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.
"Let's go home, Castle," Beckett speaks into his back several minutes later. Her arms are still banded around his chest, where she's imagined they've held him together. He's been still for several long minutes, moving only enough to cut the flow of water he'd splashed on his face in a vain effort to wash away his sins.
"As much as I'd love that," he replies as he straightens up, "we've got a meeting to attend."
Surprised that he let her reference to 'home' pass without comment, she's not sure his alternative is a good idea. "Castle, let's take a break. It's too soon," she suggests, knowing the guilt from Castle's interrogation of Vulcan Simmons is still too jagged and raw.
"It is too soon," Castle agrees as he stares at his reflection and straightens his appearance, frowning when he sees the lingering wet spots on his shirt. "Which is exactly why I need to get out there."
Finally letting her arms drop, Beckett smooths the shirt over his shoulders before stepping away. Rather that fire off a snarky comment about his crazy theories, she steps back and catches his eyes in the mirror. "Why?"
"I can't let them see me like this," he explains with a broad gesture that starts at his face and moves downward. "This is not a group that appreciates or tolerates weakness."
"But you're…,"
"The boss' son?" he reacts with a mirthless laugh. "That man down the hall is many, many things. 'Father' is technically true but way at the bottom of the list. At the top? Killer."
When it looks like Beckett's going to object again, if only in an attempt to provide some sympathy, Castle shakes his head and tries to explain. "He's interested in me because he likes the idea of creating some kind of legacy. But make no mistake – what he wants is his name to continue in this context. I'm here because I'm his son, but only so long as he thinks he can bring me into the family business."
"And if you don't want to stay? Or if he discovers you actually have a conscience?"
"I'm using every acting trick Mother's ever mentioned to make sure that doesn't happen until Alexis is safe. After that?" he asks rhetorically as he turns to look at her directly, "I'm hoping my partner can rescue me again."
"No pressure," Beckett grumbles, though her tone is light. She steps back far enough to be able to assess Castle and help get him looking more put together for the meeting. In only a few minutes, they're moving down the hall to join Jackson and Castle's other compatriots.
The door opens and reveals a scene of tense silence. Crowded around a conference room table, each attendee looks less happy than the next. Talbot and "Doctor Huxtable," his colleague from the New Amsterdam heist, look offended; Shipton looks uncertain. Lynch, whom Beckett hadn't seen since her arrival, looks nonplussed. And Jackson, sitting regally, looks like he's ignoring them all.
"So much for being fashionably late," Castle quips as he enters, knowingly putting his foot right into the middle of this mess. Ignoring the tension in the room, Castle pulls out a chair for Beckett before seating himself at the table. Obtrusively taking in the visage of each person at the table, he laughs and leans back in his chair, tipping it onto the back legs.
"Having fun, Castle?" Beckett asks, playing along.
"Just enjoying the show," he grins in return, chuckling when some of the scowls around the table become a little more pronounced.
"The show?" Beckett asks, wearing her own wry grin, reveling in watching her partner get on someone else's nerves.
Turning to address Lynch, Castle tests his theory. "I take it Jackson just told you all that he's going to take Zoltick by himself?"
This comment commands the surprised attention of everyone in the room. While the others try to figure out how he leapt to that conclusion, Jackson levels an assessing stare. Lynch, meanwhile, cocks his head and issues a one-word reply. "Explain."
"Has to be, right?" Castle answers with a shrug of his shoulder while leaning back in his chair. "If Zoltick's our guy, then he's very good at evading detection and keeping a massive criminal enterprise running. Even assuming he doesn't have guards," Castle says while looking around the room to take in their own little security force, "he's going to have all sorts of nasty surprises. OPC switches, at the least."
"OPC?" Beckett asks, feeling left out of the jargon.
"Operator presence control," Shipton answers quickly. "Colloquially known as a dead man's switch. Or, in this case, a live man's switch."
"Right," Castle nods. "Zoltick's probably got files or accounts ready to roll up if he goes missing. And he could certainly wreak havoc if the extraction team is seen in advance. So, we need to take him quickly and silently, then we need to secure information to disable any switches. Sounds like the job of a ghost to me," he finishes with a shrug.
