Ugh. As Kate squeezes into the black dress, she shudders. Maybe she should have chosen paperwork. She pulls her eyeliner out of her purse, leaning in over the sinks, and sets to work fixing her make up- or rather, ruining what she expertly applied in Castle's bathroom this morning. Ugh. There is not enough coffee in the world. Gone is the respectable NYPD officer. In her place is, well, a street walker. Damn. It should be illegal to have to wear this much eye make up at nine in the morning.


Rick is waking up as he walks Alexis to school. He thinks he'll pick up some coffee on the way home and settle in front of his laptop this morning. Then again, he's been meaning to do some research for the latest (last!) Storm story, and there's a scene he's been meaning to check out. So maybe he'll get a coffee and then look into that. The girl seems much calmer than she had last night, chatting about the book she's reading, and the violin lessons she's going to start the following week. Rick ruffles her hair, as she looks up at him. "Dad, is Kate your girlfriend?"

Huh. Starting with the hard questions at eight in the morning. Before he's had coffee. Not good. He stops walking and looks down at her, meeting her eyes. Alexis is gazing up at him, waiting for an answer. "Well. I don't know yet, Alexis. Would you be-" He rephrases. God, for a writer, he sometimes feels like words are his enemy. There are so many, and it's so easy to choose the wrong ones. "How would you feel if Kate was my girlfriend?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. I like her better than Gina."

He winces. "You don't like Gina?"

Alexis shrugs. He can see the hesitation in her eyes. She doesn't want to admit to disliking Gina, but she obviously doesn't want to lie.

"Sweetie, Gina was never my girlfriend. You know that, right? We went out a few times, and we are friends, and we do work together- but- she wasn't my girlfriend." Alexis is still staring at him, waiting for more. "It's okay if you don't like Gina. But it's important that you understand that we do work together, and you might see her sometimes."

"But you write books, Daddy. You work in the office at home. You don't need to work with Gina."

He nods. This morning just got a whole lot more complicated. When he'd woken up he had thought since Kate was already gone before Alexis came into the room things would be simple. He thinks maybe the uncomplicated days of fatherhood are more or less behind him. Alexis has always been smart and well tuned in to what's going on around her, but he doubts he'll be able to keep much from her anymore. Not the way he could a few years ago. He renews his resolve. No matter what happens with Kate, he won't be pulled back into the parties that both kept him afloat and simultaneously threatened to drown him after his break up with Meredith. "I do write books in my office." He wonders how much to explain. "Gina helps organise events so people know about the books and buy them. And actually, Kate's going to help me a little bit with my next book- she's going to teach me police stuff." He winks at his daughter, hoping he's explained it right, in a way she understands.

Alexis nods. "It's okay with me if Kate's your girlfriend, Daddy."

He smiles. "Want to know something? It would be okay with me if Kate was my girlfriend, too." He looks at his watch. "Right, kiddo. Time to get to school- we need to walk faster so you're not late!"

They start walking again, faster this time, and Alexis is quiet until they get to the school gate. "You should ask."

"Ask what, sweetie?"

Alexis rolls her eyes in nine year old exasperation. "Dad. You should ask Kate to be your girlfriend."


The sting is a bust so far. Kate Beckett and Veronica Hunter have each chatted up more than a few guys at a sketchy bar, but none are their guy and none of them have been viable leads. Vice has intel that a certain dealer has been mixing business- dealing drugs has apparently led into bigger and better things, human trafficking being one them. It's a slim lead, to be honest, but Beckett has broken out her Russian accent, to her own amusement, and Hunter's.

Working with Hunter has been fun, even if it's not really Kate's favourite way to spend a morning. The woman doesn't ask personal questions, but she raised a suspicious eyebrow at the mark on Kate's neck, and Kate had shrugged, grinning wickedly, and not a little seductively, as she'd shimmied her way to the next table of men. It's way better than being at the precinct, and hell, while the dress sucks, Kate's not sorry to be wearing heels. She leans in, purrs at the men, receives no intelligible answers, and stalks off. Meanwhile, she's got an eye on Hunter, and suddenly there's movement. Just a nod, a sideways glance from Hunter, and Beckett's there beside her.

