A/N: Here's the second, and final, part of this story. I meant to do this earlier, but credit again goes out to CalPal052699 for the fabulous cover/poster for this fic. :)

WEDNESDAY

"I know you'd like nothing more than to arrest them and send them to Juvie for pissing you off," Castle says the next morning, "but you need to keep your emotions in check."

"You try spending time alone with these brats, then!" Beckett spits out as she paces furiously back and forth in front of their bed. "I'm supposed to be trying to find evidence to help solve a murder, not get humiliated day after day by a bunch of second graders!"

Castle clears his throat, but ends up coughing as a result. He's still sick, but has told Kate he made an appointment with his Doctor to make a house call later today. "You know, Kate," he says after he finishes, "maybe I was wrong. Maybe interrogation is the way to go."

Beckett stops in her tracks and walks closer to his side. "Really? How?"

"Indirectly. It's a technique I use for scenes sometimes. Ask them questions that seem inconsequential at first, but would really reveal who you're looking for, or at least, someone to focus on."

Beckett mulls over the suggestion, biting her lip, and nods. "Okay, it's worth a shot. But in my experience, people need to feel at ease when being interrogated, so I should let them ask me questions first, just so they can feel comfortable and know that I'm not trying to punish them for the past two days. Even though I'd like nothing better, honestly."

She leaves the loft with a renewed sense of hope and arrives at school with at least three changes of clothes this time. You can never be too prepared, is the bitter thought running through her head. Unlike the last two days, she feels better about her prospects, because she can finally put her cop skills to use and, if all goes according to plan, she'll be able to get back to the Precinct as soon as possible.

By the time the kids arrive for the day, Beckett's casually leaning against the teacher's desk, trying to communicate as much friendliness through her body language as she can. Rather than having her hands crossed over her chest, she lets her thumbs rest in her pockets and she smiles the most genuine smile she can muster. Many of the kids look at her confusedly in response, clearly wondering if something's up.

"Okay, guys!" she says brightly, forgoing the attendance. "I thought we'd try something a little different to get the day going today."

"What?" Jason asks suspiciously.

"Well, I was thinking that maybe one of the reasons you all have been so, uh … spirited this week is that, obviously, you don't really know me, must think I'm strange and all that. So, I thought we could begin today by letting you ask whatever questions you want about me. That way, you'll get to know me better and I won't seem so weird to you. I promise to answer any questions you ask, and I won't lie. Then, maybe after that, I can ask you some things and that way, we'll all get to know each other a little better. Sound good?"

The kids look at each other and whisper among themselves, their tones communicating their uncertainty.

"Plus," Beckett continues, "how about this? After you finish asking me your questions, I also promise to do a dare of any kind, just to show you that there are no hard feelings for yesterday. Okay?" She had thought up the last part on the drive over, and while the possibilities involved were certainly potentially tricky, the implication of further endearing herself to the class was what made her go with it.

It seems to do its job, too, because the class immediately perks up, making them all nod vigorously.

"Great! So, who'd like to ask the first question?"

Every single child shoots their hand up into the air, and they all wiggle in excitement.

She scans the rows, her eyes jumping from face to face, seeing that each of them is aglow with interest. After a few seconds, Beckett finally settles on Oliver by pointing to him and calling out his name. As he lowers his hand with a grin on his face, the others groan because they wanted to be picked first.

"Have you ever tripped and fallen on your face in front of your friends, or your boss?" Olivier asks, his voice expectant.

Beckett grins momentarily at the question, not at all surprised, because she had expected silly questions, anyway. "Yeah, I have, actually." The kids lean forward as one. "What happened was, I was walking through our bullpen, the place where we all have our desks, and I was carrying this big stack of folders with a bunch of loose papers. Well, a few of those papers slipped out of the folders as I was going to put them away, and I stepped on one. Now, the floor was so slick, and I had really high-heeled shoes on, so that combination made me slip on the paper and go falling right onto the floor, and the files went up in the air around me. My co-workers, Ryan and Espo, as well as my fiance, Rick, were there and saw it. And my boss saw through her office window, too."

The kids chuckle at that, some giggling into their palms.

