Author's note: This version of Castle doesn't need flight attendants to fuel a self-destructive spiral, so I don't see him following a gung-ho bad cop around either. We're skipping Headhunters, and indeed The Limey.
As ever, thank you for reading.
Monday morning dawned bright and reasonably warm.
Beckett parked her town car not far from the precinct, shut off the engine, and exhaled loudly. It had been a long two days. She hadn't contacted Castle again after receiving his text on Saturday morning, and she hadn't heard from him again either.
She had told herself repeatedly that he was simply out of sorts because of the bombing case, and Alexis' exposure to it via her work at the morgue, but as the hours of Saturday wore on, she began to have doubts. Nightfall brought fresh unease, and she had to stop herself from texting him at a couple of different points during the evening.
Sunday was worse. He would sometimes idly text her on Sunday mornings while he was reading the newspaper; often it would be a snapshot of a comic, or a quote from a particularly overblown column in the arts and culture section. But not this time. By the time she began to make dinner, she was actually nervous about what the next morning would bring.
She sighed, then got out of the car, locked it, and made her way towards the precinct entrance.
Maybe he'll already be here, she thought. It was possible. When it was a desk-work morning and they didn't have an unexpected early start, he occasionally surprised her by arriving early.
But today, somehow she didn't think so.
Castle left the coffee shop clutching his usual morning offerings: a cup holder containing two fresh coffees, and a small brown paper bag with two bear-claws inside. He set off in the direction of the precinct, which was less than three blocks away. His expression was blank.
He'd spent most of the weekend in his office, only occasionally joining Martha and Alexis for meals. He'd told them he was working, but the only file he had open on his laptop contained a long list of moments from the past year or so when he'd thought that he and Beckett were growing closer; when she'd seemed to let her guard down, or allow him into her space, or even made a veiled remark that might indicate she thought they had a future together. The moments he'd clung to, and that kept him going. He'd compiled the list over the course of months, and on days when he was feeling drained or tired of waiting, he read over it, and it helped a little.
Now, beside each entry, he'd added a note explaining it away as something innocuous; a gesture of friendship, or meaningless flirting, or camaraderie between partners. He'd gone through the whole list, re-assessing everything in light of his new knowledge, and by the time he was finished, there was no longer anything that definitively pointed towards her having any feelings towards him beyond close friendship.
He had stared at the newly-annotated file for a long time, scrolling down, then back up, then down again, his middle finger spinning the wheel on his mouse every few seconds.
How completely he'd deceived himself.
That was Saturday. On Sunday, Alexis had gone to visit a friend, and Martha was supervising a rehearsal, so he had the loft entirely to himself. He spent the day in thought, wandering aimlessly around the main floor of the loft, from his office to the living room, to the kitchen area, then the entranceway, and back into the office. He must have completed more than fifty circuits of the place during the afternoon.
At length, he'd come to a decision: he was going back into the precinct on Monday morning, just like normal.
Partly because what they did was important; perhaps the most important work he'd ever done. Also partly because he had friendships there that he was reluctant to walk away from. But also because he needed to see if he was able to be around her now. He needed to test himself, while it was all still fresh, to see whether he was capable of shutting away those feelings that had been his constant companion for the last few years. To deny them light and air, in the hope that they'd quietly wither and vanish.
And so here he was, walking towards the precinct, with their coffee and pastries, just like it was any other morning.
He searched inside himself for the pain that had taken up permanent residence a few days before, and he found it and pushed it down. Then he searched again, and pushed it down further, until he could pretend that it just wasn't there anymore.
He passed by a store with full-height windows made reflective by the brightness of the morning, and he smiled at himself. It looked natural enough, he thought, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes.
It would do.
Beckett looked up from her desk as she heard the ping of the elevator arriving. The doors slid open, and there he was. She tensed without being aware of it until he stepped out into the hallway, and then she saw that he was carrying two coffees and a paper bag.
