Castle 1. Prologue

**TITLE**: Private Eyes  
**AUTHOR**: Lord of Kavaka  
**CHARACTERS**: Castle/Beckett  
**RATING**: T  
**TIMELINE**: Post-Season 3 AU  
**STORY TYPE**: Romance/Adventure  
**SPOILERS**: Anything from Season 1 - 6  
**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own them, and I make no profit.  
**SUMMARY**: Everyday was the same. Get up, work, and then go to bed. Kate Beckett was bored. She needed a change in her routine. So, after some nagging from her best friend, she allowed herself to be set up on a blind date… and that's when she met Rick Castle. AU. Spy Castle. Entry for 2014 Castle Ficathon.  
**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I always wanted to write a "Castle as a spy" fanfic, and seeing chezchuckles' success gave me courage to attempt my hand at one. So, everything up to Season 3 is still canon, minus Castle's involvement with the precinct and books. I'm hoping to get to 50,000 words for this Ficathon story.**  
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**Private Eyes – Prologue**

The hustle and bustle of the airport had always been daunting, more so now than before. But it wasn't really the rushed and hurried energy buzzing about that did it. No. She could handle the fast pace just fine. It was the crush and mass of people. She had never really been agoraphobic, but ever since what happened, Kate Beckett had never been a fan of large crowds in contained spaces. Clenching her jaw tightly, she did what she did best… sucked it up, and stepped through the sliding automated doors, desperately trying not to flinch at every sudden and quick movement that she glimpsed from the corner of her eye. The din was loud and oppressive, and she had to will herself not to panic.

She didn't want to look crazy.

Gripping the handle of her roller, Kate walked briskly across the tiled floor, focusing on the staccato click of her heels as she maneuvered around a family of three—Mom, Dad, and child—just standing there as the parents bickered about some inane thing while their little girl waited patiently for them to finish.

Kate sympathized with the young brunette, seeing some of herself at that age in the girl. She allowed herself a moment to linger on the image, so reminiscent of her own childhood when her mother and father would argue about some little thing while on a family vacation, before she let it fade with a small sad smile, turning away to make her way to the check-in line. She could have done it last night, but the panel she'd been attending ended late and she'd been exhausted, falling asleep the moment she'd collapsed onto the bed in her hotel suite, completely forgetting about the early online check-in.

She'd only come to Washington, D.C. under orders. Apparently the brass had wanted the city's best to represent them at the annual Law Enforcement Officers Conference, and Captain Gates had volunteered Kate for the assignment. When she'd tried to protest, the captain had told her to think of it as a short vacation, a reprieve from the stress of work. All her colleagues seemed to share the opinion that she'd been working too hard since her return to active duty. So, in the end, Kate had relented to the demands of her friends—and boss—and attended the conference, representing the Homicide Division of the NYPD.

The line was moving slowly, and Kate was getting a little antsy. She was beyond ready to go home and get back to work. She glanced at her wristwatch—clunky, male, her father's. It was a reminder of the life she'd saved. Looking back up, tapping her foot impatiently, she reached up and absently felt for the ring safely tucked under her blouse, hidden from view. The ring hanging on the chain around her neck was a reminder of the life she'd lost. Her mother.

Kate closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, willing her thoughts to refrain from wandering down that path. She'd spent too much of her life going down that rabbit hole. And after what had happened, she had promised her dad—and herself—that she'd back off… let things settle. Kate wasn't done though. Far from it. She had poked the sleeping dragon and had nearly been burned. She'd survived… marred, but alive. She'd go back… poke again. But not today.

She was startled out of her thoughts when the man behind her bumped into her back, knocking her off balance. She canted to her left, hitting her roller and causing it to topple over onto its side.

"Oops! Sorry," the man said, quickly seizing her arm to catch her before she fell.

Her breath hitched up, and she froze, completely caught off guard. It had been so long since she'd felt another's touch. The sensation was almost foreign to her. His fingertips brushed down her forearm as his hand dropped away, unknowingly leaving gooseflesh and a strange electric tingle in their wake. He bent down and righted her roller with swift and deft movements.

Kate flicked her eyes up to the stranger in front of her. The first thing she noticed was that he was tall. Dressed casually in dark jeans and a light gray polo shirt, an unbuttoned khaki jacket draped over his shoulders, he appeared to be nothing more than an average traveler. She felt slightly ashamed that she'd almost been hoping she'd find something suspicious about him.

He smiled sheepishly, his lips quirking up for a brief second, and gripped the brim of his distressed red baseball cap, tipping it courteously. "Sorry," he apologized again. "The line started to move, and I just stepped forward, not really paying attention." He paused, a bemused expression flashing across his ruggedly handsome features. "Your mind seemed elsewhere."

"Oh," Kate blushed, flustered as she glanced around, noticing that she was, indeed, holding up the line. "Yeah. I was. Sorry." She gave him a weak smile, before grabbing the handle to her roller and turning around to move up in the queue.

She looked back at him, and he pursed his lips, smiling reassuringly. She couldn't help but marvel at the sparkle in his blue eyes, so clear and self-assured. She wished she had such confidence. Hers had been somewhat lacking since… the incident. Kate bit her lower lip, her cheeks warming on a blush as she ducked her head, averting her eyes from his kind gaze. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind her quiet and shy demeanor. She sighed, grateful that he didn't pester her when she remained silent. She wasn't trying to be standoffish or unfriendly. She just didn't know how to respond to his polite manner. It had been so long since she'd engaged in casual discourse with anyone with whom she didn't already know. And she'd never been good at small talk.

Kate turned her attention back to the line, heaving in a quick breath as she glanced around, feeling a little calmer now than she had before. Instinctively, she reached up again and felt for the ring beneath her blouse. She bit her lip and released a sigh. She just wanted to get her boarding pass and get through security, hoping that this delay wouldn't cause her to miss her flight.


	2. Chapter 1

**Private Eyes – Chapter 1**

"One… two… three."

BANG!

The door flew off the hinges as men clad in black body armor and SWAT gear, guns held at the ready, stormed into the dark room. Rays of light from the mounted flashlights scanned across the room as the team fanned out. The only other light penetrating the darkness came from the banks of computer terminals spread out across the room. Other than the low hum of electricity, the room was silent. File cabinets had been tossed, hundreds of paper documents scattered the floor, and were littered across the tops of the computer stations, making it appear as if the room had been thoroughly ransacked.

When the "all clear" was called, two young men in ubiquitous dark suits entered. One stood in the middle of the room, surveying the damage and talking with the TAC team leader, while the other went straight for one of the computer terminals, snapping on a pair of latex gloves as he went. He hunched down to type a series of commands on the keyboard. A new window popped up on the monitor and several coded numerical sequences scrolled past. He narrowed his eyes, quickly translating the code in his head, as two senior agents, Turner and Danberg, entered the room.

"Report."

"It's just as you suspected, ma'am," the tech specialist asserted. "The files have been copied."

"The security logs?"

"Erased," the other specialist turned away from his conversation with the TAC team leader. "The external backup drives pulled and missing."

Agent Turner glowered. "So there's nothing?"

"Well, he _is_ thorough," Danberg said. "You really didn't expect him to be that sloppy, did you?"

"No," sighed Turner, carding her fingers through her hair, frustrated yet still capable of admiration and respect for the expert skills on display. "He's the best."

"Which makes this breach all the more serious," Danberg asserted with a grim expression. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "I'm going to report this."

Turner nodded absently as Danberg pressed his phone to his ear and strolled out of the room. She stepped over to the computer terminals, and picked up one of the discarded printouts littering the desktop, turning it over in her hands to see a mass of numerical lines covering the page in crisp black ink. It was unintelligible data to her, but she knew that to others it made perfect sense. One of the younger agents gave her a strange look when he noticed her lack of gloved hands, but she ignored him. Despite the effort to make the room look ransacked, she knew they wouldn't find any fingerprints except for those they were supposed to find.

And besides, they already knew who the traitor was.

Her lips quirked up for a split second at the thought, before she dropped the printout and spun around on her heels. Whipping her cell phone out from the side pocket of her blazer, she scrolled through her contacts as she confidently walked towards the door. Finding the one she wanted, she pressed the call button.

"You were right, Spyglass has been compromised."

XXX

Today had been the worst… the absolute worst. It couldn't get any worse, even if it tried.

But, on the bright side, she was back. Finally.

After a long and boring Law Enforcement Officers seminar in D.C., Kate Beckett was back in the Big Apple. She almost thought she'd never get back. There had been some issues at the security checkpoint at Reagan National… something about a threat to national security. TSA had increased screening. Even her NYPD badge wasn't enough to get her past the Homeland Security agents and National Guard troops that seemed to materialize out of nowhere in the blink of an eye. Every person going through the queue was thoroughly patted down and checked. The delay had cost her precious time, and she'd missed her original scheduled flight.

The clerk at the gate had helped to set her up on the standby list for a later flight, and Kate then wandered around the terminal, killing time. She had browsed through the mystery paperbacks at a little book kiosk, searching for a quick read. Nothing had really leapt out at her, so she ended up just grabbing a random thriller off the shelves and thumbed through it while she waited in the seating area. Eventually, she got a flight back to New York, which had ended up being the last flight of the night.

She wished she could have said that the return flight from D.C. had been uneventful, but that just wasn't her day. Kate was beginning to wonder if she was cursed. Nothing in her life seemed to be going right. She'd just wasted a year of her life treading water in a nowhere relationship, and to top it all off, her friend and mentor had been killed, and she'd then been shot while giving the eulogy at his funeral. Her road to recovery had been long and hard, but Kate believed she was doing better now, even if she occasionally had bouts of agoraphobia. She was seeing a therapist, working through her PTSD, along with her obsession over her mother's murder.

So, with all that hanging over her, Kate wasn't all too surprised when the universe decided to jerk her around by delaying the damn red-eye. After she finally boarded the plane and squeezed into her seat, Homeland Security held them at the gate. She watched from her seat as the agents stormed up and down the aisle, scrutinizing everyone. They'd even questioned her briefly, asking what the purpose of her trip to D.C. was, where'd she stayed, and who'd she'd been in contact with while there. After she'd showed them her badge and credentials, they'd moved on. From her seat, she could see a man and woman standing by the cockpit door, supervising. If Kate had a mind for conspiracies, she'd think they were CIA.

It was damn peculiar. Even though she was exhausted and beyond ready to just take a power nap, Kate had been intrigued. Something major was going down, and her natural instincts were piqued. She had eased up and scanned the cabin, looking around at all the other passengers. No one seemed suspicious. But then again, they never did until it was too late.

Eventually, they'd been given the all clear, and the plane pushed off from the gate and taxied to the runaway. Kate had glanced around at her fellow passengers one last time, before giving into her need for a catnap.

Now she was paying the cabbie his fee, plus a little extra for the speed with which he got her back from LaGuardia. The man grunted out an acknowledgement of the generous gratuity before speeding off in search of his next fare. Kate shook her head, covering her mouth as she tried to stifle a yawn. Gripping the handle of her roller, she trudged up the front steps of her apartment building and pushed the door open, shuffling tiredly into the small lobby.

It was a little past 3 AM, and Kate was looking forward to just crashing for a good couple hours before heading to the precinct and briefing Captain Gates on the seminar. She was almost hoping that the boys had caught a case while she was gone. She just wanted to get back to work. As she walked slowly towards the elevator, the building super's door opened and Mr. Hostetler stepped out holding his rusty old toolbox in his hand. He quietly closed the door behind him, and she couldn't help but notice his stock of peppery gray hair sticking up in amusing patterns, making it obvious he'd just gotten out of bed.

"Kate!" he beamed when he saw her. "Back from your vacation?"

She threw him a look and smiled politely. "It wasn't really a vacation, Ernie."

"Still, you got out of the city for a time," the older man said with a shrug. "A change of scenery should have been nice."

Kate gave him a wan smile. "I really didn't have time to take in the sights," she replied conversationally. "The conference ate up most of my time."

"Ah, that's too bad," Ernie said, taking his thick black-rimmed glasses off and rubbing them with a cloth from his breast pocket.

"What you doing up so early?" she asked as the elevator doors opened and they both stepped inside the lift. She reached over and punched in the button for her floor.

Ernie leaned over and pressed the button for the top floor. "Mrs. O'Reilly's kitchen faucet is leaking again," he said, putting his glasses back on, and pushing them back up his nose with his pointer finger. "I swear… the number of times she's called me up there you'd think she'd been unscrewing the damn thing on purpose."

"Oh… _that_ again," Kate pursed her lips and looked away for a moment, smirking. "I think she's just sweet on you."

Ernie laughed, and shook his head. "Perhaps," he replied with a little grin. "Just like that doctor fellow of yours… what's his name? Josh?"

Kate's smile dropped, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. "No. Um… we broke up," she said, voice thick with tension. "During the summer." Being shot in the heart was a real wake up call for her. She'd been treading water with Josh. She had liked him, really liked him, but it hadn't been enough. And after such a traumatic near death experience, Kate had decided she was done with hollow relationships. She would never find that elusive happiness if she squandered the time she did have with a man she didn't love.

"Oh," he raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. He glanced away and Kate narrowed her eyes, knowing he was leaving something out.

"Ernie?" she warned, gracing him with one of her patent glares that she usually reserved for suspects.

Mr. Hostetler folded easily under her stare. He sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat.

"He showed up just before dinnertime," he told her. "Got complaints about him pounding on your door from the other tenants. So I went up to check. He said something about you two planning to have a late dinner when you got back, and that he'd forgotten his keys, asked if I could let him in." He paused, and looked up at her with apologetic eyes. "Kate, if I'd known you'd broken up with him, I would never have unlocked the door."

Kate clenched her jaw, a scowl growing across her face. Great. There went her hopes of being able to just collapse in bed and crash. She was not looking forward to the confrontation that was awaiting her. Glancing back over at Mr. Hostetler, her gaze softened. "Don't worry about it, Ernie," she told him after an uncomfortable silence. "It's not your fault. You had no way of knowing." And he didn't. She'd been subdued for the last couple of months, and had barely spoken with anyone in her building. It had been unusual for her, but most of them had been aware of the shooting at her former captain's funeral, and were just respecting her privacy by letting her be.

He inclined his head, and smiled weakly. "Just the same, I feel bad."

Kate placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. "Ernie, don't worry about it, I'll take care of it," she said, turning as the elevator doors rattled opened on her floor. "_You_ just be careful of Mrs. O'Reilly's wandering hands."

She smiled, pleased when his face lit up with mirth and he laughed, shaking his head and proclaiming he'd try his best.

Chuckling, Kate tugged her roller along behind her as she marched down the hallway. Though once the elevator doors rattled closed, all the amusement and laughter fell from her face as her eyes glared down the hallway, fixating on the door to her apartment. She stopped dead in her tracks, scowling.

Today just wasn't her day, was it?

She gritted her teeth, a low frustrated growl rumbled up from deep down in her throat. Kate thought she'd been very clear before summer, but apparently he just couldn't take a hint. She stifled down her irritation and walked the rest of the way down the hall, resolutely determined to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.


	3. Chapter 2

**Private Eyes – Chapter 2**

"Can I get a refill?" the man with the rugged good looks asked.

"Sure thing, hon," sung the aging waitress with the ridiculously fake blonde wig. She moseyed on over to the booth with the coffee pot and poured him a generous helping. "Want some sugar or cream with that?"

"No, I'm good, thank you," he replied with a polite smile.

She nodded and sauntered back to the counter to chat with some of the other patrons, presumably regulars, by the look of them. He sat back in the old red vinyl covered seats, watching her for a moment, before glancing out the window. In the city that never sleeps, it was surprisingly quiet outside. Raising the mug to his lips, he took a long sip as he observed his surroundings. It seemed safe… as safe as things could get for him. Tugging the distressed red baseball cap down over his brow, he slipped his hand into his khaki jacket and pulled out a small electronic device that resembled an older cellular phone.

Flipping it open, he punched in a series of numbers and pressed the send button. A minute or two later, the phone buzzed with an answering text with a similar pattern of random numbers. He let out a sigh of relief, and closed the phone, returning it back in his jacket pocket as he relaxed back into the frayed cushions of the booth.

That was one less worry.

Picking the mug up, he took another sip, while letting his eyes fall back down on the phonebook before him. He flipped through the pages until he reached the letter B. He set the mug down and narrowed his eyes, time to find an address.

XXX

She unlocked her door and pushed it open, slipping in as quietly as possible. Her apartment was dark, save for the light over the kitchen counter. Kate closed the door gently, trying not to make any noise, hoping that Josh had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for her. She was furious at him for having the temerity to even come over while she was away. She was even more furious that he'd taken advantage of Mr. Hostetler's kindness. He'd known the old man didn't know they'd broken up, and he'd used that to gain entry to her apartment.

Kate's hopes at avoiding any sort of confrontation were smashed when a table lamp beside the couch flickered on. She closed her eyes and groaned, ruffling her hair in frustration, not really in the mood for another argument. They'd had so many. She just wanted it over with. Why couldn't he just move on?

"Kate!?" Josh exclaimed, staring up at her blearily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heels of his hands as he sat up on the couch. His white t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders as he worked the kinks out of his neck. "What are you doing here?"

