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: Just a short chapter this week. More below.
"No."
Castle's flat refusal to reveal the architect of her pain leaves Beckett reeling. She's struggling mightily – desperate not to fall into old habits and challenge him, but not ready to let it drop, either. Worse, he's watching her conflict with great interest, wondering how she'll react. Finally, slowly, she manages a reply.
"I understand," she emits, eyes falling to the floor as her earlier eagerness to take back the case comes back to haunt her.
"No, Kate," Castle replies quietly as a gentle finger under her chin encourages her to raise her eyes back to him, "I don't think you do." When her brows knit in curiosity but she remains quiet, he tries to explain.
"Beckett," he finally offers, "your father is safe. He's out of the city."
Beckett continues to stare at him, wondering at the shift in topic but swallowing her questions.
"You got him to Henry, right?" he asks, waiting for her nod of affirmation. "When you collected him this morning, did you lay out the full plan?"
"No," Beckett answers slowly. "I just whispered that we had to leave. He jumped right in."
"So, your father let you take control and trusted in you to resolve the situation," he summarizes, and Beckett finally realizes where he's going. But he adds the exclamation point anyway. "Trust me, Beckett."
"This isn't about trust," Beckett denies, shaking her head. "Not anymore," she confesses, admitting to them both that Castle's managed just fine on his own for the past several months. "I trusted Roy Montgomery, Castle, and he's gone."
"Roy died and took his secret with him," Castle acknowledges gravely. "The difference is, I've made arrangements so that if I die, you get my files and the resources to finish the job." Realizing the tone has grown far too somber, he tries to fall back to levity and teasing. "So, if you're sure the name is what you really want, pull your service weapon and do what you've always threatened to..."
"Don't you dare," Beckett hisses, covering his mouth with her hand to staunch the flow of words. "Don't you dare ever joke like that again, Castle. You've come too close… we've come too close to that actually happening."
Looking abashed, this time it's Castle who lets his head drop. As his regard falls from her eyes, though, he once again notices her scar, as well as her discomfort. Kicking himself for his poor manners, he quickly steps around the bed. He reaches down and grabs the sleeve of his shirt, tugging it up and sending the other clothes and his holsters tumbling off the pedestal.
Turning back to his partner, he tries to be a little playful again, this time with a safer topic. As he's held her coat for her many times, this time Castle holds up his shirt as we waits to help her put it on.
Recognizing this olive branch, Beckett steps forward with a small smile that matches Castle's. As she slides an arm into the sleeve, she thinks about the subtext of this seemingly small offer. Three important points leap out at her. First, he wants her to stay. They've hit another disagreement about the case but he's inviting her to stay. Second, his invitation also confirms that he's going to stay – he can't very well leave when she's wearing his shirt, not without hiding his beloved knives and displaying his recent injuries. But it's the third aspect that heats her up more than the shirt – there's something primal about dressing her in his clothes. It's a different act of intimacy than what they shared on the bed; still powerful, in a different way.
After dropping a quick kiss on the back of her neck as he releases her hair to cascade down over the shirt, Castle crawls onto the bed. He prowls across the massive mattress on all fours before sitting at the foot of the bed, facing the headboard, to which he nods.
Right, Beckett recalls, his back's still a mess and the lotion is drying. With a gentle touch to his shoulder to show that she understands, Beckett removes her holster and sets it on the bedside table before she joins him on the bed. She'd removed her weapon to make her point about not wanting anything to happen to Castle, but smiles ruefully when she realizes that she was still wearing it while she straddled and tended to her partner. How ridiculous that they're both so used to violence that neither noticed the weapon's place in their quiet acts of intimacy.
From his wry grin, it looks like Castle's thinking about the same thing.
Beckett's still positioning herself against the headboard when his voice surprises her.
"I'll tell you the name when it's time," he offers while looking directly at her. "But I need to explain, and I need something from you, too." At her wide-eyed nod, Castle starts with the explanation.
