A/N - Hi!

Bet you're surprised to see an update so soon. Inspiration stood tapping her foot outside of my door until I let her in and here we are.

For those of you following Breaching the Castle, I promise to update it next. Thanks for your patience.

Enjoy!

~GeekMom

The Commitment

Chapter 16

Seeing It Through

Castle rode the elevator to the fourth floor. The indicator lit and dinged at each floor, making it impossible to ignore or miss his stop. He might have wanted to miss it, but instead he swallowed his apprehension and waited for the doors to slide open. He stood wondering what he would find on the other side of the door: would it be a contrite, apologetic albeit brief, Beckett? Or maybe it would be the Beckett who was all business. It was anybody's guess. He inhaled to bolster his confidence and coughed on the stale elevator air. After clearing his throat, he arranged his face. It occurred to him that, on occasion, he still had to bring out the old mask, even here. He put that thought aside: today it was all about getting Susannah her justice. He would do what he needed to so he could achieve that. This thing with Beckett wouldn't break them. He was her partner, she had even recognized it. It was more than he had last month. It was enough, for now.

He stuck his head out of the elevator cautiously, stepped out and walked the hall to the bullpen, craning his neck, seeking and finding Espo and Ryan at their desks still looking remarkably busy. He relaxed and chuckled. Montgomery at his desk in his early goldfish bowl decor office made eye contact with him and nodded. Rick gave him his best closed lip grin and returned the gesture.

"You good Castle?"

He turned to his left. L.T., one of the uniforms assigned to the squad had spoken. L.T. was a resourceful, dependable, and reliable cops' cop. He did his job and did it well.

Without hesitation, Castle answered, "I'm great, L.T., thanks, and you?" He gripped the officer's shoulder and produced a genuine smile: the mask and façade forgotten as it slipped away. He raised his eyebrows and asked, "Oh hey, did we make the team?"

L.T. smiled broadly. Castle took the time to get to know him. Unlike some of the other higher ups, he seemed to have a genuine interest in speaking to and knowing everyone. Some of the other detectives did not take the time to know the unis assigned to homicide, but some did; like Castle and even though the author had never taken the oath to protect and serve, L.T. had witnessed the author's capabilities and kindness: he was cool in his book. He respected Castle and valued his friendship. "Yeah, he made the team. He'll be playing third base," he said proudly. His son had been accepted into his neighborhood's little league. He pulled out his phone to show him a picture of Luke, his seven year old in his new uniform.

Castle smiled brightly. "That's awesome!" He said as he took the phone and inspected the photo. He handed it back and said excitedly, "Hey, send me the schedule and I'll try to make a game or two."

L.T. smiled. "That'd be cool Castle. Will do."

Castle surveyed the bull pen. "Have you seen Detective Beckett?"

"Yeah, she was headed to the ladies' room a minute ago. I'm going to get your perp. His lawyer's here."

L.T. had him at 'your'. Castle heard the pronoun 'your' as in 'your perp' as in 'he is yours' and as in 'you're a part of the team'. It felt good. He watched the officer walk down the hallway to holding. "Yeah, I heard. Thanks L.T.," he called after him.

He strode across the scuffed hardwood to her desk and sat the take-out cup on her blotter. He draped his jacket over the back of his chair but before he sat he tilted his head to decipher doodles on Beckett's pad. Random squiggly lines sometimes resulting in geometric shapes, sometimes cute sketches of balloons, and unknown species of flowers or…he blinked twice…hearts? He surreptitiously glanced around him to make sure no one was observing him observing. Why would 'Bad Ass, if you look at me the wrong way I'm going to shove your head up your ass and then go bowling with your corpse' Beckett be doodling and more importantly why would she be doodling hearts. With another look around he lifted the file that covered the doodle.

"Castle!" He dropped the folder and turned toward Esposito.

"Yeah…yes…um…" He closed his eyes and took in an exaggerated breath. He opened his eyes and asked, "What?"

Esposito's face broke into his victory grin: just like a victorious lion just back from the coliseum. It was easy to spook the writer and Espo liked the game. "Nothing man, just good job in the box this morning." Espo let his eyes peruse the bullpen in a conspiratorial way. "What are you so nervous about?" He asked under his breath.