Ignoring him for a moment, Kate deposited her roller near the doorway leading into her bedroom. With her back to him, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose as she took in a quick calming breath. She was tired, and just wanted to go to bed. If only she could put this off until the morning. But she knew she couldn't. Sighing with resignation, Kate turned back around to face her ex-boyfriend.

"I live here, why else would I be here?"

His brow furrowed as he looked at her. "I… um…," he rubbed his forehead, carding his fingers through his thick dark hair, glancing around, eyes wide as if he'd just finally noticed where he was. "This isn't my apartment."

"No shit," Kate grumbled under her breath, crossing her arms as she studied him with narrowed eyes. From his ruffled appearance and glazed over eyes it didn't take her long to deduce what he was about. "Oh my god, you got drunk and forgot we broke up."

"What!? NO! NO!" he objected pitifully, before groaning and rubbing his head. He cast her a contrite expression, sighing in defeat. "Okay, maybe I did."

Kate let out a frustrated breath, biting her tongue. She should have known. Even when they'd been arguing, Josh had never been the type to wait outside her apartment pounding on the door until she opened up. It looked like it had all been a drunken mistake. She felt a little relieved, and started to hope that she might just be able to collapse in bed after all.

But then Josh opened his mouth.

"So what if I was drunk," he said, his gaze appearing more steady and clear, sobering, breaking through the last haze of sleep. He heaved himself off the couch, stretching to his full height. He flexed his muscles, probably assuming she'd be impressed with his physique. She was not. He was good on the eyes; she'd give him that. "Maybe it was fate that led me back to you. I've missed you, Kate. So much. We were so good together. But then…"

"No, we weren't," Kate interjected before he could continue. "We were _never_ good together, Josh. We had fun, yes, but that isn't the same thing. We're both workaholics. And at first, I liked that. I did. But as things progressed, I realized that it started to become something I disliked. We never really had time for each other."

He opened his mouth to object, but she continued on, undeterred.

"Hooking up for a few brief hours during the night or morning to have sex does not constitute as having time for each other," Kate crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him.

Josh looked at her with assessing eyes. She narrowed her brow, not liking the amorous expression manifesting itself across his features. He seemed undaunted by her words, coming closer. Kate took a step back, but was hindered by the wall behind her.

"Just because you saved my life doesn't mean I owe you anything," she stammered out.

"I never said that," Josh asserted, inching closer and invading her personal space. His hand came up and cupped her jaw. Closing her eyes, she shivered at the sensation of his touch. It had been so long since someone had touched her so intimately. He smoothed his fingers along her cheek and swept her hair back from her face. She let out a soft sigh, regretting it almost immediately, cursing her treacherous body.

"Look, Kate," he said softly, gazing down at her with an empathy that she'd always admired. He was an amazing doctor, and his work was inspiring, but it had also come first, just as her work had for her. "I know that after you were shot, you said you couldn't be in a relationship anymore."

Kate felt her heart clench at the mention of what had happened to her last May at Captain Montgomery's funeral. She still had nightmares, but thankfully they weren't as frequent as they once were. The scars still pulled when she'd stretched, bent the wrong way, or moved too fast. And she was still healing. The emotional scars were invisible, but just as traumatic and long lasting.

"And I respected that," Josh continued. "I still do. But we both know you were just pushing me away… because you were afraid to appear weak."

"I… I'm not afraid," she choked out, but even to her own ears the protest sounded weak.

"Yes, you are," Josh insisted in a soft voice, reassuring and tender. "But that's okay, Kate. It's okay to be afraid."

Kate closed her eyes, suppressing the rising tide of tears that were welling up behind her eyelids. God, he was right. Everything he was saying was true. Something inside her had changed when her mother died. She'd built a wall around her heart, to protect herself. But she didn't love Josh. She never had. She had liked him, really liked him. But not enough to keep deluding herself into thinking they could last. He wasn't the answer. He wasn't what she was looking for.

"How long has it been, Kate?" he asked, his voice dripping low and dark, attempting to be seductive. "How long has it been since you've felt the warmth of another by your side? I want you, Kate. I've missed you. Haven't you missed me?"

"No!" she growled out, frustrated that he just couldn't take a hint. She shoved him back, and turned to pick up her roller. But she had moved to fast, and the scar along her side pulled painfully. She tried to suppress a cry of pain as her side burned with what felt like millions of tiny fires blazing down her ribcage. Kate gritted her teeth as she cursed, her body curling in on itself, instinctively reacting to the sudden assaulting discomfort. "Damn it!" she hissed out.

"Kate?"

She flicked her eyes up at him, bringing a hand up to forestall his advancement. With her other hand, she rubbed the tender spot along her side, grimacing. Eventually the pain dimmed to a dull throbbing ache, and she was able to breathe again. Inhaling deeply, she looked back at Josh, his eyes watching her with concern.

He stepped closer, bringing a hand up to caress her side. His other hand gripped her waist, his fingers curling possessively into her hipbone. "You're so tense, Kate," he murmured, moving forward to nuzzle his nose into her hair. "You need a release. I can help. Let me help you." His hand moved up to palm her breast.

Kate gasped out in astonishment at his audacity. Like the fool he was, he mistook it for a moan of pleasure, and playfully squeezed the round flesh in his hand. With all her strength she shoved him back and slapped him hard across the face. He stumbled back, dazed, clearly stunned by her actions. The smell of liquor went with him.

"How dare you!" she yelled, shoving him once more for good measure. He stood there and rubbed his stinging cheek, looking at her with a bewildered expression, as if he'd expected her to just fall into his arms.

"Kate," he said in a pleading voice, reaching out to gently run his hand down her shoulder, as if he was soothing a wild animal. "Let's not fight. I'm tired of fighting. I just want you. Can't that be enough for tonight? It doesn't have to be anymore complicated than that. We can both simply satisfy each other's physical needs. At the very least, Kate, let me help you with that."

"I don't need your help," Kate gritted out, pushing away from him and stalking towards her front door, still cradling her aching side with one hand. "You may have performed the operation that saved my life, which I'm grateful for, and even helped me recover in the hospital, but don't think that that means I'm going to change my mind. I meant what I said. We're over, Josh. We have been, for a while now." She paused to heave in a gentle breath, trying to regain some control over her emotions, and then added, "I knew it wasn't going to work between us long before we actually broke up. So this…," she gestured between them, "it's not going to happen. EVER."

"So… is this it? Is this the end?" he asked, gazing up at her with a crestfallen expression. He had probably bet on this being his best shot to win her back and was just realizing it wasn't going to work.

"Yeah, Josh," she said. "This is the end."

"But, Kate… we… we were so good together."

"Emphasis on _were_, past tense," she pointed out. She sighed, and brushed her hair back from her face as she turned and opened her front door for him. "It's for the best, Josh. We were both fooling ourselves. It was never going to last."

Josh stood there for a moment, before he dropped his head in surrender. He dragged his feet back to the couch and snatch up his hoodie, tugging it on as he reluctantly stepped past her and into the hallway, looking dejected. Before she could close the door, he turned back around. "I… I don't know," he carded his fingers through his hair as he looked down at her. "I guess I just thought when you broke up with me in the hospital you were just responding to the moment, raw and fresh from the trauma of getting shot and having open heart surgery, that… that you really didn't mean it." He sighed. "I guess I was wrong."

She inclined her head and hummed in confirmation. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," Kate put forth, wanting to, at the very least, part on amicable terms. Regardless of how things had ended between them, she had liked him, really liked him, and he had been a decent boyfriend. It just wasn't meant to be. "You're a good man, Josh. An even better doctor. But I'm not the one for you. You'll find her, I'm sure. Just not here," she added with a shrug.

Josh nodded, finally seeming to come to terms with their break up. He looked at her with a small sad smile. "We had some fun, though, didn't we?"

"Yeah," she agreed, giving him a weak smile, remembering the good times. "We did." He nodded, and they stared at one another for a long beat, until Kate broke their gaze. "Goodbye, Josh."

He sighed, and inclined his head. "Goodbye, Kate. And… good luck." And with that, he dropped his head and stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he trudged down the hallway to the elevator.

Kate closed and locked the door, slumping back against it in relief. Finally. It was over. It was done. And now there wouldn't be any misperceptions and misunderstandings. This time he knew it was over. Hopefully that would be the last she saw of him. Exhaling an exhausted sigh, the fatigue from the long day finally catching up with her, Kate pushed off from the front door and shuffled back to her roller. This time, she gently bent down to grab the handle, mindful of the scar running along her left side. She tugged the roller along with her as she marched towards her bedroom.

Dropping the case by her closet, Kate kicked off her flats and then slowly stripped out of her clothes, dumping them in the laundry basket. Pulling her drawers open, she grabbed some gray boyshorts and her pink cotton jersey. She slipped into her sleepwear, and then padded across her room to the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Stifling a yawn, she slinked back into her bedroom.

Kate unfastened her father's wristwatch and removed the necklace with her mother's ring from around her neck, placing them both into a small decorative keepsake chest on top of the dresser. Reverently closing the lid, she gazed down at the black and white photo of her parents, so happy and in love with one another. That's what she wanted.

She turned away from the dresser and crawled into bed, snuggling into the soft pillows and the comfortable duvet. Closing her eyes, she hummed in contentment at finally being able to just crash. Now, alone in her own bed, Kate was able to acknowledge that what she wanted most was a love like her parents had had. She just… she just lacked the faith she'd find it. After her mother's death, she had taken to hiding in relationships with men she didn't love. It was an easy way to avoid risking her heart, fearful she'd get too attached, and then get hurt and suffer through that pain all over again.

And then she'd been shot, and had almost died… flatlined more than once, according to Lanie, during the ambulance ride to the hospital. It changed everything. And with the help of Dr. Burke, she was gradually coming to terms with that. She wanted to be more and have more, have her life defined by more than her mother's death. Josh was the past. It was time to move on and look towards the future. She was ready to move on. She was tired of not expecting anything less than what was put in front of her. It was time to reach for what she wanted.

She just had to find a way to get it.

XXX

Agent Turner stood before the bank of flat screens, her almond colored eyes narrowed as she watched the grainy black and white security footage skim on fast forward. Danberg was to her left, talking with the supervising TSA officer. Finishing his debriefing, he stepped back over to her side.

"Anything?" she asked, not holding her breath.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Damn."

"Did you expect any less from him?"

Turner let out a growl of frustration and folded her arms across her chest. "You sound impressed?" she flickered her eyes over towards her partner for a second, before returning them to the flat screens.

"I am," Danberg admitted freely, though his face remained stoic and calm. Always the calm one, Agent Danberg. "His father was a legend at the Company. It's not all that surprising that the apple didn't fall too far from the tree." His eyes glanced across the array of screens, before falling back on her. "It's late, you should get some rest. Agent Jones can screen the footage."

"No, that's okay," she asserted with a firm and unwavering voice, keeping her gaze on the black and white images on the monitors.

Danberg gave a shrug. "Want some coffee then?"

"That would be nice, thank you," Turner inclined her head.

She watched him walk away, and then turned her attention back to the security footage. Danberg was a good agent, and she trusted him to do his job. Turner was more worried about Spyglass than their rogue agent. The program was crucial to a certain project that she'd been endeavoring to set in motion for years. She'd invested a considerable time and effort into it, and she did not like having her plans thwarted by _him_, of all people, even if he was actually good at his job despite being a legacy.

"Here you go," a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "Black, just as you like it."

Turner glanced up to see Danberg offering her a paper cup with a Starbucks logo on it. "Thanks," she accepted the coffee and took a long sip, closing her eyes as she relished the caffeine pick-me-up.

"Hold it there!" Danberg's raised startled Turner, and she glanced up to see him pointing at a screen. "Rewind… resume… and yes, right there, stop." He turned to her and cracked a rare smile. "That's him in the check-in queue."

Turner stepped forward and examined the pixelated image. It was grainy and slightly out of focus, but yes, she recognized that broad frame and build. She knew it all too well. And that stupid baseball cap didn't fool her either. It was him. Her eyes flicked up to the sign above the check-in desk, and she grinned victoriously, immediately recognizing the logo on display. It was a commonly used shuttle service, and there was only one place she knew it went.

She tilted her head back to Danberg and smirked. "Looks like we're going to New York."


	4. Chapter 3

**Private Eyes – Chapter 3**

The elevator doors rattled open, and Kate Beckett stepped out and strode with confidence into the bullpen. She glanced around, her eyes lingering on the white board, noticing the hastily scribbled timeline and notes, with a scattering of crime scene photos taped up with details written underneath. Turning her head, she spotted Ryan and Esposito, sitting at their desks, heads down as they reviewed financials on their latest suspect.

"Hey boys," she called out, gaining their attention.

"Hi, Beckett," Ryan chirped, glancing up from the printouts he was reviewing. She couldn't help but smile a little. Ryan was just so upbeat. It probably had to do with the fact he was getting married soon. Jenny was a lovely woman. Ryan was a really lucky guy. Kate hoped nothing but the best for them.

"Well, well, well…," Esposito drawled, relaxing back in his chair. He raised his arms up and rested his head against his hands in a feigned casual manner. "Look what the cat dragged in. Nice of you to join us," he quipped with a smirk, poking fun of her mid-morning arrival. After all, Beckett was notorious around the precinct for her single-minded devotion to her job, often arriving before the break of dawn. Her life revolved around solving murders, and little else. Which, as she thought about it, was kind of depressing. Yet, it was her choice.

Narrowing her eyes at the troublemaker, she pursed her lips in mock annoyance as she dropped her bag on her desk and deposited her coat on the back of her chair. "_Oh, how was the conference, Beckett? Have any fun, Beckett? We missed you, Beckett. We just couldn't get along without you, Beckett. We're lost without your leadership_," Kate mimicked a masculine voice in a parody of her co-workers, spouting off all the questions and comments that the dictates of polite conversation demanded.

"Rough night?" Esposito quirked up a knowing eyebrow as he dropped his arms and returned to his original sitting position.

"I got in late," she answered with a bob of her head and a wave of her hand, leaving the rest unsaid. The boys knew her well enough not to pry any further.

"So… um… how was the conference?" Ryan ventured hesitantly.

"Okay," she shrugged, hopping up onto the edge of her desk, back ramrod straight as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Most of it was about counterterrorism. Not that I can blame them, especially after we had that dirty bomb scare."  
"Yeah, don't remind me," Esposito shivered, obviously recalling, with some discomfort, when during the course of their investigation into a dirty bomb they'd gotten trapped in a freezing shipping container. It had only been fortune and luck that Ryan and Agent Fallon had made it to them in time. Kate still felt a little guilty over the incident. She'd talked Espo into going rogue with her. Sometimes, he was too loyal for his own good.

"So, what have you two knuckleheads been up to while I was away?" she asked, shifting focus away from herself. Besides, she was interested in getting caught up on the case they were working on. It didn't look too interesting, but she'd welcome the distraction. Beckett had a routine. And, especially after her shooting, she liked sticking to it, even if it did get a little boring and monotonous.

Ryan opened his mouth to fill her in, but before he could start, the door to Captain Gates' office opened and Iron Gates came striding out towards them. "Detective Esposito, where are you on the—Oh, Detective Beckett, you're back."

The captain shifted her focus to Beckett, who was sitting casually on the edge of her desk. Feeling her boss's scrutinizing gaze, Kate slowly slipped off and stood on her feet. "Reporting for duty, sir," she announced tersely. Her and Gates had a rocky relationship. They hadn't really clicked well after Kate had returned from her three-month recovery leave. It had gotten a little better recently, though it was going to be a slow process between them. Plus, it was clear from the get-go that Gates could tell that all three of her top homicide detectives were keeping something from her.

At present, they survived on a mutual respect for each other's abilities. And even though she'd come from Internal Affairs, Kate had to admit that Gates was an effective leader and commanding officer of the homicide squad. She'd never admit it, but Kate could tell that Gates was keen on taking her under her wing, and mentoring her to become an even better cop and investigator. However Kate was dubious about the success of such an endeavor. Gates was a by the book kind of cop, while Kate, on the other hand, was willing to cross the line once and a while to get the job done.

Ryan and Esposito watched the stand off with mildly concealed glee, waiting to see who would crack first.

Gates shifted and narrowed her eyes at the boys, not at all amused. Turning her attention back on Kate, the captain gestured towards her office. "My office. Now," she declared, before spinning on her heels and marching straight off, expecting Beckett follow.

Kate sighed, and let her shoulders sag in displeasure. She glanced at the boys for support. Ryan gave her a sympathetic look, while Esposito gave her an encouraging thumbs-up. It was almost like being called to the principle's office. She turned away from them and walked through the doorway and into the captain's office. She still had a little trouble reconciling the change. The desk was oriented differently, and the picture frames sitting against the back wall all had the wrong faces smiles back. Despite the months that had passed since his death, it was still Captain's Montgomery's office to her.

"Shut the door," Gates instructed, stepping behind her desk.

Kate quickly did as she was told. "Sir…," she decided to preempt whatever her captain was going to say. "I know you gave me the whole week off, but I don't need it. The extended weekend was more than enough. I'm ready to get back to work."

