A/N: Again, a lot of this dialogue is directly from the show. Not every chapter is like that. If you recognize it, it's probably not mine. :)
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Castle looked over at Beckett for the umpteenth time.
Again, she didn't seem to notice.
She'd seemed okay, when she called and quietly asked for his help. Her voice had been strained and lacked the playfulness that he'd heard so much of recently, but she seemed okay. But when she showed up at the loft to pick him up her demeanor had been markedly subdued. She was wearing a turtleneck and her eyes were downcast, and even though she let him brush a kiss across her cheek and wrap his arms around her in a hug she was completely unresponsive to him. She had been off in another world, and she had stayed there.
Now, even as she was carrying on a conversation that Castle himself was only half-listening to, he could see that she was on a kind of autopilot. It would help if Raglan would get to the point. He's been talking about things that don't matter, about coffee and his health and Jacob Marley. Castle might feel bad for the guy if Beckett wasn't entering a state of rigid focus that looked physically and emotionally painful.
Castle discreetly slipped a hand across the plastic booth between them and over hers, squeezing until he could see her react. It was subtle, just a flicker of her eyelashes in profile, but it meant she was present. She returned the squeeze, and Castle brought his attention back to the conversation, surprised to find he'd missed a few turns along the way.
"Who hired Coonan to kill my mom?" Beckett asked.
It was a straightforward question that led to a winding answer that didn't make much sense to Castle. Puzzle pieces dumped out on a table with no offer to help put them together. It was frustrating, but Castle could see that in the raggedness of Raglan's face was more than just the evidence of a recent and worrying diagnosis. It was years of weight etched across his brow and over the grizzled scruff on his chin. Years of deception that would take more than the length of a cup of coffee to untangle.
"Nineteen years ago I made a bad mistake, and that started the dominos falling. And one of them was your mom."
The sudden blast of an explosion provided the punctuation to end the sentence. Raglan's coffee cup, the one he'd been ruminating about only five minutes ago, shattered, sending shards of ceramic and hot coffee flying. Even as Beckett was drawing her weapon and spinning around to search for the source of the disruption, Raglan was falling sideways out of the booth.
"Everybody on the ground! Now!" Beckett had to shout over the screams of the other patrons. "Away from the window! Away from the window!"
Castle dropped down and looked wildly behind him, one hand sweeping past his hip to reach for a weapon that wasn't there, weeks of training preparing him just enough to feel naked without it. Behind him, he was surprised to find no evidence of an explosion. It was only when he saw the fractured blemish of a bullet hole in the window that he realized it was a gunshot. Raglan was prone on the floor, but Castle's eyes were drawn to the red stain blooming over Beckett's ribcage.
"You're hit." He didn't know how the words could come out so casually when his heart was thrashing in his chest.
"I'm fine. It's not my blood."
Beckett was talking into her radio, her weapon still at the ready, when Castle finally realized just how bad off Raglan was. Trying to stay low, he moved over next to the stricken man and heard a sickening gurgle. Knowing it was futile, Castle felt for the bullet wound, but the blood was escaping too quickly to stem the flow. When the rise and fall of Raglan's chest stopped, Castle's gaze moved from the flood at the man's chest to his face, where he noticed that Raglan's eyes exactly matched both the green of his jacket and the tiles of the floor.
It took him a beat longer than it should have to realize Raglan was dead, because he expected those eyes to close. When he did understand, he had to drag his wide eyes away to look toward Beckett and shake his head.
"One-lincoln-forty, please be advised this is now a homicide."
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Hours later, Captain Montgomery found himself alone, for a moment, on the sidewalk in front of the diner. The press was corralled behind him and the crime scene was in front of him, but he'd found a temporary bubble of quiet. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and took a breath of the cold New York City air, but kept his back straight. Tonight Montgomery felt the pendulum of all he'd done wrong in his life reach its highest point and pause, and he knew it would begin moving the other way at any moment. He was watching Beckett from a distance with heavy eyes, knowing that her life also hung in the balance.
With an energy he didn't feel he walked over to her and gave her an exasperated look.
"Tell me you didn't come down here without backup?"