"Wha...what do you mean?" Castle scoffed as he followed him to his desk. "I'm not nervous."

"Anxious, jumpy, edgy, tense." Ryan offered, tag teaming his partner.

Espo rolled his eyes. "Yo, Castle junior, I'm willing to bet that the writer knows the meaning without the use of your thesaurus."

Castle smirked. "I state again: I am not nervous, or anxious, jumpy, edgy, or tense." He tilted his head toward Beckett's desk. "Maybe intrigued."

"Intrigued?" Ryan crept closer to seal their conspiracy circle. "By what?"

"Well, for one thing, that fact that Esposito knows what a thesaurus is."

"Yo, not cool," Espo warned and crumpled the sheet of paper he was holding and threw it at the author's head.

"And," Castle dodged the attack and continued while cocking a 'you totally missed' eyebrow at Espo, "Why is Beckett do…uh…oh," He heard her four inch heels reverberating on the floor. "…Beckett is back from resting in the rest room." He narrowed his eyes, she looked...something was off. "Why is it called a rest room?"

Beckett walked back to her desk, intentionally skirting around the inane conversation going on at and around her partner's desk. She rolled her eyes. "You ready?" She asked Castle. He nodded. She picked up Callahan's file and stepped away from her desk. She spun back when she registered the newly deposited coffee. Pursing her lips and avoiding his eyes, she said, "Castle, do you mind if we talk for a minute?" Castle looked toward interrogation. Beckett noticed and said, "Callahan and his suit will keep for a minute or two. Come on." She picked up the paper cup, sipped then scrunched up her nose. 'It was adorable,' he thought. "Cold," she offered by way of an explanation and headed for the break room. Castle followed.

She waited at the door until he crossed the threshold and then she gently shut it.

Castle turned around to face her. Her head was downcast as she slowly trudged to stand in front of him. "Beckett?" He asked.

"Just give me a minute, Castle," she answered not lifting her head but lifting her hand to rub her cheek.

He kindly granted her request. "Heat up your coffee?" He asked quietly.

"Please," she whispered. Castle walked to the espresso machine thinking that some sort of music should have been playing because he had the feeling that they were about to head to their own private and personal dance floor. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the machine worked its magic. He didn't turn but heard the squeaking of the pleather as Beckett settled onto a stool. The barest hints of a smile appeared on his lips when he heard her prepare. She cracked her knuckles, inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, and lastly, she cracked the tension out of her neck. He was well acquainted with the ritual. Beckett performed the same steps when gearing up to assault a suspect's lair, or go into the box and stare down a murderer or after arriving at a crime scene, the only difference being that she always took that extra moment to remember that the victim was a human being.

"I'm sorry, Castle." She began to his back. Castle paused, knowing that whatever she had to say would be easier for her if she said it to his shoulder blades and the short hair at the nape of his neck. "I…I just don't know why…" He stirred her coffee slowly, letting her gather her words and courage. "I always screw this up. I always end up..." He heard her hands drop to the tabletop.

Castle gripped their coffee mugs and turned toward the table and Kate; and right now she was definitely Kate: not Beckett, not Detective just Kate. Her shoulders were slumped and she still held her head down, her hair providing a veil of honey brown protection. Beckett's hesitant and inelegant words uncharacteristically dropped from her lips like the first few drops of a rainstorm: random and unorganized, startling whatever had been deemed worthy to be dropped upon first. Most people run and seek shelter from an impending storm. Had there been actual rain, Rick would have been sopping wet.

"Here," he said as he set the mugs down on the table and slid into the opposing stool: its ersatz leather creaking and finally submitting and molding itself to his will.

"Thanks," she mumbled taking the mug in her hands and wrapping her palms around the warm ceramic. She lifted the mug to her lips and sipped. Castle had also observed her coffee ritual countless times. Beckett essentially made love to her coffee. The way her head raised, her eyes closed and opened languidly and sensually as she sniffed the aroma: watching her nostrils flare as the intoxicating quixotic essence of vanilla hit her olfactory nerves. He had witnessed the slight upturn of her lips and the barest hint of her pink tongue peeking out between the row of perfect white teeth, too eager to experience the smooth, sweet nectar and in anticipation of her first taste. Every time her eyes would close as the first heavenly drops caressed her tongue and slid down her throat, he held his breath. Then there was the moan: barely audible but definitely there. Then she would smile at him, sometimes with foam, sometimes without. Staring, but not breathing, Castle would take a quick awkward gulp from his cup of hot coffee flavored adrenaline to help re-start his heart.