"I understand, Detective," Gates asserted, though Kate doubted that. "I do. You're a damn fine detective. One of the city's best. You've got a drive parallel to none. And I admire that. However, you're wearing yourself too thin. We all see it. You are here before everyone else, and usually the last to leave. That vacation time I gave you; it wasn't a suggestion, Detective. It was an order."

"But, sir…"

"No buts, Detective Beckett," Gates cut her off with a raised hand. "My decision is final. I don't want to see you back here until next Monday. Now go, and for heaven's sake, relax and enjoy yourself."

"Yes, sir," Kate gritted out, irritated at being forced into taking time off. It was the same with Montgomery. When she'd been working particularly hard and skipping meals, he would pull her aside and 'suggest' she'd take a few days off. Though, she would listen to Montgomery more often than not, and he hardly ever had to make it an order.

Leaving the captain's office, Kate stomped back to her desk, grumbling to herself as she retrieved her bag and coat. "I guess I'm still on vacation," she informed her co-workers. The boys exchanged a look before Esposito stood up and stood beside her desk as she finished collecting her things.

"Beckett," he spoke up softly, catching her eye. "I know you hate taking vacation time, but trust me, you need it. At the very least, try and enjoy yourself. Okay?"

She sighed, and carded her fingers through her hair, averting her eyes from Esposito's firm gaze. "Yeah, okay, I'll try," she breathed out, letting some of the tension in her shoulders relax and grudgingly agreeing to his suggestion. She furrowed her brow as she looked down, thinking of the previous night, and the decisions and promises she'd made to herself after Josh had left. Glancing back up, she forced a smile. "I'll see you guys in a week." Kate gave them a little halfhearted wave as she stalked back to the elevator.

XXX

He glanced both ways, checking the hallway one last time. Gripping the brim of his red baseball cap, he tugged at it to conceal more of his features before he dropped his eyes back down to the lock. He twisted around the two small hairclips until he heard the tumblers click. He was in. Grinning, he entered the apartment and silently closed the door behind him.

He took a moment to simply take in his surroundings, letting it all soak in. It was a modest sized apartment, but comfortably furnished with an almost bohemian style. The couch looked comfort, adorned with mismatching throw pillows, and a quilt that looked to be a gift from an older relative, perhaps a grandmother. Books lined the shelves, along with various knick-knacks that were placed with care all around the small living area. It had been a while since he'd ever been in someplace that was so… homey. It was kind of nice.

Looking around, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. Their little bump in the check-in queue had been anything but an accident. He felt a little guilty for deceiving her, but at the time she'd been the most convenient method to get it through the security checkpoint. Plus, it helped that she was a cop. It hadn't been hard for him to notice. There had been something about her bearing that just radiated her authority. And he'd caught a glimpse of her badge still clipped on her hip.

Now… all he had to do was find that roller case.

He began with a methodical search of the living area. However, it appeared she wasn't as lazy as some other 'just returned from home' travelers, and hadn't left her luggage just sitting by the door or in the living room. He was going to need to hunt deeper into her apartment. He took a step towards a doorway that looked like it led to her bedroom. Just as he was about to push the door open, the small device in the pocket of his khaki jacket began to buzz.

Swiftly reaching inside his jacket, he pulled the device out and flipped it open. A frown creased his brow as a series of numbers scrolled across the screen, and he let out a groan.

"Damn," he muttered, gritting his teeth in frustration. He'd need to be deal with this immediately. There was no time for delay. He couldn't waste any time searching her apartment for what he was looking for. He quickly punched in a response, and pressed the send button, before returning the device to his jacket pocket. Glancing back up at the bedroom door with reluctant gaze, he sighed, and turned away, making his exist from the detective's apartment with haste.

He'd have to return later. At least for now… it was safe.

XXX

Pushing some of her weight into the door, she slipped into the main autopsy room at the OCME, in search of her best friend. After her 'meeting' with Captain Gates, Kate was in need of a sounding board for her frustrations. And no one was better at hearing her out and offering solid advice than Lanie. However, upon entering the room, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw two scrub clad individuals hunched over a body of a middle-aged man, halfway through cutting into his chest cavity. She clenched her jaw and swallowed thickly. No matter how many times she'd seen it, the sight was still a disturbing image. One of the medical examiners' raised his visor, and peered across at her with beady eyes.

"And to what do we owe the pleasure, Detective Beckett?" Perlmutter greeted her with his usual permanent scowl and grim attitude. Forever the life of the party, that one.

"I'm looking for Lanie."

"Ah, of course," Perlmutter grumbled, sounding disappointed. She remembered Lanie telling her once that the man might have a thing for her. "Dr. Parish is in her office." He gestured with the bloody bone cutters in his hands.

Kate gave a nod of thanks, before quickly turning away from the gruesome sight of a man with his chest halfway cut open, and walked as fast as she could across the autopsy room, trying to ignore the disturbing sounds of the sardonically inclined medical examiner using the bone cutters to snap the ribs of his 'patient'. Shuffling along the back wall, Kate slipped through the opened door and let out a breath of relief when she found Lanie sitting at her desk going over some files.

Lanie glanced up, curious as to what was causing the shadow to fall across her desk, and grinned when she saw whom it was. "Kate," she enthused, jumping up out of her chair and pulling her into a hug. "I wasn't expecting to see you back so soon."

"Well, technically, I'm not back," Kate grumbled as they pulled back from their friendly embrace. She plopped down into the chair next to the desk as Lanie returned to her seat.

"You tried coming back into work today, didn't you?"

"Yeah. But Captain 'Iron Gates' ordered me out."

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I have to agree with Gates on this one," Lanie asserted, flashing her a contrite expression.

"Wha—why Lanie?" Kate choked out, feeling slightly betrayed by her best friend. She had expected Lanie to side with her on this issue.

"_Puh-lease_," drawled out Lanie, gracing her with one of her best 'are you serious' expressions. "Kate, have you seen yourself in the mirror recently? You work yourself to the bone. When was the last time you went out and just had some fun?"

"Uh…," Kate knitted her eyebrows together as she thought. Her brow creased and she narrowed her eyes, staring at the wall.

"If you have to think about it, then it's been too long," Lanie interjected, shaking her head in disappointment.

"Lanie, come on… I… I just don't really have the time or inclination," she asserted, trying to defend herself. "Fun is not easy. You know how much effort it takes to actually have fun? Too much, is all I have to say."

"Oh, girl, you are so wrong," Lanie declared with a chuckle. "So wrong."

"I don't need fun," Kate insisted. She didn't know who she was trying to convince more, Lanie… or herself. "I like my life as it is now. It's easy. Not complicated like it was before… before…," her trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. It didn't need to be said. She had a scar on her chest that proved just how _bad_ complicated really was. "And right now, that's what I need," she managed to finish, though Kate didn't like how her voiced wavered at the end. She studiously ignored the little voice inside her head that spoke of the desires she'd had last night about wanting to cease waiting around and to actively search for the happiness she secretly craved.

"Sometimes you need a little complicated in your life," Lanie asserted, ignoring her little tirade. "Just look at me and Javier… we've had our struggles, and it's been far from easy. But I'll tell you one thing, Kate; it hasn't been dull, that's for sure."

"Lanie," Kate sighed, exasperated. Recently it was beginning to feel like they always had this conversation. "Some people are perfectly happy with living a normal, uneventful life. They don't need to go out and be spontaneous. They like order… and routine. And, I happen to be one of them. I get up, go to work, go home, and then go to bed. And I'm perfectly fine with that. I'm comfortable with that. I _need_ that stability… that routine right now."

Her life had been far from uneventful in the last couple years. After years of searching, she'd finally begun to make headway in her mother's case. But that's when the shit hit the fan. Everything turned upside down, and before she knew it, her mentor… _her captain_… was dead, after confessing his past sins and seeking redemption. She forgave him. She had too. He'd been like a second father to her when her own had been lost to her. And then she'd been shot and nearly died. Her life had been plenty eventful and complicated. She was just starting to get her life back in order.

The last thing she needed was some _fun_.

"I hear you, I do," Lanie asserted, reaching out to grab her hands. Kate dropped her head and closed her eyes, taking what comfort she could from her friend. "What you went through… it was hell. And you survived. You walked away. But, Kate, hon, you're not really living. It's not enough to just exist. Your life needs to be about more than just your job." She paused, coaxing Kate's eyes back up to her own. "Don't you get bored with running on repeat?"

Kate swallowed and averted her gaze, unable to meet the truth of her friend's words. What was she doing? Why was she fighting this? Just last night she'd decided—_promised herself_—that she'd stop dwelling in the past and look towards a future, one in which her life was more than a mother's death and a daughter's grief. Kate had grown tired of not expecting anything out of life, and she needed to stop the vicious cycle she was on before she lost herself in the mundane routine of the day to day.

Letting out a breath, Kate made a decision. "Yes," she declared, surrendering to her own desires for more, putting as much confidence into her voice as she could muster. "I'm bored. Okay. I'm tired of the same thing, day after day after day. I want to live my life, having some excitement, something new, something fresh… but...," she petered out, her energy and enthusiasm spent. She sighed, and brushed her hair back from her face. "I just… just don't know how to do that, Lanie."

Silence settled between them, and Kate heaved in a deep breath, feeling her cheeks warm with a blush. She couldn't believe she'd been able to get that all off her chest. Dr. Burke would be proud. She wasn't sure if she was ready for what Lanie might offer, but Kate was willing to admit that it would probably be better than sitting around doing nothing all week. Lanie stared at her for a long moment, before a sly smile spread across her face.

Kate's brow wrinkled as she looked at her friend in confusion, slowly getting a nagging feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. This could not be good. "What?"


	5. Chapter 4

**Private Eyes – Chapter 4**

There was a ruggedly handsome tourist standing in front of the laundromat, casually glancing at a map as if he was lost and looking to retrace his steps. Most people walking the streets ignored him, passing him by with only a passing thought, most believing he was what he appeared, completely unaware that he was actually secretly observing the apartment building across the street.

He had returned with haste after seeing to a slight annoyance. It had only been a minor setback, nothing too problematic. But it had caused a frustrating delay in his desires of an easy retrieval from the woman's apartment. He didn't want to sit on it for too long. Others would come searching for it, whose goals were of a more dubious nature than most. Yet, when he'd found his way back to her apartment, he had only barely missed the beautiful woman returning home early. This wasn't good. He had expected her to stay at work until late in the evening, yet there she was, unlocking the front door, a bag of groceries held precariously in one arm.

During the shuttle hop from Reagan to LaGuardia, he'd managed to get in some research on this mystery woman. He had been pleasantly surprised to discover she was a cop, a detective no less. She was quite an intriguing woman. And she was gorgeous. It was no surprise that he found himself attracted to her, any red-blooded man would be. But it was more than that. He remembered the sadness in her eyes when he'd manufactured their little collision in the check-in queue, and he found himself, despite more pressing issues, wanting to know the story… _her _story, how regardless of the obvious hurt and pain she bore, she'd managed to find the ambition and drive to become one of the NYPD's best homicide detectives.

He found it all very fascinating, and if he didn't have other more urgent business, he would have taken longer to observe and study her. This urge… to know the story, had served him well in his many years with the Company. But it was also a reminder of a far different time; a time before his life had become all about subterfuge, unacknowledged heroics, and dangers that lurked around every corner. It was a hard life, yet he was still able to find some smidgen of reward in his work… most of the time.

And Kate Beckett… well, she was dangerous. She was an unknown quantity that had to be removed from the situation as soon as possible. It had been mere convenience that had brought her into the game—a very deadly game; one with high-stakes and potential fatal risks. From what small fraction about her that he'd learned the short duration of his flight, he had no desire to see her dragged any further into it. Yet, he had to admit, the longer it was in possession, even unknowingly, the more unavoidable that that might become.

A flash of light caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes, just barely making out her slim silhouette through the glass windows. She was talking on her phone. Pursing his lips, he retrieved the small device from his jacket pocket and flipped it open. He punched in a series of commands, and upon prompting, entered in her phone number. Raising the device to his ear, he shoved down the swell of guilt at eavesdropping on Detective Beckett's private conversations.

His eyebrows rose with interest at what he was hearing. Perhaps there was another way to get what he wanted without breaking into her apartment. Disconnecting the tap, he quickly pulled up the information from the website she'd been discussing with her friend. A plan began to formulate in his mind. Powering down his device, he pocketed it, and glanced back up at Detective Beckett's window, watching as she began to pace back and forth in her living room.

What he had in mind was a potential distraction, but even with the dangers looming over his head, part of him couldn't resist the fun to be had, especially if it could get him closer to Detective Katherine Houghton Beckett.

XXX

What in the hell was she doing here? She had no idea how she'd let Lanie talk her into this. Kate had agreed with her friend that she needed a change in her routine, something fresh and exciting… but she hadn't meant this. It was almost like jumping into the deep end after spending all her time in the shallow end of the pool. She was not ready for this. Not ready at all.

The place was fancy and had an extremely long wait list. Kate had no idea how Lanie had managed to get her a reservation. She could only conclude it involved calling in a lot of favors, and/or promising some in return. Everyone around her was dress in fabulous designer clothing. It made her feel self-conscious. She was out of place in her off the rack red dress. It draped across her torso enticingly, leaving on shoulder tastefully exposed, and was short enough to display enough leg to be sexy, yet remain classy at the same time. Lanie had helped her with her hair, adding some nice little touches that brought out the ringlets of brunette curls in a playful updo.

"Just relax, Kate. Be yourself," Lanie had assured her as she'd left her apartment. "Don't forget to have fun!"

Fun? How was she supposed to have fun when her stomach felt like it was doing flip-flops. She felt so nervous. Her entire body was buzzing with it. Glancing around at all the happy people, chatting and smiling, Kate heaved in an anxious breath. She checked her wristwatch—again—wondering if she'd gotten the time wrong. Her _date_ was supposed to be here.

When she looked back up, Kate saw a gorgeous man enter the restaurant. He paused and spoke with the maître d', who directed him in Kate's direction. The man gave a dazzling smile, and thanked the maître d', before walking towards her. Her stomach began to flutter with butterflies and her nerves began to rise, as he got closer. She hadn't expected him to be so… so… hot. His suit was fitted and hugged his masculine form just right. Kate had to remind herself to breathe, least she pass out from lack of oxygen.

He got closer, and Kate worked hard at stifling the wild feeling in her stomach. She pursed her lips and listened to the thumping of her heart as it beat wildly in her chest. He was only a couple feet away. In moments, he'd be sitting down across from her, and… and… and he was walking past her, joining a group of similarly dressed men in the back. Kate blinked, stunned. Her cheeks flushed with warmth in embarrassment. She felt like such a fool. Of course _he_ hadn't there for her. He was too… too gorgeous. Slumping her shoulders dejectedly, she let out a sigh and looked away.

She reached for the glass of ice water on the table and took a sip, licking her lips as she placed it back down. Kate was beginning to think tonight was one big mistake. Maybe she should just cut her losses while she still had her dignity intact, and go home to a warm bath and her mystery books. When she looked back up, she spotted the maître d' approaching her table.

"Mademoiselle, are you sure I can't get you something while you wait?" the maître d' offered, giving her a sympathetic look. "A glass of wine, perhaps?"

"No, thank you," Kate shook her head, and smiled politely. She knitted her eyebrows together in thought. "The reservation was for eight o'clock, wasn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am. It was."

Kate bit her lower lip and glanced back at her wristwatch, confirming that it was in fact nine o'clock. Damn. She started to feel the hit of rejection sinking into her chest. Seeming to sense her thoughts, either by the slight crumpling of her brow, or her overall dispirited body language, the maître d' offered her a reassuring smile.

"There was a terrible accident downtown," he informed her.

"Yeah, yeah," Kate gave a nod, willingly accepting such a scenario to ease the ache in her heart. "He's probably caught in that."

"Yes," agreed the maître d', with some added enthusiasm in the hopes of cheering her up. "I'm sure that's it."

Kate narrowed her eyes, willing herself not to give in to the humiliation of being stood up, on a blind date, no less. She swallowed hard past the rising lump in her throat. This wasn't what she'd been expecting when she'd agreed to Lanie's plan. It was just like the universe to do this to her, offering up some hope, and then snatching it away at the last minute. Fate… just wasn't on her side. Her bottom lip began to tremble from the force it was taking to keep it all buried deep inside her. Everything was just stacking against her. Perhaps she'd been wrong to all the hope of a brighter future to break through into her disheartened addled mind.

She almost flushed with mortification as she felt two stray tears slipped down her cheeks. No. No. She would not cry in public. She hastily wiped them away, and glanced down at the table, suddenly finding the white folded napkin extremely interesting.

The maître d' graciously stepped back, giving her some privacy to mourn her failure of a date. He approached a nearby waiter, who'd also been witnessing her turmoil. "_Bastard_," the maître d' grumbled under his breath. The waiter nodded in agreement, both feeling for the distraught woman.

XXX

Agent Turner stepped out of the woman's locker room, feeling refreshed and clean, pulling on a new blazer. She walked down the spartan concrete hallway at an ease clip. Turning on the corner, she stepped into a vast room with state of the art surveillance equipment. Large screens mounted on the walls displayed various satellite images of New York City, along with CCTV footage from across all five boroughs. Two dozen or so agents were manning computer consoles, each working diligently to fulfill the orders she'd issued an hour ago.

