Won't Let You Go

by badge-and-pen

Beckett and Castle awaken into a new world of possibilities following 'Always,' but when a reporter starts to chronicle their lives in cruel detail, one of them finds themselves as the prime suspect for murder.

5. All This Time

A/N: Hello again, everyone. This chapter's title/lyrics come from the OneRepublic song All This Time.

-{ Chapter 5: All This Time }-

Take all the time lost
All the days that I cost
Take what I took and
Give it back to you

All this time
We were waiting for each other
All this time
I was waiting for you

We got all these words
Can't waste them on another
So I'm straight in a straight line
Running back to you

June 4th, 2012

"Beckett!"

"Kate Beckett!"

"Detective, can you spare a—"

"Come on," Castle intoned softly into her ear, engulfing her shoulders with one arm and guiding her through the onslaught.

"No comment, no comment!" crowed Martha, flapping her arms dramatically. She plowed past Castle and led the way, shaking her finger threateningly at the reporters that were slower to move from her path. Alexis crowded along in her wake, clear blue eyes open wide. Camera flashes popped around them, the lights messing with Castle's vision.

"Is it true that you are under investigation by Internal Affairs?"

"What do you have to say about the charges against you?"

"Mr. Castle, can you confirm that your publisher has renounced your contract?"

"Don't listen to them," he murmured in her ear, hand on the small of her back as he guided them. The vultures gathered around his car as their group of four piled in, microphones waving and camera flashes popping at regular intervals. He pulled away from the curb, and the garble of voices faded as they disappeared into traffic.

"They'll be at the loft," Martha warned heavily.

Castle nodded, grey eyes locked fiercely on the road.

No one said anything for the rest of the drive, the silence like a heavy stone in his stomach. They didn't touch the radio, knowing what they were likely to hear, and so the only sound was the steady beat of traffic as they stopped and started at each set of lights. When they pulled into Castle's building, a news van was parked out front and a reporter was standing lax by the door, microphone hanging at her side as she gestured through her conversation with the cameraman. They both looked over as the car pulled into the lot, though, and he watched grimly as they scrambled into position.

So far, there was just the one van. He knew better than to think that this would be the worst of it, though. "Come on," he sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching over to give Beckett's hand a reassuring squeeze before opening his door.

"…Suspected of murder after resigning from the NYPD," the reporter was saying, her dark hair billowing in the wind that had picked up. It ruffled Castle's crisp, violet shirt and brushed Beckett's hair across her face as she stood. "While previously denying their relationship, mystery writer Richard Castle has just arrived back at his apartment in company with Beckett." The camera panned towards them, and Castle stepped around the car and took Beckett's hand in his, gripping firmly.

"What are you doing?" she asked seriously.

"They all know," he insisted. "Everyone knows. And they're gonna see… that you've got support. That there are people that know the truth and aren't going to leave your side. Okay?"

She swallowed, eyes glimmering like fresh morning dew. "Okay," she agreed thickly, squeezing his hand back.

They walked hand-in-hand across the short gap to the front of the building.

"What do you have to say about the charges?" the reporter asked, her heels clicking as she shuffled forward to catch them on their path to the building.

Beckett glanced at Castle, and he nodded shortly. The cameras were trained on them. There was a moment to ignore the reporters, to demand privacy… and there was another moment. Right now. This could be a chance to win some public support.

"I did not commit this murder," Beckett said tremulously. "And the evidence will prove that. Thank you."

The reporter blinked, mouth opening for another question, but they slipped past and moved for the door, his mother and Alexis crowding behind them.

"Are the two of you involved in a relationship?" the reporter called, regaining her voice just before they vanished inside. Castle held up his and Beckett's joined hands in response, and then stepped into the solitude of the lobby. The doorman tipped his hat grimly, and Castle slipped him a twenty.

