A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! It means a lot and I appreciate all of it coming my way. Like I said in my previous note, we're going to be going back to three days ago before all of this went down from Castle's perspective to get an idea as to what is going on. After posting the first chapter, I've had plenty of ideas coming my way so I'm hoping I'm able to convey them how they are running around in my head right now. Enough brief rambling, onto the story!

Chapter II

Three Days Ago

Castle stands in the bullpen of the 12th precinct with his favorite detective and the two other men he regards as brothers, and a great friend in the captain, who had been graceful enough to allow Rick to stick around this long. After everything that happened today, Castle can't find it in himself to be able to hold back any feelings anymore, especially after the two of them nearly died together twice while working on this case. As they are all celebrating outwardly, he's currently concocting in his writer's mind how to approach the subject and get the right words out. He's certainly had moments where his words had failed him, and they were in moments like these, the baring of the soul moments, the ones that really count for something, and yet, every time he tries to do it with her, something always happens.

But tonight, it seemed as if he might actually get the chance to do just what he's been needing to do for quite some time, especially after her last words before they both faded into unconsciousness in the freezer that still echoed in his mind and with no distractions in view and in the comfort of closing such a tremendously stressful case. So instead of coming right out with it, he figures he'll start with a bit of a disarming comment, to pave the way for what he's going to get to. So, with a strong exhale, and a smirk playing on his lips, he starts the conversation the best he can.

"Hell of a day"

She smirked at his comment and let out a breath that she no doubt, had been holding ever since the freezer, the relaxation she felt now was unparalleled, surrounded by those who cared about her, and the feeling of having helped to rescue a mother and her child, not to mention a whole city.

"Hell of a day Castle."

He was half nodding, half assessing what to say next, and decided to go the safe route, start it off simple, and then dive into the deep end. "You know, I was thinking- "

And in that moment, he realized the universe's sick, twisted sense of humor. Because after all the time that had passed, he finally got another opportunity to truly speak to her, only to be shot down by the appearance of the man she had kept her eyes on after they had freed from the freezer, the man whom she said that they had a chance since he didn't leave. His mouth went dry as he looked over her shoulder, looking at the man coming to wrap his arms around the woman he loved, but obviously didn't love him back, because the universe had decided that it wasn't his place.

So, he swallowed the lump in his throat and hoped that she didn't notice all the regret in his eyes and defeat that flashed across them, and put on that crowd-working smile, the one that didn't reach his eyes when he did, the fake one that was a façade for dealing with the pain he was feeling. He simply changed direction with what he was going to say, because truly, he couldn't do this anymore. All of this running around and hoping that one day, she would notice, was not working, so he had to walk away, but not in the outright way of saying it. It had to be subtext because that's what the two of them did best, so he did.

"I was thinking," as if to summon up the courage to finish the sentence, he cleared his throat. "I was thinking about going home, getting some rest, and letting Alexis and Mother know I'm okay. Goodnight, Detective." He offered up a half smile that they both knew was fake, faker than the persona he put on when he was out in public, hamming it up with the fans. He could've sworn he saw the disappointment and forlorn look in her eyes as he walked away, attempting to keep his shoulders high as he walked through the elevator doors, and backed against the wall of the elevator, letting his head lean up against the wall as the doors closed on him, letting the downward pull of the elevator swallow him up as he attempted to swallow the melancholy feeling that was trying its damnedest to break free and ruin him as he walked out of the 12th precinct.

He turned around and looked up at the building, the one that he had resorted to calling his second home, full of lifetime-long friends that he knew he could count on, but the dreary feeling of loss that crawled up and left itself pressed upon his soul made him realize some things that needed to change, but first, he needed a distraction, and he knew just the place to get it.