Relief flooded through her; more than she'd expected. Her shoulders relaxed, and a smile sprung onto her face. Everything was fine. He was here, and things were back to normal.
She almost stood up, but instead she quickly looked back down at the forms she was filling out, pretending not to have noticed Castle approaching.
A few moments later, out of the corner of her eye she saw him walk up to the visitor's chair, and then he set the cup holder down on the edge of her desk, with the paper bag beside it.
"Morning, Beckett," he said, lowering himself into the chair and picking up his own coffee.
"Hey, Castle," she said brightly, smiling over at him, but he was sipping his coffee and didn't return her gaze. "How's Alexis?"
He nodded, swallowing the mouthful of coffee, then he finally did look over at her. "She's OK. Feeling better. Having a break over the weekend helped her."
Beckett tilted her head in acknowledgement. "I'm glad," she replied, than after a pause she added "Lanie said she was really brave. Totally professional."
He looked down at his coffee cup again, and a small smile appeared on his lips for a moment.
Beckett watched him carefully. He seemed normal enough, if maybe just a little quiet.
"And are you OK?" she asked, not realising she was going to say it until she'd already spoken. He looked up at her, and there was the briefest flash of… something across his face before he simply raised an eyebrow.
"Me? I'm fine," he replied. "How was your weekend?"
A part of her mind noted that he'd changed the subject, but she didn't press him on it, instead telling him that her weekend has been mostly chores and then lazing around her apartment. She'd gone for a run on Sunday, then spent a couple of hours fully reading the newspaper, as usual.
Castle kept his expression mostly neutral as he listened to her, throwing in the occasional small smile where appropriate.
I can do this, he thought. No problem.
He watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning slightly towards him as she said something about the episode of Temptation Lane she'd watched yesterday evening, and he nodded, hoping the gesture was appropriate in context.
Just like normal, he thought, setting his coffee down on the desk. She's your partner, and everything's fine.
Beckett had stopped talking now, and she had a quizzical look on her face. She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curled into a grin and she fixed him with one of her mock-exasperated looks.
"Castle, are you listening to me?" she said playfully – and then she suddenly reached out towards his hand, resting on the edge of the desk.
He couldn't help it.
Before he even had a chance to think, he flinched and pulled his hand away, letting his arm fall across his lap.
Beckett froze, her grin vanishing immediately.
He… recoiled. From me.
She felt her pulse pounding in her chest, and an icy feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. She watched as something dark flitted across his expression, just for an instant, and then he was giving her a tight-lipped smile.
"Huh," he said. "Sorry. Guess I'm a little jumpy this morning." He picked up his cup again and quickly took a large gulp of coffee.
She sat back a little in her chair, and she was surprised to find something like panic fluttering around in her chest.
He never, ever rejected physical contact with her. Never. No matter what the situation was. Most days, he initiated it himself.
Something's wrong.
She swallowed, reaching for her own coffee just to give her something to do with her hands. She took a sip, and then glanced up at him again. He was staring at a patch of floor a few feet away, with that fake half-smile still lingering on his face like a poorly-made mask.
His eyes were flat, and almost grey.
Something's very wrong.
She drew in a breath and opened her mouth to say something – anything – but she never had the chance to speak.
"Yo," Esposito said, arriving at the other side of her desk in a few brisk steps. "Happy Monday. We got a case, boss."
He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder towards the vicinity of his and Ryan's desks, and Castle immediately stood up, taking his coffee cup with him.
"OK," Beckett replied, only partly focused on the other detective. "Let's go."
Castle had already walked off towards where Ryan was sitting, without another look at her.
She momentarily debated whether to leave her cup here, but then she closed both her hands around it. The warmth was a vague comfort.
As she followed Esposito over towards the next section of the bullpen, her step faltered as she remembered how Castle had set the cup holder down on her desk, instead of discarding it in the trash can as usual.
That was the second time he hadn't handed her coffee to her.