"So why's everyone upset?" Lynch asks.
"Well," Castle starts, noting the sly look Beckett sends his way. "Jackson Pollack and his assistant are pissed for two reasons," he begins, earning the ire of Talbot and the robber who went by Dr. Huxtable. "They want to see Jackson in action. They also want to make sure they show how useful they can be so they don't get shipped out of the country."
Providing a new target for the glare of the faux doctors, Castle next turns to Shipton. "Hayley's not sure what to think. She knows that a solo mission by Jackson has the highest odds of success, but she doesn't trust that the bank robbers won't try to stage a coup or make a break for it while the boss is taking care of Zoltick."
Lynch nods as Castle turns to him. "As for you," the writer guesses, "you know Jackson can take Zoltick and every person in this building if need be, so you're just wondering why we need to waste time in discussion."
Having stifled her own grins at Castle's comments over the years, Beckett easily recognizes the look on Lynch's face.
"How is it," Jackson finally speaks, sending everyone into a state of wary silence, "that the only one lacking training is the only one who understands?"
If he was waiting for an answer, Jackson's disappointed. Then again, if he expected an answer, failure to reply would likely earn far more sinister than a look of disappointment.
"Dismissed," Lynch says abruptly, startling those who were focused on Jackson. "Be back here at 0700 for Zoltick's interrogation."
With that, Jackson rises with a feline grace and slides out of the room, Lynch following closely behind. Castle and Beckett wait, allowing the others to file out ahead of them. The "doctors" scowls at Castle on the way out, while Shipton offers a respectful nod.
"Way to make friends," Beckett grumbles good naturedly after everyone else has left. "And I'm not sure impressing your father is the best way to cool his interest in bringing you into the family business."
"Jackson will do whatever he wants," her partner replies with a shrug. "I'm mostly just having fun poking the others. Those bastards at the bank already nearly killed me, so what more can they do? And as for Shipton," he continues, ignoring Beckett's scowl as she remembers his treatment in the bank, "she could be a good colleague if her head's on straight."
So, Beckett thinks, Castle's noticed Shipton's regard. Just as well he's pushing her back a bit – it'll save Beckett from doing the dirty work herself.
Just as Beckett's about to prompt their departure, a knock on the doorframe captures her attention. "You two ready to go?" Lynch asks.
Castle nods as he rises from his chair and offers Beckett a hand up. By the time they're both standing, Lynch has already left. Castle seems unconcerned, nodding down the hallway before ambling off with Beckett at his side.
After wandering through a few security doors and down an internal stairwell, they find themselves at an internal loading dock, where a white panel van is idling. Castle opens the back door and gestures Beckett in with a sweeping arm gesture before following her in. After a quick knock on the solid partition that separates them from the driver, the van lurches into motion.
"Only the best," Beckett snarks with a raised eyebrow, looking at the dirty floor of the van on which they're sitting. "At least we've found a vehicle that's an even worse ride for you than my cruiser."
"It's role camouflage," Castle offers with a grin and a shrug. "We could've had a nicer ride but you would've had a blindfold on. And the next time you wear one of those, I'd prefer we be in a bed."
"So I don't get to see the location even after I signed that damned contract?"
"Talk to the boss," Castle offers with a shrug. "I'm not sure what he's up to, but the fact is we're both together, on the move, and out of mortal peril for at least a few minutes. I'll take that as a win."
"You expect so much," she chuckles in reply as she scoots across the floor of the van to sit beside him, letting her head drop to his shoulder. "So, where are we going?"
"My place," Castle offers quietly, letting his head fall to rest against hers. The intimacy of the moment is a good reminder that they've had a horrible day and could use some time to recover. "I need to grab some things. After that, I was hoping we could head over to your apartment?"
Even though she's surprised by how shy he sounds, Beckett's careful not to move her head to cast him a curious glance. "Please?" she asks, letting him off the hook.
Rather than answer her verbally, Castle signals his assent by putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in for a sideways hug as they're jostled around the van making its way through the streets of New York City.
After fifteen or twenty minutes, they feel the van go down a steep ramp before slowing to a stop and slowly reversing. After the van comes to an idling stop, a thump on the partition indicates their arrival. Castle and Beckett are still rising from their uncomfortable seats when the doors open to reveal a smiling Lynch.