Turning back to face the street in front of him, after walking a block or two, was finally able to hail a cab and get on the road to get back to the comfort of his home. As the streets of New York passed him by, with the drizzle of rain that had started when he left the precinct, his mind kept tormenting him with the imagery of one extraordinary NYPD homicide detective, the imagery of which, he would probably never see, so, he had to make his peace with that fact. Sitting at home, he had the perfect tool to help do just that. So when the cab pulled up to the sidewalk of his building, he left the cabbie a generous tip and walked into his building, greeting the doorman with his crowd smile and making his way up the building. As the elevator made its way up the multiple floors, he rocked on his two feet, trying to keep his mind distracted with trying to keep his balance as he rode up, which worked for all of about five seconds. Then he resorted to tapping his fingers along his thigh, playing along to an invisible tune that not even he could hear, but it helped pass the time. Once the doors opened, he let out a sharp exhale and started down the hallway to his door. Thankfully none of his neighbors were out right now, he definitely didn't feel like socializing right now, he just needed the peace and quiet, which was rather conflicting with his mindset of needing to do something, anything.

When he finally got inside, he felt relief instantly because neither Martha nor Alexis was home, he had asked them to go out and enjoy themselves on his cab ride home. Alexis was spending time with Paige and her family tonight, and Martha? Well, Lord knows where she was this time of the night. But truthfully, he needed to be alone right now. He extracted his coat and hung it in the closet next to the front door, as well as taking off his shoes and sports coat as he crossed the living room, turning the TV off as he went that had resorted to playing a screensaver since no one had been home in a while and trudged into his office. As he closed the door, he spied out just the thing he needed to distract himself, a whiskey glass and a matching twenty-year-old scotch that resided in the cabinet just below it.

He grabbed the two and sat down in his chair, examining the bottle and forgetting about however much he had spent on it, all that mattered right now was the burn that it was going to be leaving in his throat and the temporary peace it provided. He unscrewed the cap and poured himself a generous helping into the glass that he now cradled like it was the most important thing in his life right now, the only thing keeping him grounded. He was no alcoholic, that's for sure, he'd leave that to the charming British agent that he'd passed up the opportunity on writing, to instead write about Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook, which certainly didn't help the sting of tonight's revelations. So he stood and walked over to the windows that looked out into the city just to keep his eyes moving, no sitting still tonight, eyeing each raindrop that graced itself onto the windows, but with each time he brought the cool glass to his lips, he felt just a little bit better.

That was, until his phone rang. Sighing as he still didn't really feel like talking to much of anyone, he still silently hoped it was Kate, calling him to talk or something, anything. But to his surprise, it wasn't his phone ringing when he had slinked it out of his pocket, with quizzical eyes he looked around to find where the noise was coming from, and then he recognized the ringtone, one he hadn't heard in quite a long time.

"Oh great, not today of all days." He murmured as he got back to his desk, trying to remember which drawer it was in. And then he found it, it was the second drawer down on the right side, one of the deeper drawers, but when you opened it, it was quite shallow. At least it was until you opened the false bottom and found the rest of the contents inside. And interesting contents inside they were, a phone that had been hooked up to a charger to make sure it never died, a few random passports and cash, and lastly, a pistol that would make any firearm connoisseur jealous.

He fished the phone out of the drawer and recognized the number that was calling, not one to leave the caller on voicemail, he picked up the phone, waiting for the trademark lingo that the line was secure.

"Thai food is pleasing to the tongue."

Ah, yep, there it was, so a meeting huh? What's going on then?

"I've yet to find somewhere that does it right."

"The delicacies of foreign lands are difficult to replicate."

Oh, nothing good, that's… quite unusual to hear from the voice on the other line.

"Do you know of someplace good? I've always wanted the real deal."

"Maybe I'll tell you about it someday, in person is always best."

And just as the last word was out, there was the telltale CLICK that meant the conversation was over, with no room for discussion. Fantastic, as if today wasn't bad enough now he has to meet up with his guy from the agency, and also be mindful of what he says over the phone, and keep an eye over his shoulder for anyone following. He never liked that, but then again, he didn't have much choice now did he? With a resigned sigh, he placed the glass down on his desk, along with his everyday cell phone after sending a message to both Martha and Alexis that he had gotten roped into some business ordeals at Black Pawn that would take some time. Then promptly pocketed the secure one, along with grabbing the holster that housed the pistol from the drawer and secured it to his side. Ensuring everything was turned off in the loft, and everything was properly locked, because that phone call had definitely put him on edge, he was taking no chances.