Danberg was in the middle of talking with Agent Jones when he spotted her walking in. He immediately dismissed the younger agent and approached her with an agreeable expression. Turner pursed her lips, holding back a grin, knowing that they must have found something while she was taking her shower. She changed directions for the coffee machine. Pouring herself a cup and taking a long gulp of the scolding liquid as Agent Danberg approached.

"How was the shower?"

"Much needed," she replied with a smirk. "What have you got?"

Not one for playing around, Danberg went right to it. "At approximately 1:47 this afternoon someone hacked into Overlord, our covert listening surveillance network."

"Was it him?"

"We believe so, yes," Danberg confirmed with a nod. "He was only in for a few minutes, not long enough for use to run a trace. But we do have confirmation that he's in Tribeca. But now that we know what path he used, we should be able to trace him quicker the next time he logs in."

Turner let herself grin. The arrogant son-of-a-bitch thought they wouldn't notice him using the TCD-74. The 188 was newer, but the 74 was still reliable, even if it was outdated. _Just like his old man_, she thought ruefully, recalling one of her encounters with the aging spy. Toping off her coffee, she took another sip, before turning and marching up into the command post. She surveyed the monitors, the central one already honed in on Tribeca.

She frowned as she stared at the satellite image. "That's still a lot of ground to cover," Turner said. "Start some canvassing. Use local law enforcement if needed, but keep it… discreet. No one needs to know what we're really doing, or who we're looking for."

Danberg inclined his head in agreement. "I've already worked up a cover story."

"Good, then let's get started. I want _him_ in our holding cell by the end of the day."

XXX

Kate dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as she sniffled, finally managing to regain some meager amount of control over her emotions. She could feel the eyes on her, and she couldn't handle the shame. It was too much to bear. Ducking her head, she reached down to retrieve her purse. It was time to leave, go home, and find some solace in her books and a nice long bubble bath. Yeah. That's what she needed… some personal pampering.

"Hello," a smooth voice interrupted her little pity party, and she glanced up, startled to see a very dapper and handsome man standing before her. He had amazing brown hair and bright blue eyes that squinted adorably when he smiled. He had Italian shoes that looked sinfully expensive, and his suit was equally exquisite. It had to have cost more than one month's worth of her salary.

"Um…," she stammered, inexplicably finding herself at a loss for words.

"Are you…?" he began.

"Kate, yeah," she finally managed to speak, her cheeks warming with slight embarrassment over how tongue-tied she was. Her heart began to pound fiercely in her chest as she gazed back up at him. "And you're… Andrew?"

"Guilty as charged," he chuckled effortlessly, relaxed and at ease. "And please, call me Andy. I'm so sorry. How long have you been—?"

"Oh, not long," she fudged the truth, not wanting the night to be ruined before it got a chance to start, even if it was beginning a little later than originally planned. "That's okay."

He grinned with relief, and extended his hand. She smiled up at him, and they shook hands in greeting. Kate couldn't believe her luck. After her mistake with that first gorgeous man to walk in, she would never have thought that another would show up and actually be her date. But here he was, currently sitting down across from her with a suave smile. She hazarded a quick glance around, noting with some satisfaction that some of the other female patrons were staring her way with envy in their eyes.

"Just so you know," Andy said casually, as he picked up his menu, "this is not me. I'm not _that guy_ who keeps a lady waiting."

Kate laughed easily, unexpectedly finding herself falling for his charm. "What guy are you, then?"

He grinned at her, and wiggled his eyebrows. "Right now, a thirsty one." He put the menu down in favor of the wine list. "Now… what should we order," he glanced up at her with keen eyes, and for a moment, she felt a little uncomfortable. It was almost as if he was gleaming secrets from her with just his piercing gaze. "You look like a red girl to me. Yeah… _red_."

His smile was disarming, and she lost herself in his handsome features, only vaguely aware that he was conversing with the maître d' in flawless French. He had the man laughing by the end of their conversation, and the maître d' then bowed and moved off to fetch them their wine. A small smile crossed Andy's face as he turned back to her.

"So…" he began, attempting to start a conversation.

"Have you done this before?" Kate questioned, unable to keep a nervous quality from her voice.

"What?" he grinned. "Had dinner with a beautiful woman? Once or twice."

Kate found herself blushing at his flattery. This was so not like her, but there was something about him. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. He just seemed to exude this confidence and charm that was pulling her in. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

"Oh… no," she said, shaking her head, bringing a hand up to brush back some of the loose curls that had strayed down over the side of her face. "Online dated?"

Andy raised his eyebrows. "No. Can't say that I have. This is a first for me."

"Me too," she confessed, ducking her head down shyly. She furrowed her brows together, and glanced back up at him with a curious expression. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you pick me?" she elaborated.

He chuckled and gestured across to her. "Look at you," he asserted, grinning at her with a sexy little quirk of his lips.

"But… I… um… my… _I_ didn't post a picture," Kate asserted, remembering that the dating website Lanie had used was a blind date service, and didn't allow photos.

It had irritated her at first, that her friend had already taken the initiative of creating a profile for her on some dating website like _Match . com_ while she'd been away at the conference in Washington, D.C., even if Lanie had the best of intentions. It was still a little frustrating. But she loved Lanie dearly, and Kate knew that she had only done that because she cared. When they'd checked the website, they'd found that her profile had already generated some interest, and with Lanie's help, Kate had selected Andrew Miller. She'd gotten a quick response from him, and before she knew it, Kate had a date.

"Oh, yeah…," Andy frowned, his eyes averting from hers for a moment. "No. I know, but… there was so much beauty in how you described yourself. In your words."

"Really?" Kate couldn't help the unladylike snort from escaping. She quickly covered her mouth in embarrassment before continuing. "Hate to break it to you, but I really didn't write that. It was my friend, Lanie. She was the one who actually created my profile."

"Devious," Andy chuckled, his eyes squinting in delight. "Well, I'm glad she did. If she hadn't, I would never have had the pleasure of dining with you here tonight."

Kate smiled back at him, bringing a hand up to play with a loose strand of hair. "Yeah," she replied easily. "Me too."

They were interrupted by the waiter returning with their wine. Kate looked at the bottle, and her eyes widen when she noticed the label. It was an extremely expensive bottle. She glanced back towards Andy with some trepidation.

"I… I'm sorry, I can't afford that," she stammered out. "It's too expensive."

"Don't worry about it," Andy assured her with an easy smile. "I've got it covered." He gave a nod to the waiter, and the young man proceeded to open the bottle. His eyes returned to her, and she tried not to let the price of the wine get to her. She really wanted to have a good time, and fretting about a bottle of wine was not going to do her any favors. "So," Andy inquired, pulling her attention back to him. "What made you choose me from all the other eligible men clambering at the walls to get a date with you?"

Kate glanced down at the swirling red liquid filling the glass of wine in front of her as she thought. "It was your poem that got me," she asserted.

"My poem?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "It was… amazing."

Andy smirked, his eyes lighting up as he watched her sigh with remembrance. "Please… don't make me recite it now," he chuckled.

"That first line was so beautiful," Kate continued. "You really have a way with words."

"_Roses are red_…," he began with a playful smirk.

"Alright, alright," Kate held up a hand to stop him. "I won't force you."

Andy just smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling with that undeniable charm that he possessed, and Kate shifted in her seat, feeling her heart flutter in her chest. She didn't know what quite to make of all this. It had been a long time since she'd had this sort of reaction to anyone… least of all a strange man she'd agreed to have dinner with over an online dating service. She was unsure on how exactly she should proceed.

"What should we toast to?" he asked, raising his now filled glass of wine.

Kate blinked, just realizing that the waiter was gone and it was just the two of them again. She swallowed nervously, and grabbed her glass, raising it up to match him. "Taking risks," she declared after some thought.

"Ooh, good one," Andy agreed with a grin.

They clinked glasses, and she raised her glass to her lips, taking a delicate sip. She kept her eyes on him the whole time. She really couldn't believe her luck. She'd been so apprehensive before, concerned that she'd made a terrible mistake in accepting Lanie's suggestion of a blind date. Despite her initial misgivings, Kate was actually beginning to enjoy herself and feel that seldom hope for a brighter future return. She took another sip of the amazingly delicious wine and made a mental note to thank her friend.

As she placed her glass back down on the pristine white tablecloth, she noticed that Andy was staring at something behind her. Kate arched her neck and glanced over her shoulder to see two men in ubiquitous black suits walk past the front glass façade of the restaurant. When Kate turned back around, she noticed that Andy's hand had dropped under the table. She saw what appeared to be an old cell phone, but before she could get a proper look, he quickly flipped it shut and put it back in his pocket.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, her brow furrowing in curiosity.

"Oh, yeah… sorry…," he said with a quick smile. "Work."

Kate nodded in understanding. "Must be pretty busy nowadays."

"Huh? Um, yeah… really busy," he answered smoothly after his initial hesitation.

She frowned, confused as to his puzzled expression. "So, where'd you learn French? I heard you ordering the wine, and I have to say, I'm impressed."

"Junior High," he answered with a touch of humor. Kate narrowed her eyes and stared at him with a slightly tilted head. He smiled. "I learned on the job."

"As a tax auditor?" she questioned, dubious.

"Boy," Andy chuckled, leaning back. "You really do read those profiles, don't you?" When she didn't respond, he continued. "My… _old_ job. International relations. I speak a dozen languages, and a few dialects."

"Fluently?"

"Just enough to order a decent bottle of wine," he replied with a cheeky grin. He made another toast, and they pause to savor his extreme well-picked selection of wine.

"Very decent," she replied with a grin, savoring the flavor. Oh, this wine was doing things to her. It was making her feel all… But, Kate ignored it. She wasn't one to put out on a first date, even if the wine was putting her in the mood. "So you travel a lot?"

"Constantly. You?"

Kate shook her head. "Not so much," she confessed. "To tell the truth, I'm sort of a workaholic. I'm only here tonight because my boss ordered me on a week vacation."

"What kind of work do you do?" he asked.

And Kate felt like groaning. There it was, the question she always dreaded when first meeting a nice guy. Not many men responded well to 'Oh, I'm a cop' or variations there in. They were either turned on by it, asking where she kept her handcuffs and if she'd be willing to 'play around' with them, or they were completely freaked out. Kate swallowed and glanced up at Andy with a combination of mild fear and consternation.

Kate heaved in a breath, and took a long gulp of wine to fortify her nerves. _Might as well just get it over with_, she thought. "I'm a detective," she answered. "Homicide." She tensed her muscles, awaiting his response with apprehension.

"Really!? That's so cool!" he enthused, grinning widely in delight.

What? That had not been the reaction she'd been expecting. She glanced back up and saw genuine interest in his eyes. Kate let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in, and let herself relax. After that, they fell into easy conversation. Andy asked her about cases she'd recently worked, and what it was like being a cop. He was enthralled with her, and she was a little overwhelmed, not used to the attention.

She was in the middle of telling him about her recent trip to D.C. for the conference, when an image from her memory suddenly jumped into the forefront of her mind, making her stop mid-sentence. Andy looked at her questioningly and she furrowed her brow as she glanced back at him.

"I'm sorry, this might seem weird… but have we met before?" she asked. There was just something about him that was so very familiar. She hadn't been able to tell what it was earlier, but now that they'd had some time to get to know each other, Kate realized that it was his eyes—his startling blue eyes.

"No," he quickly asserted with a shake of his head.

"Are you sure?" she pressed, narrowing her eyes. Her instincts from years of interrogating suspects were on alert. He was holding out on her for some reason.

"Oh yes," he inclined his head. "I assure you, if we'd met before, I would have remembered you." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "And do you know, you have gorgeous eyes. Has anyone ever told you that before?"

"Um… no," she shook her head bashfully. She couldn't stop the blush from rising up her cheeks, even if she'd wanted to.

Kate knitted her eyebrows together, averting her eyes as she racked her brain for an associated memory to the image of marvelous blue eyes, so clear and self-assured, that was currently invading her mind. There was just something so enticingly familiar about that spark that shown out from his eyes. They had to have had met sometime, if even for just a brief moment. She jerked her head back up, intent on questioning him further, but she wasn't able to form a single word, because his mouth was suddenly covering hers.

Startled, Kate let out a gasp of surprise, but soon surrendered to the wonderful sensations his lips moving against hers evoke from within. It was like an electric spark, thundering through her veins, bringing her back to life. His hand moved up to palm her cheek, and she closed her eyes, easing into his touch. Thoughts of the world around them melted away as he deepened the kiss, and she fought to suppress the little moan that wanted escape. He grinned, almost smugly, and she flicker her eyes up at his, seeing cobalt blue that did unexpectedly delightful things to her insides.

But then the moment was broken when an older woman sitting at a table across from them with her elderly mother grumbled, "Just get a room." His eyes were no longer on her, but instead were gazing over her shoulder. As if sensing her unease, Andy slowly withdrew, giving her a contrite smile.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," he explained with a mischievous smirk.

"No… no," Kate blushed, biting her lower lip, still tasting him on her tongue. She tried really hard not to think about all the fellow diners that had witnessed their intense kiss. It had been a while since anyone had kissed her so passionately in public, for full view of anyone and everyone to see. Next to this kiss, all the kisses she'd shared with Josh in their year long relationship were nothing, paling in comparison. "That… was unexpected, but not at all unpleasant."

"Right," he bobbed his head, furrowing his brow as he distractedly looked over her shoulder. "Look, I need to use the restroom."

"Okay," she answered, still a little disoriented from the amazing kiss. She was in a slight daze, reaching up to touch her lips, still humming from the kiss, that she was only vaguely aware of him getting up and quickly walking towards the back of the restaurant, where the restrooms were located.

Kate shook her head, and glanced over her shoulder, remembering his distracted stare, curious as to what had pulled his attention away from their amazing kiss. She spotted a man and woman, who appeared vaguely familiar, talking with the maître d'. Just like with Andy and his sparkling blue eyes, she couldn't quite place where she might remember them from, but then she saw one of them flash a badge that looked like FBI.

She shrugged and turned back to stare at his empty chair, suddenly recalling her words. _Ugh. 'Not at all unpleasant'? Really, Kate, what were you thinking?_ She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face, before she reached for her glass of wine, taking a loud gulp of the red liquid. She was suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. Her heart was pounding profoundly within her chest, and her insides were all twisted with feelings that had lain dormant for longer than she'd care to admit. Kate was getting close to freaking out over how fast things were progressing with Andy, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She was having fun, and she actually really liked the guy. She didn't want to blow it.

Heaving in a deep breath, Kate willed the tension away as she waited for Andy to return from the restrooms. She glanced back up and watched as the female federal agent surveyed the tables, ignoring the annoyed looks of some of the patrons, before her partner called her back. She left the restaurant with a disgruntled expression.

"Kate?"

She looked away from the restaurant's entrance. "Listen, I don't know what got into—" Kate stopped mid-sentence when she turned to find a good looking guy with blond hair and green eyes, dressed in a slightly disheveled suit, sliding down into the seat across from her. She blinked, a little surprised, having expected Andy to return.

"I'm so sorry," he said, oblivious to her confused stare. "The cab got a flat tire, and the subway was packed, and wouldn't you know it, my cell phone died and I couldn't call—"

"Who are you?" Kate interrupted, annoyed that some random guy thought he could just start talking to her whilst she was on a date. She looked over her shoulder towards the restrooms, willing Andy to come out and set this jerk straight.

"Andrew," the guy said, startling her. She raised her eyebrows and turned back to him with a stunned expression. "Andrew Miller."

Kate's mouth bobbed open and shut like a fish out of water. She glanced around the restaurant one more time, in disbelief, searching for Andy—if that had even been his real name—but he was gone. Nowhere to be seen. Slowly, tentatively, she shifted her attention back to the man sitting across from her, still uncertain as to what had just happened.

Spotting the glass of wine in front of him, Andrew said, "Oh. You ordered wine. So sorry. I should have told you… I'm allergic to grapes."


	6. Chapter 5

**Private Eyes – Chapter 5**

A ruggedly handsome man slipped out of the back door of the restaurant and into the narrow space in the back alley. He let out a mild curse, before he tugged his coat tighter around his broad frame in an attempt to ward off the chill of the night air. In his haste to leave, he had to leave his overcoat behind. Just moments ago he'd been inside enjoying some light and flirty conversation—not to mention a very nice glass of red wine—with a gorgeous woman, whom he found utterly fascinating. He'd met dozens and dozens of intriguing and breathtaking women through his various assignments around the globe. But none of them were like her. _She_ was different.

And if it hadn't been for the unexpected and untimely appearance of Agent Sophia Turner and her goons, he might have actually been able to enjoy a nice dinner with Detective Kate Beckett, and then perhaps talk his way into her apartment for a little after dinner entertainment. He was good at both. After which, while she slept—no doubt fully sated and satisfied—he'd retrieve the device from her roller. And then he'd be able to end this little delay and continue with his mission.

But a large part of him hoped that that didn't mean it would be the end when it came to the lovely NYPD detective. He didn't want her to be just another one of his conquest. No. He was tired of that. He wanted… more, and he could see a potential in Kate Beckett that was simply irresistible. _Maybe later_, he thought, _when everything has settled down_.