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

June 5th, 2012

Beckett was still asleep at ten o'clock, when Castle finished his first cup of coffee, set down the newspaper, and turned the television on at a low volume. Alexis had come down for cereal but retired to her room, barely saying a word. There was an emptiness in her expression that he had almost questioned, but the silence that she swept into the room with her seemed to suggest that he maintain the status quo. He ducked his head, sipped his coffee, and let her retreat without a word. His mother had yet to make an appearance.

The paper was splashed with the headline 'Disturbed Heat' over a large image of Beckett in handcuffs from the afternoon when she was arrested. The article itself explained the charges against her, painting a picture the prosecution could be proud of. Kate Beckett was in the public eye, and she looked like a cop gone off the deep end. The news was no better, as reporters talked to psychologists who characterized Beckett as erratic and possibly influenced by a manic break. Talk show hosts joked about which reporter was next in line.

Castle could not keep himself from the case when Beckett was not around. In her presence, all he wanted to do was shield her. Make the harsh, negative attention vanish. But when he was alone… he pored through articles and first-hand accounts, dug through files, and conversed in hushed tones with Esposito or Ryan over the phone.

He had stayed up late last night, well after she had gone to bed, and gone through everything once more, desperate to see something that he had missed before. There had to be a missing link somewhere; there had to be something that could exonerate her.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Alexis asked from just behind him and he jumped violently, craning his neck around. His daughter leaned on the back of the couch, giving him a disapproving, raised-eyebrow look.

"Yes," he defended, scowling. "Did you?"

Her gaze shifted across the room, focusing on the lines of morning light falling like bars across the hardwood floor. "Some," she admitted honestly.

He tilted his head and patted the cushion next to him, prompting her to hop over the back of the couch and curl her legs up under her. "Is Beckett still sleeping?" she asked quietly. Castle nodded, watching the hesitation flicker across his daughter's face before she spoke. "My friends have been talking. Online."

Castle's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "What exactly have they been… talking about?"

She sighed. "The case. Beckett. You."

Castle swallowed past the unnatural tightness in his throat. He felt cold. "You don't have to listen to them," he started, and she shook her head rapidly, cutting him off. Her flaming hair spun with the motion.

"Dad… I need to know what's going on." She held up a hand to stop him, eyes narrowing warningly. "I'm serious. You're with Beckett and she's been arrested for murder."

"You don't think—"

She shoved his shoulder, just a little too fiercely to be just fooling around. "Of course I don't think she did it," Alexis hissed, sighing and throwing her head back into the couch. "I just… I need to know what's actually going on. I'm sick of being out of the loop, Dad. Especially with everything that's going on."

"Well, uh… what exactly did you want to know?" he tested cautiously. Alexis was old enough to understand the details. Old enough to demand to know them. But that didn't mean he felt comfortable telling her all of it. Especially the parts where he and Beckett put their lives on the line by merely possessing information on her mother's case.

"Who wants to frame Beckett?" Alexis started with at once, the question clearly prepared in advance. "Someone involved with her mother's case? Somebody else? There's nothing online or in the papers and if anyone has a theory… it's you."

She had a point.

"We don't know," he admitted sincerely. "But… we assume it's somebody related to the case."

"The same person that shot Beckett last year?"

Right. She had been there for that.

"Possibly. He's certainly on our list."

"You know who he is?" Alexis clarified, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh. Yeah. Uh… we ran into him on a case a few weeks ago."

"Your last case?" Alexis demanded. "Was he the one that almost killed her again?"

"How did you—?"

"Internet, Dad. Was he?"

"…Yeah." Castle stammered.

"If he wants her dead, why would he be trying to frame her?"

"We don't… we don't know."

"So maybe it's not related at all?" Alexis theorized, tilting her head questioningly.

Castle blinked at her. Had he fallen through some sort of mirror into an alternate universe? Because it seemed as though his daughter was trading theory with him on a case that he really did not want her involved with. And she was making sense.

