January 2010
Beckett stepped out from behind the wheel, shivering as she pulled her scarf closer around her neck, the bite of the season chilling her in spite of the warmth of the thick wool. Winter was coming in hard and fast, and the heavy jacket she'd donned this morning was just barely keeping the cold at bay. The wind whipped around her, and she shuddered as it screamed through the deserted warehouses they'd found themselves at.
"You okay, Beckett?" Ryan asked as he and Esposito got out of their own unmarked police vehicle, and, not for the first time, she cursed working with a team of detectives who were just as in tune with her as she was with them.
"I'm fine," she lied as Esposito shot his partner a warning look. Chastened, Ryan nodded, casting his gaze straight ahead.
"Come on, let's check this out," Esposito urged, pointing to where the uniforms were waiting for them, and she ducked under the yellow tape, following him over to the warehouse's entrance.
"What have we got?" she heard Ryan ask an officer she didn't know, and she glanced around, taking in the scene. From here it looked no more sinister than any other quiet street in New York, but from one instant to the next things could change so easily - whether it be an inconspicuous alley at midnight or downtown in broad daylight... She sighed. Things changed, usually for the worse, in the blink of an eye.
Didn't she know it.
"Body's inside."
"And we're sure it's related to the case we caught yesterday?" If it wasn't, she'd kill the uniform who had called it in. She had a murder board back at the precinct and the gory case on it was already burning a hole in her retina.
"Not sure of anything yet." Lanie's familiar voice caught her attention, and she looked up, smiling at her friend who stood in the open doorway. "But it looks like it. Same caliber gunshot wounds, plus writing on the body. Kind of weird. You'll love it."
"Sounds like the kind of case Cas-" Ryan stopped - this time off Lanie's sharp glare - and Kate forced her expression to remain neutral.
"Okay." She met Lanie's gaze, raising an eyebrow at her. "Let's take a look."
She paused though, something not quite right, and she glanced back at her vehicle parked amongst all the other patrol cars before looking directly up. Above them, a passenger jet flew low, its path sure as it made its way through the sky, away from the city.
And she swallowed down the sob that wanted to escape.
He'd left two months ago; it was time to move on.
She wasn't Nikki Heat, and he wasn't Jameson Rook. She had no hold on him, and they owed each other nothing.
It wasn't his fault that she was having a crappy day, and more to the point, that their little ride-along was over. Before Castle had pushed his way onto the scene, she, Ryan and Esposito had made a great team, and they would continue to do so.
"You coming, Beckett?" Esposito called, and she nodded, shrugging off the heavy sense of regret, stepping across the threshold and into the building to survey the awaiting body.
Castle let the door close behind him, the soft click as the lock slid into place oddly calming. This apartment had been a good find. Half the size of the lower floor of the loft, the two bedroom still managed to feel spacious and inviting, a good temporary option that provided respite from the busy city that bustled by just outside the front door. The balcony off the living room extended over a small garden out the back, and he looked forward to the weather warming up enough that he could take his laptop out there and write in the sunshine.
For now, however, he would have to stay inside. He took his coat off, hanging it in the hall closet before reaching for the thermostat, sliding the dial up a few degrees, the impossibly low numbers of centigrade making his head swim.
He had to admit, the eternal Celsius versus Fahrenheit wasn't the only thing that made his head swim these days. Adjusting to life abroad wasn't easy. Not that anything had gone wrong in the four weeks in which he and Alexis had been living in London. Her school transfer had been simple to arrange, Marlowe Prep happy for one of their star pupils to wrap up the semester early. The apartment had been furnished, tasteful and simple decor filling the rooms, and in spite of the winter, the southern aspect meant that both his bedroom and the living area were light-filled. And thanks to the contact he'd been assigned, his visits to MI6 had gone smoothly.
Too smoothly.
There was no back and forth. No banter. No games. No play.
Martin Cunningham had accepted the author tag-along in what Castle could only assume to be a cool British manner. The man was neither forthcoming nor circumspect, a perfect gentleman as he attempted to give Castle a bird's eye view of the organization without revealing state secrets.