Nudging forward along the side of the building, he paused at the corner, and glanced around to see Agent Turner strolling out of the restaurant in a huff, looking thoroughly displeased. She yanked her phone out of her jacket pocket as another agent he recognized as Martin Danberg held the door of a black SUV open for her.

"No, he got away," Turner snapped into the phone, too frustrated to even care how loud she was speaking. It gave him the perfect chance to eavesdrop. "Get the techs working on the traces from the 74. See what else they can scrub from—" She scooted inside the backseat of the SUV and Danberg closed the door, cutting off the rest of her sentence. But he had a fairly good idea what it was that Turner wanted her tech people to do.

Turning his back to the street as the other agents climbed into the SUV and drove off, he pulled the device out of his pocket, and flipped it around in his hands until he could tear the back off. Normally, he'd prefer a more sterile environment than the side alley by a restaurant to do this sort of procedure, but at present he just didn't have time to wait. Somehow they'd manage to trace his location via the outdated TCD model in his hand. He'd expected it, but not as fast.

Sliding the back cover off, he pulled out the clunky battery to get at the interior compartment. Using the flat pad of his thumb, he pushed open another lid to reveal some fancy gadgetry that the boys back in Langley had come up with. He located a small chip with the use of his index and middle fingers, and, as gently as possible, plucked it out of its socket. For a second or two, he simply stared at it, before he tossed it to the ground and crushed it with the heel of his shoe. He'd have to remember to get a replacement chip ASAP; otherwise he would be unable to utilize the TCD-74 to maximum functionality.

He hurriedly reassembled the device. Snapping the back cover on, he turned it over in his hands and flipped it open. When the screen lit up, a standard cellular network interface appeared. He grunted slightly in annoyance, having grown accustomed to the TCD interface, but managed to work quickly at sending a text in a coded message. When he got a response, he let out a frustrated sigh. So much to do, so little time. After punching in a quick response, he stashed the device back inside his jacket. Finished for now, and needing to be somewhere else, he stuck his hands in his pockets and ducked his head down as he merged into the foot traffic along the sidewalk, disappearing from sight.

XXX

Kate was so embarrassed. She had just started to relax and have a good time with Andy, when everything seemingly changed in the blink of an eye. He disappeared off to the restrooms, never to return. In his place appeared the real Andrew Miller. Kate had been so mortified and humiliated that she had hardly been able to mumble out a quick apology to her real blind date before she had managed to make a hasty exit.

She had hurried home, fuming inside with indignation. To begin with, it had been very hard for her to agree to Lanie's suggestion of going on a blind date. Kate was a very private person, despite having a considerable wild-child phase in her youth. She'd sobered, mellowing out after her mother's death, becoming melancholy and lugubrious. She had built up walls around her heart to protect herself. Outwardly, she would often appear cold and unfeeling, displaying a stoic expression, showing little to no emotion, but inwardly Kate was still that terrified young woman who'd lost her mother.

Relationships, as a result, had become difficult for her. She had trouble with forming attachments. Despite that, she'd managed to grow, thanks in large part to friends like Lanie and the boys, and a mentor like Montgomery. His loss still hurt. He'd been so instrumental in helping her become the cop she was today. If it hadn't been for him, she might never had found her true calling in bringing justice and closure to others.

Shrugging out of the red dress, kicking off her high heels, and donning a purple t-shirt too large for her and some black leggings, Kate collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh of disappointment. Tonight had had… potential. So much potential. She would freely admit that at first she'd been nervous. And then when he hadn't showed up on time, and kept her waiting, she'd been hit with the bitter feeling of rejection. It was like she had the worse lock in the universe, that she was destined to be alone and miserable.

But then he'd arrived, and all her earlier doubts and fears had vanished like dust in the wind. They'd hit it off, really well, and she had started to feel a lot better about herself. He was charming, funny, confident… and handsome… oh, was he handsome! She had been so worried that he'd turn out to be some weirdo. But no. He'd been far from that. And then it all fell apart.

Tears started to prickle at the edge of her vision. Kate blinked furiously, wiping at her eyes in a futile attempt to keep them at bay. But it was useless. The tears spilled over all the same, streaming down her cheeks in rivers of dejection and despondency. She rolled over onto her side and curled in on herself, hugging her legs to her chest as she openly wept for her miserable and pathetic love life.

It seemed as if nothing was going to go her way this year… not even a simple blind date.

XXX

Clasping his hands behind his back, he perused the shop's interior. The shelves were crammed with an eclectic collection of used or out-of-date electronics, ranging from VCRs to old 8-track tapes. An archaic CB Radio rested in the corner, and he even spotted one or two typewriters lying around the clutter. A couple of old 80s era movie posters decorate the remaining available wall space, all pro-America themed, like the vintage _Top Gun _and_ The Right Stuff_ posters, as well as the oddly ironic _Red Dawn_, considering home country of the shop's proprietor. It was late, and the shop would normally be closed. But the owner was an old friend.

"_Siniy Prizrak!_"

He turned without hesitation as the aging Russian called out the familiar moniker that the former KGB agent had once "gifted" him with back in the day, during the early missions of his youth. He'd been a thorn in the side of the crumbling Soviet Union, and Markos Chapaev had been his nemesis until one day the KGB agent defected to the West. Over the intervening years, they'd gone from rivals to good friends. He'd often come to visit Chapaev over the years, seeking his expertise in the world of subterfuge and covert technologies. Now Mark Chapman of Brooklyn, New York, the former Russian spy sold and repaired used electronics for a living.

"Did you fix it?" he asked.

"_Da, _here you go," Chapaev said, stepping out from behind a curtain of colorful beads, having gone into the back of the shop to work on the device. "All better! Just like new."

The old Russian tossed him the flat gray device. He caught it in his hand with ease and flipped it open, watching as the screen lit up. Everything appeared normal. Chapaev maneuvered his broad frame around the display counter to stand beside him, pointing a finger at the TCD-74.

"It's older model than those that CIA use today," Chapaev spoke with a mild Muscovite accent. Though he'd lived more than 20 years in New York, having mastered the American accent long ago, the old bear still liked to put on a show for his American friend. "Which I believe was that point, yes?"

He nodded. "I wasn't going to make it too easy for them," he chuckled, a mischievous smirk dancing across his lips, already punching in some numbers. They stood and waited. He knew, what with the late hour, that a response wouldn't be immediate. After a couple of minutes, a series of numbers flashed across the screen and he grinned, pleased.

"Well done, Markos," he congratulated his one-time enemy turned friend. Chapaev had been one of his secret go-to guys over the years, and he'd never failed to deliver.

Chapaev smiled. "I thought you would like it, Blue Ghost. The new chip better than old one. Superior technology, nothing like what your CIA uses. House special, if you will. It should be untraceable by those clowns."

"Hey now," he admonished with a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Some of those _clowns_ are my friends."

"True," Chapaev relented with a nod of his head, "but they are hunting you, so for now… they are clowns, _da_?"

"_Da_," he agreed with a chuckle, unable to dispute that logic. "How much do I owe you?"

"_Nichego!_" the old Russian said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Think nothing of it."

He shook his head, holding up the TCD-74. "I really needed that new chip," he asserted. And he had. Agent Turner and her techs had been able to trace his location far to easily with the previously installed chip. This new one, custom made by Chapaev should make him invisible to Overlord, the CIA's covert listening surveillance network. "Least I could do is give you something in return."

"_Da_, okay," Chapaev bobbed his head. The old bear put a hand on his shoulder and pursed his lips in a true Russian grin. "How about next time you visit, you bring a good bottle of Vodka. None of that imitation _der'mo_, but real Vodka from the motherland."

He smirked, pocketing the TCD-74 into his jacket pocket. "I'll see what I can do," he asserted. "Until next time, old friend."

"_Da_," Chapaev nodded. "Next time, _Siniy Prizrak_. _Do svidaniya__!_"

XXX

After waking up at 3 in the morning on the sofa, Kate used the bathroom, took some pain pills for her pounding headache, and then crawled into bed with every intention of sleeping until noon. Gates had given her the rest of the week off, so no one would care how late she slept in. Besides, after the disaster that was her blind date, Kate felt like hiding away in her apartment for a while.

When she finally woke up, it was about fifteen minutes past noon the following day. She stayed there, lying on her back, staring up at her ceiling trying not to think about last night. But it was impossible not too, especially when most of her dreams had been about _him_. She kept recalling his blue eyes, and that mischievous spark that had drawn her to them. Andy, or whatever his name, had been intriguing and fun. And from what little time she'd spent with him, she already knew she was attracted to him. There was just something about his presence that ignited some deep seeded needs that had been long dormant.

Growling in frustration, Kate kicked the covers off and rolled out of bed. She stripped out of her sleepwear and padded into the bathroom. She turned the shower knob to full blast, tentatively testing the spray with her hand until it was hot, hoping that the stinging heat would make her forget about the desire brewing below the surface. Kate relaxed under the hot cascade of water, letting her hair soak, and body cleanse. Still, the ache persisted, and she let out a sigh of surrender. She needed to take care of this… and soon, before she imploded from the tension.

Kate closed her eyes, and bit her lower lip, conjuring up images of "Andy" and his ruggedly handsome features, charming smile, and sparkling cobalt blue eyes. Yeah. She leaned her back against the tile wall, sighing in contentment, parting her legs as she slowly lowered her hand down her body.

XXX

He stepped out onto the rooftop garden with a groan. It was raining. He hated the rain. It soaked… everything. Ducking his head down, he glanced right and left, before proceeding towards the building's edge. His day had been long and unsatisfying. He'd spent most of it trying to evade Agent Turner's men. She'd obviously been thorough during the night, tracing all his previous steps before he ditched the old chip in his TCD-74. He'd been arrogant enough to assume his old places were still safe, which was why he was now on the rooftop garden of the building.

It was a nice apartment complex in Tribeca. He'd picked it mainly for his proximity to a certain detective's apartment, but it's use as a home base was rapidly running out. When he'd return from his surveillance of Beckett's apartment, disappointed she'd remained a homebody today, he had found three men dressed in black suits rummaging through his rental. They wouldn't find anything. Thankfully, he only ever traveled with what he could carry.

The rain was soft, and pleasant, but he still found it annoying. He had a thing against being surrounded by water. Probably had something to do with being waterboarded once… or twice. Showers and baths still got to him, but he could manage those… because he had control. Right now, however, he did not have control.

He made a sharp turn around a hedge, stepping into a little lounge area that tenants of the complex had set up. There were a couple of deck chairs, and a table with an umbrella. Some potted plants and flowers were scattered around in a mishmash of colors. Carefully, using his body as cover, he flipped open his TCD-74. He punched in a series of numbers, using the code he'd memorized to update his compatriot on the situation. He pressed the send button and waited for a response.

The device buzzed.

He looked down, but instead of seeing a series of incoherent numbers, he saw three letters that gave clear direction: **RUN**.

"Castle!" a voice shouted over the pitter-patter of rain.

Arching his neck, he looked over his shoulder to see the bulky forms of Agent Turner's goons. Slowly turning in place, he flashed them a reassuring smile as he raised his hands up in a gesture of submission. "Evening, boys…," he drawled out in a pleasant intonation. "What can I do for you?"

"You're coming with us, Castle," one said, coming forward to grab his forearm. "We've got a car waiting downstairs."

"Wow, thanks! I've always wanted to go for a ride with you guys," he enthused with a cheeky grin.

The two agents remained stone-faced, unimpressed. The other one tilted his head towards his collar, where a microphone was hidden, and muttered, "We got him."

The goon holding his arm tightened his grip and he glanced at him with a friendly expression, while he surreptitiously began clenching his free hand into a tight fist. "You sure about that?"

"Huh?"

The poor guy didn't see it coming. Neither did the other one. It was almost laughable at how easy it was.

XXX

She was going to the movies. Yeah. That's what she was doing. It was raining outside, and she was going to go to the movies. That's what normal people did when they're on forced leave, right? When it's raining outside, they either crash at home or they go to the movies. Having spent more than enough time at home, Kate had decided on the latter. She had no idea what was showing, but she was going to the movie theater, purchasing a ticket, and getting a large popcorn with a cherry ICEE.

Sitting back against the cushions of the taxi, Kate rested her head against the window glass as she watched the people hustle about in an attempt to get out of the rain. Normally Kate would have taken the subway to the movie theater, but seeing as it was raining, she'd opted to take a taxi so she wouldn't have to trudge through the sudden downpour to the subway station. And if she'd done that, she'd have to face the crowds, which wasn't something Kate was up to at the moment. She was still trying to get over the whole mild case of agoraphobia she'd developed after being shot.

Kate blinked, and knitted her eyebrows together. A sudden distressing thought occurred to her. A movie theater was a crowded enclosed place. Doubts began to assail her mind. She wasn't sure she could handle it. And even if she could, Kate didn't want to run the risk that she'd freak out and have a panic attack in public. She'd been embarrassed enough as it was already.

Leaning forward, Kate gave the cabbie a new address, deciding she'd go visit her father instead of going to a movie. Yeah. That was better. She hadn't seen her father in a couple of weeks, and it would do them both good to visit. The cabbie nodded, and activated the signal as he prepared to change lanes.

Kate sighed and slumped back against the backseat cushion. She let out a long exhale, feeling the coil of anxiety in the pit of her stomach unwind. She made a mental note that she needed to see Dr. Burke soon and talk about these unwelcomed feelings of apprehensiveness. She didn't like it. She was used to being in control. But she was positive that whatever the cause, she'd be able to tackle it and rustle it down into submission.

The movie theater would just have to—

_BAM!_

Kate let out a startled gasp as a man collided with the taxi's windshield. The cabbie cursed in some foreign tongue, and rammed his foot on the break. The man rolled off the front of the yellow taxi and onto the street.

"You okay, ma'am?" the startled cabbie inquired.

Kate bobbed her head, eyes wide in stunned disbelief. On instinct, from years of training, she quickly pushed the back door open and rushed to the front of the taxi to check on the man lying there. "Oh my god… are you okay!?" she asked, kneeling down to help him. He coughed, and struggled for a bit before he managed to roll over. Kate's jaw dropped as she recognized his face. "_You!_"

Andy—which was probably not his real name—hissed as he sat up and put his hand on his ribs. "Oh, man… that… um… okay, yeah, that really hurt…"

"Are… are you following me?" Kate demanded, suddenly feeling a panic erupt inside her. She'd been shot just a couple of months ago for digging into her mother's murder, which had gotten Montgomery killed, after he'd revealed his own part in it. She had honestly believed whoever was behind it all would have kept sending people after her once it was clear she'd survived the assassination attempt at Montgomery's funeral. Yet no one came.

His brow furrowed as he glanced up at her, his eyebrows knitted together as he let out a grunt of pain. He touched his side again, and grimaced, shaking his head.

"Where'd you come from?" she questioned, wanting answers. Not to mention a check for that expensive bottle of wine.

Andy's eyes flicked up, and Kate arched her neck to follow his gaze, spotting the edges of a rooftop garden on apartment complex above them. Her eyes grew wide with astonishment as she turned back to survey the man sitting on the street, wheezing gently. The cabbie had gotten out and was standing by the hood, nervously talking with his dispatcher on the phone.

"You _jumped_ onto the cab?" she asked, incredulously. Kate really couldn't believe this guy. He was certifiable.

He let out a groan, but managed a slight nod of his head. "Yeah," he grunted out, wincing through the pain as he narrowed his eyes. "Didn't look so high from up there…" His blue eyes quickly scanned over her and he grinned, extending a hand. "Rick."

"What?"

"That's my name. Rick Castle."

"Rick Castle? Right," Kate snorted in disbelief. "Like I'm going to believe anything you say after you lied to me."

"Hey, I only lied about the little things," he said with a cheeky smile, always the charmer, even after being involved in a vehicular accident. "The important stuff was true." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Ugh," she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

He shrugged and attempted to push himself up from the pavement, but slipped, his knees buckling. Kate groaned, but stepped in, pulling his arm over her shoulder and taking some of his weight. She had to suppress the slight shiver that danced up her spine as his body settled against hers. With their sides practically flush, Kate could feel the raw power beneath his soaked clothes. He caught her eye, and she quickly averted her gaze, focusing on helping him to the taxi.

"You need a doctor," she asserted.

"No—no hospitals…," he stammered out. He cocked his head towards her. "But maybe another kiss? What do you think?" He gave her a flirtatious wink. "Because that first one… damn… it was—"

"A mistake!" Kate snapped out, though inside her heart was pounding out in protest beneath her breast.

"—was perfect," he finished with a somewhat dreamy expression. "Who taught you to kiss like that?"

Kate rolled her eyes, and let him dropped unceremoniously into the back of the taxi. "You're insane. Whatever your problem is, it's not my problem—"

"Well, actually—"

"Will you just shut up!?" Kate groaned. She turned to the cabbie, who was still standing there, looking uncertain and confused. Going against everything in her training, and not sure why, Kate gave him an address, only hoping she wasn't making a complete mistake.

"Shouldn't we wait for the police?" the cabbie questioned.

