
"It means I have many friends, many acquaintances," he explains with an expansive wave. "I know many people, including people who are hard to find or hard to access. And through me, the NYPD can reach those people, too. We're not usually talking about suspects," he offers before shrugging, "though some of them are. We're really talking about doors I can open, opportunities for investigation that would otherwise be delayed or unavailable."
"So you're an influence peddler," Gates summarizes, unimpressed and ready to terminate this interview.
Instead, Castle looks bashful, almost shy. It's not a reaction she expected and it pulls her in for his shockingly simple line.
"I'm a friend," he offers with a shrug. After a few moments during which he gathers his thoughts, he tries to explain. "I've… I know the expectations created by my public persona. To be honest, I was perilously close to actually becoming that person," he emits in a tone of low confession. Then, his entire visage changes and his voice brightens. "The precinct changed me. It was the first place that couldn't care less who I was or what I did. You have no idea how much that challenged me, changed me…"
He trails off again, letting his message sink in. He doesn't look at the captain to drive his point home, but he thinks the story is starting to resonate with her.
"I wish I was here to argue with you, to beg, plead, or connive my way back into the precinct," he admits with a boyish shrug, getting a stifled smile in return. "I wish I could come back. But I need to step away from everything," he admits, back to looking forlorn. "My family is dealing with something difficult, something that deserves my full attention."
"You're no longer writing?" Gates asks, surprised. Internally, Castle smiles.
"No," he laments. "My focus needs to be elsewhere. But can I tell you something in confidence?" he asks as he leans forward in his chair, emphasizing the private nature of their discussion. Drawn in, Gates leans in, too, while she nods.
"Putting down my pen," Castle begins, "will be easier than leaving here."
Gates leans back in her chair, surprised by the confession. Castle leans back, too, even more surprised when he realizes that what he said was true. Ruefully, he gives a low chuckle that yet another one of his stories grew into something that showed him what he should've seen all along.
"So," Castle says abruptly, dispelling the air of quiet confidence, "I wish you well here. They're good people. Loud, unruly, a bit difficult to manage, but good people. I'm going to miss them."
"All of them?" Gates asks as she rises from her chair, sensing the end of their meeting. "Or just the ones you worked with in Homicide?"
"Okay," Castle replies with a smile as he, too, rises, "one more confession. You're a good interrogator," he says with a wink, actually pulling a chuckle out of Gates as he builds more of his story. "People might've thought I was just working with Homicide, but when there wasn't a case, I wandered. I learned about Vice, White Collar, B&E, even some tech and forensic bits. It was fantastic for my writing," he reminisces, "but it only worked because the people here, your people, were good enough to be kind to me. I may have to leave," he says with regret as he buttons his suitcoat and lifts his case, "but please call if you find yourself in a situation where I can help. I owe them," he says with a gesture to the windows, not missing the slack-jawed looks from his former colleagues who are still gawping at Gates' apparent good humor, "and it'll be a welcome reminder what it was like to be here."
"Thank you, Mr. Castle," Gates replies, sounding genuinely impressed. "The NYPD doesn't have many friends. Good luck with your family," she offers as she reaches out for his hand. "If there's anything we can do to help," she offers, perhaps squeezing his hand a little sharply now, "within ethical bounds, please let us know." Then, releasing his hand, she makes a confession of her own. "We'll hope to see you writing again soon."
Castle doesn't need to fake the smile that lights up his face at her parting words. Instead, he takes her up on her offer. "I do have one small request. Might I borrow my old partner? Just for a few minutes," he assures her. "But I'd like to say goodbye. And thank her," he adds with a wink, "for her patience."