"One man is responsible for your family's pain," Castle offers quietly, sadly. "Your mother's death, your shooting, and the ripples those caused…," he trails off, probably thinking about Jim's drinking or his own kidnapping. With a quick head-shake, he gets himself back on track. "He's powerful, prosperous, and protected."
Beckett nods, processing his words. She knew her foe had to be formidable. But Castle's proven to be focused, too, so she's not as daunted by his description as would've been the case back before Montgomery took his secret to the grave.
"But…?" she asks, prompting him to explain the delay in approaching this demon.
"But for as much misery as he's caused, he's not the head of the snake," Castle confesses, leaving Beckett feeling queasy. "If we take him out, your family will be avenged, but mine will still be at risk."
"How do you know?" Beckett whispers, horrified.
"You've expressed some concerns about my new friends," he replies with another small, crooked smile. "I'm not the only one trying to find the person in charge. I was… recruited after I started making my own moves this summer."
Beckett's not sure if this news brings her any peace or just elevates her concerns. If the man behind her misery is so daunting, then someone higher up must be nearly unassailable. And the people hunting him – they have reason to use whatever tools they can find, but she's not sure they have any incentive to treat those tools well. What's to stop them from draining Castle's resolve and resources before leaving him exposed?
"So," she says, trying to step back and think about this as a case as a horrifying possibility occurs to her, "are you trying take out the man who killed my mother or are you looking to squeeze him for information?" she asks, voice increasing in both pitch and conveyed dread. "Are you telling me he could plead out, buy his freedom by turning on his master?"
Castle scoots forward on the bed and reaches out for a hand. She lifts her hand to him with some hesitation, wondering if he's trying to anchor her here while he explains why her tormentor needs to go free so that his can be brought down.
"There are no deals," he says with quiet resolve. "There are no pleas, no cells. These people can kill as easily from behind bars as they can from their offices. Maybe we take your demon to lure mine out. Maybe if we can take down everyone else we can toss your guy in jail. But he will not go free and he will not threaten any of us again."
Later, Beckett might feel some guilt for her reaction, but right now she feels nothing but relief. Relief that Castle's implacability applies to her tormentor as much as his own, and relief that he spoke in the plural as he envisions them both working on this together. She might be sidelined right now, but it sounds like he's counting on her being part of the final resolution.
"What do you need from me?" she asks, wanting to show she's invested and remembering his earlier comment.
"I need you to recuse yourself from the Cambridge case involving Bob Weldon," he offers apologetically. Anticipating a fierce reply, he explains quickly. "The case is a frame-up, a way for them to hit back at one of my allies. I won't ask you to bury the case, but we need you far away. Otherwise, you're all in the same place. It's too likely that they can play you against each other or try to take you all at once."
Beckett lifts her gaze from their linked hands to his face. He's nearly grimacing in expectation of the explosion that's sure to follow.
"Okay," she answers simply.
"Okay?" Castle asks in confusion, sure he heard her wrong.
"It's important, right?" she replies rhetorically. "I told you I'd follow your lead and that this wasn't about trust. If you say we need to get off the case, then we'll get off the case."
Castle still looks flummoxed. She'd laugh, but his disbelief is a little unflattering, even if it is somewhat justified.
"I'll talk to Gates tomorrow morning," Beckett offers, "turn over my notes. Given the mayor's role in getting you on my team, it probably wasn't appropriate for me to be on the case in the first place."
"Thank you," Castle offers, finally engaging. But then he ruins Beckett's still-forming smile by rotating his wrist and checking the time.
"You need to leave?" she asks, trying not to sound forlorn. "Time to go catch the enforcer?"
"No," Castle manages with a laugh. "Just thinking about next steps. Besides," he offers with another chuckle, "I don't get to sleep on comfortable beds very often these days. This place caters in discretion, so I think I'm going to stay here tonight."
Beckett nods as she processes his comments and the images they create in her mind. Her gaze drifts back to their hands, until she musters her courage and claims his attention with a gentle.
"Can I sleep here, too?"
She wonders if she should've emphasized sleep, since she's not ready for more (and she's certainly not going to start them off under the pretense of a tawdry fling). But looking at her partner's warm smile, she can tell he's on the same page.