Kate dug her badge out of her pocket, thanking whatever higher power out there that she'd grabbed her badge out of habit before leaving her apartment. "I am the police," she asserted in a firm and authoritative voice. "Just take us there."

"What about the damage to my windshield?" he objected.

"I'll pay for that!" Castle shouted from the backseat. "How much?"

The cabbie thought for a moment before rattling off an exorbitant amount. Kate was about to call him on it when Castle silenced her by handing over double what the guy had asked for. "Just do as the nice lady cop says," he said.

"Yes sir!" the cabbie grinned, quickly flipping through the bills before hopping into the driver's seat.

Kate frowned, completely baffled, but then just gave a shrug, letting it all just roll off her shoulders. She was on vacation. If both men wanted to settle it without police involvement, then who was she to argue? She climbed into the back of the taxi, and glanced across at Rick Castle, if that was even his real name. It sounded fake. What kind of name was that, anyways? If she said it fast enough, it would almost sound like she was saying "Hey, asshole!" _Well, that fit_s, she supposed. She narrowed her eyes and stared back at him.

He was watching her with his arresting blue eyes, and she couldn't help but shiver. There was something in that gaze she wasn't used to seeing. From the moment they'd met, there had been something about his eyes that enthralled her.

Castle flashed her a grin, and a wink. "What's the matter, Beckett? Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes," she replied with no small amount of bite. "Yes, you do. Stop staring, okay? It's creepy."

"Sorry," he assured her with that smooth voice of his. "Beautiful woman comes to my rescue… I couldn't help myself."

Kate scoffed, and rolled her eyes, not letting him see just how much his flirtatious banter was affecting her. She could already feel the blush warming her cheeks. She averted her gaze and stared out the window as the cabbie turned the key and started the ignition.

* * *

_***A/N: Sorry for the massive delay. I was on vacation, and then caught a nasty cold once I got back home. All Russian words and phrases aquired via GoogleTranslate... so my apologies if I've butchered your language.**_


	7. Chapter 6

**Private Eyes – Chapter 6**

Kate let out an audible sigh of relief when the elevator doors rattled open on the sixth floor. The semi-fancy wall sconces lit the corridor in a soft glow and the carpet beneath their feet was a faded red. This place always gave off a hotel-vibe, which, in retrospect, was probably why she'd rarely come over. It just never felt very lived-in, almost like the tenants were only barely there, only requiring a place to eat and sleep when they weren't busy working or being someplace else. Kate could relate with a workaholic, but at least when she went home, she actually went home to a _home_.

She had second guessed herself numerous times on the ride over, and had almost completely changed her mind when the cabbie pulled up to the address she'd given him, but one look at Castle, grimacing and clutching his side, she knew they had no choice, especially when he was dead set against going to a hospital. Castle had paid the cabbie, giving the man a generous amount of cash without seeking any change in return. Her bafflement at his behavior was temporary hampered when he immediately pushed the door open and clambered out of the taxi.

"Nice," he mumbled into her ear. His head had lolled down so that his nose was nuzzling her hair. "You smell like cherries."

Kate gritted her teeth and pulled them to a halt, nudging him away from her with her elbow. She flicked her gaze up to him, and their eyes locked for a split second. She tried to ignore the way her breath hitched up, and her heartbeat quickened. This guy was bad news… really bad news. She didn't need to get mixed up with him. _But_, part of her argued, _you're already mixed up with him. And… he is rather charming_.

"Shove it," she snapped, stifling down the rising feelings within. "You're charm isn't going to work on me."

"Oh," he chuckled, smirking mischievously. "So you admit that I'm charming?"

"I wouldn't say that," Kate lied through her teeth, frowning as she tried her best to ignore the way the sparkle in his eyes made her stomach flutter with feelings long dormant.

"Please, stop deluding that pretty head of yours," Castle said. He gave a decisive bob of his head. "Cause if that kiss tells me anything, it's… you like me. Yep." He grinned down at her, and she found it hard to even deny to herself that he was kind of adorable like this. "You like me… _a lot_."

"Just… just be quiet," she asserted, knitting her eyebrows together and moving them two more doors down. Thankfully, Castle acquiesced to her instruction. Though, Kate couldn't be positive it wasn't simply because he was in pain and fatigued. But whatever the reason, she was grateful.

Standing before the apartment door, Kate found herself hesitating. Her previous doubts about coming here resurfaced and she began to rethink her initial decision. Nothing good could come from seeking help here. No. No. It was stupid. She should have just taken him to Lanie's if she was going to grant him his asinine pleas to avoid the hospitals. But before she could make any new decision on the matter, Castle was raising his free hand and knocking on the door.

Kate froze. She found herself praying for him to either be out or asleep. But as her luck was running this week, chances were he'd be in and wide-awake. And judging from the sounds of footsteps approaching, it appeared her assessment of her fortune was pretty darn accurate. A second later the door swung open to reveal the last person she'd ever envisioned seeing again.

"Kate?" his brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes took her in.

She offered a weak smile, inclining her head slightly as she adjusted the weight of Castle's arm over her shoulder. "Hey… Josh, I bet you weren't expecting to see me again so soon," she greeted, her attempt at humor falling flat.

XXX

Agent Turner stormed out of the interview room, slamming the door shut behind her. The battered men inside looked appropriately chastised. She couldn't believe that they'd let _him_ slip from their grasp, especially when they'd actually had a physical hold on him. But then again, Rick Castle was one of the best, and she, of all people, should know that.

Danberg was waiting for her by the double doors leading into the war room. He gripped a handle and held the door open for her as she marched inside. The buzz of activity was a surprising comfort. Turner closed her eyes, taking a moment to calm her breathing and heart rate back to the norm.

"How are we with Castle's TCD-74?" she asked.

Danberg shook his head, giving her an apologetic expression. "He must have removed the chip, because we aren't picking him up anymore."

Turner clenched her jaw as she let out a mild curse. She folded her arms under her breasts as her eyes absently surveyed the large monitors before her, each displaying various images from surveillance cameras all across New York City. It was quite literally the city that never sleeps. "What about his safe house?"  
"Clean," Danberg informed her, giving her a shrug of his shoulders. "I had the techs sweep it twice. Nothing. He's good."

She nodded. Yeah, he was good. She knew first hand just how _good_ he was. Raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, Turner suppressed a yawn. "Damn it. He's always been one step ahead of us. We need to change that."

"What about the woman?"

"What woman?" Turner questioned, furrowing her brow in confusion.

Danberg gestured towards a smaller screen off to the side of the main monitors. The display showed the New York DMV data on a 'Katherine Houghton Beckett', along with some biographical information: Born and raised in New York, both parents lawyers, mother died when she was 19—ruled a result of random gang violence. She was currently a homicide detective in the NYPD, operating out of the 12th Precinct. Her credentials were quite impressive.

One of the techs was currently running a check on her. The young man glanced over his shoulder when he noticed the senior agents approaching his station.

"What have you got so far?" Turner asked, her eyes scanning over the data as it came in.

"Top of her class at the Academy, youngest woman to become a detective, highly decorated," the tech rattled off the information. "She was shot last May during the funeral for her fallen captain. And according to attendance records, she was at the recent Law Enforcement Officers Conference in D.C."

"Great, so she's little miss super cop," Turner grumbled, rolling her eyes and looking back at Danberg. "What exactly does she have to do with Castle?"

"Right now the connection is minimal," he admitted. "But enough to warrant the background search." He paused for effect as the computer tech pulled up the video footage of Castle waiting in the check-in queue at Reagan National Airport. "As you can see, they _bumped_ into one another."

Turner watched as on screen Castle 'bumped' into Katherine Beckett. A smile slowly spread across her face. Finally, they had a lead, even if it was, as Danberg put it, minimal. She glanced back over at the DMV photo of the detective, furrowing her brow in an odd mixture of vexation and bewilderment. There was something about the woman's face. "I think I've seen her before."

Danberg raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Where?"

Turner tapped her foot as she racked her brain. She narrowed her eyes as she concentrated on the image within her memories of the brunette. Ever so slowly, a memory came into focus. "The restaurant," she gasped, turning to Danberg. She placed a hand on his shoulder for support. "It was brief, but I could have sworn I saw her at that restaurant we'd tracked Castle to."

"It could just be a coincidence," Danberg offered, playing devil's advocate. It was one of the reasons she valued him as a partner. He had an exceptional mind, and knew how to use it when they needed to analyze a situation as quickly as possible. And he was always at the ready to provide a counter argument to any assertion she made. It helped keep her on her toes, and really think about things from more than one perspective.

Turner shook her head and pursed her lips as she stared hard at the image of the detective. The woman was beautiful, no denying that. There was a fierceness in the woman's eyes, a raw intelligence and determination that if put to use and properly honed, would make the detective a valuable asset. She could see why Castle would be drawn to such a woman. But for what purpose? Rick Castle never did anything without a reason.

"I don't believe in coincidences, not when Rick Castle is involved," she asserted.

Danberg nodded in agreement. "I'll get a team on her apartment ASAP," he said, reaching inside his jacket for his cell phone as he stepped back.

Turner inclined her head, brushing her dark hair back from her face as she refocused her attention to the computer tech. The young man looked up at her with anticipation, eager and willing to please. She smirked. "Get me everything we have on Katherine Beckett."

"Yes, ma'am."

XXX

Kate stood off to the side, standing somewhat awkwardly next to the breakfast bar in the kitchenette as she watched her ex-boyfriend wrap some gauze around Castle's torso. It was all so surreal. She'd been fending off his unwanted advances the other day, and now here she was, showing up at his place in the middle of the night with a stranger slumped against her for support. And that stranger… he was something else, that's for sure. He just had a habit of showing up at the most inopportune times. And in the most unexpected ways. Yet, there was something about him that she felt drawn to. Rick Castle stirred feelings within her with just a look, and that… that unnerved her. Not even Josh had had that power. No man had.

The two men were in the small living room, not far from her. Castle was perched on the edge of the plush arm of a beige armchair, his jacket and shirt off, deposited in the seat. Josh stood before him, slowly unraveling a roll of gauze. The doctor had been startled, to say the least, at their sudden appearance. Though, thankfully, he'd yet to question her, seeing to Castle's injuries first. Kate couldn't take her eyes off them… or more precisely _him_. Castle had just casually taken his jacket and shirt off, before resting back against the arm of the chair. He wasn't ripped like Josh was, but he was fit… very fit, with a defined chest and strong arms. He obviously knew how to take care of himself without going overboard.

"You really should go to a hospital," Josh said as he continued working on folding the gauze around Castle's bruised side. "Get an x-ray done. There is only so much I can tell from a surface examination."

"Nah," Castle shook his head, almost unconcerned. "Nothing's broken, just some bruising. I'd know if it was something worse, trust me." He let out a chuckle as if he was remembering past injuries. Kate frowned, not for the first time wondering _who_ exactly this man was.

"If you say so," Josh gave a dubious shrug as he finished securing the gauze.

Castle arched his neck and gazed down at the doctor's handiwork. "Not bad," he hummed in approval, running his fingers along the seam of the gauze. He stretched and nodded. "Not bad at all." He stuck his hand out. "Thanks, Doc."

Josh looked at him for a second, before he hesitantly took Castle's hand, and exchanged a firm handshake with the man. Castle smirked, and his eyes flicked up to lock with Kate's momentarily, before they returned to the doctor. Kate had trouble pulling her gaze from his arresting blue eyes. She was so confused. Part of her was incredibly annoyed and irritated by the man, while the other half just yearned for him in a way that was so primal and raw that it frightened her.

"Mind if I use your bathroom?" Castle asked, tugging his shirt back on, quickly working the buttons. When Josh just nodded, gesturing towards the direction of the bathroom. "Thanks," he slapped Josh's back in gratitude, grabbed his jacket, and disappeared down the hallway.

XXX

Castle walked nonchalantly down the hallway, eyes constantly roaming, taking it all in. He really didn't need to use the bathroom, but he did need some privacy. And besides, he felt that those two needed to clear the air. The tension in that room had been so thick, he wasn't even sure a knife could have cut through it.

Kate hadn't said anything, but he had the distinct impression that Dr. Josh Davidson was her motorcycle riding ex-boyfriend. He'd seen a bike helmet by the front door, and the leather jacket tossed across the back of the couch was clearly worn for riding a motorcycle. The ex-boyfriend part he could simply tell from the amount of tension that radiated between the other two. The break-up had to have been fairly recent, or within the past month or two. Judging by the man's curt greeting alone, Josh was clearly still bitter over it.

Locating the bathroom with ease, Castle slipped inside and pulled the door half-closed behind him. Something besides his encounter with Turner's goons at his safe house had happened. It had been barely audible—he was positive neither Kate or Josh had noticed—yet he'd still managed to hear the TCD-74, hidden within his jacket pocket, buzzing for the past five minutes. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled the device out. Flipping it open, he glanced at the text message that was waiting for him. His brow creased with mild concern, as he punched in the appropriate commands to hack into the CCTV network nearby Beckett's apartment.

The screen faded to black as the device made the appropriate connections. The image blinked to life, and Castle narrowed his eyes, staring at the corner of Varick and Franklin in Tribeca. Castle let out a mild curse as he spotted two unmarked vehicles. To the average passerby, they looked completely ordinary, but with his trained eye, Castle could detect the invisible hand of Agent Turner at work.

"What are you up to, Sophia?" he questioned softly, mumbling to himself. His thumbs moved over the keyboard, and the screen blinked, switching to a different closed-circuit camera. He was definitely going to have to think up a plan to get them back inside Beckett's apartment.

XXX

Silence had descended upon them after Castle's departure for the bathroom. The tension in the room, easily ignored while the other man was present, seemed to skyrocket to new heights. The two of them simply stood there, looking at one another, Josh slowly rolling up the remaining gauze. Unable to stand the scrutiny in his eyes, Kate bit her lower lip, and averted her gaze.

He glanced across at her with a puzzled expression. "Kate?"

"Josh," she acknowledged with a bob of her head, anxiously brushing a loose strand of hair back behind an ear.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" he demanded tersely as he joined her in the kitchenette, putting the remaining gauze away in a cabinet.

Kate shook her head, and pinched the bridge of her nose, not wanting to have this conversation, especially when she still didn't even know the answer to that question herself. All she offered was a shrug.

"Okay," Josh said, dropping down onto the barstool beside her. He ruffled his fingers through his hair and let out an exasperated breath. "Do you even know who this guy is?" he asked. It was a valid question, yet Josh was unable to conceal a hint of jealousy.

She gave him a pointed look, not pleased with his tone. "I don't know if that is even any of your business, Josh."

"Really? That's what you're going with?" he shook his head in disbelief, raising his voice in irritation. "Jesus, Kate. You show up at my door in the middle of the night with some guy who's obviously been in a fight, asking if I could patch him up. I think it's very much my business at this point."

Kate took a deep breath, and raked her fingers through her hair as she turned to face him. He was right. At the very least, he deserved some answers. Problem was, she didn't know what to tell him. But before she could formulate any response, Josh was opening his mouth again.

"Because, if he's some new boyfriend, who got knocked around at some club, then honestly, Kate, I would have preferred that you'd taken him to Lanie to get patched up."

"He's not my boyfriend!" she snapped, eyes narrowed, annoyed at his assumption.

Josh scoffed, disbelieving.

"Okay, fine!" she huffed in frustration. "It was one date. _We_ went on one date! One date! But you could hardly call it a date. We had some wine, talked a little, and then he was gone before we could even order dinner. That was it." Kate growled and jabbed him in the chest with her finger, before pivoting away from him and stomping out of the kitchenette. She turned back to face him. "Next thing I know, he's jumping off of some building and landing on top of a taxi."

"Jesus, Kate…," Josh gasped, shifting his weight to get a better angle as he gazed out at her from his place at the breakfast bar while she paced back and forth in the living room. "What in the hell are you mixed up in?"

"Honestly, Josh, I don't know," she admitted, dropping down into the armchair, feeling drain, both emotionally and physically. She slumped back against the cushions. It was all just so frustrating.

Kate sucked in a heavy breath, and began rattling off all the details of the previous couple of days, about Gates forcing her to take a week off, Lanie setting up the blind date, and the date itself. She stubbornly refused to let the frustrated tears forming in her eyes out. She would _not_ cry in front of Josh. All she had wanted was a quiet night out at the movies, yet here she was, spilling her guts to her ex-boyfriend, a man she'd never intended on seeing again. "And Josh, I'm sorry for coming here, but I didn't know what else to do, and he… he said no hospitals."

"Okay, okay," Josh relented with a sigh, scooting off the barstool and coming over to kneel before her. He placed a hand on her knee in a sign of comfort, and Kate tried really hard not to read too much into it. She hoped Josh didn't think by her uncharacteristic venting that she'd now be willing to give them another chance. Because she was nowhere near inclined to do so. She hadn't been lying when she'd told Josh they were done. "Look, Kate, I was thinking…"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off the moment Castle appeared. "Hey, we should…," he stopped, eyes lingering on the scene before him. One eyebrow quirked up and he gestured with his thumb, pointing back the way he came. "Am I interrupting something? Cause, if I am, I can give you two some—"

"No, no, you're not interrupting anything," Kate asserted, brushing Josh's hand off her knee and pushing herself up out of the armchair. Inwardly, Kate let out a sigh of relief at the man's sudden reappearance, which saved her from having to deal with another one of Josh's attempts to get them back together. Josh frowned, perturbed by the interruption, looking as if he wanted to modify her statement from the negative to the positive. He stood up as she did, turning with her as she stepped around him in an attempt to create some distant.