Beckett opened her mouth wordlessly, an excuse or an explanation escaping her, and shrugged. Just as she was about to cop to her negligence, Esposito and Ryan walked by.
"We were backing her up, Cap'. We were just down the block when the shooting happened."
Beckett's grin was small and pained, but genuine. She was lucky to have a team like that. Montgomery continued to scold her, but he was mostly going through the motions. He couldn't make her keep away from this unless he put her in lockup, and even then she'd probably find a way.
"The hell am I gonna do with you," he muttered at her. It wasn't really a question, but she answered him anyway.
"You're going to let me work this case."
It was an unsettling knowledge, that he could see her setting out on a path that was so dangerous but he couldn't stop it. So he attempted to give her a small bump in a safer direction. "Go where the evidence leads, not the other way around."
Beckett nodded, but as she turned to head back inside to the crime scene, he could see the eager glint in her eye. This was a terrible murder, but it was also the first new evidence she'd gotten in more than a year about her mom, and damned be the man who tried to stop her from looking into it. Montgomery clenched his jaw and stared after her until she was stepping over the threshold, then he turned to face the press.
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Castle didn't notice Beckett approaching, his eyes busy inspecting his hands for any blood he may have missed. It was surprisingly hard to clean off.
"You good?"
Her voice brought his head up too quickly, his eyes still too wide. "Yeah I think I got it all off my hands." He wiped the rag over his palms again despite his words. They may never feel clean again. Beckett stepped close and laid one hand on his arm and took the rag from him with the other. She tilted her head at him, a knowing look in her eyes, then looked down to inspect his hands. She tossed the rag into a red bio-hazard bin and captured each of his hands in one of hers.
"I'm so sorry about this Castle."
He shook his head and attempted a smile. "This isn't your fault, Kate. This isn't on you."
She nodded, agreeing at least in theory, and regarded him closely. "It's different, when you're close enough to watch the lights go out."
"Yeah. When I saw the blood on your shirt, I thought you'd been shot." Beckett dropped her gaze and started to step away. But he caught her hands in a firmer grip, not letting her create that distance knowing what it would mean. "I wouldn't be able to handle that."
When he squeezed again, she met his eyes and seemed at a loss of what to say. But that's okay, because Castle was the one with the words. "You have to do what you can to stay safe, Kate. Because I couldn't handle losing you like that."
Despite the crowd of officers and detectives, despite the curious press being so close, Beckett lifted a hand to his face to stroke all too briefly down his jaw. "I'll stay safe," she promised, though they both knew it a tenuous guarantee.
Beckett took another step back, and this time he let her go. "I'm gonna go to the 12th. How about I drop you off? You should go reassure your family that you're alright."
"Not a chance. I'll call Mother, let her know I'm fine." He wasn't going to leave her to struggle through this alone, not tonight. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Montgomery finishing up his second press conference of the day and decided not to walk Beckett back to her cruiser. "But, I'll meet you back there. I'm going to walk."
Beckett's brow furrowed. "It's like thirty blocks."
But Castle had made up his mind. "If I change my mind halfway, I'll grab a cab. I'm okay," he reassured her. Not for the first time since they'd been dating, he had to reign in the desire to give her a hug in public. She hesitated, but in the end she needed to get back to the precinct, and she didn't have time to talk him out of his walk.
Castle stood still in the center of the diner, officers and crime scene techs moving around him, his manufactured grin fading away after she left, Something had changed today. Preparing to head out, Montgomery noticed Castle standing in the diner and detoured inside.
"How you holding up, Castle?"
Castle met his gaze and shrugged, uncertain. "I'm worried."
Montgomery nodded sympathetically, but didn't offer any platitudes. "You can help keep her safe."
The words brought Castle out of his daze, and he suddenly stood up straight. "I'd like to. Can you do me a favor, Captain?"
Montgomery shifted his weight onto his rear leg and regarded Castle with something like suspicion. "Strange time to call in favors, Castle."
"I'm scheduled to go to the shooting range and take my physical qualifying exam in two days. But I need to be armed, like, five hours ago."
"Castle, you can't carry a weapon until you've done your diligence."
"I want to take the tests tomorrow, Roy. The earlier the better."