"Yeah, maybe," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Good morning, good morning!" Martha called boisterously, sweeping down the staircase. "Ah, good, Kate's getting her rest," she commented as she noted the two of them seated alone on the couch. "It's been such a rough time on her, poor dear," she added with a wave of her hand, her flowing dress sweeping behind her on her path to the kitchen. "I'm going to make pancakes!"

"Maybe you should..?" Castle suggested in an undertone, and Alexis jumped from the couch.

"Good idea," she agreed quickly, shuffling her slippers in Martha's wake.

Castle remained alone on the couch, eyeing the remote control and contemplating whether it was worth the frustration to know what was going on. Finally, he resigned himself to reality and flicked on the television set.

The morning show crew was talking about a recent recall on baby strollers, and he relaxed as they moved into a segment on the weather. The rain from yesterday had not been the last of the storm; another wave was coming their way for that night. The phone rang just as they started talking about 'ideal health foods for summer.'

The caller ID informed him that it was Gina, and he grimaced and punched the 'ignore' button.

He turned back to the television to see his own face featured on the screen. "Mystery novelist Richard Castle has hit the spotlight again—and not for another novel. He has confirmed that he is involved in a relationship with embattled former NYPD detective Katherine Beckett, who is the inspiration for his latest string of crime novels. Beckett was arrested two days ago," the reporter continued in a calm, unwavering tone, "She is charged with the murder of Jocelyn Tam, a reporter who made a name for herself in recent weeks by investigating Beckett's departure from the NYPD. Tam was found dead in her apartment in the early hours of Saturday morning, and Beckett was seen fleeing the scene shortly before the arrival of detectives from the 19th precinct. Neighbors confirmed that they had heard gunshots only minutes before Beckett's departure. A trial date is set for the 16th of this month, and after a bail hearing yesterday, it seems Beckett will be back on the streets until then. Now, Andy—"

Castle looked up as Beckett shifted in the archway that led to the hallway and his bedroom. He changed the station and a bright cartoon lit up the screen.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, his mouth dry.

She shook her head, her gaze hanging down towards the floorboards. "Long enough," she sighed. His eyes flicked down to the bracelet strapped around her ankle. It hung unnaturally, coiled around her delicate flesh. She had kept her legs tucked up and away from him the night before, not tangling them with his like usual.

There was an uncomfortable distance wavering between them; an unusual silence.

"How did you sleep?" he asked tentatively.

She shrugged, pushing away from the wall and moving to settle on the couch beside him like a stray leaf slipping into a hollow. She wrapped her arms around her slim frame, the flowing nightgown wrinkling into her curves. Her gaze hovered over the cartoon on the screen, and it was as though she was looking straight through the television. The darkness in her eyes suggested she was seeing something that he would prefer she did not. He resisted the urge to ask what the night before had been like; the night she had been forced to spend in prison.

"I look guilty," she murmured.

"Kate…"

"I do, Castle," she insisted, turning to face him head-on, eyes alight with challenge and heartache. "Everything… everything they have seems to indicate that I did this. There's no proof that I didn't. I had the motive. The opportunity. The weapon."

"But this wasn't you," he said. "It wasn't."

She shook her head in slow astonishment, and then blinked and turned away.

He opened his mouth, not even sure what he was going to say, but he never got the chance to try. "Pancakes!" his mother called triumphantly from the kitchen. She swept into the living room, arms spread wide. "Kate, dear, you're awake! Come on, then, let's get some food in you. Richard, you too!"

~AxCxAxCxAxC~

Alexis glanced up from her spot at the counter as Gram returned with her father and Beckett in tow. A steaming plate of pancakes was settled in the middle of the space, and she sipped her orange juice in silence as the adults clambered into their chairs. Honestly, she didn't feel all that hungry.

Her friends had seen her on television yesterday, and the ones who had not already talked to her about the situation had come crawling out of the woodwork online. These were people she had left behind in high school. Many of them she had never intended to speak to again. They had left each other cheerful farewell messages in their yearbooks; that should have been enough closure.