"But, here's a lesson for you: you should never care if people make fun of you if something like that happens. If you can show them that you're happy being yourself, no matter what they think, you can go a long way in life." She pauses to let that sink in. "Okay, next?"

Hands rocket back into the air, and Beckett chooses Zack. "Have you ever been somewhere with a lot of people around, and you had a wedgie or you had an itch on your butt? And did you do anything about it?"

This gets a few giggles from the group, and Beckett tilts her head down and sighs. Is this how it's going to go? she thinks. Look, just play along. You want to do everything you can to get them to like you, right? Beckett resumes her grin when she looks back up. "Alright. Yes, there was one time I had an itch on my butt, and it was when I was at a crime scene in the park once. I backed up against a tree and rubbed it up and down as subtly as I could, but I'm pretty sure Espo and my other friend Lanie, as well as a few other cops who were around, saw me and could tell what I was doing." She nods her head, putting up with more giggling. "I know, I know. Who's next?

"What's the most embarrassing fart you've ever had?" This from a boy named Matt.

"Are you sure these are the kinds of questions you want to ask?" The kids nod eagerly, making Beckett sigh again. "I guess that would have to be one day at work. It was after lunch, and I had this sandwich with a lot of meat and cheese on it. My team and I were giving an update to our boss about a case, and before I knew it, I felt a rumbling in my stomach, and out it came. One of the loudest farts I've ever had in my life. And my team just stared at me for a good half minute afterwards." The giggling escalates into more pronounced laughter. "Aren't there any other kinds of questions you want to ask me?"

"You said we could ask you anything we wanted, Miss Beckett!" Alex speaks up. "Well, these are the ones we want to ask!"

"Yeah!" Jason says, his hand already in the air. "Can I ask the next one? Pleeeeeease?" Upon Beckett's hesitant nod, he continues. "Have you ever pooped your pants for real as an adult?" The class cackles.

Kids … Beckett thinks to herself. She has half a mind to try and skip over the question, but the little voice in her head, which sounds exactly like Castle, reminds her that if she wants to earn the kids' trust here in this moment, then she needs to lay all her cards on the table. No matter how demeaning it will be for her. She clears her throat. "Yes … and kind of like the last question, it was because of something I ate. It was in college, and I was out with my friends on a Friday night. We ate Mexican food for dinner that night. Well, about two hours later, we were hanging around outside, very far from any bathrooms. I ran as fast as I could to the nearest building the moment I felt it, but … I got there too late. I had to go back to my room to wash and change, obviously."

The laughter reaches its crescendo, and most of the kids put their heads in their arms on top of the desk as they react. Beckett rubs her temples, her cheeks going red. Once again, I hate this case, floats through her head. "Next question …" she mumbles, her eyes still trained on the floor.

"What's your favorite color?"

The simple, regular question asked in a high voice makes Beckett glance up to see who said it: Emily. Emily is looking at Beckett with a blank, unreadable face, but Beckett still smiles out of relief.

"Purple," she answers happily.

"There's another part of the question," Emily adds. The rest of the kids are quiet now. Emily briefly glances at the rest of them before asking the second part. "Is that the color of the underwear that you're wearing right now?" Once she finishes talking, Emily joins her classmates in laughing loudly.

Beckett's face goes completely red and it becomes one of the rare moments in her life when she's lost for words. She spends a few seconds stuttering in the midst of all the laughing, before finally finding the right words. Not willing to admit that it is, she says: "I … I think that's enough questions. You know what, why don't we go right to the dare?"

Sounds of disappointment travel through the group, but those noises soon turn into ones of discussion. After a few minutes, during which Beckett eyes them all suspiciously, Emily is the one who gets up from her seat. "Turn around, Miss Beckett," she says politely.

Rumblings of this being a bad idea go through Beckett's mind as she reluctantly complies, turning to face the blackboard. A few more minutes go by without anything happening, and it gets to the point where she's about to turn back around to see what's happening, but she hears Emily's voice again. It's right by her ear, too, as if the girl is standing on a chair.

"Your dare is to stay completely still while we put Mr. Whiskers on you!"