But she only sipped today.

They sat in silence: an awkward and oppressive silence. Too heavy and cumbersome to move it on their own: it would require the two of them. Although, Beckett had stopped talking, taking small sips from her cup instead. She had yet to look at him, even though Castle had been intently gazing at her or a least trying to catch glimpses as her hair still cloaked her downturned face. Ever playing the detective, the writer attempted to pick up nuances and clues as to what was on her mind. Things like what her body language and breathing might tell him; the fidgeting of her fingers; the tapping or, more telling, the non-tapping of her toes. He would attempt to predict what she might say in order to prepare; prepare his heart and mind. This technique rarely worked with Beckett but being a drowning man in the unknown, uncharted, murky waters of their relationship, he grasped at any straws he saw floating by through the dips and swirls of the current.

The apologetic overture she began with had gotten his hopes up, which was a stupid optimistic response: he had been duped before. Beckett could open up her Chinese puzzle box of a heart for brief periods of time. Like a moth to flame, he would revel in the warmth and light of Beckett, begin to explore her inspiring beauty only to have her withdraw and slam the box closed, ultimately pinching his fingers, and leaving him in the cold and dark…again. So he knew better, but it didn't matter, it was Beckett: one of the three people currently in his life who would always be given another chance. And another.

Castle acknowledged that he was a pushover when it came to Beckett. It was new territory for the author. He was used to having things when and the way that he wanted them. He was affluent and in the circles he frequented, he was influential. Everybody wanted to be his friend or acquaintance and everybody liked him as a matter of routine. Since his successes, he had not had to work very hard for any of his relationships: any except this one with Beckett. She was stubborn. But then again, so was he.

He waited for her to begin again. Castle held back every impulse he had to push her, coax what she had to say out of her. As an author, he asked questions. He had always asked.

Beckett tilted her father's wristwatch toward her, openly debated with herself, and bit her bottom lip in concentration. She had to get back to Callahan but she had begun this. Lifting her head, she made a decision.

Castle had not seen her eyes because of the curtain her hair had been credibly imitating. He scanned her face as the locks parted revealing her face and her eyes. Her eyes were red rimmed and there were blotches on her cheeks as if she had been crying. Castle was stunned. He had not witnessed Beckett crying before now and technically, he told himself, he still hadn't, just the telltale signs. It might have been allergies, he said to himself. Tears were his Achilles heel. He would do everything in his power to prevent tears falling in his presence and woe to Richard Castle if he ever caused them. He had, caused them in the past. Making a woman cry by your deeds or your words was as bad as striking her. To him. He knew the power of words. It was unthinkable to ever use them as a weapon. Again. He would not ever set out to deliberately cause hurt and pain with his words. Again.

"You really freak me out, you know?" Beckett began. Castle opened his mouth, looking for clarification but before he could ask anything, she continued. "For as long as I can remember, even before I became a cop, I could read people, you know? I have always taken the evidence I find and figure out what makes individuals do the things they do. When I became a cop, I was a natural: it was one of the reasons I'm so good in the box. I can look at the evidence and…I don't know…I just know if a perp is guilty or innocent of the crime." She nodded in the direction of the interrogation room. "Like Callahan: he killed her. Not only does the evidence say it, he does with his…oh…I guess you would call them tells, like in poker. His body language, eye movement, hands. I just know." She resumed staring at her hands.

Castle decided to wait her out. Nothing she had said was news to him. He had been observing her for nearly two years. He was good at reading people too, in fact, probably better than she was.

"I…" She raised her head and looked directly at him. "I can't read you…or actually I did or thought I did but I…seemingly I was wrong. All wrong. I'm confused. I mean one minute you're an ass, flaunting your money and women and the next you're a caring friend and father. I don't know which one of you is real. I just know that I haven't figured it out. I don't know if I ever will."