Instead, there were questions. There was speculation. There were insults veiled as mere comments.

Is she, like, your new stepmom or something?

Did she kill somebody? Pretty messed up, Alexis.

Dude, your dad picked another crazy. Sorry, girl.

Her Facebook was buzzing with unpleasantness. A part of her was saying she should just sign off and not go back until this all blew over. But then she found herself engrossed in it, scrolling endlessly through the comments and the article links, unable to look away. She had to know what they were saying, no matter how much she hated them for each and every word.

Call if you want to talk, Ashley had said, and she had buried her head in her hands and closed out the conversation box. No.

Lauren was pushing her for information, practically humming with curiosity. Alexis had no plans to feed her hunger for drama. Her life was not a television show and she was not going to open herself up to be gawked at. Nobody understood it. Nobody knew what she was going through.

Her dad scooped a few pancakes onto her plate and she glanced up, drawn out of her reverie. Thankfully, his worried gaze was focused on Beckett and not on her. She couldn't deal with questions right now. And besides, he had bigger problems to face than her high school friends. She glanced down at Beckett's ankle and then hurriedly focused on her plate, forcing herself to start cutting up the pancakes. They were buttery and soft, but she just wasn't in the mood to enjoy them.

It seemed she wasn't alone, as she watched Beckett trace lines in her maple syrup.

The detective looked tired. Alexis had adjusted to her presence in the loft, and she accepted the relationship that Beckett had with her father. They were happy, and therefore she was happy for them. In all her life she had seen her father truly at peace only a few times. When he had first started working with the police, he had been like a giddy child on sugar rush; there was so much to explore, so much havoc to wreak.

Then he had begun to fall for Beckett. To start with, Alexis had been concerned. He talked about Beckett nonstop, and he barely recognized that he was doing it. He gushed about every little thing she said, and Alexis was certain that they would become involved and he then he would get his heart broken. She had watched him in various relationships growing up, and none of them lasted long.

But then she had met Beckett in person. They had conversed and she had gotten to know the woman behind all of her father's stories. The detective was surprisingly easy to talk to. She joked and told stories about her teenage years. She gave excellent advice… and every other thing she said had some connection to Castle.

Maybe, Alexis had begun to think, Beckett had feelings for him as well. Maybe, this time, he wouldn't get his heart broken in the end. After all, Alexis had never before liked any of the women her father had been involved with. Beckett was a first, on many levels. She was… different.

And then there was the shooting. The chaos, the fear, the panic. She became certain that the one thing that could break her father would be losing Beckett, and that was only fortified after she overheard him telling Gram about his feelings for her. How he had told her that he loved her… and how she didn't remember it.

It was everything that happened in the aftermath of that declaration that had made Alexis skeptical when she discovered he and Beckett were seeing each other at long last. Her views on Beckett had grown over time, had been shaped by Lanie's opinions and by her own perceptions of the detective while on the job. All of her instincts told her that Beckett loved her father, and yet she said nothing, she did nothing, and Alexis watched as her father's spiral began. The slow descent into lovelorn depression. It was worse, in many ways, than watching him struggle with his mindless relationships that never went anywhere.

When she had first overheard Gram talking about how Beckett did remember she had initially been furious. Was Beckett just playing him? she had wondered. Did she really not want a relationship with him? Why else lie? Why else pretend to have not heard him?

But she had overheard more than just Gram and her father. She had overheard Beckett and Lanie. It was a side-effect of being involved in her father's work life. It was what happened when she floated in the background and went unnoticed. She was familiar with it and not always happy with it, but on occasion the unintentional skill gave her… insight.

Beckett was terrified, Alexis had come to understand. Terrified that things wouldn't work out. Alexis could understand that; she was just out of high school and fresh from a failed relationship. She knew that things did not always work out. She could see how her father's history could be a problem. After all, she had experienced its downfalls firsthand.

That was why she had waited to see how things turned out.