"Have fun," Lynch laughs as he holds the doors open. "Just make sure you're back in time for the interrogation in the morning," he says while looking at Castle. "You've still got things to learn. As for you," he says while turning to Beckett, "get back to the precinct. We're likely to call on you in your official capacity for the next phase of this op."
Wondering again about the document she signed, Beckett still takes this as a win. If the NYPD is going to be involved, then she's less concerned about being cut out of the investigation. The last thing she needs is to wake up and read that Senator Bracken has disappeared, leaving no trace except for a dove gray envelope that taunts investigators.
Lynch, smirking as if he knows what she's thinking, offers a short salute before returning to the cab on the van and driving off, leaving the partners standing on another internal loading dock. Castle's gentle touch on her elbow diverts the attention Beckett had paid to the departing van and guides her toward a freight elevator. Using a key to activate the stop, Castle presses the call button and smiles as the doors open immediately to reveal the waiting car.
"Happy I don't have as much time to press you for details on our current location?" Beckett asks as she steps aboard, easily recognizing the reason for Castle's grin.
"I'm not worried," he answers nonchalantly, earning a raised brow. "Besides, you know where we are."
Scrunching her brow, she watches Castle press a button to send them upstairs. She doesn't recognize the number immediately, though it rings a bell in her head for some reason. Her confusion doesn't lift once they exit the elevator or walk down a back hallway, nor when Castle uses a keycard to open an unmarked door through which he escorts her. It's not until they're walking through a nondescript corporate office and Castle points to the name on a door in passing that her fog lifts.
"Jacob Samuelson?!" Beckett reads incredulously. "D'you mean this really is where you live? I was right here!"
"From what I heard, you didn't actually make it in this far into the office," he laughs, watching her scowl. Chuckling, Castle leads her to the back of the office, where he opens not an office but the locked door to a utility closet. "My humble abode," he welcomes her in with a flourish.
Beckett's hard-pressed to imagine a place that looks less like her partner. Hell, the set-up at the machine shop looks nearly as hospitable as this pathetic little closet. Off to one side is a military cot, which she doubts is long enough for Castle to lie upon without his shins, ankles, and feet dangling over the end. A stand-alone hanging rack, poised over the drain used for mops, hosts a set of clothes. On one end are the usual staples of his wardrobe – slacks, sports-coats, crisp dress shirts, a few suits, and even a tuxedo protected by a dry-cleaning bag. But it's the clothes on the other end that really catch her eye.
"Tell me you weren't the one who delivered the 'tiger survival package' to Ryan and Espo?" she asks in exasperation as she fingers the uniform of a DHL deliveryman. Next to it are similar uniforms from other delivery services, including even one US Postal Service, satchel included.
"No, someone would've recognized me," Castle chuckles again, tickled by the possibility. "That was Lynch."
"Really? No one recognized him," Beckett replies, letting her eyes drift around the rest of the room and finding very little of interest. A sink, a dresser, and two footlockers beneath the cot. "Where's your shower?"
"There's a gym in the basement," Castle replies as he grabs a military-style duffle bag from the hook on the back of the door. Moving to the dresser, he transfers some clothes before collecting a Dopp kit from the sink. In just a few minutes, he's packed and ready to go.
"Ready?" he asks, prompting Beckett to stop her vain search for some sign of personality in the small room.
"Just about," she replies with a sly look. "Grab the UPS uniform. I've got plans for it tonight," Beckett offers with a wink.
The frivolity Beckett had hoped to capture with her role-playing request has evaporated by the time their cab pulls up in front of her apartment building. They enter quietly, nodding but not speaking to the few other residents they pass in the foyer, elevator and hallway.
It had been heartbreaking for Beckett to sit in the back of the cab with Castle and feel him shutting down. The drama of the meeting and the playful reveal of Castle's austere accommodations proved only temporary distractions from the brutal violence of the Simmons investigation. Slowly and silently, Castle slid into the dark remorse Beckett had glimpsed a few times already.