A bald man- Beckett estimates him to be in his fifties or so- has his hand tightly gripped around Hunter's wrist. Hunter is scowling, resisting, but the wannabe john is leering, insistent. She rolls her eyes. She hates this part of this particular job. It's still before midday, the guy is obviously not a player in the scene- at least, not in the way they need him to be- and he's been drinking heavily. Kate hates that too. She might love a glass- or bottle- of wine, might enjoy the occasional big night out, tequila shots and all, but this just reminds her of her father, and all that entails. The loss, the wasted potential, the hopelessness. The irony that she finds murder less depressing isn't lost on her.

Before Beckett can intercede delicately- she and Hunter need to remove the man's hand without making a scene and without alerting anyone in the bar to the fact that they're cops- a male voice speaks up behind her. "Problem here?" Shit.

She knows that voice. The john drops Hunter's wrist with a curse, and Hunter turns around to whisper a thank you at her rescuer. Beckett turns more slowly, knowing exactly who she's going to see Hunter draped all over. Castle's jaw drops and his eyes widen as he hastens to push Hunter away. "Beck-?" She grabs his ear, pulling his face down a little, level to hers.

"Do not. Say. A word."

His eyes are still wide as she releases him, his mouth still hanging open, as he whispers. "Fuck."

Beckett chances a look around. Except for the john mumbling into the drink he's nursing, nobody in the bar has noticed anything. Hunter, however, is looking on, amused. "A friend, Anna?"

Kate nods, affects the Russian accent again as she agrees unwillingly. "Friend, yes." She smirks. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Good friend, yes, Richard?" Rick nods mutely. He hasn't taken his eyes from her. Damn. She smiles at him, leans in. "You looking, Richard? You saw it all last night, no?"

It's Hunter's turn to roll her eyes.

Rick laughs nervously, relaxes a little, she thinks as he whispers back to her. "Ka-" And off her look- "Anna. Anna- what are you doing? Dressed like-"

Beckett wrinkles her nose, loses the accent as she leans back in. "Dressed like a hooker? Rick. Seriously. What do you think I'm doing?"

"No," he assures her. "No, I can guess what you're doing- just-"

"Just, why here?" she finishes. "Agreed. I'm not too sure why you're here, either." She bites her lip. "Listen, you've got to go. This is not a good day to be in this bar."

"I'm researching," he tells her, ignoring her request that he leave. He looks her up and down again, smirking. "Nice shirt."

Beckett narrows her eyes as she hisses at him. "Leave. Just, please… leave. I will… call you." Damn. This cannot be happening. She needs him to leave, and frankly, she needs the lead detective to march in here and call the whole operation off. She wishes to God that she had chosen paperwork today.


Castle had heard that this bar was something of a dealer's paradise, and he'd only planned on being in and out. He'd had some luck in the past, making contacts from all walks of life, but today his plan was strictly observation. He'd figured he'd order a coke, hope that anyone who noticed him would assume it was a mixer. He chose a booth, ready to watch the comings and goings for an hour or 'd just settled himself down- noting with distaste the stickiness of the cracked red vinyl he was sitting on- when he'd noticed the stir at the next table.

The woman in the red dress is glaring, and her friend is intervening, but he can see the two of them are quite slightly built, so he just can't stand to let it escalate. It's obvious from their dresses and the time of day what's going on, but Castle figures that's hardly the point, and if the two women need a hand, he'll stand up for them, just check in to make sure they're okay.

When the woman in red had turned around she'd smiled seductively and reached her hand out to touch his chest suggestively. He'd gotten the brief but distinct impression that he'd missed something. When Beckett turned around, he knew exactly what he'd missed. Shit.

Kate could tell him to go home until she was blue in the face. He wasn't going anywhere. Not when there was obviously a reason for her to be here, undercover. That only meant one thing. That there was a reason for him to be here too. His eyes shone as he realised what this meant. Research. Honest to goodness drug dealer research with the opportunity to observe his muse in the starring role.