No matter her opinion on Beckett, she would always side with her father and his best interests. Which was why she stood with Beckett now, in the wake of all this disaster, and why she so strongly believed that there was no way she was behind this murder. Her father believed in Beckett, and that was all that Alexis needed, in the end.

She was going to prove her old friends wrong, and she was going to do everything in her power to help her father along the road to his happy ending.

How to do that, though… was the part she couldn't quite make sense of. She settled for swallowing a few more bites of pancake.

"Everything okay, there, Alexis?" her father asked curiously.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine, dad. Just thinking."

He nodded slowly, seeming to understand that now was not the appropriate time to ask about what? He turned back to his plate, placing hid hand over Beckett's as he did so and threading their fingers. Beckett smiled tentatively, but the shadows under her eyes only seemed to deepen.

The phone rang, and the four of them stared at it for a moment, none of them moving to answer. Phone calls were not a good sign, these days. Her dad plucked it from the receiver and answered, though, which surprised her. She had almost expected him to just let it ring.

"Castle."

His face gave nothing away as he listened to the caller, deep wrinkles lining his forehead as he nodded slowly to himself.

"Alright. Thanks for the heads up."

"Who was that?" Gram asked the moment he had put the phone down.

"Doorman," he said grimly, shooting a concerned sidelong glance towards Beckett. "There's a collection of reporters out front."

"The vultures have swept in," Beckett muttered half-heartedly. Alexis couldn't decide if it was a sad comment or an attempt at humor. Either way, there was a great lacking of eye-contact for the next few minutes as they all ate in timid bites, no one quite sure how to address the issue.

"I have to get down to the studio," Gram said finally, pushing away her somehow-empty plate and getting to her feet. She swept out of the kitchen, and only seconds later Beckett spun on her stool and hurried in her wake.

Alexis shared a confused glance with her father, but when he made a move to go after the both of them she put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

"Martha, I'm so sorry," Beckett was saying in the other room, her voice muddled by the walls that separated her from them. "If I wasn't staying here—"

"Nonsense!" Gram insisted brusquely. "Don't you dare apologize, Kate, dear. You'll stay here as long as you like."

There was a pause and then the door shut. Beckett reappeared in the kitchen, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. She hovered there on the threshold, eyes locked with Castle's, and Alexis cleared her throat and hopped off her stool.

"I'm going to… go work on… stuff. See you guys later."

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

Alexis smiled as she stepped past, her hair a flaming curtain behind her. Beckett bit her lip before pushing off the doorframe and reclaiming her seat by Castle's side.

"Are you okay?" he asked seriously, his eyes dark and pleading for honesty.

She wanted to just say 'fine' and brush him off. She wanted to distract him, find something else for them to talk about, anything that would make her forget about what was happening around them, what every clock was counting down to. She was going to prison, and she knew it. She wasn't sure he could understand the feeling coursing through her, the deep-sunk rock in the pit of her stomach telling her that everything wasn't going to be okay. Because it wasn't. It really wasn't.

"I'm not going to beat this," she said quietly, and then raised a finger up just inches from his lips to stop him from interrupting. He closed his mouth obediently. "You're… you're going to say that I'm wrong, that of course everything will be okay and that's just… that's just denial, Castle. Look at the evidence. Look at the situation and pretend it's not me. Anybody would convict me, after this."

He tilted his head. "You wouldn't," he murmured.

There was a genuineness on his face, a deep honesty in his eyes. He believed in her, despite all the evidence, despite the world lining up against her. He was still by her side. She blinked away the biting moisture in the corners of her eyes.

"Castle, I'm scared," she whispered, staring back at him intently. "I am… terrified."

Gently, he reached up to cup the side of her face, stroking his thumb along the line of her cheekbone. She leaned into the warmth of his touch, feeling the scratchiness of rugged fingers on her smooth flesh. He smelled like ink and cinnamon, a combination only a writer could manage.

"I want to take you someplace safe," he said quietly, his eyes flitting back and forth, focusing on both of her eyes as he attempted to read the reactions there.