Mr. Whiskers is the class pet, a tiny white mouse who's kept in a cage in the far left corner of the room most of the time, but the squeaking that starts up by Beckett's ear tells her that the mouse is now being held in Emily's hand. And despite the numerous times she's had guns and other assorted weapons threaten her, and as many ruthless thugs she's tackled without second thoughts, Beckett completely freezes at the prospect of having a tiny mouse placed on her body.

"Wait …" she begins, her voice uneasy.

Emily doesn't wait. She puts the creature on Beckett's shoulder, where it immediately starts crawling across her shoulders and then, ultimately, into her clothing. The class is giggling like maniacs.

Beckett twitches and turns as she feels it crawling over her skin, shocked out of her frozen state just moments before. She hates the feel of it. She looks around desperately, starting to hop and wiggle like a madwoman, and it only makes the kids laugh harder.

"The mouse is in my clothes!" she screams uselessly to the kids, hoping one will help her or at least take back the dare. Of course, no one does.

"You lose the dare, Miss Beckett!" Emily proclaims as she laughs. "Now sit down so Mr. Whispers can crawl free!"

Zach has wheeled her desk chair out and over to her in the midst of all the madness. Happy to comply, Beckett desperately sits on the seat, not paying much attention, and she feels something hard prick her butt. This makes her jump in the air and the kids laugh even harder. She puts her hands over her bottom, and feels a few somethings stuck to it. Tacks. When she looks around, she spots the little white mouse crawling away from under her.

"Oh my gosh, Mr. Whiskers, are you okay?" Emily coos at the mouse, causing Beckett to roll her eyes. "You shouldn't be so irresponsible, Miss Beckett!" she scolds.

"Me?! It was - never mind." Beckett isn't even bothered to argue anymore. All she wants to do is head to the bathroom and remove the tacks.

THURSDAY

The way Beckett sees it, she has two last options available to her in how to deal with the kids: going to the Principal or bribing them. Castle's illness is finally showing signs of abating, but not nearly enough to let him try his hand with the class, so Beckett is still stuck in her unenviable position. Castle expects to be ready to give it a try by next week if Beckett still hasn't gotten anywhere by then, but nonetheless, there's a ticking clock on this whole endeavor, and her time is running out.

Her first order of business this morning is to stop by the doughnut shop she's passed every day this week, en route to the school,, leaving the loft early enough to fit it into the drive time. There, she orders two boxes of a dozen doughnuts each, which come packaged in those trademark light pink boxes. Those boxes are subsequently stacked in the passenger seat of her car, where the aroma mixes perfectly with the coffee she ordered along with them. With every sip she takes of the coffee, Beckett is more and more sure that she'll need every drop of caffeine she can get if the week she's had so far is any indication of what the next two days will be like.

She arrives fifteen minutes before the morning bell, her now-required duffel bag of spare clothes slung over her shoulder and the boxes of doughnuts balanced in front of her. Beckett sets the bag in its place and the boxes on top of her desk, beside each other. Included in the first box are enough napkins for all of the kids, so she takes the time to distribute each on the surface of all the desks. By the time she's done, the bell is rung and the class filters in, their eyes immediately falling on the pink boxes.

"So, I thought I'd surprise you guys today!" Beckett says brightly, still standing in the midst of the desks. She makes her way back to her desk and opens the boxes, revealing the rows of doughnuts, most of them topped with frosting and sprinkles of various colors. "Who likes doughnuts?"

The kids need no further coaxing. They excitedly swarm around the snacks, their fingers reaching out hungrily.

"Only one per person!" Beckett raises her voice over the chatter. "And stay calm!"

By the time the mob of kids has dispersed, only seven doughnuts remain, and Beckett decides to take one covered in pink frosting and multicolored sprinkles for herself. Enough of her coffee is left over to go with it.

"Do you guys have anything to say about this?" she asks sweetly but pointedly.

"Thanks, Miss Beckett!" the class choruses, their voices slightly muffled by mouthfuls of doughnut.

She takes her seat at the head of the class, and the first few "official" minutes of the day pass in relative silence, as everyone munches contentedly on their second breakfast. So far, so good, Beckett thinks to herself. She crumples the paper towel she was using as a plate into a ball and tosses it into a nearby trash can.

