Victoria Gates pushed her chair back from her desk and stood up to grab her coat. She wanted nothing more than to slip into a hot bath, have a lovely dinner with her husband and put this long, long day behind her.
It had been a day filled with phone calls. Non-stop phone calls about her most high-profile (and consequently, most troublesome) team. She just could not, for the life of her, understand the appeal of Richard Castle. Yes, he's an entertaining writer...that much, at least, she was willing to admit.
But her people didn't treat him as a writer. They treated him as a cop. Even though he didn't go through the academy like they did or work their way up the ranks like they did. Maybe she had spent too long in IA, Gates mused, but anything that went against police procedure just rubbed her the wrong way. And everything about Richard Castle spit in the face of police procedure. Why was the 12th precinct so freakin' special that they needed their own mascot?
Gates knew why. Senior detective Kate Beckett was why. To be fair, Beckett was a very good detective. And her fierce loyalty to her late former captain was something Gates couldn't help but admire (once she set her IA-laden corruption suspicions aside). But the detective was also stubborn. Headstrong. And far too much of a maverick for her tastes. The way Beckett ran off after Maddox, with only Esposito as backup, nearly getting *both* of them killed...they both earned their suspensions, of that much Gates was certain. If the captain had it her way, Beckett would have a no-nonsense cop like Ryan keeping her on the straight and narrow and there was no way in hell that Kate Beckett would ever be given such a high-profile privilege as having a civilian tag along.
But it wasn't up to her. A fact that had been made painfully clear that morning. Because Richard Castle was buddies with the mayor, he got to be Victoria Gates' worst nightmare. For as long as he wanted.
It was almost enough to make Gates want to start a recall campaign.
And now Beckett and Castle were a couple. A very *public* couple. The rules about fraternization between cops were there for a reason. The couple gets distracted by each other, and everyone around them get distracted *by* them. Distracted cops make mistakes. Mistakes help bad guys to go free. Mistakes get cops killed. That's why the rules were put into place, and that's why cops agree to *follow* those rules.
But rules don't apply to Richard Castle.
So as much as Captain Gates couldn't fight the course of 'true love'...by order of the mayor...she could darn well slow it down a little.
"Detective Beckett," Gates called out, announcing her presence as she crossed the bullpen to get to the woman's desk.
Beckett looked up as she signed off on the last of her paperwork for the day. "Sir?"
"I think it would be best, detective, if Castle's...presence wasn't felt around the precinct for the rest of the week. While you are together as a couple now and I'm," Gates swallowed hard, having trouble getting out her next words, "happy...for you both, I don't want the press' rabid desire for pictures of the two of you together to affect the smooth running of this precinct any more than it has to. Once you two have the press off your backs, we'll let things return to normal."
Beckett was simply too tired to protest. "Yes, sir."
"And get these roses out of here," Gates ordered. "They're giving me a headache."
Beckett's reply was loud enough for the rest of the bullpen to hear. "Oh you mean *these* roses? These roses, given to me by *Mayor Wheldon?* Yes, sir, I'll get them out of here right away."
Gates watched as detectives Stegner and Karpowski started hitting each other, each apparently chiding the other for not guessing the correct source of Beckett's gift. Her point made as best she could, the captain mustered up the last vestiges of her dignity, turned on her heel, and walked out of the precinct.
As Beckett watched her boss leave, she heard a very familiar voice speak up behind her. "You're getting big bouquets of roses? From who?"
Beckett turned around, smiling, to see her boyfriend standing behind her, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his tone unabashedly teasing. "Are these from someone I have to worry about?" asked Castle.
"Not unless he's willing to follow me around for the next four years like a cocker spaniel," Beckett teased in response, leaning in to give Castle a gentle greeting kiss. "Hi."
"Hi. You done for the day?"
"I was done an hour ago," replied Beckett as she grabbed her coat. "It's been a long day..." She gasped as the events of the day hit her again full force. "I...I didn't really have a plan for what I was going to do tonight. I was originally thinking I was just going to go home..."
"You can still do that, you know," Castle suggested, "if you want."
"With the press camped outside my door?" countered Beckett. "No thanks. If I'm a shut-in for the night, I'd rather do it with you than without you."
Castle's smile grew even wider. "I was hoping you'd say that. Martha and Alexis are waiting for us at the loft for a movie night."
"Sounds great," Beckett agreed. "If we can get there..."
"That's what I'm here for." A third voice joined the conversation, with just as much accent and a little less attitude than Beckett was expecting to hear. Paula crossed the bullpen, assistant in tow, until she was standing directly in front of her client and his now very public girlfriend. "I know this is all a little intimidating right now, detective. But my job is to make sure you get through it in the best possible light."
"Paula, right?" asked Beckett. The publicist nodded. Beckett realized that she had no idea what she was about to experience once she stepped outside the doors of the precinct. "How bad *is* it out there?"
Paula waved off Beckett's concerns. "About a dozen guys. I've seen a lot worse. Now they will be pushing to get your picture *and* asking you questions. *Don't* answer them."
Beckett frowned, her confusion growing. "Why not?"
"The Oprah deal. We promised her the exclusive. Her people are going to be here tomorrow to work out the details for her to tape the interview at the loft by the end of the week. I don't want to jeopardize that with a wrong word said to some paparazzi, so for now let *me* do the talking."
Beckett nodded, understanding Paula's thinking and trusting that the woman was just trying to do her job. "All right, then. Let's go."
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