Hope I didn't keep you guys waiting too long. Thank you for all of the kind words and a special thanks to suz24 for being a super-cool beta. On with the story!
She doesn't look surprised to see him. And the first words out are her mouth aren't what are you doing here? or hands in the air where I can see them, Mr. Castle!
Instead, she studies him hard and finally asks, "How did you find me?"
"I have my sources," he says enigmatically. At least he hopes it's enigmatic. He has a reputation to maintain. "I know all about you, Katherine Beckett. I've done my research. About your job, about your mother."
"You've been stalking me."
"I've been observing you," he disagrees. "You...fascinate me."
That's an understatement. It's more than simple intrigue. He's become infatuated. Quite taken, really. It's a dangerous position to be in and one he's not used to. It's not uncommon to find a passion in what he does, the drive to give justice to those who suffered the things he once did.
But it's more than that with this woman, Kate Beckett. It's not enough to simply kill for her. He wants her to understand what happened to her mother. He wants her to be a part of what he's doing. Certainly, she deserves that much.
"I fascinate you. Should I be flattered?" she snarks. It's cute. She's snarky.
"You're an extraordinary woman, Beckett. Do you know that?"
She doesn't know, he can tell as her eyes meet the floor. It's a shame. She's got the looks and the brains and the brawn. She's got the tragedy, the aura of mystery. And yet, she still prevails. She still fights. She should know how remarkable that makes her.
"Why did you kill Dick Coonan?" Kate asks, her hand clutching the chain around her neck. "Did it...did it have to do with my mom?"
"Brilliant Detective like you, I'm sure you've already figured it out."
She lets out a stuttering breath, grasping harder until her knuckles go white. "I want you to tell me everything you know."
"What?" he chuckles. "You're not going to arrest me?"
Her hand goes down to her hip in the blink of an eye, and suddenly she has her gun trained on him. The safety is off. "Everything you know."
"Okay, okay," he concedes too easily. He's excited to do this, overeager to give her the answers she's been looking for all of these years. "Let's sit down."
She's sitting at her kitchen table with a serial killer. He's sitting in one of her chairs with a glass of water, one of her glasses, in front of him. He takes a sip and then looks up at her. "Sorry, how rude of me. Can I get you anything?"
"Castle, do you know no boundaries?"
He looks confused. "I broke into your apartment, didn't I?" And he has a point.
"Whatever. Let's just get down to business." Oh my God, she's doing business with a murderer. What the hell is she thinking?
"Dick Coonan," Richard Castle says, leaning down. He has a messenger bag with him and a file folder inside. Oh, several folders with neat labels and tabs. Wow, he's organized. A little OCD maybe?
As if reading her mind, he shrugs. "I take my work seriously. But you should really see my office. It's a mess."
"You have an office?"
"Well, my current office. I move around a lot. Can't be too careful."
She supposes he can't. "Moving on."
"Right. As I was saying, Dick Coonan. You arrested him several months ago for killing his brother, Jack. You saw that he was an experienced assassin. I'm sure you already know his method. One fatal blow and then an array to make it look random and botched."
"But how does that connect to my mother?"
"I'm getting there." Castle waves his hand to give himself a moment. He's dramatic. Must have gotten that from Martha Rodgers, she muses. Then, he's pulling out a picture, and her heart stops. It's her mother in the alley. He takes out another one, her autopsy photo.
"Where the hell did you get that?"
"I have my sources," he repeats, each syllable drawn out like he thinks she's an idiot.
"Damn it, you know what I mean. Did you break into records? Did you bribe a cop? Do you work with people on the inside?" She knows her voice sounds a little shaky and a whole lot desperate. He doesn't respond, just stares her down, and she pounds her fist on the table. "Answer me, you son of a bitch."
"You have quite a dirty mouth on you. That's interesting."
"Don't you patronize me, and keep in mind," she pats her holster, "I have a gun too."
"I couldn't possibly forget." He smiles. He's amused with her. Is this all some sort of game? But he said he takes his work seriously, and she can see that it's true. He does his research. "Your mother was murdered by a contract killer. I could tell that much when I first found the pictures. Then, I saw a connection. I know a guy who knows a forensic pathologist. He took a look at the photos I found and confirmed my theory."