"Okay, once everybody's finished, we can go ahead and get started for the day," she announces before getting up to write a list of words the class would soon have to work to find definitions for as part of today's reading lesson. Once done, she turns back around and her eyes instantly fall on a pair of doughnuts that are now lying on the floor in-between the desks of Zack and Alex. Both kids are reaching down for them, but are obstructed by the side rails of their desks.

"Miss Beckett, can you help us? We can't reach," says Alex in a very kid-like moan.

Beckett looks toward the open box which still has a few leftover doughnuts, and notices that there are now two fewer than there were before. "Did the two of you take more without asking?" She asks, reverting back to her stern tone.

"Sorry," Zack replies sheepishly.

Beckett just sighs and shakes her head slightly, stepping forward and around her desk, walking towards the two doughnuts. But the instant her legs pass through the first set of desk legs, she finds her footing suddenly lost and before she can do anything about it, she's tumbling down towards the floor. She collides roughly with the ground, hard enough to make a considerable impact, but not so hard that there's any danger of bruising. For most of her body, there's that hard thump that sends slight tremors through her muscles, but with her upper chest, specifically her breasts, it's a different story.

In the split-second while she was falling, she'd half-expected her face to be smashed into the doughnuts, but due to her height, the pastries find a slightly lower target - or, targets, to be precise. No sound is made, so it's just the sensation of squishing against her boobs that alerts Beckett to the fact that the doughnuts have hilariously found themselves pressed against the mounds. The fresh round of laughter that erupts around her tells her that it had been yet another prank, unsurprisingly.

With a groan, Beckett gets to her feet, revealing the now practically flat doughnuts on the floor, but also putting the brown and pink frosting stains in unfortunate locations on her shirt in plain sight.

It makes the kids laugh even harder.

"Wow, we were hoping you'd get it in the face!" Zack cackled. "But this is so much better!"

All Beckett wants to do is throttle each and every one of the kids, but her cop instincts, knowing child abuse laws, pull her back. She waits for the laughter to eventually die down before saying anything. "I'm going to go change my shirt, and you're all coming with me," she says in a deadly calm voice. "And when we get back, there will be consequences."

She retrieves her duffel bag from its usual spot, much earlier in the day than she'd anticipated, and snaps her fingers before motioning at the door, indicating the kids to all line up, which they do, grins plastered on their faces.

The quick walk to the bathroom is accompanied by the incessant murmuring of the children, most likely about her, but she ignores it. Upon reaching the bathroom door, she orders them to stay there and heads inside, replacing her messed-up shirt with a clean one while in a stall. When she steps out of the stall and looks at herself in the mirror, she sighs. Why am I not going to the principal about all this? she thinks to herself. Oh, right, because any hope of finding this witness depends on me NOT going off on these kids.

It really is an unenviable situation; she's getting pranked relentlessly by these little demons, but she can't do anything except take it, for if she comes across as too hostile about it, there goes her chances of making headway in the case. Not that she's been getting anywhere to begin with.

Beckett is relieved to discover that the kids are calmly waiting for her in the hallway, and with a terse "Come on," they start heading back to the classroom.

"What's our punishment, Miss Beckett?" Jason asks once everybody is re-situated.

"Um …" Beckett rubs her temples as her inner voice, which sounds remarkably like Castle, says, It's all about trust. "Just … sit quietly for twenty minutes. If I hear anything from anybody, I'll keep adding on five minutes. Understood?" The class nods. "Good."

Remarkably, the kids follow instructions, which makes Beckett grateful. When Quiet Time is over, she begins the lessons for the day, keeping a lookout from the corners of her eyes whenever her back is turned, just in case they try to pull something else. But much to her relief, they don't. In fact, from then until lunchtime, the class is the best-behaved she's seen them be all week. So, by the time lunch ends and recess begins, Beckett is actually feeling rather happy.

That same feeling is still there as she sits at her desk after recess, watching the class dutifully work on an Arts & Crafts project. Maybe I can get what I need before they go home.

"Miss Beckett?" Emily raises her hand. "Can you come help me with the gluestick?"

"Of course, Emily."

But when she tries to get up, she finds that she can't, her butt refusing to be lifted from the chair. It surprises her at first, but after a few seconds of furious struggling and grunting, the realization hits her. "I'm glued to the chair, aren't I?" Her answer comes in the form of fresh laughter, prompting her to angrily wriggle some more.

