He had seen her around, nearly in every corner of his eyes. It was maddening, he thought it was despicable that he hadn't even gotten a taste of her. Maybe just a graze of the skin and the intimate moments that would still the ache that he felt.

He was an agent, a decently important one at that. He had access to many things, every few times he got to make use of it and write it off as research. "File on Kate Beckett please." He said into the phone and the file was uploaded onto the smartboard.

He double-tapped the file and a database opened up. Her photo appeared, she looked younger in it and judging by the uniform she was wearing, she had just joined the police academy. The flame in her eyes always managed to throw him off, and the flame in that picture had made his heart stutter.

It was a raging fire, even more than he had seen in her eyes last week. Her face was set, she had a goal and she was determined to get to it. Richard Alexander Rodgers had to tear his eyes off of her picture to continue to read the rest of the file.

"Houghton." He murmured, the name of a saint was a name well fitted for the woman that she was. It was a slight bit ironic, she was a cop, sworn to protect and serve. A saint is a nickname, given to someone with a very good character.

He raised an eyebrow, they only differed two years of each other. She was quite young to be a homicide detective, making it all too impressive. He snorted, she was a former model. She certainly had the looks for it, he's sure that plastic surgeons get shown her picture all the time.

Her education was interesting as well, a reserved public school for the gifted, pre-law at Stanford and then New York University. Her year studying in Kyiv which meant that she spoke Russian, it was a language hard to study, he knew.

She owned a car and a motorcycle.

"Mother, deceased." He raised an eyebrow and opened the attached file of her case. It appeared to be random but after reading a few more sentences he assumed that it was a case gone cold, but no, it was closed. The agent frowned and tried to make sense of it. "Someone who reopened closed cases, exonerated the wrongly convicted. Multiple stab wounds, left dead but not mugged." He took in a breath and paced himself.

There was no need in opening up old wounds and whatever it was, opening Johanna Beckett's case already meant being flagged by someone or some system. He then clicked on her father's file, nothing out of the extraordinary. Addiction to alcohol was something that was getting far more common in the world.

She was involved in a kidnapping case, with some agent Will Sorenson. Someone Rodgers himself had never heard of. He closed his eyes and took in a breath, he closed Kate Beckett's file and looked at the glaring file in the middle of his screen.

He double-tapped and came face-to-face with a picture of his senior year. 'Richard Alexander Rodgers' he read, 'Prefers Rodgers over Richard due to connections with undercover identity Rick Castle.'

Rodgers was glad as it was entrusted to him, since his original file was deleted. The file in his possession was the only one anyone had, he's not sure about the CIA, but they only had a paper dossier which he made sure to watch them burn. "Twenty-nine years old." He let out a breath as he rubbed a finger against his trimmed beard. The fake wrinkles and make up for slight discoloration was making him go quite mad, but he'll never complain.

He read about his undercover identity in great detail, he read his book summaries again and remembered what it all was about. He took in a breath and looked in a mirror, he had to remind himself that he was Rodgers too, and Castle too. They were both just one person.

The small scars over his face had never bothered him, but the gray in his black hair did. He wondered if graying early was genetics or if it was the stress, but he was willing to bet on the stress. He stood like a soldier, just as much as he acted like one even though he wasn't in the service anymore.

Then came the text about his reputation. 'Merciless and effective.' He read and continued down the text. His way with words used to get any answer out of someone, human psychology can make agent Rodgers an asset to all. Youngest captain of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.

There was a rumor planted by some FBI agents that Rick Castle had a twin brother who worked for the government and had been drafted overseas by the army. Just to play it safe. Then he looked over the file of his family.

His mother, retired agent but still active. Her acting roles in Broadway were just something to pass the time, she had always liked to be dramatic, whether it be bombs or face expressions. His mother, Martha Rodgers had quite the reputation when it comes to extracting information back in her youth. She'd always shrug it off, saying that it was nothing because half of the time everyone was strung high on coke.

Then there stood Alexis Castle, she had an actual last name, but went by Rodgers after she had been taken under the wing of Richard Alexander Rodgers. She saw her last name as some scar that would never heal. Richard understood, having been left behind at a monastery at the age of four and having to carry your last name as a mark of someone who didn't love you enough. Her recruiting tale was something quite impressive, chosen for a testing program of intelligent children in low-standard public schools. She had scored full marks on everything. That was when she was flagged and was put under very light surveillance. When she was slightly older, at the age of nine. She was put with a family of agents, such as him.