"What are you talking about?"

He lowered his voice, dipping his head. "Kate, we don't have to stay here. We can… get away."

She stared, alarm boiling up in her throat. "You want to run?"

"If you can't beat this… if the trial starts and you truly believe that they'll… that they'll take you away…" She shook her head, trying to ward off the words, but he didn't stop. "Yes, I want to run."

"We can't," she protested.

"And you can't go to jail for a crime you didn't commit," he insisted. "Kate, they'll kill you in there. You know they will. I can't let that happen."

She shook her head fiercely. "I'd be a fugitive on the run from the law. I'd never be able to settle anywhere or see my dad, or you…"

"I wouldn't let you run alone," he murmured.

Beckett pulled away from the touch of his hand on her cheek, and he dropped his hand.

"I'm not talking about this. The trial is still over a week away."

"So… we keep trying to prove you innocent?"

She wasn't going to say it was a promising endeavor. She still fully believed that there was nothing that could save her at this point. But if it would keep Castle away from planning their escape to Brazil or god-only-knew-where, then she was willing to give it a shot.

"Yes. You should go down to the precinct and see what the boys have dug up."

"You… don't want to come?"

She grimaced apologetically. "I don't think I'm welcome at the moment. Besides, my presence would attract a lot of attention."

He sighed and nodded in agreement. They both slipped from their stools and he engulfed her in a tight hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, taking in the scent of him, the smooth brush of his shirt on her skin, and the firm grip of his arms around her frame.

What was she going to do without him?

He had just stepped out the door and left her alone in the living room when the phone rang. She glanced at the door, half wondering if he had forgotten something, and answered with "Castle's phone."

"Oh," said the voice on the other line, clearly startled that a woman had answered. "Oh! Beckett, right. Sorry. This is Gina; I'm looking for Rick."

"He's um, not in right now." She paced across the living space, running a hand through her hair. "I can… take a message, though?"

"Can you make sure that he calls me back? He hasn't been answering his cell phone and this is… urgent."

"I'll let him know."

"Who was that?" Alexis asked from the balcony overhead as Beckett placed the phone back in its cradle.

"Gina. She was looking for your father."

Alexis scowled. "Of course she was." The redhead sighed, shaking her head. She was about to turn back up the hall to her room, but then she hesitated and turned back to the railing. "Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Do you… want some company?"

Beckett smiled. "You know, that sounds nice."

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

The precinct was louder than Castle remembered. He was used to the dull background of ringing phones and rapid keyboard strokes. Today, the phones appeared to be ringing off the hook and the detectives brushed past him rapidly on either side, calling to each other and passing files across desks.

"What's going on, guys?" he asked, finally reaching the familiar cluster of desks. Beckett's was unnaturally empty; the sight still made him uncomfortable and he placed his back to it.

"Internal Affairs got through with another sweep," Esposito announced tightly, tossing a glance in the direction of Gates' office. An older man was standing in front of her desk with glasses perched on his nose, flipping through a file. She looked thoroughly displeased with her arms crossed and a scowl planted firmly across her face.

"I thought Gates was, y'know, one of them."

"Not anymore," Ryan filled in, shaking his head. "They're going after the whole precinct, her included, after this whole Beckett thing."

"Not so fun under the scope with the rest of us," Esposito muttered under his breath.

"Better try not to make yourself too obvious," Ryan put in pointedly, barely lifting his head as he scribbled something down rapidly on a notepad. He snatched his phone from its hook and made a rapid phone call, jotting down notes the entire time. "Right. Right. Right. Thanks."

It did not escape his notice that this 'inquisition' of Internal Affairs had cut down on the feud between the two detectives.

"So… what's all the rush about?" Castle asked, claiming a seat and hunching down in it just as the official-looking man in Gates' office did a sweeping glance of the bullpen.

