Close Encounters 13

"So you're what?" Ryan joked. "Superman?"

"Yes," Castle said flatly. He sat down at the cafeteria table with Beckett's man - and his asset - and he nudged Ry's tray. "Good eats?"

"I can't believe I'm training with a bunch of twenty year olds," Ryan said, shaking his head in disgust. "But yeah. It's good here."

"I'm springing you a week early," Castle told him. "We have a few sensitive items that I need you on, and whatever you're missing - computer-skills-wise - I'm confident that Malone can teach you at the Office."

"You're springing me from the joint?"

Castle lifted an eyebrow, but he smiled. "You could say. Finish your lunch and then I'll take you back with me."

"Anything you can tell me about right now?"

"Our number one enemy," Castle mused.

"I sorta figure there are two of those?" Ryan said. He hadn't been able to come this weekend to the cabin because of training and Castle knew Kate had missed him. He seemed the little brother of their group.

"Two?" Castle asked. "Ah. My father, I see. Yes, well, he's at a listening post off the coast of Tunisia. On my radar - always. He's never getting to Beckett again."

Ryan ducked his head and nodded, already shoveling food into his mouth. Castle had picked up a full plate as well, mashed potatoes, meatloaf, green beans. The simple kind of stuff that he'd learned to cook for himself and Kate but which he'd quickly gotten away from. She wasn't a meat and potatoes girl, and he had more fun with complicated recipes. So he enjoyed his throwback lunch as a reminder of their early days, eating in silence with Ryan.

They finished at the same time and took their trays to the window, set them on the counter. Ryan glanced down the hall towards the classrooms. "I gotta get my stuff."

"Already gotten," Castle assured him.

"In a hurry?"

"Somewhat. We've got a couple good leads and I'm not letting him slip through our fingers this time. He goes down for this - and soon. We're closing the net."

"Secret Service?" Ryan said quietly, pushing open the door of the campus center. The winter sunlight was fierce this morning, brighter than usual. Ryan hunched his shoulders though and stepped faster. "You got my coat by any chance?"

"Yeah, sorry. One of your instructors gave me everything."

"Naw, it's fine. Just. Cold out here."

Castle nodded, but he couldn't really feel it. Maybe there was something to Kate's tease about being super, because when he thought back, that long weekend at the lake before he fell in, he really had been feeling the cold. It'd been brutal, leaching into his bones, his fingers aching with it.

But not now, and it was definitely colder now in the middle of February than it had been then. He didn't know what to think about that. He didn't want it to be the regimen - not if it made that big a difference to his body chemistry.

He had no idea what his father had done to him and he didn't want it coming back to haunt them.

He remote-unlocked the Land Rover and slid behind the wheel, dragged Ryan's coat from the back seat and threw it at him. Ryan chuckled and slipped it on as Castle started the engine.

"So?" Ryan prompted.

"Computer tracking needs to be done on the account numbers we got from Bout. You been read in on that one?"

"Yeah, vaguely. I think Beckett told me some stuff but not all."

"I'll give you the details as we drive," Castle said. "And you can tell me what you know about Beckett's mother's case."

"I thought she told you?" Ryan said, clearly surprised by the request.

"Yeah, she did," he answered, throwing their friend a look. He could ask this of Ryan; he couldn't of Esposito. Ryan understood that there were lines no one should go past, even if Beckett had a whole army behind her. "She told me her side of it. I want to know what you've seen. How... how she is about that case."

"Surely you know," Ryan said slowly. Anxiety pinched his forehead and he rubbed his hands together.

Castle turned up the heater and pulled into traffic, heading for the interstate and the city once more. "I know," he agreed. "But I need to know that I'm not the only one who sees what it does to her. I need... I need your help keeping an eye on her - just in case."

"You think she'd really go after Bracken alone?" Ryan said, already shaking his head. "No. She's not - that wouldn't... okay, so she met him alone and made that deal. I see where you're headed with this. But Beckett's sense of justice - of what's right and wrong - that's unshakeable. Unassailable. You can't be questioning that."

"She shot a man's knee and nearly killed him," he said in response.

"For you."

"So?"

"Castle. Come on. You can't tell me you don't see the difference."

"For me versus for her mother's case? I saw what happened to her last time we dove into this. You can't tell me you didn't."

"Yeah, but it's you. And her mother's case... no. She's not like that. But where you're concerned, you're right - she needs watching. There's nothing she wouldn't do. After you died, man..."

"I know," he gritted out, clenching the wheel harder. "I know. I saw... I know."

"So don't tell me you don't get it. It's different when it's you, Castle. But her mother's case - she wants justice. She wants Bracken to pay for what he did, and for everyone to know about it. Because that was her mother's way. So that's how she'll do it."

