CHAPTER 8 – PLAYING SPY

Rick stood in the doorway to the bedroom watching Sierra's chest rise and fall with her gentle breathing. She looked beautiful when she slept... He had thought this before. He knew he couldn't go down that road with her, and tried to think of her beauty as deceptive. She seemed so harmless – but in reality she was a ruthless assassin who had taken more lives than even she could count. He thought there must be something wrong with him – he wasn't put off by that at all.

There was just something about her. He trusted her; it was as though she had an aura of good despite all of the bad things she'd done. He knew there must be a story, some sequence of events which would explain 'what a nice girl like her was doing in a place like this'. He laughed quietly. He'd have to use that line on her some day.

She was still sleeping. He was supposed to be keeping watch, but it was dark outside and there was nothing to see. He flopped down on the couch and faced the front door. Which was when he saw her phone.

It was just sitting there, and she hadn't locked it – she must have been more drunk than she looked. It was begging him to look at it – who wouldn't want to play with a spy gadget? And maybe he'd be able to find out something about her. Even just her name. For some reason he thought that was important – a name would make her a person rather than a code, rather than a killing machine.

He picked it up, half expecting an alarm to go off – it might have had fingerprint recognition like the door. It didn't, though. He pressed the menu button. So far so good. He scrolled through the icons, looking at their names, but nothing popped. He clicked on 'Files' and found a list of names. He flicked through them and grinned – he was there. Curious, he clicked his own name and read the short biography that she had. He frowned – it didn't do him justice. There was a picture too – the one from his arrest. He went back to the list, wondering if one of the names was Sierra's. If he found the right one he would see the picture... He started at the end of the alphabet for entertainment purposes – there were only about 20 files so he didn't think it would make much difference, and he liked the name 'Zuckerman'. It wasn't her though.

He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't notice Sierra wake up and come into the room.

"Castle, what the hell are you doing?" she yelled. He gasped and dropped her phone, scrambling over the back of the couch to get away from the incriminating object. He had been almost done – just Beckett Johanna and Armstrong Sally to go. He didn't think she was on there though. She didn't look like a Johanna or a Sally.

"I'm sorry-" he began, but he knew it was pointless. She would never trust him now.

"What were you doing? Why were you looking through the files?"

"I.. I..."

"Yes? I'm waiting!"

"Sorry! I was looking myself up, I wanted to see what my file said. And then I wondered if maybe... if maybe one of them was you and I could find out your name..." he trailed off miserably.

"Well none of them are me, and to you, my name is Sierra."

She was still angry, but less so now that she was pretty sure he hadn't found anything.

"Look, I didn't read anything I swear. I was just looking at the pictures."

"Fine. But from now on I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"You have to sleep. Anyway, your phone wasn't even locked."

"Oh, so now it's my fault you're a nosy bastard?"

"I prefer spy."

"Pathetic. You got caught. We don't get caught."

"Sorry, I'll try to do better next time."

Sierra almost wanted to laugh. He looked so cute and defensive. And it had been her fault – he shouldn't have looked, but she was the professional, she shouldn't have been so careless.

"Just stay out of my stuff, okay?"

"Okay. I really am sorry..."

She nodded. At least he hadn't found anything. She checked the activity log – he had been going through the alphabet backwards – so Castle. Anyway, she'd caught him just in time. As the relief washed over her she found herself forgiving him.

"Why do you care so damn much about knowing my name anyway?"

"I want to know your story. I want to know why you're a spy."

"But, why? Why do you care? And what would my name tell you?"

"Names are important. And I want you to be a person – I don't like calling you a code. And I care because I like you."

"Like me? Castle, I killed your girlfriend."

"We've been over that. She was a bitch. I mean, don't do it again, but I forgive you. You were just doing your job."

Sierra sighed. "It's not good to hide behind the job. Whatever the reason, I'm still a killer?"

"Why don't you want me to like you?"

"Where's the whiskey? I'll take the shot."

"No, but seriously. Why'd it matter if I liked you? We'll either die in a few days, or if we don't I'll be going back to my life and you'll go back to yours. So why shouldn't I like you?"

She groaned. "No reason. You can like me if you want. And we're not going to die."

"Why don't you want friends?"

"Leave it."

"No. Just tell me. Give me something. Anything. Anything real."

Sierra didn't know why she was letting him get to her, but she felt as if he was in her mind, tugging at all the neat little partitions that kept everything where it should be, that kept her from falling apart.

"Shut up, Castle!"

"I'll shut up when you tell me something."

"I'm not going to tell you anything! Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. I'm not allowed to break cover."

"I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Not the point. I can't tell anyone."

"Do you want to? If you were allowed, would you tell me?"

"No!"

"Even something stupid. Something that doesn't matter."

"You should get some rest. It's my turn to be up."

"I'll go when you tell me. Anything."

"Just go!"

"No! What difference would it make? Something totally insignificant; anything about yourself. Please. In case I die..."

She could have slapped him. She wanted to. But she also wanted to curl up in his arms and cry her eyes out. There was a long pause in which they both glared at each other, refusing to back down. Then Sierra blinked.

"Purple," she said softly.

"What?"

"Purple. My favourite colour is purple. Now get the hell out of this room before I shoot you," she muttered. He left, not knowing whether to feel sad or triumphant. He had won; she had told him something. It had been small – but it proved that she was human. And when she had been angry... she had seemed human too. There was a trace of something; sadness, pain, guilt... he couldn't put his finger on it, but he got to her, he could tell. He didn't want to alienate her by pushing her too hard, but he longed to know more about her. She was fascinating.

Sierra collapsed on the couch, completely drained even though she had just slept for six hours. Damn that man! He made her feel so strange... she hadn't felt so exposed since... Since that night 8 years ago. Since the night she had been recruited.