"Gates has us working at maximum to put us back in the good graces of the higher-ups," Esposito explained in an undertone. "We're getting ahead on paperwork, tying up loose ends…"

"Prepping for court, checking back in with witnesses," Ryan added.

Castle felt his heart sink. "You haven't had time to look into Beckett's case."

"No, man, I'm sorry," Esposito sighed, and there was genuine sincerity in his eyes. "…How's she doing, anyways?"

"She's fine," Castle lied. "A little stressed, of course, but… we're gonna get through this."

Ryan and Esposito shared a glance and in that moment they seemed to remember their fight, both of them dropping their eyes back to their paperwork, fists clenching and jaws tightening.

"You haven't had time to, uh, check on that tire track we found?"

Both detectives shook their heads. "The moment I get a free second, though," Esposito promised.

"Right, anything we can do," Ryan added hurriedly.

"Is there anything I can do here; anything that I can work on to help with her case?"

"Mr. Castle," a deep voice said from behind him. The tone dripped with displeasure. Ryan and Esposito both ducked their heads as Castle turned to face his addressor. The man from Gates' office stood over him, arms folded over his chest, foot tapping disapprovingly. A permanent frown was set on not only his lips but into the very muscles of his face. It was written in the wrinkles across his forehead and the silver traces in his erratic eyebrows. "What might you be doing here?"

"He was just leaving," Gates said sharply, appearing behind Esposito. "Weren't you, Mr. Castle?"

"Right. Of course," he said, getting to his feet. "It was nice to meet you," he added, reaching out a hand to the man in the suit.

"Officer Christopher Franklin," he said stiffly, giving Castle's hand a brief shake. "You are hereby banned from this precinct. Permanently. Your interference is not welcome here, Mr. Castle, and you are not to return under any circumstances. Unless you want to be arrested. And Captain Gates…" he glanced pointedly at Esposito and Ryan. "Keep your detectives in line."

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

"I understand, sir. Thank you," Castle said, hanging up his cell phone. He wasn't sure how to react, as he sat in the back of a cab at a red light. The mayor had just told him that he couldn't offer any more favors. He couldn't be caught up in the Beckett case, thus he couldn't be associated with Castle.

Castle had just lost his only opportunity to save Beckett. Suddenly, he could hardly breathe.

The more he had pushed, the more he had fought to find the truth and set her free, the better he had felt about what was coming and the more he had convinced himself that everything would be okay. Now, sitting in this cab as raindrops started spattering on the windows, he saw things for what they were. There was no jury that would not convict Beckett with all the evidence against her. Their team couldn't help them and Internal Affairs was out for all of their blood.

They were going to lose.

He thought back to that morning, and his suggestion that they should run. Suddenly, he was feeling a lot more serious. Honestly, neither option was ideal. Their whole situation was a nightmare, and no matter which way they went things wouldn't be fair. If they ran, they wouldn't be able to see their families ever again. They would likely have to leave the country. If they stayed… the only times he would see her would be in bright orange and through a thick sheet of glass. She would be surrounded by criminals and in constant danger. There was a chance she might be killed.

That wasn't the sort of risk he could take.

To never see his mother or Alexis again, though? And for Beckett to leave her dad behind, the only remaining member of her shattered family? How could they do that?

But, what if it truly meant the difference between life and death for Beckett?

He bowed his head as the cab started moving again.

She was opposed to the idea in all its forms. It was going to take a great deal of convincing to get her on board with running away together.

They arrived in front of his building and he closed his eyes briefly against the horde of reporters gathered on the sidewalk.

"Hey, you're that writer that's with the killer cop!" the cabbie exclaimed suddenly. "I knew I recognized you."

"Yeah. Thanks," Castle muttered, handing over his cab fare. He didn't even bother to shield his face as he climbed out onto the curb. Immediately all eyes were on him as cameras began to flash. He waved his hands to ward off their questions, but it didn't deter any of them in the least.

"Good afternoon Mr. Castle," the doorman said tiredly, shaking his head.