Castle rubbed his thumb over the steering wheel and frowned at the road. "Still." He'd seen her lately. The more they talked about Bracken, the more work they did, the more things built, the cagier and darker she got.

"Still," Ryan sighed. "I'll be your narc."

He huffed a breath and glanced at Ryan's profile. "I'm putting you in a bad spot, I know."

"If you really think Beckett needs looking after, then fine. I'll be that guy. But I'm telling you, Bracken's not the one that causes her to go off the deep end. Not any more."

Ryan had said it before, but Castle couldn't help remembering how it'd been that first year. Finding her kneeling on the floor in front of those colored index cards, frantically trying to put the pieces together, desperate to break through. With Coonan, Castle had chased after her and had to literally fight her off, handcuff her to his bed to keep her from throwing herself into danger.

When Castle had faked his death, whatever that grief had done to her... he knew how to combat that. One rule: Don't die. Simple. And he was damn well going to make sure he'd be here for her; he would fight tooth and nail for this life. Nothing was going to keep him from her.

But Bracken. Her mother's case. She needed this closed once and for all, and the fact that he'd made her that promise time after time and still Bracken was on the loose? Unacceptable.

This was it. The end of the line. She'd made a terse concession once that they'd end it together if it came down to it. They'd lock themselves in the panic room and hash out every detail and then he'd emerge and end Bracken's reign with a bullet.

"Castle," Ryan said from the passenger seat.

"Yeah."

"I don't like being your snitch. But Beckett deserves a chance to put this to rest. I'll do whatever it takes."

He nodded, throat closing up at the man's loyalty. "Thank you," he rasped.

She was amused. Her nickname for Castle seemed to have caught on around the Office and he did not look pleased. Of course, only Esposito - and Beckett - said it to his face, but he heard the murmurs. And Mitchell was delighted to confirm the rumor.

"This is your fault," he growled at her. Kate only smiled and brushed his forearm as she passed him in the hall. She had a full schedule this week and no time to stop. He didn't touch her and she didn't make a further comment; they kept on going.

There was a lot of work. Castle had assigned her one of the open operations still on their slate - the thing in Warsaw that Mason had jetted off to without their approval. She was sweet-talking him every chance she could get and with the time difference - Warsaw was six hours ahead - she was often up at two or three in the morning to catch Mason before he could get going.

Today she'd had to liaise with McCord again - the AG was putting together the finishing touches on the case against Fesker for her former physical therapist's death. Fesker hadn't talked under questioning, but Beckett wanted to get him alone. In a different country. With professionals who knew how to make contract killers talk.

She definitely didn't want Castle doing it though. They needed an unbiased interrogator. Unblemished results. And as much as it sickened her to be setting up the parameters for this 'interview', she knew it had to be her.

Anyone else would be heading for extreme rendition and those notorious black sites. But not now. Not with Castle in charge, and not with Beckett overseeing it. She was going to have to be careful with this one, and having McCord as an accountability partner was good as well.

At least, she hoped McCord was interested in keeping the CIA accountable. Sometimes McCord said things that made Beckett cringe. Things about giving in, about how the world works.

Kate refused to believe that civility and justice and law wouldn't win in the end. Terrorism flourished under extraordinary rendition circumstances. Violence beget violence. She'd been convinced early on that it wasn't the way - which is why Fesker was being handled carefully, slowly, and why Beckett was running herself ragged over it.

When she got to the command center, she saw Ryan installed at his work station. He'd done well so far, despite getting yanked from training a week early, and even though he was only a few days into it, she was proud of him.

She headed towards the two boys sitting side by side and dragged a chair up between them, sat down. "Hey, guys."

"Beckett," Esposito said, warmth in his voice. He'd become so... cuddly? warm at least, since becoming an agent. "We're just finishing up. You want to come for a beer?"

"No," she said shortly. "Busy. But thanks. Ry, how's it going so far?"

"You're busy?" he asked instead. "With what? I don't think we're getting any further on this today. We gotta wait for the banks to open."

She nodded. "I know. I'm working something else."

"Another line?"

She peered at Ryan intently. "You know I can't tell you, Kev."

He flushed and shot Esposito a look that she couldn't interpret. "Sorry," he muttered. "No, I know."

She studied him but couldn't figure out what was up with him. "Anyway. Rain check on the beer? Castle and I were thinking of heading to that bar he loves - the Haunt or something? - on Friday."

"Is Friday ever really a Friday around here?" Esposito snorted. "Cause that's not my rotation. I won't be able to drink with you guys."