He had raised her, trained her and comforted her at times. They were a family, he had offered her adoption papers a long time ago, but she said no, saying that she wants to make a name for herself before taking another. He understood. After having her under his wing, he knew how she ticked, he had gotten fond of having her around and wouldn't have it any other way. It was dangerous that she knew that too.

Then the empty file of his father, no name, just knowledge that he works for the government. His mother had seen the rockhard look in his eyes and knew. She didn't try to find him afterwards, besides, there was no point in finding someone who can't and doesn't want to be found.

Then he looked down his own file some more, he straightened his back and stood at ease with his hands behind his back as he read it, he had joined the military right after high school. His mother was on tour in Europe and it had been time to commence his plan of being a perfect recruit like he had been raised to be.

He was in the army for three years before he was bumped up to Special Forces, doing whatever he was told to and however, as long as he didn't leave a trace and did it efficiently enough. Then in his last year, he was leader of a squad, Alpha squad.

Then, the FBI held out their hand, tantalizing him with the chance of being an agent. He couldn't pass up a chance where he was defending his country, in his country. He was in Quantico for only a year before he was stationed in a unit of behavior analysts.

At the age of twenty-six he had assumed a new identity, the identity of a playboy millionaire that made his gut churn and his fists clench. The biggest accomplishment of the last three years was being made to be the unit chief of the BAU.

He mostly handles cases in the state where he resides, so most of his team does all the work. But when it is serious, he gets called in and he goes. No questions asked. "A case? An abduction." He hummed.

"I took a case for you," He wanted to make her do laps for not going over it with him before accepting it, but his resolve quickly fell apart as soon as she said, "The 12th is expecting your presence soon." Alexis said over the phone. Her expertise was technology and she liked clicking on her keyboard with a microphone around her ear, whispering information to agents and helping from afar. It wasn't like she was allowed to help in person anyways, she was only a sixteen year old.

The agent felt his eyebrows rise and he closed his file. "Tell the rest that I'll meet them there." He said and hung up the phone. He put on his blazer, grabbed the keys to his standard issued Chevrolet Suburban and headed out into his garage.

He lived in another apartment, under the penthouse apartment of 'Rick Castle'. It was easier to manage in general, and if there was paparazzi waiting outside for Rick Castle, he could just go back inside, put his disguise on and continue with his life.

Traffic was light, only a few streets away from where he lived. He kept his sunglasses on, his eyes still sore from the blue eye contacts he was wearing. "Agent Rodgers?" A man approached him, wearing the same official suit as he was.

Rodgers looked at the blonde man, "That's me." He said and held out his hand. "Agent Sorenson, glad to help. My team will arrive soon." Agent Rodgers said and followed Sorenson into the building.

"We're set up in the breakroom on the fourth floor." Agent Soreson said and Rodgers immediately straightened his back.

"What floor is that?" He asked. He knew about it, having been there some time ago. He still hadn't been able to shake off whatever Detective Beckett had done to him.

The agent looked sheepish about it, "It's homicide, sir." Agent Rodgers just nodded and stepped into the elevator. "I'm a big fan, sir."

Rodgers let out an amused breath. "Of what?"

"Your work?"

"What work?" Rodgers continued as he looked at which level they were.

Sorenson looked confused as he tilted his head, "Well, the work that you-" He then fell silent, "Well, I just heard rumors from up in Boston, sir."

Rodgers smiled as the elevator doors opened, "Exactly what they are, rumors." He said and walked out in confidence. "Detectives on the case?"

"Detective Beckett, Ryan and Espesito." Sorenson answered. The bullpen was bustling, just like it had been when he stood in the same place as Rick Castle. The smell of stale coffee and the stink of addicts who are being booked.

"Detective Kate Beckett." The detective said and the agents had to look to his side where she had crept up on him, his hand ghosting over the gun that was harnessed against his chest.

"Quite an accomplishment to sneak up on me, detective." He shook her hand, "Agent Rodgers."

"Got a first name Rodgers?" The hispanic officer called out from the bullpen.

He smiled, "Classified." He said seriously, but was joking. He snickered, "Alexander." He said. "Agent Alexander Rodgers."

"We've got a James Bond fan." The American-Irish detective called out, already acting familiar with him. He immediately spotted the books on the corner of his desk.

"Looks like we've got a Castle fan." Rodgers snorted, "Some of his work is fine, the rest, mediocre." The two male detectives laughed softly and Rodgers straightened his posture. "How about you guys get me up to speed?"