Satisfied with all the checks he made, he once again, broke into his closet and grabbed the sports coat he had just taken off, along with the less wet overcoat that he had hung in there just an hour ago.

An hour ago? Jeez, feels like it's only been five minutes, was all he could think as he brought his arms through the jacket and overcoat shortly after. All suited and ready for his meeting, he turned and looked around his loft, taking this last image of serenity into his mind to tide him over until he was going to be able to return. And with a turn of the doorknob, he was out the door and headed back into the city below.

Instead of going back through the lobby, he rode the elevator all the way down the garage, his mind now set on his new goal of making sure he wouldn't be followed when he left his home, so he couldn't take the Ferrari or his usual town car, he'd have to take a vehicle he's never usually seen in, which granted him the perfect opportunity to ride his guilty pleasure, his jet black BMW S1000RR that he had just bought, brand new and ready for him to go cruising on, and also seemed like the perfect vehicle to be riding on, given that he needed to not look like himself, and to be honest, who would ever expect to see Richard Castle riding around on a motorcycle when he had a Ferrari?

He always kept the riding gear in the trunk of the Lexus, he didn't really want Alexis to know that he had it, since he had put up a bit of a fight with her wanting to get a Vespa. Pushing the thought aside, he popped the trunk of the car, deposited his overcoat, and grabbed the riding jacket that provided ample protection and weatherproofing, he almost custom-ordered one, but when he went to purchase the bike, he found a leather jacket that he was quite fond of, so he bought it the same day. Strapping on his gloves, he turned his attention to the black glossy mirrored visor helmet, one that hid his face in it pretty well, which was exactly what he needed.

All secured with the gear, he swung his leg over the bike and adjusted himself to a comfortable position, it had been a little while since he had ridden it, but it was all flooding back to him, the muscle memory overriding any thoughts he had about trying to remember how to ride. With a flick of the key and a rev of the engine, he was out of the garage before he knew it, navigating the maze that is NYC, bound for the predesignated meeting location for himself and the man on the phone. Thankfully, the rain had stopped falling and it was smooth sailing for him, no worries about hydroplaning unless an inconsiderate driver caused an accident.

As he drove along, his mind began to wander, thinking about what the meeting could mean. Since it was so short-lived and demanded his presence in person rather than over the phone, not to mention the fact that he had to keep his head on a swivel for any kind of tail and to be cautious over the phone was a tremendous cause for his imagination to run rampant, all of which he did not like the outcomes of. But the only one he could possibly think of was the case of Johanna Beckett, and that was a can of worms that, admittedly, he opened, but he hoped against hope that this wasn't the case. He would be getting to the meeting location soon, but he needed to run a few switchbacks and loops just to make sure he was clear, and when he was, he made his way into the industrial district, navigating the side streets until he found Warehouse 17.

Thankful that he still remembered its location, he pulled up to the front of the warehouse doors and kicked out the stand on the bike as he dismounted and made his way to a keypad that was standing by itself just outside the doors and inputted his individual access code. At the green light and acceptance tone, Rick walked back to the bike and remounted as he brought the kickstand back up so he could roll into the building.

The exterior of the warehouse was nothing special, it looked about the same as the rest of the buildings around it, with the number designation on the side and front of the building, but the main key difference was the keypad and a few other additions that the locals did not know about whatsoever. When the doors opened, it made its way into a typical storage building with low-key lighting, except for the cargo elevator that sat at the back of the building, with a clear path to it, carved through the multiple crates and boxes that were stacked and methodically placed throughout the floor.