Beckett doesn't break the silence, instead taking Castle by the hand and leading him into her apartment. Wondering idly about the observation team watching her place, she wonders if they're about to put on a show. Still, she focuses on Castle rather than her discomfort. After leading him through the living area, she uses her free hand to tug the strap of the duffle bag from his shoulder. Tossing it toward her bedroom, she pulls Castle into the bathroom. It's a tight fit with both of there, but even the close quarters don't provoke a comment from her usually irreverent partner.
Releasing his hand, she turns and starts to draw a bath. After testing the temperature of the flowing water, she stands, dries her hand and turns back to her partner.
He remains silent as she draws the coat off his shoulder and hangs it on the door. It's when her hands move to unbutton his shirt that he finally looks ready to comment, but she pins the words behind his lips with a gentle finger. He nods in understanding, which frees her hand to return to its previous endeavor.
A few moments later, Castle stands nude before her beside a pile of discarded clothes and assorted weaponry. When he reaches out to return the favor, she catches his wrist and instead guides him to the tub and finally breaks the silence.
"Let's get you clean, Castle."
He acquiesces as he steps into the tub. After he settles in the tub, Beckett grabs a sponge and reaches out to push his shoulder. Thinking this was about his scarred back, he'd leaned forward. He quickly learns otherwise.
With a tenderness even he couldn't have imagined from her, Beckett wets and soaps the sponge before drawing it across his chest and down his arm. It's the beginning of a slow, loving ritual of healing and absolution. Each swipe of the sponge, each cupful of water that sluices down his skin seems to wash away some of the darkness of the day. When she does finally tug him forward to tend to his back, Castle's already feeling lighter than he's felt since before that fateful day at Montgomery's funeral.
The crowning glory, though, isn't his back. It's his hair. Castle's tended to the hair of lovers and wives in the past, but never considered it something that he might enjoy in return. More the fool, he. As Beckett's fingers wend through his wet hair and tease gentle furrows on his scalp, Castle feels a tightness within him finally start to uncoil. Sparks play havoc with nerves, the electricity enlivening him. When he's rinsed clean, and Beckett helps him rise, he feels new, reborn.
He accepts a fluffy towel and sets about drying himself. After scrubbing his hair dry, he looks up to see his partner standing before him, equally bare.
"I love you," she reminds him as she takes his hand and leads him into the rest of their night.
"Damn Ryan," Esposito grouses. "This is supposed to be his job."
Beckett stifles a laugh as she looks over at her beleaguered teammate. Gates has them running backup on one of Karpowski's pending cases, leaving Beckett with phone interviews and Esposito with a mass of financial records. The printouts of those records have spread beyond Espo's desk, consuming Ryan's as well and threatening to spill over onto the floor.
"Learning to appreciate your partner now that he's gone?" Beckett asks with a perched brow.
"You should talk," he snarks back, scoring a point that Beckett acknowledges with a nod. "But, yeah. Ryan's so good with this financial crap that I forget how tedious it can be. Maybe we can ship this off to him?"
This time Beckett can't contain her chuckle as she takes in Esposito's ridiculously optimistic look. Apparently, following Castle's departure, the title of Most Averse to Paperwork went to Esposito.
"That'd be a slight risk to operational security there, Espo," she offers, crushing his hopes. "People in WITSEC don't often get presents, much less bundles of evidence from ongoing investigations.
"Come on, Beckett," he whines. "You can trust me."
Beckett's only response is a flat look.
Espo harrumphs and tries to return to his work, though his attention clearly wanders. Lunch is approaching and the creeping hunger, in addition to Espo's distraction, have Beckett increasingly on edge. By now, the Zoltick interrogation should be done, or at least yielding fruit. But she's received no texts from Castle. She's confident that Jackson's mission was successful. If not, Castle would be here or would at least have reached out. Maybe Zoltick's proving to be a hard nut to crack, though it's hard to imagine a bookkeeper who could stand against the pain that Jackson looks adept at employing.
"Incoming."
The tension in the low mumble is enough to recall Beckett's attention. This time, rather than wearing a DHL delivery uniform, Lynch strides in wearing a suit that would shame that of the vainest investment banker. He cuts through the bullpen without a diverted glance. Stopping at the door to Gates' office, he offers a crisp knock, brief introduction, and a request to move their discussion to a side room.