Castle had been granted access to a predetermined number of documents and files, with just enough redacted in each and every one of them to put them on the wrong side of interesting. Every question he had was considered carefully by Cunningham before the answer was deemed classified, yet the team he'd met insisted over and over that he was very welcome there.
One of Cunningham's colleagues had gone so far as to smile at Castle when she'd admitted she was a huge fan of Bond and couldn't wait to see what he was going to do with the next incarnation of the spy. Several people on the floor he was allowed to tour had brought in copies of various Storm books for him to sign, as well as the ubiquitous Heat Wave.
He'd signed that one with a heavy heart.
Even shadowing Sophia Turner had been more useful than this lip service. Although his time at the CIA - and with Sophia - couldn't compare to the home he'd managed to find at the Twelfth. He trudged into the kitchen, the peace he'd found when he'd entered the flat dissipating as unhappy memories of the past - and the many fights he'd had with Sophia - burned through his mind. Inexplicably drawn together, ultimately imploding, he and Sophia had managed to have a good time together for six months or so. And even if their relationship had been more about sex than insights into the agency, it had at least been fun while it lasted.
If he was truthful, though, he'd been equally enthralled by the technology at her disposal as he had been with the woman herself.
The NYPD didn't have the flashy gadgets that were available in either the British or the US intelligence agency, and his relationship with a certain detective may have been purely platonic, but if this walk down memory lane was to be entirely honest, he had a certain... longing to be back with the team in New York.
With Alexis at school, and his time at the MI6 office reminiscent of a boring internship, it was altogether too quiet in his world.
He missed Kate Beckett.
Castle swung around on his swivel chair as Alexis burst through the door, shaking her hair out as she pulled her cap off.
"Hey, sweetie, how was your day?" he asked, closing the lid of his laptop and grinning at his daughter.
She beamed, her cheeks pink from the cold outside. "Good! Great! I just love it here." She swooped in on him, kissing his cheek and practically vibrating with joy as she sprang across the open plan room into the kitchenette, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "I know we've been here for a month already, but I swear, I just can't get over how welcoming everyone has been. And, oh my gosh, Dad, their accents. Adorable!"
She paused to take a sip of her drink and he took the opportunity to get a word in. "Yeah? You don't… miss your friends at home?"
She shrugged, leaning against the counter, her eyebrows knitted together as she considered his question. "Well, uh- no. Not really. I mean, I've been skyping with everyone. Even Gram." She giggled. "Although I swear, she still doesn't quite get it."
"You're not wrong," he agreed, faking a grimace at the memory of their conversation with his mother a few days earlier; her refusal to use the webcam unless her hair was 'just so' had delayed the conversation for a solid two hours while she prepared.
"And you know, before Christmas vacation I didn't really get into the school work, but now I am, and, I'm not behind at all."
"With what I pay for Marlowe Prep, I hope not!" he snorted.
"And guess what?" Alexis' apparent monologue continued as though he hadn't said a word. "I caught the bus home with one of the girls in my class- she lives on the next street!"
"That's wonderful." Alexis' excitement was contagious, and he felt his own grin stretch across his face as he shook off the latent loneliness that had been creeping in. "What do you want to do to celebrate? Dinner somewhere? Or shall we make a start on learning to cook English specialties?"
"Oh, I wish I could." Alexis' forehead creased into a frown and he felt his smile falter. "But I just came home to get changed, and then Emma and I are going back into town. She's going to show me around."
"And Emma is...?"
"My new friend." Alexis grinned. "You'll meet her, I promise." She looked at her watch, letting out a yelp. "Oh no! I'm going to be late!" She darted back into the hallway heading for her bedroom, and he watched her go, his face falling once she was out of sight.
So much for spending quality time with his favorite redhead. He shrugged, reopening his laptop before standing and walking over to the kitchen, returning Alexis' water bottle to the fridge and filling the kettle for himself.
Castle made a face as he swallowed down another sip of the tea he'd made himself. So much for the romance of life in England; the picture he'd painted himself - however briefly - of a writer's garret, typing to the steady ticking of a grandfather clock, perhaps, as he sipped Earl Grey or English Breakfast…
The reality was yet to measure up.