"Oh, sorry," she apologized with a wince. She'd forgotten that Esposito was a weekender. He was on call for them. "Look, come but don't drink?"

"That's lame, Beckett."

She shrugged. "Up to you."

"Next Tuesday is my Friday," he muttered. "But is anyone willing to come and not drink for me? No."

She laughed and patted his shoulder in sympathy. "We'll try it. See what happens. So long as you come with us Friday."

"Fine, fine. Whatever."

Kate grinned and stood once more. "Good. Okay, got five hundred more things to do before this day is over. See you guys later."

She grabbed her phone from the station and started checking alerts again - Castle still hadn't removed her from the updates list since he'd recovered. She knew he was pushing more onto her plate so that she had less opportunity for overseas missions. But she could handle that - it was their plan after all, dial down the work, give their personal lives a chance to flourish.

When she got to the door, she realized that Ryan was watching her still and she gave a little wave of her fingers, puzzled by his observation.

Whatever. She had to call McCord again. The woman was dragging her heels.

The work week had taken its toll. Beckett looked faded by the time Friday rolled around, and he knew it was partially his fault. He'd piled the work on them both as a means of keeping her head well and truly occupied with fundamental, tangible things. If she was working the case against Fesker, then she'd feel like they had forward movement on her mother's case as well, right? Most of that was overseeing a work already in progress, and it required hours he didn't have, so it was an ideal fit.

He needed to prove to her that his promises were good; he needed her to know she could trust that he would be fine, he'd get it done, save the day, no matter what happened.

For her - he could do anything. Super or not.

"Go change," he told her, pushing on her hip as they walked in the door.

She grimaced and shook her head. "I've - got a meeting. One last. It's at seven tonight. There was no other time."

He sighed. "I thought we were going to the Old Haunt with everyone?"

"Yeah, I know, baby. I'll be there later." She was stepping out of her heels at least, cracking her toes against the wooden floor of the entry.

"What meeting?" he asked, hoped it sounded nonchalant. Ryan hadn't exactly been reporting in like he'd wanted, but when he had cornered the guy this morning, it'd only been because there was nothing to report. He was wary of that.

"More of this stuff with Fesker," she sighed.

"Do you want me to-"

"No, no," she said hurriedly. Her arms came around his waist and she rose up on her toes to brush her mouth against his. "No, but you can make me dinner before I leave though."

"Yeah, I can do that," he murmured. He was more interested in the silk of her lips, the soft warmth of her breath against his mouth. He took another kiss, seeking slowly, pressing into her. She shifted closer and he slid his knee between hers, hands at her back to hold her against him.

When their kiss parted ways, he relished those little pants of breath and the rise and fall of their chests out of time, the rub of her fingers against his side where the chest tube had been. He lowered his chin and nuzzled into the fall of hair at her neck, blew out along her skin so that she shivered.

"Dinner," he reminded himself. "How fast?"

"I need to leave in an hour."

"I can do that," he promised. He wished he could do a little more, but she didn't want to change out of her work clothes. "Grab a glass of wine and keep me company in the kitchen."

"Yes, sir," she hummed, releasing him with a smile.

It wasn't about Fesker.

She'd feel guilty about lying to him but she wasn't legally allowed to be here. She stood three blocks down from the private rehab facility in the Bronx and scraped a hand through her hair as the taxi pulled away. Not the most circumspect route, but she was pressed for time.

She was still on suspension - no CIA-issued weapon - for the shooting. And if she'd told Castle she wanted to visit Dr Saber, he'd be liable for that as well. As it was, she was breaking a host of laws and skirting more than just censure for her actions tonight.

But she had no other options. No other leads.

One vial of regimen remained with the doctors at Stone Farm, but it had taken five to save his life.

She had asked Mitchell for clearance to review Castle's old missions, especially those entirely orchestrated and arranged by Black, but she hadn't gotten it yet. She wanted to crack open all the old places - she knew the stories, but she wanted the details. Saber had said there were caches all over the world and she figured if she could backtrack Castle's tour of duty over the years, maybe she could find a pattern.

But it was a shot in the dark and if she could ask Saber himself, she'd have a starting place. He knew something, he knew more, and if she could use his hatred of Black, use Black's betrayal against him, then she might be able to do this.

She walked quickly down the block and kept an eye out for NSA tails - or worse. She didn't want to lead anyone to her only and best source of information on the regimen, but she also didn't want to have to call Castle for back-up.

He'd be on his way to the Old Haunt by now, meeting up with their strange blend of family. Mitchell, Malone, Ryan and Jenny, Esposito, Carrie. She hoped Castle would have a few fingers of scotch and maybe a beer, unwind from the week before she met up there later tonight.