Castle sat there stunned. Was Detective Kate Beckett evolving before his eyes?….maybe. "Beckett…"

"You understand, right?"

"I…think…" He did understand. From the moment he met her, he knew she would be a mystery that he would never solve.

"Castle?" She asked.

He wasn't sure what she wanted from him. "I…I'm not sure what you want me to say, Beckett." She ran her hand through her hair and let out a huff of air. "I mean…um…do you want me to validate that you have misread me? Because I think you are the only one who can do that." He scowled. "Or…" he began slowly, "is it that you want me to corroborate that your initial read was correct. I know it's not all you. I'm… I've changed, I think…I don't know… maybe both were right… at some point."

"Yes…no…I…I don't know."

Castle sighed. He had had less dysfunction throughout his marriages with his ex-wives and they both had ended in divorce. He didn't think he could actually have called what he and Beckett shared a true personal relationship. They were work partners but they rarely talked about their off duty lives or at least she didn't. She put forth only what was absolutely necessary. "I don't know what to say, Kate. I…it's a…it's like a moving target where you pick up and keep up, fake and double back and then rush forward. It's…well, it's damn hard work."

Beckett was not used to sharing. As a result, her head hurt and there was a persistent hum in her ears. Her breath caught when she heard him use her first name though. "I know, Cas…um…Rick," she blew out a shaky breath while uttering his name. "I know I'm hard. I know getting to know me is work. I get scared and I run. I hide."

"It's more than that." Castle inhaled and exhaled steadying himself. "It's…Beckett…I won't…I won't hurt you," he said plaintively. "You don't trust, I get that. I understand your past. I certainly haven't earned your trust yet but if you try to understand…I'm here, Kate. I'm committed to you...oh, well, the squad," he added quickly in response to the fear in her eyes. "I don't break my promises, Beckett." He laid his hand on hers and she did not pull her's out from under his. "Can we try?" He raised his eyes from looking at their conjoined hands to her eyes.

Beckett studied his face for the read: sincerity, honesty, suppliant. She seemed to come to a decision. "Yes," she said as she smiled shyly. "We can try. But, Castle?"

"Yeah," he answered with a smile.

"I'm gonna mess up." She squeezed his hands.

"I know," he said and at the incredulous look on her face, he amended, "I mean I will too. You can practically guarantee it." Castle's eyes grew large and he flattened his lips against his teeth. It was his 'I think I can get out of trouble if I'm adorable enough,' face.

Beckett shook her head followed closely by her patented eye roll. "I really am sorry for earlier…you know…I know what nailing Callahan means to you. I'm sorry I minimized your feelings."

Castle felt like he was under water or better yet in one of those kid's wave machine science experiments, all slow motion and blurry…and blue. His mouth was hanging open, not literally, well not any longer, but it might as well have been. "Um…thank you…Detective Beckett?" He said. Castle didn't mean it as a question but that's how it sounded.

Beckett smiled and looked up at him through her lashes. "You're welcome Mr. Castle. Let's go nail this asshole." She stood, gulped down her last swallow of coffee, and headed for the door.

Castle forcefully let the breath huff out of his nose that he had been holding. He stood and hesitated while he deliberated about clearing the table.

The debate ended when Beckett looked over her shoulder from the doorway at him and asked, "You coming Castle?"

Callahan and his lawyer waited impatiently in interrogation. Beckett stopped just before she opened the door. "You up for this?"

Castle cracked his neck in a fairly good imitation of her. "You bet." Beckett smiled again and in the blink of an eye switched masks: her no nonsense Detective Beckett persona firmly in place, she entered the room, followed closely by her partner.

Thomas Callahan folded like an origami crane. He didn't stand a chance. The evidence recovered at his apartment included Susannah's stolen file folder with all of the information regarding the grant she was given to keep her program running. She had access to over seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, to be used at her discretion. She had hardly touched it. Susannah still believed that she had to be frugal with the money because she wasn't sure how long it would last, but she wanted the program to endure. Beckett pointed out that Callahan tried to pressure her into falsifying documents and then they would spilt the money. Callahan had tried to persuade her that as teachers they deserved a bonus. C.S.U. also found Susannah's personal items that were missing from the crime scene, her watch, and other jewelry, her wallet, and a copy of Heat Wave signed to 'Susannah Hamilton with admiration and love, Rick Rodgers'. The final nail was the tie that Callahan used to kill her. Lanie matched the fibers. Callahan had packed everything away in a shoebox, whether he was too afraid or too stupid to dispose of the items, or wanted to keep them as souvenirs, was anybody's guess. In the end his lawyer, faced with the enormous amount of evidence, urged Callahan to cooperate fully.