Before Beckett knows it, most of the boys are dragging the chair out into the open and tying her hands behind it and her legs together with jump ropes. "What the f-"

"Oooooh, you almost said a bad word!" says Emily with a mischievous smile.

Beckett's attention is diverted by a rag, serving as a gag, that is put over her mouth, muffling any sounds of protests. Never in all her years as a cop did she think she'd one day be tied up and gagged in a chair by kids instead of criminals.

An open bottle of red paint is carried over by Jason, who places it on Beckett's desk. It doesn't take long for the boys to start dipping their hands in red paint and hold the dripping palms out in front of her breasts. Her eyes widen and she tries to scoot back, but it only makes her bump into the front of her desk. The grubby hands of Jason find their way onto her boobs, relishing the feel of them and lingering for as long as possible.

"Stop!" she exclaims through the gag, but it comes out as a muffled, incomprehensible sound.

"No, not until it looks good and we are finished touching your boobs, which are really nice, by the way," Jason tells her with a grin. By now, the boys of the class have formed a line behind Jason, and each have brought their own differently-colored bottle of paint. And just like Jason, each of them grabs her breasts with vigor, slathering paint all over her chest while "copping a feel" at the same time, the irony of that phrase for her not lost on Beckett.

"Stop!" she repeats again and again, but it still comes out muffled and the boys just ignore her as small hands touch her all over her boobs until her shirt is painted all the different colors of the rainbow.

Beckett can already imagine what Castle will have to say about this.

FRIDAY

Turns out, Castle has a lot to say about it, unsurprisingly, but Beckett rolls her eyes and shakes her head in what's now her customary reaction to his childish innuendos. She endures his playful taunting for the rest of the evening and wakes up the next morning feeling the most relieved and happy she's felt all week. Today marks her last day in the wretched classroom, whether or not she manages to single out the witness, and she's all too grateful for that.

Her positive attitude seems to affect the day itself, because she's even more relieved to discover that the kids are uncharacteristically calm and the most obedient they've been all week. They follow any and all instructions she gives them, not showing even a trace of mischief or devious intent. And during the first half of the day, something overtakes her, something she can only describe as what she imagines experienced teachers or even mothers feel when they share significant bonding moments with their children. Briefly, as a result, she finds herself having small daydreams about what it'll be like when she and Castle eventually have kids of their own. The thought makes her smile.

Lunchtime comes sooner than expected, during which time Beckett takes the opportunity to check any and all voicemails on her phone. She turns the volume up enough so the messages can be heard over the noise of the cafeteria. The first two are from Ryan and Espo, each offering general updates on the case, neither relaying much progress made. They can't all get solved so quickly, she thinks. The third is from Castle, just checking in on her and seeing if she needs any further advice. The level of concern in his voice makes her smile that smile that only he can bring out in her.

She sets her phone down, turning her attention back to her salad, when she hears the sound of her name to her left. "Miss Beckett!"

It's Emily, situated a few seats a few seats down the table from Beckett.

Beckett gets up and walks over to the little girl until she's standing directly behind her. "What is it, Emily?"

"I can't open the top off my Sunny D," says Emily in a slightly whiny tone, holding up the small bottle of the orange liquid. "Can you help me open it, please?"

"Sure," Beckett replies with a warm smile.

She takes the bottle and easily twists the top to the right with a simple flick of the wrist. Still smiling, she sets the drink back down in front of Emily, who offers a bright, "Thanks!"

Beckett goes to return to her seat at the end of the table when she feels it, the sudden plop of something squishy as it collides with her back, lingering there for a moment or two before slipping off her and onto the floor. It makes her gasp involuntarily and whip around to see what it was. Turns out, it was a piece of cafeteria pizza, which now lies on the ground at her feet and has no doubt left a saucy stain on the back of her shirt. But it hadn't come from any of her kids, obviously, because she'd been facing the wrong direction at the time of the incident for that to be possible. It didn't take all her years of experience as a Detective to make it clear that it had come from one of the kids at the other tables.

She slowly looks back up to try and spot the culprit, but by then, it's too late.