As the two move off to a conference room, Esposito sidles over to Beckett's desk. "What's going on? Looks like that guy's playing Fed again."
"For all I know, he is a Fed. Of some sort," she offers with a light shrug.
"Fine, but why's he here? If it was about the bank heist, he'd be down talking to the guys in Burglary."
Beckett nods along, but she's thinking about how much to share here with Espo rather than the reason for Lynch's arrival. After all, it's pretty obvious that something happened with Zoltick this morning. So, they must be thinking about the next step in the process, the one in which the NYPD is drawn into play.
"I guess we'll find out soon," she says as she sees Gates exit the room into which she'd entered with Lynch and gestures for them to join her.
"Just Detective Beckett," Gates says as they approach, prompting an affronted look. "I'm sorry, Detective Esposito, but I only have paperwork for one of you."
There, in her hand, is the paperwork Beckett signed with Jackson. Apparently, it at least included some kind of secondment protocol to transfer Beckett into Lynch's group. Now, if only she knew the identity of the group!
As Esposito makes his way back to his desk, the Captain leads the remaining trio back into the conference room.
"Detective Beckett," Gates offers with just a hint of censure, "I wish you would've informed me of your potential involvement in a federal investigation. You team is already down by one. After this, I'll probably need to add Detective Esposito to another team until we get some staffing relief."
"I don't expect our task to be protracted," Lynch cuts in smoothly, providing some cover for Beckett. "And, I believe that the NYPD will appreciate having been involved once the investigation is unveiled."
His reference to public recognition for the Department obviously piques Gates' interest and cools the small ember of ire. After all, losing Beckett from an already limited team for a short duration is a more than acceptable price for something that makes the NYPD and her precinct look good.
"I appreciate the consideration," Gates admits, turning to Lynch. "And I'd appreciate status updates. After all, we never plan for our cases to be drawn out and I'd like to have an idea of when I can expect the Detective's return."
"Of course," Lynch offers while extending a business card with contact information to the Captain. "As for now, we need to see to the Detective's briefing. We're on a schedule, after all."
Moments later, Beckett's back at her desk. Unsure of how long she'll be gone, she grabs everything she thinks she might need over the course of a few weeks. She considers grabbing the few personal decorations that adorn her workspace, but opts against it. After all, packing those would make it feel like she was never coming back, and that's a step she's not yet willing to consider.
Esposito watches in glum silence until she finally notices and turns his way. "So," he offers as he moves to stand and walk with her to the elevator, "I'm the only one left?"
"I'm still working, just from a different angle," she offers almost apologetically. "Besides, I'll be back soon."
"Alone?" he can't help but ask, causing both of them to cast a quick glimpse at the guest chair in which Castle had sat for years.
"I hope not," she answers honestly.
Espo offers no response aside from pursed lips. Then, with a quick nod, he directs Beckett's attention ahead to where Lynch awaits at the elevator door.
"Don't get shot," Esposito offers as Beckett boards the elevator. It's not the most politic of valedictions, but Beckett still appreciates the thought. Besides, both Beckett and Esposito enjoy the look of mortification on Gates' face.
"Be careful, Detective," Gates offers, cutting a look at Esposito to make sure he understands that there are kinder departing words than he offered.
"Certainly, sir," Beckett offers in reply just before the elevator doors start to close. Moments later, the elevator is gone, Beckett and Lynch whisked away.
"Back to work, Detective," Gates reminds Esposito, who'd been looking contemplatively at the elevator door. With a sigh, he turns and trudges back to his desk while Gates disappears into her office. But, rather than slide behind his stack of paperwork, Esposito instead slips over to the stairwell, discreetly palming a burner phone from his pocket.
A/N: I'm back! This story is not on hiatus, it's just been a very rough summer. I apologize for the slow updates, but fear that the next chapter will be a little while in coming unless work deadlines are extended. I also need to get busy on ICHY if I want to have that ready for October. And I've got almost 70 chapters waiting for me to read! I'm trying to finish writing before I catch up on that reading, but I wouldn't be surprised if I take a little break to catch up on some favorites like Courtship, Cats, and First.