Callahan finished writing his confession and slid the paper across the table to Beckett who began to read it. He killed her because she would not commit fraud and misuse the money.

Castle still stared at him, deep in thought. Finally, the writer tilted his head and asked, "What did you have on her?" He narrowed his eyes as he asked.

"That bitch was a lousy two bit whore." Callahan spat, feeling momentarily vindicated and justified. "She shouldn't have been around those kids anyway."

"Seriously? That's what you had?" Castle blinked and smirked as Callahan was finally led out of interrogation and back to holding until his transfer to central booking.

Beckett collapsed into her chair, surveyed the pile of paper on her desk and closed her eyes. It had been a hell of a week. She quickly opened her eyes. Her brain only just registering the doodles. She snatched the paper from the pad, balled it up and tossed it in the can before her partner could comment.

A cup of coffee appeared at her elbow. She looked up to see her him, smirking as he slid by her desk to sit in his chair. "Thanks," she said beginning her ritual.

Castle, still grinning, watched her and said, "You're welcome."

Beckett abruptly stopped the java inspired striptease and turned doleful hazel eyes to him. She laid her hand on his forearm, which he had resting out straight on her desk. "Are you okay?" She asked reticently.

Castle smiled and reciprocated her touch. "I'm good. How about you?"

"Fine, Castle, but that's not what I meant." She said. "I mean about Susannah and her past. Are you okay now that you know…you know…what she did? It might affect the way you remember her."

Rick smiled broadly and shook his head. "Nah," he growled. "Susannah was a young woman trying her best to make a positive difference in people's lives. She had a past and demons and decisions she probably wished she hadn't made…who doesn't? I think the thing we should remember is her commitment to those kids. Her legacy won't be that she put herself partially through college turning tricks. No, she'll be remembered by every single one of those kids who came through her program as the teacher who noticed them for who they were, the person who disregarded their labels and made them believe they could achieve anything." He smiled warmly as he replayed his memories in his mind.

"Castle? I just have one question.

"Yes Detective?"

"Callahan never said that Susannah was a hooker in college. How do you know that?" Beckett raised her eyebrow. Esposito and Ryan looked busy.

Castle looked in both directions and then leaned in close to her, gesturing her to come closer also. "It's how we met," he said in a whisper. He leaned back, pleased that he left her with a stunned expression on her face. "Well, Beckett, it's late and I'm tired. I have a thing to…," he pointed over his shoulder. "…and then the other." He stood. "Well, until tomorrow, Detective. Oh and Beckett?"

She looked up at him, still reeling from his revelation.

Castle smiled, "Thanks." He grabbed his jacket and headed in the direction of the elevator. He waved at the boys. "Boys, tomorrow?"

"Later bro." Esposito waved back.

Ryan yawned and said, "Goodnight, Castle. I'm right behind you."

"Good night," Beckett said inattentively, still trying to comprehend what he had said to her. 'It's how they met?' So the nature of their relationship was all a lie. What else was there that he had said that she had accepted. Wasn't it just two hours ago that they had that big discussion? The one about misreading each other? She exhaled an irritated breath.

Dejected, Beckett leaned across her desk to turn off the desk lamp. She went to push the button on her computer, but hesitated. An idea formed in her head. She was going to do some detective work.

"Goodnight, Beckett." Her partners said in unison.

"Hey guys? Could I get your help with a little project?"

Ryan and Esposito exchanged glances.

"With what, Beckett?" Ryan asked, crossing to her desk.

"Yeah, I thought the case was closed." Espo said.

"Not completely," Beckett answered cryptically. "I'll buy dinner."

"Wow," Ryan sing-songed and hour later. "I had no idea, did you?"

"No man, let's get this to Beckett." Espo stood and grabbed one more eggroll before he followed Ryan out of the conference room, leaving a mess of opened Chinese food containers scattered on the table.