For Montgomery, the timing of all of this would have been funny if it wasn't so deadly serious. Castle, armed? It might help, or it might hurt, and there was no way to tell which way the cards would fall.
When he hesitated, Castle dragged both hands over his face and started to pace in a tiny back and forth pattern in front of the captain. "Today, when that shot was fired, I reached for a weapon I didn't have. I was ready. I need to be able to protect her."
"Wouldn't have made a difference today, Castle."
"Right, but-"
"And the only protection Beckett needs is from herself. You can do that just as well now as you could with a piece strapped to your hip."
"Captain," Castle stopped pacing to stand directly in front of him. "Do you really believe that? This shooting wasn't a coincidence. We're all in danger here, and I need to be able to pull my weight. I'm her partner." He emphasized the last word with his hands clenched into fists in front of him.
"Roy, Raglan said he kept quiet because he was afraid, and the moment he even thought about speaking up he was taken out. Surely you see what that means for Kate?"
Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Montgomery sighed. "Alright, Castle. I'll see what I can do."
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It was after midnight when they were falling into Beckett's bed, exhausted. They'd opted for her place to avoid having to make small talk with Martha or Alexis, though they'd both spoken to each of them on the phone. They'd gone through the motions of getting ready for bed without speaking, a tired rhythm to their evening dance. Now, finally, Castle scooted across the bed until he could wrap around Beckett from behind, both taking and receiving comfort in their touch. He buried his nose into the crease between her neck and shoulder and spoke his first words in an hour into her skin. "His eyes were green. Just like his jacket."
"Castle." His name, a sigh on her lips, was as much comfort as anyone could offer right now.
The buzz of his phone vibrating on the nightstand interrupted his reply. With a groan of annoyance, Castle rolled over and answered without bothering to see who it was.
"Castle." It was Montgomery, sounding like a man who was still at the office, alert, working. Castle sat up.
"Hey, Captain."
Beckett rolled over onto her back to look inquisitively up at him, her eyes strangely dark, as if they were boycotting the effort required to reflect the ambient light. Castle shook his head at her, no news, and his brow furrowed naturally as he listened to Montgomery.
"Called in a few favors, Rick. Show up at your designated location tomorrow at 6:30am and they'll finish up whatever you need done to carry."
Castle closed his eyes in both relief and foreboding. "Thank you, sir. I'll repay that favor."
"No need, Castle. It's as much mine as yours. It's in everybody's best interest to keep Beckett safe. It's up to you now."
Castle turned his gaze back to Beckett and found her still staring up at him. "Yes, sir." He returned his phone to the nightstand and lowered himself back to the bed. This time when he scooted closer, Beckett stopped him with a hand on his chest.
"What'd Montgomery want?"
"I'm getting up early, gonna go take my physical test, go the gun range, hand in all the paper work. I want..." he paused, and lifted her hand from his chest to press a delicate kiss to her palm. "I need to be armed, Kate. This, what happened today, it feels like the beginning of something. I need to be ready."
Beckett lifted up on one elbow so she could nuzzle his cheek with her nose before laying a soft, warm kiss against his lips. Barely moving away, Castle's skin still warm with the almost touch of hers, she whispered, "It's not all on you, Rick."
"I know."
Accepting his answer at face value, Beckett fell back to the bed and turned away, pulling Castle with her, drawing his arm over her waist and tucking their joined hands under her chin.
"Love you, Castle."
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Back at the Twelfth, Roy Montgomery hung up his phone and sat back in his desk chair. He felt strangely calm. Everything that he'd been hiding for the last twelve years was surfacing, like a piece of glass imbedded in skin during an accident. It was a little painful now, but the real bleeding wouldn't happen until everything was out in the open.
Roy opened his top desk drawer and removed the flask he kept their for special circumstances. He twisted the top off and took a long swig. Bourbon. It wasn't his first drink on this day, and he didn't grimace as it burned on the way down.
This was a train wreck. They were all hurtling down the tracks toward imminent demise. And everyone knew. Everyone could feel that they were out of control, could feel the car rocking, could hear the dishes on the tables rattling too much and spilling coffee and juice. But he was the only one who knew that they couldn't stop now, because he was the one who'd cut the brake cables.
They'd know soon enough, and then there would be a reckoning.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think.