"Same to you, Mitch," Castle said heavily, slipping him a twenty. The lobby was peacefully empty. A few of his neighbors stepped out of the elevator, but none of them addressed him or looked at him oddly. It was a bit of a relief, honestly.

When he reached his loft he found Beckett and Alexis sitting on the couch playing a card game. They both turned to look at him, and he smiled back in relief when he saw the easy grins on their faces.

"Hey, Dad," Alexis said cheerfully. "You're just in time. We can deal you into the next hand."

"The next hand of what?" he asked with mock fear, eyeing them curiously. "Kate, are you playing poker with my daughter?"

"She was teaching me some new methods, actually," Beckett replied with a grin. "I'm gonna kick your ass."

"I see that you two clearly shouldn't be left alone." He tossed his keys on the coffee table. "Anyone up for pizza for lunch?"

"Sounds good to me," Alexis agreed, hopping off the couch. "I'll go get the menus."

She headed for the kitchen, and Beckett turned her attention to Castle. "Gina called. She needs you to call her back."

He groaned. "Great."

"It sounded urgent," Beckett added with a wince.

"Even better," he muttered, pulling out his cell phone and flipping through his contacts. "I'm sure this will just be wonderful news… Yes, hello, Richard Castle returning the lovely Ms. Gina's call…"

"Richard, I don't have time for your sarcasm. We have a big issue we need to discuss. The first of which being the cancellation of every event you had scheduled for the next two years."

"Wait, what?" he said, the defensive sarcasm dropping like a lead weight.

"You heard me. Book signings, literary events, readings, tours, forget all of it. I swear, you never listen to my advice on public image. First you fall off the most-eligible-bachelor list—and believe me I was willing to be happy for you and twist you into a charming, committed man that the public could love even more—but then you move in with a suspected murderer on a huge high-profile case. The press is all over this. Your face is out there in a non -ruggedly-handsome way and the phones here have been ringing off the hook. Do you have any idea—"

"No, Gina, and I really don't care." He scrubbed his hand up the back of his neck. "I'm dealing with a lot right now and some book signings are the last thing on my mind."

"Well they should be moving up because book sales are down." When he didn't say anything she pushed onwards. "That's right, Richard, they're down. Huge press storm, high-profile murder… and the people aren't buying your books anymore. The public is turning against you. Do you know that after something like this most author's would see a boost in sales? After the copycat killings from your novels we saw a drastic hike. Now, though, they're looking elsewhere. You're the idiot writer with the murderous ex-cop girlfriend. Do you have any idea how eager the public is to hate cops? You give them a reason and they will never forgive a cop. That's just how it works. What did I tell you about investing too much in your muse? For God's sake, Richard, is it even possible for you to create an original character; someone that's not based on anyone in your life?"

He turned his back on Beckett, stepping across the room.

"Gina, stop. Okay? Just… stop. I don't care about book sales, or what the public thinks. This isn't about the books. The books don't matter."

"Alright. I'm glad you feel that way. Because Black Pawn is in talks right now to cancel your contract. Nikki Heat is going to be over. For good, Richard."

That gave him pause. Writing Derrick Storm had been fun. It had given him purpose, changed his entire world. He had loved it. But writing Nikki Heat… had been the single greatest choice he had ever made. There were hundreds of ideas running around in his head for future novels. There was so much that Nikki Heat had not yet done.

He closed his eyes. "What do you want me to do about it, then?"

"Stop it with this Beckett thing. Get out of town for a while and get your face back in the paper for extravagant parties and big purchases. Then, maybe, I can get you a few book signings and we can work on climbing back up. Okay?"

"Not going to happen."

"Richard. This could be the end of your career."

"You know what, Gina? I really don't care if my writing is over."

He snapped his phone shut.

"I, uh… I think I ruined her day," he said when he turned back to Beckett. She was standing by the couch, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Castle," she said quietly. "Did… did you just give up your career?"

He opened his mouth and then shut it again. "Yeah. I think I did."