"So," Ryan began. "Susannah Hamilton did indeed have a past.

"She was some sort of brainiac and entered college when she was sixteen under the name of Susannah Mitchell. Her parents were killed in a freak roller coaster accident when she was seventeen. By the time social services got around to her case, she was an adult and left to fend for herself. Her scholarship money dried up and somehow she turned to…um…" Ryan stopped, embarrassed.

"She became a hooker," Espo said, rescuing Ryan.

"Sad story," Beckett said.

"Yeah, but that's not the end of it." Esposito shook his head.

"Nope, definitely not the end. She was picked up pretty quickly and booked, got a slap on the wrist and released because of overcrowding." Ryan reported as he pursed his lips. "Shortly after that she just left the life, changed her name, and went back to college."

Beckett raised her head. "Wait…what? How did she do that? Lottery?"

"Kind of." Ryan's eyes held a hint of humor and intrigue. "It seems that all of her school expenses were paid."

"Free and clear." Espo rocked on the balls of his feet.

Beckett's mouth dropped open. "Completely?"

The partners answered in unison. "Yeah." They bumped their fists.

Beckett's eyebrows rose. "Sugar daddy or fairy god mother?"

Ryan answered, "Maybe, but we don't think it was either."

"No? What's your theory then?" She asked.

The boys exchanged grins and glances. Espo said, "Uh, we like to call him her benefactor."

"Who?" Beckett asked.

Ryan shook his head and scooted his chair closer to her desk. "Well, that part is not in the school records. Her bills were paid, but by cashier's check."

"Untraceable." Beckett confirmed.

Espo plastered a cat that ate the canary grin on his face. "Mostly."

"Oh my god, what do you mean?" Frustrated and losing her patience, Beckett pushed her hand through her hair.

"Well," Ryan said, "at the same time, Susannah changed her emergency contact information."

"So we did a little more digging based on that information," Esposito practically danced with excitement.

Ryan pushed a report in front of her. "The cashier's checks were purchased by the same man."

Beckett sat on a metal folding chair next to Espo and Ryan, on her right and Martha, Alexis and Captain Montgomery on her left. They had all been invited to the dedication of The Susannah Hamilton Memorial Educational Center. The Mayor; Susannah's former principal, Clifton Wilkins; several people unknown to Beckett who had been introduced from the unnamed 'anonymous' foundation that granted Susannah's original funding, and author P.J. Haarsma from The Kids Need To Read organization, each one a new board member of the center, sat on a platform, waiting for their turn at the podium. The mayor was finishing his remarks, praising the fact that the building they were sitting in had been purchased, donated, and equipped by an unnamed donor to the new not for profit that would be running the program. The program that had been developed and implemented by Susannah: the program that assured that kids were treated as individuals, not as their labels.

She had searched the stage for Castle when she had first arrived but was surprised she didn't find him. She couldn't believe he would miss the dedication.

When the mayor finished, she stood during the applause to stretch her muscles and opted to lean against the wall. Kate caught a glimpse of people moving around backstage. She had always been fascinated with the operation behind the scenes and her eyes were automatically drawn there. The back stage operation reminded her of everything they had discovered after the case closed and smiled again.

Beckett stood up straight as she noticed two men, heads down; studying some papers she assumed must have been the script, speaking to each other in hushed tones. She recognized Mike Roth, Castle's attorney; she figured the other was the facility manager. She smiled and took in a deep breath as she saw Castle approaching them from behind. He stayed behind them and clapped a hand on each of the men's shoulders, whispered something between them, causing an immediate pleased reaction. Then he smiled, obviously pleased with the event.

Kate smiled, too. She thought about Susannah's unnamed benefactor and how his act of generosity was responsible for Susannah's legacy. The same man was the organizer of this event and whose commitment ensured Susannah's program would endure. Her smile broadened with pride when she caught that man's eye: her partner's, Richard Castle.

The End

A/N - Thanks everyone for the 129 follows and 50 favorites. I hope you enoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Special "Feeding Your Birds" Thanks to all the reviewers and all of your wonderful comments. Reviews really do inspire and motivate. Thanks for taking the time. You guys rock!

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