"Good," Castle clapped his hands, making a show of looking at his watch. "Because, Kate, we gotta go." He reached her in no time and had his hand on her arm, gently tugging her towards the door.

"What?" she furrowed her brow in confusion, though also slightly overwhelmed by the way her body tingled with excitement by his touch.

His fingers squeezed around her bicep and he offered a charming smile. "Hey, hey… it's okay," he assured her as he reached for the handle. He opened the door and glanced back at an utterly stupefied Josh Davidson. "Thanks again, Doc," he hollered back. "Better luck next time, eh?" He laughed and before Kate could say or do anything, Castle was directing her out the door and into the hallway.


	8. Chapter 7

**Private Eyes – Chapter 7**

He loosened his grip around her bicep when they reached the lobby, casually slipping his arm around her waist, one hand landing comfortably on her hip. He tugged her up close against his side as if they were a happy couple about to go out to enjoy the city's vibrant nightlife. The sudden intimate contact left Kate breathless, and she found herself focusing more on fighting off all those unwanted feelings that were now flaring up throughout her entire body than on what had just happened up in Josh's apartment and on where he was leading her. She was still somewhat shellshock over everything that had happened during the previous two hours, not to mention the last couple of days. Esposito had once called her a control freak. And he was right. She was a control freak. Kate did not like it when she was not in control.

And right now, she wasn't in control. She had no power to influence events. It was like her free will had vanished in a puff of smoke, lost to some oblivious abyss, and, for now at least, unable to return. Her body was betraying her, confusing her senses with flutters and tingles that were not entirely unwelcomed, but unexpected nonetheless; making her ease into Castle's hold, forcing a contented sigh from her lips as she tilted her head to rest it against his broad shoulder, unintentionally playing along with the act he was putting on display for the outside world. She couldn't help but breathe him in, his subtle masculine scent, earthy and masculine, accompanied by something else that was uniquely him.

It was intoxicating.

The fact that she was already so enthralled by just his presence alone was enough to terrify her beyond belief. This was not her. She did not get all entranced and doe-eyed. Kate Beckett did not fawn over men. It was true that she hadn't been herself since the shooting. Lost, wandering in a void, unable to find the broken pieces of herself. Yet, for some inexplicable reason beyond her knowledge and despite his somewhat arrogant behavior, she still sensed restorative properties from his presence. He was the very definition of a contradiction. He both irritated and excited her. She either wanted to shoot him or fuck him. And at this point, Kate really didn't know which side was winning.

They exited the building without any trouble, the doorman tipping his hat to them as he held the door open. Castle's arm tightened around her, as if he could sense her confusion and mild panic. He tilted his head, nuzzling his nose against her hair as he whispered into her ear, his breath all hot and moist, almost sensual. It made her shiver with a primal want that had eluded her most of her adult life. It wasn't until the cold chill of the evening air hit her face that Kate regained her balance and was able to find her voice.

"What… what's going on?" she stammered out.

"Shh… you're doing great," he crooned softly. "A natural." His fingers curled into her hip, securing his hold on her. She felt both safe and smothered at the same time. The contradicting sensations bewildered her.

Castle maneuvered them down the sidewalk, away from Josh's apartment building. Not that many people were out this late at night, but enough that their presence wasn't all together unusual. The night was cool, and steam wafted up through the vents in the streets, giving the streetlights a strange glow. He walked them down the corner and three more city blocks before he loosened his grip around her waist, though he didn't release her. Castle flashed her a reassuring smile, and dug his phone out of his jacket pocket with his fresh hand. Kate arched her neck and peered over as he flipped it open and began scrolling through a menu. The onscreen interface looked like nothing Kate had seen before.

He noticed her looking, and quickly snapped the phone shut and shoved it back into his jacket pocket.

"Castle…," she ground out, furrowing her brow and shaking her head slightly, still feeling somewhat brain fogged by all the sensations his proximity unwelcomingly generated within her body. "You can't… can't just abduct a NYPD detective and expect her not to ask questions."

"_Abduct_?" he echoed, grousing in feigned offense. "Please… if this was me abducting you, I'd seriously reconsider your profession. And seeing as you're one of the best cops in the city, I would, if I were you, amend that statement."

Kate huffed and rolled her eyes. Yet, however reluctantly, she had to concede he had a point. She'd been uncharacteristically submissive with him thus far, letting him take charge and lead the way with nary a protest from her, which was slightly horrifying, because that was not how she operated. She was always the first one through the door. She was used to taking the lead in things, professionally and personally, especially in relationships.

_Whoa, stop right there!_ her inner voice interrupted her train of thought. _Why are you thinking of this as a relationship? You hardly know the guy. You went on one 'date' and kissed… once! Yes. It was mind-blowingly great, but it was just ONE kiss. It is far too early to start thinking of him as your—_

"Hey, hey… it's okay," Castle's voice snapped her out of her inner monologue, astutely perceiving her inner turmoil. His hand ran gently up and down her back. "Everything is going to be okay." He smiled at her, exuding his easy charm, cool and collected. She heaved in a quick breath and flicked her eyes up to his. "Trust me?"

"_Trust you?_" she scoffed, hardly believing his statement. "I barely know you."

He offered a shrug in agreement, glancing back at her with a teasing smirk and a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. "A technicality that can be rectified later, sweet cheeks." He winked for added effect. "But right now… we need to go." Castle turned away from her, digging his phone out of his pocket again.

Something in her snapped. Whether it was her irritation with the situation finally boiling over the tipping point or whether it was the oh so casual way he'd tossed out that last remark being the final straw, was up for debate. She was already so overwhelmed with everything else that it wasn't really surprising that something so innocuous would send her over the edge. _Chauvinist pig!_ She found her absent courage of the last few hours returned, fierce and strong, almost as if it had never left her.

"_Sweat cheeks?_" she growled under her breath, gritting her teeth as she stomped after him. "Listen, buster! The name is Kate. Kate Beckett. I'm not some tousled up harlot you picked up off the street, needing to pay for the company because you're so pathetic you can't get laid without cash!"

She paused, making certain she had his complete attention, though his arresting blue eyes almost derailed her… _almost_. "I'm a Homicide Detective in the New York Police Department. I've gone toe-to-toe with some of the lowest forms of humanity this world's ever pulled out of the dregs, and have emerged victorious. You think you're some pretty hot stuff, don't you? Well, I'm betting I can take you down with one hand tied behind my back!" Kate flushed at the end of her little tirade, chest heaving with righteous indignation. She breathed heavily, eyes wide, wondering where all that came from.

"Wow!" he arched an eyebrow and looked back at her with an impressed expression. "You're quite the spitfire, aren't you? I like."

"Just… no nicknames… _please_," she stressed, following behind him as he returned his attention to his phone. "I hate nicknames."

Castle gave her a dubious look, as if he knew better, but nodded just the same. "Understood, received and catalogued in storage," he said, tapping his temple.

"Don't patronize me," she huffed, annoyed at his blasé attitude.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he assured her, his eyes twinkling with delight. He was enjoying himself far too much, in her opinion. "Why all the sudden hostility?"

"You're kidding me, right?" she asked, staring at him with a deadpan expression, folding her arms across her chest.

"Hey," he shrugged, flashing her an easy smile. "Didn't I just save you from some embarrassment back there. Looks to me like the good doctor doesn't handle rejection well." He sighed. "Then again, his type usually don't. No doubt he probably thinks he is God's gift to women."

"And you don't?"

Castle smirked and let out a soft self-deprecating laugh. "I'm arrogant, I'll grant you that. But I'm not _that_ arrogant."

She rolled her eyes at that, finding that statement highly suspect. He merely gave her a shrug, and flipped his phone open again. Kate watched him with interest, curious as to what he was up to. Though, at the same time, it briefly crossed her mind that this would be the perfect opportunity to escape from this craziness, but she didn't. She just stood there, watching him. What did she have to look forward to if she'd left? Nothing, really. Just the boring day-to-day routine that had become her life.

Castle kept pressing down on a single button near the right top corner of the device, his eyes occasionally glancing up in-between each action. She was vaguely aware that they'd turned a corner and were now walking down a less crowded street, passing by a line of parked cars. He kept moving the phone-like device around, as if he was searching various directions for something. And then, just ahead of them, the headlights on a black Ford Taurus flashed, and the _beep-beep_ signifying that the car had been remotely unlocked sounded.

"Ah!" Castle cheered, turning toward her with a grin. "We've got a ride."

XXX

Sophia Turner suppressed a yawn as she blinked her eyes and picked up another printout for review. Ever since they'd connected Castle to the NYPD Detective, she'd been reviewing everything they had on the woman. _Everything_. The table was covered in a scattering layers of printouts, classified reports, IRS files, and other such documents, all pertaining to the thirty-three year old Katherine Beckett, daughter of Johanna and James Beckett. Turner didn't know what to think of the woman. She'd been through so much, yet had still managed to be exceedingly successful in a traditional male occupation. For that reason alone, she admired the woman. In many ways, Kate Beckett reminded Turner of a younger version of herself. She could easily see what had attracted the attention of Rick Castle.

She spotted Agent Danberg approaching before he even reached for the door handle. The conference room was surrounded, on all sides, by glass walls, allowing her to keep watch over the rest of the command center while she did some of her own research.

Danberg opened the door and stepped in, giving her a pointed look. "You've been awake for nearly 72 hours. You should get some sleep."

"I'm fine," she mumbled, ignoring his entreaties, once again having to suppress a yawn. Damn. She hated showing any weakness, especially in front of those she worked with.

"You can't survive on coffee and bagels," Danberg asserted with a stern expression, though she noted he was kind enough not to mention her internal battle with yawning. "Or the N-V-A tablets."

"I only took one," she protested, grimacing. She hadn't known he was aware she'd taken one of the energy boosting pills Langley had developed for its field operatives. She leaned back and closed her eyes, scrubbing her hands down her face, trying to stay alert.

Danberg casually sat on the edge of the table, crossing his arms over his chest, and gave her a disapproving frown. "You're only supposed to take those when you're in the field."

"We are in a bit of a crisis here," Turner asserted, close to snapping, proving just how in need of some proper rest she really was. She sighed, and brushed her dark hair back from her face. "Just… can you let it slide?"

"Okay," he relented, but held up a finger in warning. "But just this once." She nodded. Danberg was a good partner. She knew he was only looking after her best interests. "Trust me. Those pills are bad business if taken in excess. I knew a guy who swallowed three over the course of one week, and last I heard, he died of liver failure."

"Alright," Turner sighed in surrender, throwing up her hands, and standing. "I give up. I'll get some sleep." She grabbed her jacket, and gathered her things. "You should get some, too."

"I was just going to," Danberg answered, gesturing with his thumb towards the double doors on the other side of the command center that led to the small sleeping quarters. "I just wanted to check on you first."

"Thanks, Martin, that's sweet," she replied, genuinely touched by his concern. If things were different, she might have considered taking Danberg as a lover. He was good-looking, and obviously keen to see that his partner's needs were met. But, alas, she'd gone down that path before with a previous partner, and things had not turned out so well. So it was probably for the best that they kept their relationship strictly professional.

She finished gathering her things, and prepared to leave, but stopped at the door. "You'll have me notified if anything new comes up? I don't want to sleep through anything."

"We've got agents watching her place. If they see anything, I've informed Agent Jones to wake us… but only if necessary."  
"Alright," she inclined her head, accepting his judgment. "Then, I'll see you in the morning."

"See you in the morning," Danberg agreed.

Turner strode out of the conference room, and marched down the small ramp towards the double doors that led to the hallway and the sleeping quarters. She was tempted to just crash on the couch in the office to the right, but she felt like some privacy. And besides, she had some confidential calls to make before going to bed.

XXX

Okay. Something was wrong with her. Seriously wrong. The Kate Beckett she knew did not just hop into a car—probably stolen—in the middle of the night with a complete stranger. Then again, Rick Castle was unlike any person she'd ever met. And it wasn't even like he had forced her to follow him or anything. In fact, once they were far enough away from Josh's apartment building, he had released his hold on her, like there had actually been some unspoken agreement that she would freely choose to follow him.

And she had. She just went right along with him, allowing him to lead and take her away. At any point during their walk, she could have stopped him. But she hadn't.

There was something about him that made her feel relaxed, willing to follow, curious and intrigued… and aroused. Yeah. She couldn't forget that last one. He stimulated her mind and body, his mere presence enough to entice her. And that terrified Kate. No person had ever had that effect on her. But he offered something that she'd sorely needed. A distraction.

Rick Castle was the greatest distraction the universe could have ever sent her. She was in need of an adventure, one that did not revolve around her own miserable little world, and Castle offered just that, a glimpse into another world, one that looked exciting and daring. Kate had made a decision earlier that week, tired with the repetitive and boring daily routine her life had become, that she would work at embracing new and different experiences.

She had known him for only a handful of hours, but already Kate could tell. Castle… oh boy, was he an experience, one she wasn't going to let pass her by. She'd been lost, adrift in the vast ocean that was life. And in a matter of hours, and a few chance encounters, Castle had manage to begin the process of pulling her out of that hole and back into the world of the living.

So, when he had jogged around the car and got behind the wheel, Kate had just climbed into the passenger seat without really thinking it through, unable to resist the irresistible allure that was Rick Castle, man of mystery.

It was odd not being the one to drive. Kate always was the one to drive. She wasn't above admitting it made her feel a little anxious not being behind the wheel. There was still the question of where they were going. Not to mention, who he really was. Castle was silent for the most part, occasionally glancing over at her, but mainly keeping his eyes on the road. It didn't take Kate long to realize they were headed into Tribeca. When they passed a familiar bakery not far from her apartment, she turned towards Castle with a quizzical expression.

"Are you taking me home?"

Castle glanced at her for a moment. "Sort of."

"_Sort of?_" Kate shot him an incredulous look. "What the hell does that mean?" She shifted her position in the car seat so she could fix him with a more heated glare, one she usually reserved for suspects she was interrogating. "Castle!?"

"Damn, that's hot," he grinned. "You know, no one has ever said my name with such…"

"Disdain?" she hissed out with every bit the emotion behind that word.

"I was going to say _passion_," Castle hummed. He looked over at her and chuckled, no doubt so very pleased with himself for getting a rise out of her. He slowed the car and stopped when they came to a red light. Turning slightly in his seat, Castle looked at her with a wiry smile. "Sorry. I probably should have done that whole 'blue or red pill' speech before you got into the car."

Kate frowned. "I don't follow?"

"You know… like _The Matrix_, you take one, you remain blissfully ignorant while with the other you learn the truth of the world around you." The light turned green, and Castle turned his attention back to the road, driving the car through the intersection.

"Oh no, you misunderstood, I got the movie reference, I'm just not sure how it applies," Kate explained, gracing him with a tiny quirk of her lips.

Castle steered the car with a relaxed manner, changing lanes as they approached the next intersection. Kate recognized the area. They were close to her apartment, three blocks away. "Can I ask you a question, Kate?" There was a curious quality to his voice that she found intriguing.

"Sure," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, surrendering to the reality that he would probably never answer her questions. And, for some insane reason, that really didn't bother her. It was like she was some blind lemming when it came to this man.

"Why'd you get in the car?"

"What?"

"You didn't have to come with me, but you did," he said. "I wanna know… why?"

"I… I don't know," she answered honestly. Kate shook her head, and brushed back some loose strands of hair behind her right ear. "I can't really explain it. I have no idea who you are, or what you are up to, but… I couldn't help myself."

He smiled. It seemed genuine and was touched with a bit of understanding. "I know the feeling," he said, gazing at her with a look of longing in his eyes.

Kate sucked in a deep breath, stubbornly ignoring the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. He turned his attention back to the street. They were rapidly approaching her block, but before he reached Franklin, he turned onto North Moore. When she drove her department issued Charger home, Kate would occasionally turn onto North Moore to search for some parking. It wasn't always a safe bet, but she usually was able to find at least one open spot. Kate eyed Castle with interest. Obviously he wasn't just going to drop her off.

Luck was clearly on his side tonight. He'd survived a jump from the roof of a decent size building onto the hood of a taxi with just some bruised ribs and having the wind knocked out of him. And now, after acquiring a car through somewhat dubious means, he now found a parking spot. Castle grinned and with a few turns and twists of the wheel managed to perform probably the most perfect parallel parking job she'd ever witnessed. Kate turned to him with an amazed expression, impressed.

Castle shrugged nonchalantly. "I've gotten bigger into tighter fits."

Her mouth involuntarily dropped as she gazed at him in astonishment at his almost brazen innuendo. Subtle, he was not. He winked at her, and then quickly opened the door and got out of the car. Kate just sat there, feeling her insides spark and burst with a sudden onslaught of erotic images, all starring a certain ruggedly handsome man.

"You coming, Kate?" he hollered.