She'd have to tell him eventually. And if Saber pitched a fit over her showing up, then maybe sooner than she liked.

Castle had capitulated to the regimen because of her, because she couldn't handle losing him, because in the back of his mind, she knew, he still held the image of her drowning in the bathtub, bloodied and drunk and stupid.

But this was how she handled it. Action. This was how she banished the idea of him dying of some super bug right in front of her, and Kate helpless to stop it. She would find the regimen he needed to survive and she'd keep it safe for him, until he might need it, until the next common cold mutated into a super-virus and wreaked havoc on his system.

She had no doubt there would come a time when he needed it. But good luck trying to convince the Man of Steel that Kryptonite would come for him again. He felt invincible once more and he wasn't interested in his father's twisted plans.

Well. Kate was. She wanted to know everything.

She had to find the regimen.

Castle would never be convinced that doing this many vodka shots was a good idea. He knew his threshold and he knew he could handle two more, but Kate hadn't appeared yet and he wasn't about to be smashed when he had to walk her home later tonight.

Plus, it was entirely too much fun to be sober when Kate Beckett was not.

Ryan leaned in around Jenny, who also wasn't drinking for obvious reasons. Not too obvious though; she looked good, flush maybe, that glow people ascribed to pregnant women, but she rolled her eyes as Kevin downed another shot.

Castle was impressed with Ryan's tolerance. He was Irish, but stereotypes didn't always translate. Castle had always found that drinking with a man would out his true character, and so far, Ryan was every bit as golden as Kate trusted.

Castle clapped Ry hard on the back and grinned. "Have another."

Jenny gave him a death glare, and he wondered how bad the hangover would be, but Ryan downed another and went back to arguing with Esposito. Something about having his back during a fist-fight with a rapper's entourage. An old NYPD case.

He liked hearing their stories, enjoyed more the way Carrie single-handedly denied Espo every time he got close. He knew Lanie was coming later, after her shift, but he didn't know what had happened between them, if it was truly over. Though he had no trouble enjoying the show.

Castle checked the door again, searching for the shine of Kate's hair in the golden lights, the sharp and svelte profile of her face under the amber. She was no longer quite so angular, no longer showed all of her bone structure at first glance now that her health was back. But she wasn't here yet, and Carrie was nudging his shoulder with hers.

"You doing all right?"

"Just looking for Kate," he admitted.

"She's fine, you know. For the first time in a year, she doesn't look hunted."

"Shit," he muttered, dropping his head into his hands. Carrie sighed and rubbed his back, squeezed his shoulder.

"Drink up, Richard. She's doing good."

He stole one of Ryan's shots because his scotch was gone, ignored the man's protest as he knocked it back. The waitress was skimming their group and he held up two fingers, indicated refills for himself and Ryan.

"Did Kate talk to you about it?" he asked Carrie.

"When I saw you last weekend at the cabin - yeah. A little. She's more worried about you than herself. That was hell on her."

"Yeah," he said, rubbing his hand down his face. The vodka was shining in his body now, making things easier. "I know it was."

"You two," she sighed. "Worst codependent people I've ever met."

"Except for maybe you and Mark," he shot back.

Her smile eased across her face, lips so clever. Yeah, he saw it - knew exactly why Mark had fallen so hard for her. Kate had that same look. Power and mastery. "Could be true."

"Codependent, huh?"

"What happens to you, happens to her." Carrie flicked his ear in the same way that Kate always did and then nodded towards the door. "There she is."

He grinned as he turned around, saw her shaking out her coat, unthreading her scarf just inside the door. She looked serious but not unhappy, professional and fierce as always.

What happened to him, happened to her.

"Thanks, Care," he murmured as he stood up.

Kate spotted them in the corner and smiled; he saw now that it was snowing outside - spitting really - just beyond the windows, that the tiny flakes had already melted in her hair like a diadem, shining golden in the light and crowning his wife.

She came towards him through the crowded bar, her eyes melting down into chocolate happiness, and when she arrived at their table, her arm slid around his waist.

"Looks like you've got a good head start," she murmured at his jaw. Her kiss was cool with winter air, pushed goose bumps along his neck.

"I had a couple vodka shots. A glass of scotch. You need to catch up."

She half-turned from him and he obediently took her coat, sliding it down her shoulders to reveal the beautiful jade of her sweater. She sat down as he put her coat on the chair behind her, realized it was his own chair she'd claimed.

He laughed and pressed his hands to her shoulders, kissed the corner of her mouth as he leaned over her. "I'll go to the bar and get you something. Preferences?"

"Martini. Shaken-"

"You're incorrigible," he murmured with a grin. But he moved off to get her drunk.

Drink. A drink.

A few drinks.