"Get on with it, Castle. Enough of the theatrics."
His face darkens. She hit a nerve. "Fine. There were at least three other murders connected to your mother. Diane Cavanaugh, Jennifer Stewart, and Scott Murray. And then, Jack Coonan, of course. But I didn't find that out until later." He drops each of their autopsy photos on the table as well. "The first two were lawyers who worked with your mother. Murray was the documents clerk at her firm."
"Is that what this is about? One of her cases?"
Castle gives an indefinite hum. "How much do you know about what your mother was working on?"
"I know there was one case, an open investigation." She swallows. "The file was lost, but it never really seemed important. What else is there to know?"
"I can't tell you with any certainty, but I believe that case is what got your mother and the others killed. There's a larger conspiracy behind this, and I'd like to help you figure it out."
She blinks at him incredulously. "Why?"
"For justice." His eyebrows narrow. "Why else?"
"But why me?" It's just her luck. She's been trying to put this case behind her since her father got sober. They made a pact. And now this deranged vigilante comes in to ruin it all. So why?
"I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you. You're different than other people. You understand loss, and you fight for others when no one else will. We're very much alike in that way. If anyone deserves justice, it's you, Kate Beckett." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I've killed countless men, horrible monsters, but it still doesn't satisfy. It's never been enough. I think this might be the chance I've been looking for to do something more. So, please, let me help you."
Kate's taken aback by his sincerity. She thinks he surprised himself too. So he wants to become more, huh? Should have thought about that before he started murdering people.
"No," she declares, even though some part deep inside her is screaming yes yes yes. It's the part she tried to bury. The obsession. "No, absolutely not. How could you even ask that? I am a cop. My job is to defend the law, and you are a criminal. Not only that, you're a murderer, a serial killer. You're sick, Castle. You're a danger to society and to yourself. So my answer is no. I don't want your help, and I don't need it."
That part's not true. She feels like she could use his inside knowledge, his connections. But now that he's got her started, she'll be able to continue. If she wants to continue…
"I can't accept that." He frowns. "Let me convince you. This will benefit both of us. This is what you've been looking for."
"No," she denies it, and he looks down in defeat. This is her chance.
She lunges over the table, slamming into him with enough force to tip the chair off of its legs. The files slide with her body and explode as they reach the ground, papers flying in all directions. Castle lets out a grunt when the back of his chair hits the wood floor, but he's quick to react, grabbing ahold of her upper arms and rolling to pin her down.
His strength combined with his size makes it difficult to fight back, but Kate thrashes her legs until her knee makes contact with his groin, and he lets out a pained yelp. She squirms out from under his body and grabs her weapon, but his fist comes out quickly, colliding with her wrist and sending the gun skidding across the floor.
She has two options. Fight or flight. Take a stand or make a run to the bathroom and call for backup. But then he could escape, and that would mean letting the Copycat Vigilante go to kill again. She can't let that happen.
So Kate stands and readies herself for the fight. "Stand down, Castle. You hear me? Don't move."
He doesn't heed her warning. Instead, he goes for her legs. The move is effective, and her shoulder hits the floor with an agonizing crack. Oh God, her arm might be knocked out of the socket. In spite of herself, she lets out a cry.
"Beckett, please. Don't make this difficult." He leans over her in concern, and her good arm lashes out, socking him in the nose. "Ouch!" Blood spurts out and drips down his chin. "Son of a-"
She strikes again, this one landing at his jaw. She keeps punching and kicking, and he takes every hit but still won't go down. If she wasn't working with one arm, she could do more serious damage.
He manages to grab her, being strangely careful not to push down on her shoulder. One hand comes up to cover her mouth and the other pinches her nose. He's trying to make her black out. Not again! So she bites down on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Hard.
He hisses out a curse and moves away, and Kate tastes his blood on her lips, salty and metallic.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he says mournfully. Before grasping her bad arm and yanking it backwards, twisting.
"Ah!" she cries, tears flooding to her eyes. White hot pain flares through the joint of her shoulder. She starts to see spots, and oh God, she's going to pass out.
"I'm sorry," Castle tells her, even as he twists harder. "I'm so sorry."
She enters the darkness tortured and sobbing.
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