"FOOOOOOD FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!" the shout of a nearby boy declares over all the chatter, momentarily making everything come to a standstill.

It's almost like it's a scene in a movie that someone has hit the Pause button on, but only for a few seconds. A battle cry sounds up from a bunch of kids, making everybody spring into action. Of course, that involves most kids scooping up pieces of whatever food's in front of them at that very moment before lobbing them through the air with joyous gusto.

As it so happens, Beckett is caught dead-center in the crossfire. Before she can even get three steps, a cacophony of food is pelting her from all directions, slapping against her sides, head, chest, legs. She brings her hands up to shield her face, and only barely registers the other teachers trying to dodge the flying food while attempting to get the place back under control. She wonders, as she's pelted from all sides with what seems like every piece of food imaginable, whether she should try to help the teachers. Then she steps on something that causes her to lose her balance and go plummeting to the ground.

She lands with her stomach falling on top of two mounds of mashed potatoes, while her face is smashed into a small pool of gravy. After lifting her head in a daze and sighing deeply, she feels two separate...somethings hit and splatter against both sides of her butt.

Stay down! she tells herself desperately, but that doesn't help her any, as more food finds its way to her, mostly her back.

Fortunately, a reprieve comes in the form of a harsh whistle blow that cuts through the chaos and effectively silences it. Seconds of stark silence follow, during which Beckett cautiously gets to her feet.

The whistle blow had come from the Principal, who's standing in the center of the cafeteria and regarding everything with fierce eyes and a red face. "In all my years…" he says in a raised, but steady voice, "I've never… A school-wide assembly is happening in thirty minutes, during which, we'll discuss proper behavior and how to deal with tomfoolery like this!"

Beckett looks down at herself and notices with a groan how much worse for wear she looks in comparison with all the other teachers who'd been in the middle of the food fight. She looks like she just crawled out of a battlefield where the ammunition had been food instead of bullets, which wasn't far from the truth.

The principal makes his way to her, giving her a sympathetic stare. "Maybe you should try cleaning yourself off as best you can in the meantime," he tells her.

She needs no further coaxing. With a relieved nod, she heads towards the doors of the cafeteria, earning herself quite a few giggles and pointing from various kids along the way, but paying it no mind.

It takes her twenty-five minutes to make herself presentable again, most of that time spent holed up in the teachers' shower, reserved for those moments where an Arts & Crafts project goes awry or for other incidents of the sort, food fights being one of them. She disposes her dirty clothes in a compartment of her gym bag, figuring they might be beyond saving, given the amount of stains on them.

Finally feeling like herself again, Beckett exits the bathroom and deposits the bag back in the classroom. She makes her way to the cafegymatorium, the room where the cafeteria, gym and auditorium all come together to make one large, multi-purpose space, often separated by a movable wall. Along the way, though, she notices her clothes feel a little odd, as if they're slightly loose, even though they hug the shape of her body as they always do.

She enters the gathering area, casting her eyes downward when she notices a few of the teachers eye her when she walks in, uncharacteristically shy at the attention. Spotting her class seated near the front of the two large groups that occupy the center of the floor, she makes her way to them, walking in-between the groups.

It happens right as she reaches the front of each, where she's in plain sight of everyone gathered there.

Without any type of warning, her clothes literally tear apart and fall from her body, fluttering to her feet. Her shirt and pants lie in two halves each on the floor, leaving Beckett just standing there in her bra and panties, out in the open for everyone to see, her face frozen in an expression caught between shock, embarrassment, surprise and terror.

"Best! Assembly! Ever!" yells a random boy from the crowd, initiating a loud, raucous round of laughter.

In a delayed reaction, Beckett scrambles to cover herself as best she can, before giving into instinct and racing from the area, not even stopping to pick up her clothes. On her way out, it occurs to her: one of her "delightful" kids came into the bathroom while she was in the shower and unseamed her change of clothes.

How in the hell is this happening to me? she thought in despair.

She'd said it before, but this time, she truly meant it: she hated this case. Her only consolation as she ran for her bag was that Castle would get what she needed next week. If only she could've been spared this past week to begin with.

I hope you enjoyed the fic. And to quote CalPal concerning the paint prank and whether or not it feels like too much: "Kids love paint and boys like boobs." ;)