Path to Paradise

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Castle rubbed the back of his neck as he watched from the break room, realized what he was doing only after Beckett's fingers touched his spine. He dropped his arm, but he didn't look at her, choosing to watch Ben Lee shake Ryan's hand.

"He's lost a lot," she said quietly. They'd deserted the bullpen to give Ryan a chance to talk to Ben alone. The kid would be going into Witness Protection, leaving everything. "He'll have to testify against his brother too. If he wants to keep his protection."

"Cast off from his family, the only things he's known. Wonder how long his convictions will last." Castle sighed, sinking into the counter and staring down at his coffee cup. The dainty white one from the set he had ordered along with the machine back... so long ago now. Another existence.

He reached out and took it by the thin, breakable handle, and he tossed the cold contents into the sink.

Beckett came up to him at the counter and bumped his shoulder. "They'll last. He was in love with her. He's young - I know. But his family murdered his hope, Castle, his dreams for the future." She took the cup from his fingers and laid it in the sink, handed him her clean blue mug. "You of all people. When did we switch roles?" Her arm pressed against his. "You're usually the optimistic one."

He gave her a wry look. "No closer to Tyson. For all this."

Her brow furrowed. "We both agreed that it wasn't worth trading Jane Herzfeld's justice for a dubious location no doubt planted-"

"No, I know," he said quickly, cradling her blue mug. His hands were going through the motions without thinking, soothing and rhythmic, the perfect cup of coffee. "It's still not worth it. But it's a nasty reminder that there are people out there plotting our downfall. Faceless men." Tyson. The sniper. Even this Mr. Smith couldn't really be trusted.

Beckett didn't answer, and he let the noises of the espresso machine keep him from opening his mouth again. When it was done, the espresso shot was dwarfed by her NYPD mug, but he turned and pressed it into her hand anyway. His shoulders were stiff.

Beckett's fingers curled around the coffee, but she also touched his forearm, her eyes serious on his. "Castle." She hesitated, bringing the mug against her chest.

He realized suddenly that they were standing too close, that the blinds were open to the bullpen and Gates's office. He took a step back, but her fingers tightened on his arm and she came half a step with him, preventing his retreat.

"Castle, I don't want this to sound... patronizing. But-" Her eyes studied his.

"But?" he asked, utterly at a loss.

"How's the pain?" she murmured finally.

The shrapnel still lodged in his back, the scars. Healing was one long path of pain. "Yeah," he admitted. "It might be that." And more. More he'd not told her, because she had her own issues, her job, the sniper, and he had only this one thing. Get better. "It's - constant. Makes me a little bitter, I suppose." Deflection, deflection.

She let out a tight breath and nodded, chin tilting. She was buying it, but she wasn't swallowing it. Her posture was defensive in that Beckett way, rigid and unyielding. It usually made him hot for her, but he found it pulsed between his shoulder blades like tension.

She was going to ask. She was going to find out.

She traced her finger over the rim of the mug. "Have you taken any?" A breath. "The pills."

There was a silence and a terror that opened up in him like a black hole. His palms began to sweat; his heart pounded. She knew. He didn't know how, but she already knew.

"I don't have any left," he admitted.

Beckett's eyes snapped back to his.

He felt the tremor in his hands and suppressed it, but he didn't do her the dishonor of looking away. "I ran out last - two weeks ago." He had almost lied.

"Castle."

His head bobbed. "I know."

They both just breathed, existing in this gaping moment of brutal honesty. (The pain pills were gone; he'd run through them unthinkingly, not paying attention, one after another. He had no refills. He shouldn't ask for a refill. He was purposefully not thinking about wanting a refill. Craving a refill.)

Her lips twisted. She dumped the mug in the sink and grabbed his hand, tugged him towards the door. "Out." Her voice was cracked. "We're getting out of here. We need out of here."

"It's not because of you," he said urgently.

She didn't look at him.

"It's not being at the precinct either," he promised. "I can handle it. I'm handling it, Beckett."

"We're getting out of here," she said again, already striding towards her desk. Ryan startled, Esposito giving them a severe look as they huddled around Ben Lee. Castle swallowed down the thick, terrible relief in his throat - relief and shame - but he reached past Beckett for her coat, took it from her fingers.

"Let me," he murmured.

She gave him a piercing look, but her eyes darted next to the boys, and she nodded, allowing him at least this. Castle held up her coat, gritting his teeth through the effort of will it took just to keep his arms steady. He could swear the bullet fragment was grinding into his bones.

"We're leaving you guys the paperwork," Beckett told Ryan. "Make sure the US Marshall brings the request form already signed-"

"We got it covered," Esposito said. His eyes were studying Castle. Could the detective see? Just how much it cost Castle to stand still, to stand at all.

"Yeah, you guys get out of here," Ryan said eagerly. "And thanks, Castle. Don't know that we would have gotten here without you."

"It was good to be back." He gave Kevin a deep smile in response; he could tell by the ease in Beckett's shoulders that it looked like his usual. Esposito was put off the scent as well, and he even shook Castle's hand, which tugged so vitally at his back that he felt the spikes sink into his spine.

"Let's go, Rick," she was saying. Much more touching, and an urgency in her voice that made Esposito's head pick up.

Castle followed her beautiful cashmere camel coat through the bullpen and down to the elevator with his own coat over her arm. She had her bag in one hand and as she punched the call button, Castle reached out and took the leather satchel from her.

"No, I can-"

"I got it, Kate," he asked. Please.

She heard it and pressed her lips together, and they waited there for the elevator.

The door finally slid open and she stepped on, put her hand up to the doors to keep them from catching him. He was slow-moving tonight, and he knew it now. It must have crept up on him all day. He eased back against the rail and she let the doors go, jabbing at the button for the basement level.

"The car?" he frowned.

"You're in pain."

"It's not pain," he said quickly. Stopped.

Her eyebrows rose, pointedly.

"At least, I didn't think it was. It's not just the pain," he grumbled.

"Withdrawal?" she said tightly. Her breath whistled in her teeth and he clenched a fist.

But that hurt. "I assumed as much."

"Rick." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

He gave her a brief shake of his head and she dropped it, moving instead to get off the elevator. He followed, making a fist with one hand to focus on something other than the terrible ache in his shoulders.

Now that he was paying attention, he hurt very badly.

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