Taking in the sight before him, Rick mumbled to himself something about not believing he was doing this again, but his actions spoke differently than his mind as he had already started making his way through the building toward the elevator, walking with the bike straddled underneath him. When he crossed the threshold into the elevator, he hoisted himself from up off of the bike and kicked the stand out again, causing the metal-framed elevator to shake just a bit, but he carried on as if nothing happened with a removal of a glove and flipped open a panel on the elevator that had caution stickers all over it, revealing a biometric hand scanner. As he placed his hand on it, the device emitted a white line that swept downwards from the top as it scanned his hand and pinged when it accepted his credentials, playing a message just for him in a feminine robotic voice.

"Welcome back, Agent Rodgers."

As it finished its so-called, warm welcome, the elevator whirred to life and began to go downwards instead of upwards like most would expect. Rick, of course, was not surprised, this was straight out of their playbook, use a building in plain sight with convenient positioning in the city, and build a great underground facility. People always thought that it was a bit extravagant when he used it in the Derrick Storm books, citing that, 'Oh that's just the movies that do that,' or his personal favorite, 'the CIA would never do that, they can't operate in the US.' Technically they were right, but there were loopholes that they loved to use, and one of them was using independent contractors to do work for them so that they would have no ties back to the agency. They wouldn't use just anyone either, they would pick those who had the greatest potential to be the very best, of course, after they had finished training them, and somehow, Richard Castle had managed to be one of those independent contractors.

The sudden stop of the elevator brought Rick out of his thoughts, and with a shake of his head as he cleared his mind, he took off the helmet and secured it to the bike as he started down the pristine hallway that was illuminated by the whitest light they possibly could've put in there, it almost felt like a hospital with how clean everything looked, but he knew that what they got up to would heavily outweigh the cleanly outward display they put on. Looking for conference room one as he started down the hallway, a sudden clearing of a throat behind him surprised him, and caused a quick about-face from him as he faced down the man that brought his attention. When he met the man's gaze, he offered a friendly smile and extended his hand.

"Agent Gray, great to see you again."

The man took his hand and offered the friendliest smile he could offer,

"Mr. Castle, thank you for coming on such short notice." He gestured to the room from which he had emerged, "Please, come in and see what I couldn't talk to you about over the phone."

Retrieving his hand from the man's grip, Rick nodded and followed him into the room, which was surprisingly empty, which already had piqued his interest, but said nothing as he sat down in the singular chair that was at the conference table after Agent Gray had signaled for him to. When he sat down, he narrowed his eyes as he examined the room around him, which offered nothing to him, as it looked just like the hallway, all sterile and nothing to allow his imagination to think about, other than the whiteboard that stood secured to the wall on that was opposite him.

Gray took up his position next to the whiteboard and flicked the lights off as the projector that was situated on the ceiling above Castle flickered to life and plastered an image of a thirty-story building that he had recognized as the Ritz Tower that sat at the intersection of Park Ave and E 57th street. Already curiosity was at the forefront of his mind as his mouth was set in a hard line and brows furrowed, trying to piece together why he would be called for something like this.

"You're probably already wondering why we called you in aren't you, Rick?"

"Well, it has been a long time since you've needed my services, so you can forgive my skepticism for this."

With a nod, Gray acknowledged the fact to be true, the last time they had needed his help was just before he met Detective Kate Beckett at the last Derrick Storm book launch party. But this situation required his precise expertise, so he had to approach the subject carefully, or outright depending on Rick's receptiveness.

"I understand, usually we wouldn't call on you, but this one, this one we need your expertise on."

At the mention of his expertise, Rick perked up and his eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline, there weren't many things that he had expertise in on over analysts or agents in the field, except for personal relationships.

Oh. Personal Relationships. Beckett. Simmons, Coonan, the elusive untouchable shadow that lurked in the background.

Suddenly he knew what they wanted him for, but he would play devil's advocate and see what they had to say, after all, maybe this could be the thing that gives both him and Beckett some peace. Him, for opening the case back up in the first place, and her, for the peace of mind she could never grant herself after finding out Coonan didn't act alone, and being able to move on with her life.