Fighting her blush and her smile, Beckett rises from the bed and tugs on Castle's hand. She leads him to the restroom, where she points to the supplies that have been thoughtfully provided for their use. After washing up, Beckett asks him to retrieve his undershirt so she can finish in the restroom, then trades places with him so he can finish up. When Castle emerges from the restroom, the lights are off but for a small lamp on Beckett's bedside table, the curtains are pulled back again, and Beckett's sitting against the headboard wearing Castle's undershirt with her legs tucked beneath the covers, watching him intently.
Smiling at the sight, Castle drinks in the view of his partner. Several long moments later, he steps to the door and ensures that all locks are engaged. Then, to Beckett's surprise, he kneels in front of the door while reaching into the pockets of his pants. From one he withdraws a communication device that looks like hers; from the other he pulls what look to be blocky headphones. Setting the device on the floor, he plugs the headphones in and stretches them to the gap beneath the door, angling each earbud to the side.
"Motion-sensor alarms," he says with a mischievous eyebrow waggle.
"How come mine doesn't do that?" Beckett replies, trying to sound offended.
"Q likes me better," he laughs as he pushes a few buttons to activate the setup before rising to his feet, then laughs again at her exaggerated eye roll. Still chuckling, he rounds steps away from the door and up the steps to the bed. Sitting at the foot of the bed, he bends to remove his pants and socks.
A little put out that Castle didn't put on a show, Beckett shakes her head as her eyes rove over his back as he bends to attend to something else. Hearing the ripping sound of Velcro, she huffs as she realizes that Castle's removing more weaponry. Sure enough, he looks over his shoulder and gives her a sheepish shrug before rising slowly.
Castle folds his clothes and sets them on a corner of the bed's pedestal before moving toward his bedside table. Watching her partner, wearing only black boxers and holding a holstered firearm, prowl around the bed is ridiculously arousing, but Beckett tamps these feelings down. File under 'things to look forward to,' she thinks with a smirk.
Castle removes the small gun from its holster and places it within reach on the bedside table, adjusting its placement to ensure it can be grasped quickly. It's an unfortunate reminder that a harsh life exists beyond the bubble of this hotel room.
Castle slides into bed as Beckett reaches over and clicks off the lamp, dropping the room into a darkness broken only by the twinkling lights of the city that wink in through the windows.
Even though she can't see him, Beckett feels her anxiety rise as the awkwardness of their situation rears its head.
"So, Beckett," Castle whispers playfully, sounding like a naughty boy on a sleepover, "are you a cuddler?"
Beckett laughs, enjoying the flood of warmth that comes from the resumption of their teasing. "Not really," she confesses. "But, as usual, I suspect you're the exception to the rule."
Her smooth delivery of what she thought was a pretty good line was ruined by her squeak at the end, when Castle surprised her by pulling her toward the middle of the bed and tossing an arm over her side. A little shifting finds them spooned together and comfortable, buried in luxurious bedding that cocoons them from the rest of the world.
"Castle?" Beckett warbles as her partner nuzzles her hair. "I just want you to know…," she trails off quietly and emotionally, preparing for a heartfelt confession
"Yes?" he whispers with lips tantalizingly close to her ear.
"If I wake up to find you gone and a gray envelope left behind, I'll hunt you down and feed it to you," she promises in a sultry voice.
"I love you, too, Beckett," he chuckles before kissing the back of her neck and finally relaxing into sleep.
In a perfect world, the partners would've slept through the night wrapped in each other's arms. Either that or not slept a wink due to an explosion of long-suppressed and finally-satisfied sexual tension.
Instead, Beckett woke them with a scream after barely two hours of sleep. Castle's turn followed roughly two hours later, leaving him panting and sweating more than would've been the case had they engaged in some bedroom gymnastics. Worse, his episode seemed to trigger another fierce nightmare for her, which woke them yet again.
But, even without a full night's sleep, their time together was critical, perhaps even more so than their time spent talking. In the quiet, pre-dawn stillness, they held and comforted each other through the terror of their respective nightmares. Quiet words of support, gentle caresses, and innocent kisses held them together, helped them remember how much easier it is to deal with pain when not dealing with loneliness at the same time.