His lip curled as he considered his situation. Maybe it was the tea. He had stared down the selection at Tesco, closing his eyes and pulling an unfamiliar brand from the shelf. He made a face at the teacup, standing and striding from his spot on the sofa - what Alexis had dubbed his office - back to the kitchen, tipping the rest of the liquid into the sink. He couldn't live like this, and, pulling his phone from his back pocket, he ran a quick Amazon search, selecting one day-shipping.
He sighed then, an audible groan - all too aware that he was the only one around to hear it - before glaring back at the living room. Alexis would be another hour, at least, so he walked into the entry hall, shrugging into his coat and taking his house key from its hook by the door, as well as a notepad and pen.
The coffee machine would arrive tomorrow. Meanwhile, he'd seek out another kind of solace. He'd written one of his first novels in the Old Haunt, and if London couldn't provide him with a drinkable cup of tea, surely he'd be able to find a decent pint and hole up in a booth somewhere, find the words the old fashioned way.
The two victims had most definitely been connected, and a combination of luck and Ryan's knack for combing surveillance footage meant they'd narrowed down their pool of suspects by six in the evening. They'd had a confession by nine and their delusional perp had been down at Central Booking by ten, leaving only paperwork for Beckett in his wake.
Ryan and Esposito had shot her puppy dog eyes from across the bullpen, tag teaming in their thinly veiled quest to beg off, and she'd waved them toward the elevator with a roll of her eyes as she dotted her I's and crossed her T's.
By the time Beckett had made her way out of the precinct it was eleven thirty, and she swept a tired hand over her face as she brought her key to the lock, letting herself into her apartment and making her way to her bedroom, throwing her phone onto the nightstand. She was exhausted. This afternoon when she'd glanced in a mirror at the precinct the circles under her eyes had circles, and as she crossed the threshold from her room to the bathroom, she made a face at her herself, adjusting the lights so as to avoid illuminating her reflection as she brushed her teeth.
With a lingering look at the tub, she replaced her toothbrush in the cup by the sink, grabbing a washcloth and running it under the water, wiping the day's make-up from her face and tossing the cloth into the dirty clothes hamper. She undressed, today's outfit making its way in too, and she slipped back into her bedroom, selecting a fresh set of pajamas - purple shorts and a gray tank - before sliding between the sheets.
Barring an unwelcome call from dispatch, case closed meant she didn't need to be in at the precinct before nine. She fumbled around for a second, clicking the cable into place so her phone would charge overnight, before turning the lamp off and falling into the welcome oblivion of sleep.
Castle stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back and neck. So much for getting a good night's sleep. Post pub writing jaunt he'd tossed and turned most of the night, not sinking into a deep sleep until around five this morning. An hour later the toneless alarm of Alexis' cell phone had woken him, followed by the groan of the pipes as she'd stepped into the shower.
The loft - open bookshelves and all - was all the more appealing, this side of sleeplessness.
This flat was perfect when he was well rested, but right now he was questioning his decision to sign the lease. Perhaps he should have sought out something with two levels. Back in New York, having Alexis and his mother ensconced upstairs while he'd had free reign of the lower floor had been ideal. He'd always assumed it worked for them; he couldn't disturb anyone with his sometimes nocturnal writing habits and occasional video game benders.
The faucet shuddered off, and he relaxed, easing the pillows off his face, determined to fall back asleep. But the steady beat of water was replaced with the whir of the hairdryer, interjected with regular upbeat chirps from his daughter's phone. He opened an eyelid, glaring at the clock on his nightstand.
Did she really have to start text messaging before seven in the morning?
He groaned. He should be glad she was making friends. In fact, he was glad Alexis was making friends. After all, one of them should be happy here.
Admitting defeat as the front door slammed, signaling Alexis' departure, he sat up. Sleep wasn't happening, and, reaching for his own cell, he swiped to unlock it. He blinked as his fingers acted of their own accord, pulling Beckett's name up on the screen.
His thumb hovered over her number, and lying back down, he swallowed. Was he really going to do this? He stared at her name a second longer, before an unrestrained impulse had him tapping the screen and bringing the phone to his ear as it started to ring.
A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reads, faves and follows and especially the kind words in the reviews! It felt like it had been ages since I wrote and posted and it feels good to be back on the horse! x