Knowing where this was going, he jumped at the opportunity to speak and stop Gray from continuing.

"This has to do with Johanna Beckett's case, doesn't it?"

Gray silently nodded and directed Rick's attention to the whiteboard. "This is your debrief, Rick. We had been keeping a close eye on any mentions of that case after you came to us with the information you discovered about Dick Coonan." He gestured towards the board and the building displayed on it.

"This is, as you know, the Ritz Tower, and the place where you will be meeting a contact that has information about the case." Gray paused and tilted his head, "Information is being moved around between hands, we don't know who it's coming from, but we know who it's going to, and we were able to snag him before he disappeared."

Rick had tangled his hands together on the desk as he was taking all this information in. A veritable leap in information than what he and Kate had ever had before, and he couldn't help but be excited about the fact that some answers were finally going to come to light.

"So, who is this contact that I'm going to be meeting with?"

Gray smirked, happy with the fact that Rick was in, and he didn't have to go to any kind of extreme lengths to get him on board. "Our guy's name is Michael Smith," and at the name, Gray clicked a button and the board shifted to an older man, around his late 50s, "He's a lawyer and he'll be waiting for you on the 10th floor, in room three-oh-four. And if he honors the deal we've arranged with him, should have the file with him."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then the deal is off the table and he'll be prey to the sharks that he sought to betray. He's already bleeding in open water, and his only life raft left is us."

"Then let's get this debrief over with and get this done."

Gray happily obliged his request, going over all the minute details of the operation. Revealing not much more than what had already been discussed, other than the fact that Rick needed to be careful and mind any kind of potential people who were following him, and try to keep his celebrity antics to a minimum, but he knew that he would do just that, not wanting to risk this opportunity to slip through his fingers. Once the presentation was finished, Gray offered Castle quarters to stay in and informed him that his training needed to be brushed up on, mental and physical exams that were necessary before an operative went into the field, which would take two days, which is exactly what they had before the meet was to happen.

After leaving the conference room, Rick headed to the appointed quarters he had been provided with to catch up on some much-needed rest before he went through the exams, which he knew would leave him a bit tired, but nothing he couldn't quickly recover from. The room was at least a bit more homey than the rest of the facility, there was basic carpet that stretched across the floor of the room, a twin bed next to the door that rested upon a floating frame, and a metal wardrobe that sat across from the bed, and to the left of it was a doorway that led into a small bathroom that housed a shower, sink, and toilet. The bedroom was a bit cramped but allowed enough room for him to be able to stretch before his physical exam in the morning, which worked well in his favor. He decided to take a shower and wash off all the stress from the day before curling into the, hopefully, comfy bed, becoming well aware of how tired he actually was.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out cold, prepared to face the day head-on when he woke up. Surprisingly, the night passed as quickly as he had closed his eyes the night before, with no nightmares gracing his mind, and neither were there any dreams. He thought it a bit bizarre but quickly attributed it to the pressure change of sleeping underground instead of up in his loft. Taking a deep breath, he removed the blankets and sat up in the bed, rubbing his face as he took in the events of just the last eight hours, which was quite a lot. A phone call from the agency, a meeting at the covert underground facility, upcoming physical and mental exams, and the biggest shock to his system, an absolutely huge lead in the investigation of Kate's mother's murder, and he was in it for the long haul.

A/N: Chapter 2 is done! I wasn't expecting to be able to get this done today but thankfully time was on my side, so what are we thinking about Rick's newfound involvement with Agent Gray? I've read stories on here that made Castle out to be an FBI Agent before or a CIA Operative given his familial history, but I figured independent contractor would be an interesting idea to explore, especially since he travels a good bit for the book tours, so that would grant him the perfect opportunity to work with them. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! I'm hoping to get the next chapter out soon, but you never know with how life tends to throw curveballs, until the next chapter!