"Thank you," Beckett whispers as Castle's eyes slowly open, coaxed by the gentle ministrations of her hand on his cheek even though it's still dark outside. Castle turns his head to catch her hand, kissing the palm before turning back to look at her warm, wide eyes.
"It was my honor," he replies, voice cracking as it comes awake. "Thank you."
Rather than reply, Beckett scoots over and curls into him, nuzzling his cheek as she draws him close.
They enjoy some long, quiet moments of togetherness, entwined in the bed, before Castle's rumbling chuckle draws their attention.
"Do I wanna know?" Beckett asks with some indulgence as her hand draws idle patterns on his shoulder, suspecting trouble from her partner.
"Just thinking that Espo owes me fifty bucks," he explains. "I knew you'd wake up thanking me after we spent our first night together."
"Ass," Beckett chuffs as she pokes his midsection and getting a yelp in reply. "If you ever say anything to the boys about what happens in bed between us, you'll never have to worry about the situation arising again."
"Just kidding," Castle answers quickly, feigning concern.
"Sure you are," she replies, fighting her smile.
"I am!" he protests. "It wasn't really Espo. It was Lanie."
This earns him another poke, but this time he catches her hand as she tries to pull it back. Quick as a blink, he tugs on the hand and rolls over, pulling Beckett on top of him.
"Castle! Your back!" she admonishes, worried that lying on his back would cause him pain even without her added weight.
"Beckett, if you think I can feel my back while you're pressed against my front, you're crazy," he teases in reply. And then, just as she opens her mouth to object, he raises his head and presses his lips to hers.
Unbelievably, this morning's venture is even more explosive than their undercover kiss, about which neither can think without wobbling or smiling. But this kiss follows a harrowing night that forged a new connection between the partners.
Yesterday, they struggled to redefine their partnership.
Last evening, they struggled to protect each other from the terrors of the night.
This morning, they reap their rewards.
Every reason for delay, every objection, every care… they all evaporate under sensual caresses and daring explorations. Neither even wonders if the passion is forced by the rapidly approaching end of their quiet time together. It's not time to think or worry, only to feel.
Beckett, finally, puts her hands on either side of Castle's head and pushes herself away, sitting upright. Like last night, she's straddling her partner in bed. Most decidedly unlike last night, she's got a stunning view of his heaving chest, soulful eyes, and look of brave resignation as he watches his partner prepare to leave.
"D'you know what time it is?" Beckett asks, her voice affected by disuse, kiss-swollen lips, and a gentle, panting breath.
Castle bends his elbow, bringing his wrist into view. A quick glance at Jim's watch confirms that it's still early. "Almost five thirty," Castle replies carefully, watching his partner carefully.
"Nope," Beckett replies sassily. "It's time to return your shirt."
Then, for the second time since they've entered this room, Beckett's hands curl around the hem of the shirt before she raises it. She draws it out, exposing inch after inch of skin as she watches her partner squirm beneath her. With excruciatingly measured care, she finally lifts the shirt over her head before bunching it up and dropping it playfully on Castle's face.
For his part, Castle's proud that he's still managing to draw regular breaths. Playing it smooth, he reaches up to his face to pull the shirt away. His reward is to see his partner astride him, running her hands through her long locks as she shakes her head and looks down at him with a wanton, predatory smile.
"I don't think I'll need this for a while," he growls as he carelessly tosses the shirt aside and reaches for his Beckett.
A/N2: This chapter was unexpected and unplanned. I hadn't anticipated this development, but I think perhaps I was pushing Beckett and Castle a little too hard in this story. They rebelled, sequestered themselves in a hotel room, and gave themselves a break from their bleak circumstances. Drama and danger will follow, but they stole some time to remember why their fighting.
If you've read my stories, you know I don't venture into M territory. Still, things can get steamy enough to make me blush. Especially when fellow commuters read over my shoulder while I type during my daily commute. So, on the off chance that my fellow Metro passenger was offended earlier today, sorry!