She nearly screamed, _Oh please, yes!_, but managed to control herself long enough to simply nod in reply. She then took a moment to calm herself, before following his lead, unbuckling her seatbelt, and climbing out of the car to join him on the sidewalk. Castle gazed at her with a knowing look, a smirk gracing his oh so kissable lips. The smug bastard knew exactly what he'd just done to her.

Just for that, Kate let out a huff and began marching down the block in the direction of her apartment. But before she could get very far, Castle was grabbing her bicep and pulling her back, pressing her up against the building wall in a manner only a lover would. It was so fast and sudden, Kate was left stunned and breathless, and his close proximity was doing nothing for her ability to focus on anything but him and the warmth his body radiated.

"You seem tense, Kate," he murmured, his mouth so close to hers. Her eyelids fluttered, her mind bombarded with memories of that wonderfully exquisite kiss they'd shared the other night. "You need to relax."

His fingers curled around her arm, while his left hand took a secure hold of her side, keeping her in place. He was strong. A lot stronger than she'd initially thought. She might have to rethink her earlier declaration about being able to take him with one hand tied behind her back. He grinned at her discomfort, and nudged a knee between her legs, moving closer, invading her personal space. She shivered, swallowing hard, trying her best to suppress the rising tide of arousal that was coursing through her body. Her gaze flicked back and forth from his lips to his startling blue eyes. Was he going to kiss her again? If so, there was a large part of her that desperately wanted it, wanted him. But it all seemed to be moving too fast.

"Cas—?"

He clamped a hand over her mouth, shushing her. "Quiet. Just play along," he whispered, shifting to nuzzle his nose against her temple, his lips barely touching the shell of her ear. Kate bit her lower lip, and closed her eyes, summoning up all her willpower to stifle down all the feelings erupting inside her. Just the other day, Josh had her cornered like this, and she'd felt nothing. Now with Castle, who was still a complete stranger, she felt everything.

It was wrong. All wrong. She needed to fight this stupid attraction. The guy was a complete ass. He'd done nothing but frustrate her since the moment he'd abandoned her at that restaurant. And he seemed to enjoy messing around with her far too much. There was no way in hell she was going to allow herself to fall for him. She was still far too broken for that. There was a reason she'd ended things with Josh. She needed to fix herself before she could even consider diving into a any kind of relationship again.

But then Castle's fingers were tenderly stroking through her hair, and she remembered how, in just the short time that she'd known him, he made her feel alive. She blinked back to reality and gazed up at him with a mixture of deep yearning, vulnerability, want, and uncertainty.

Castle relaxed his grip on her hip and let his hand gently drop back to her shoulder, slowly easing away from her as he glanced left and right. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he retreated all the way. He let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at her with his startling blue eyes, and suddenly it clicked. Yesterday, at dinner, she'd had this nagging feeling she'd seen him before. Now she knew.

"The airport, in Washington," she stammered out, still trying to recover. She heaved in a deep breath and pushed off from the wall. "It was you, wasn't it? We… we bumped into one another in the check-in queue."

"Yeah," he smiled easily. "That was me. I wasn't sure you remembered. You seemed… preoccupied at the time."

"I was, yes," she agreed with a bob of her head. "But," she pursed her lips and ducked her head bashfully. "It's not too difficult to remember eyes as stunning as yours."

"Really?" his posture relaxed and he quirked up an eyebrow. "Do tell."

Kate shook her head and chewed on her lower lip. Her brow furrowed as a sudden thought came to mind. "That bump… it wasn't an accident, was it?"

His smile disappeared and he sighed, nodding in confirmation. "No. It wasn't," he admitted. "Damn. Kate, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to drag you into this, but… I was running out of options and… and you were so distracted that it was too tempting not to resist."

"What did you do?" she questioned, the strength returning to her voice.

"Nothing bad, I promise!" he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Well, nothing _too _bad. But…" He trailed off.

"But… what?" she prompted.

Castle glanced both ways, and then gestured for her to follow him. She sighed, but relented, stepping in along side him as he briskly walked down the sidewalk towards the corner of North Moore and Varick. Ever since her shooting, Kate would have been more wary walking down a quiet street at night with only the streetlight to light the way. But with Castle by her side, her unease and anxiety was pleasantly absent. It was an odd feeling, to be free of such worries. She had almost grown accustomed to them since her return to the city from her nearly 3-month stay at her father's cabin.

"Look, Kate, I don't want you to freak out or anything," Castle said in a calm and reassuring manner that made her feel anything but. "But I slipped something into your bag."

"What!?"

"It's nothing bad, or harmful," he assured her. "At least in the right hands. But I couldn't be seen with it, and you were coming here to New York as well… so…"

"You used me as a mule," she finished. She dropped her hands to her side and huffed. "Great. Just great. Please. Oh please, please, please, don't tell me it was drugs."

"God no," Castle cringed at the suggestion. "No. Nothing of the sort." He shook his head. "Let's just say it's rather… sensitive to… national security."

"National security?" she flashed him a disbelieving look. "You're really giving me that?"

"For now, yes," he said, stopping as they reached the corner. He looked down Varick Street and narrowed his eyes. "Kate, things are complicated. And I didn't mean for it to happen, but they've identified you. And now that you've been seen with me, people are going to come after you. Bad people. They're going to act like good people, but they're not. Trust me. They are bad people. Bad. Got it?"

Kate swallowed hard as she averted her gaze, shaking her head in disbelief. "God," she groaned. "Internet dating, what was I thinking?"

"Exactly, Kate, what _were_ you thinking?" Castle teased, giving her a suggestive wink. "You're lucky. I mean, you could've met someone really crazy."

"Uh huh, yeah, really funny there, buddy," she said with a deadpan expression. "I bet you were the class clown back in grade school."

Castle adjusted his jacket and stretched his neck. "Okay, fine," he raised his hands in mock defeat. "Have it your way. But don't expect me to come to your rescue when they bury you away in some dark cell in the middle of nowhere."

"Are you even serious, or is this all some big joke to you?" she asked, really interested in his answer.

"Oh, I'm serious, Detective," he asserted, looking her straight in the eye. "Deadly serious."

"Alright," she relented with a shrug of her shoulders. "So if bad people are after me, why don't you be all gallant and walk me back to my apartment."

"That was my plan," Castle said with a grin, offering her his arm.

Kate eyed him warily, unsure if she should trust him. Yet there was something in his eyes that told her she could. She couldn't quite identify it, but there it was. He had a sincerity about him that others lacked, even when he was joking around. She gave a nod, and tentatively hooked her arm around his. They strolled down the sidewalk in companionable silence, and for just a moment, Kate allowed herself to forget the circumstances of their meeting and just enjoyed the company. As they got closer to the corner of Varick and Franklin, Kate couldn't help but notice two generic black SUVs parked on either side of the street.

She gripped Castle's arm tightly and pulled them to a stop. "Someone's watching my place!?" she hissed into the night.

"I know," Castle said, giving her a sad smile.

"How'd you—?"

"Later," he promised. "I really should start with an apology first." Tilting his head towards her, he glanced at Kate with a sincere look of remorse. "Sorry."

"Sorry? For what?" Kate asked, utterly bewildered by the entire exchange.

"This," Castle asserted as he wrapped an arm around her in what appeared to be an awkward half hug. If she weren't so occupied with confused thoughts earlier, she would have noticed him reaching inside his jacket and retrieving a dark object with a long cylindrical end. Before she could even register the cold steel pressed against her temple, Castle was gripping her tightly and marching her down towards the corner of Varick and Franklin at gunpoint.


	9. Chapter 8

**Private Eyes – Chapter 8**

The bullpen was relatively quiet at this hour. The day shift had already clocked out, only leaving the night crew, plus a few holdovers, still working on cases. Detective Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito were both firmly planted at their desks, reviewing witness statements for what seemed liked the hundredth time. Hubris. It was a bitch. They'd been all smug in their belief that they could handle things without Detective Beckett, but they were wrong. It wasn't the difficulty of the cases that had down them in; no… it was the workload. When Beckett was there, they were able to split it three-ways. But with her out on vacation, it was just the two of them.

"Why are we still here?" Ryan groaned, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, stifling a yawn.

"What's the matter, _honey milk_," teased Esposito with a smirk. "Does the bride-to-be have you on a tight leash?"

"At least I have someone waiting for me at home," came Ryan's retort; it had more bite to it than he'd intended. "Sorry, man, it's just that we've been working like crazy for the past couple of days, and I miss Jenny. And… after the long day we've had, I'm just plain exhausted."

"Me too, bro. Me too," Esposito agreed with a sigh. "However, it looks like we'll be pulling an all-nighter on this one." Ryan concurred with a nod as Esposito sat up, heaving himself out of his chair. "Why don't I get us some coffee?" He gave his partner a slap on the shoulder to show there were no hard feelings and walked past him, heading in the direction of the break room.

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks." He ruffled his fingers through his hair, inhaling and exhaling deeply, before he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the desktop, and glared back down at the witness statement he was currently reviewing. He growled in frustration and picked up his phone, texting Jenny to let her know he might be in late, if he even made it back at all. After sending the text, Ryan turned his attention back to the witness reports. He was just finally getting into a nice reading groove, when his computer beeped, alerting him to a priority email.

He turned towards the monitor and opened the email. It was a priority APB on a person of interest connected to a case involving national security. He sighed, losing some interest. Being in New York, they got a lot of these, most of which were handled by different divisions within the department, such as Major Crimes, or the Counterterrorism squad. But still, as a sworn officer, it was his duty to assist when possible.

Ryan downloaded the attachment, ready to print off the APB so he could then tack it up on the bulletin for the rest of the precinct to see. But as the attachment loaded, his eyes grew wide with shock. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"You want some sugar, right?" Esposito sauntered back from the break room, chuckling to himself, two mugs of steaming hot coffee in his hands. "Yo, bro? What's up?"

"Ah, man… you're not going to believe this, Espo," Ryan said, spinning his monitor around to show his partner. "The Feds just put out an APB for Beckett!"

XXX

From what he could see there were two unmarked black SUVs, maybe more. He didn't know. He couldn't tell from this vantage point. The windows were tinted, so no luck counting the number of agents Turner had sent. She had to be the one behind it. No one else would be as relentless or persistent as her. Though, on second thought, it could have been Danberg. Sending a group to watch a place was totally his style. But Turner would've been the one to give the order. Of that, there was no doubt.

"What… what are you doing?" Beckett gritted out. He tightened his hold around her, feeling her body go tense as he pulled her closer to his, as if he was using her as a human shield.

"Shh," he hushed, leaning his head against hers. He couldn't help but breathe in her intoxicating scent. Cherries, with a hint of vanilla and something else that was uniquely her. "Everything's going to be alright. Trust me." She arched her neck to glance back at him, looking at him like he was crazy. "I'm helping you out here."

"Helping me—? Really?" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Because it kinda looks like—" her eyes flicked over to the gun pressed against her temple, "you wanna kill me."

"Kate, I'm not trying to kill you," he couldn't stop the small quirk of his lips. As if. Besides, he could think of far better things he'd want to do to her.

"How do I know that?" she protested with a scoff.

"Because you're not dead."

He hated doing this, worried as to the mental distress it would cause. However, it was a necessary evil. They needed to get into her apartment building. If there were another way, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But there wasn't. And he didn't have the luxury of free time to sit around and come up with a better way to get inside the building. He had to retrieve Spyglass. Plus, this little subterfuge might work in Beckett's favor, likely trauma notwithstanding. If Turner and her CIA goons thought Beckett was just a hostage, an unwilling pawn in his schemes, then maybe… just maybe, she'd be safe.

As suspected, the moment they arrived at the corner of Varick and Franklin, the doors on the SUVs popped open, and several brawny agents burst out, guns already drawn. The agents fanned out around them, forming a semi-circle. Castle smirked, pulling Beckett more snuggly against his broad frame, enjoying the physical contact. Beneath her tough exterior, she was all woman.

"Evening, fellows," Castle inclined his head as if he were meeting a bunch of friends for a long overdo get-together. His eyes scanned the group, counting five men. "Five. That much, eh? Just to capture little old me? Wow… I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted."

"Don't move!"

"Freeze!"

"Drop the gun!"

The same series of phrases bounced around the circle of agents as they surrounded them. Castle held Beckett close, smirking into her hair as he watched. "Just be quiet and let me handle this, okay?" he murmured into her hair, only pulling back when he registered the slight nod of her head. He chuckled and glanced around at the agents, all dressed in cheap suits. "Gentlemen, don't you think all the theatrics are a bit much?"

"For you… no," the lead agent answered his question.

Castle shifted his gaze to the man, quickly assessing his opponent. The man was well built, with a square jaw and crisply cut blond hair, grim expression. His posture was straight, and he held himself with confidence. Despite that, it was almost too easy to spot the man's weaknesses. After extensive training and years in the field, what to look for had become second nature. He was already plotting out how best to incapacitate him. The others were about the same... all young and inexperienced, green. They were probably exceeding their orders, wanting to prove to Langley that they had initiative and the drive for the overseas special ops. Danberg had probably told them to just watch the place, call in for back up if he had made an appearance. They certainly had no idea what they had gotten themselves mixed up in. But he couldn't fault them for their determination. He still remembered that feeling, fresh off the farm, eager to please his superiors.

"Look, this can go one or two ways," he spoke calmly, directing his gaze towards Blondie. "One, you let me… and my guest pass unmolested. Or two, I take you all out."

The lead agent's stony façade faltered for a moment. Ah. So they had been briefed on who he was. Blondie knew enough to take his threat seriously. Castle shifted his hold on Beckett. Blondie's eyes snapped up, as if noticing the gun for the first time.

"Release her!" the young agent commanded, his voice firm, yet Castle could sense the trepidation hidden beneath the surface.

"Sorry, can't do that," he said cheekily. "You see, me and Detective Beckett are quite pressed for time. So, if you'd kindly move aside, we can go on about our business."

Blondie ignored him.

Castle sighed. "Seriously?" He shook his head in disappointment. "I really didn't want to have to do this, but I'm afraid you left me no choice."

In one swift move, he moved the gun away from Beckett's head and aimed at Blondie. He squeezed the trigger, and the retort echoed through the empty street. And before the impact could register in the agent's eyes, Castle already had the gun back up against Beckett's temple.

Blondie stood there for a moment, frozen in shock, before it finally hit him. He looked down and saw the wound on his thigh. It was probably the first time he'd ever been shot. Castle felt some pity for the young man. In this line of work, it probably wouldn't be the last time. Blondie collapsed on the sidewalk, the other young agents retreating back a pace of two. Castle suspected that none of them had ever seen someone move that fast. He locked eyes with the stunned agent.

"It's okay," he assured him. "It's going to be okay. I shot you through and through. No bone. Nowhere near the femoral artery. It's good. It's going to be all good. Okay? You're good?" The man nodded slightly. "Good." Castle turned his attention back to the four remaining agents. "Alright… everybody back!" he waved his gun around wildly, clutching Beckett's bicep as he pulled her with him. The agents, though stunned, kept to their training and moved with them, ignoring their fallen comrade. He wasn't in any danger after all.

"Hey! No!" he shouted, pouring on the crazy when he spotted one of the agents—a man with bright ginger hair—got too close. "Get back. Back… back, back!" Castle spun frenetically. "You," he pointed the gun at another agent. "Get down! DOWN!" He brought the gun back up to Beckett. "Or I will blow her head off!" She tensed in his grip as he repeated the threat. He flashed Beckett a wink, but he didn't know if she saw it. "No one follows us… or I kill myself, and then her. Either way, we're both dead, and you get nothing."

"I don't think they're buying your 'crazy' act, Castle," Beckett hissed out, clearly vexed with the situation.

"Too over the top?"

"A little."

They pirouetted in place, slowly making some headway towards their destination. But as he turned again, he spotted some movement out of the corner of his eye. Instinctively, he kicked his foot out and knocked the guy in the stomach, sending him careening to the ground. "What did I say? Huh?" he sighed in disbelief. "God… come on? What did I say!?"

When he turned, he spotted Ginger sprawled out on the sidewalk, curled in on himself. The three remaining agents stalked after them as Castle led Beckett towards the front door of the building. She was still stiff and tense, but he was pleased that she wasn't fighting him. Though, he did take note of the wide look of shock in her eyes.

"Release her!" one of the agents shouted.

"Afraid I can't do that," Castle said, smiling politely at the man. The guy on the left got a little too close for his liking, so with gun in hand, Castle quickly spun around, and rammed the agent in the face with his fist. The man fell down to the ground with a bloody nose. The two remaining agents exchanged worried glances. Castle stared back at them with a maniacal grin. "Who's next?"

They both made a move at once, but he was prepared for that. It was almost too predictable. He shoved Beckett towards one man. Caught off guard by his actions, she went careening into the agent, knocking him off balance, giving Castle the time he needed to take care of the other one. Spinning on his heels, he raised an arm, swiftly knocking the man's gun away, and hitting him in the solar plexus with a quick strike of his other hand. The man staggered back, off balance. It was then just an easy matter of sweeping the agent's feet out from under him. The man landed with a thud and groan on the sidewalk, shaking his head in a startled daze.

Castle quickly turned his attention to the last agent standing. The man was pushing Beckett out of the way as he raised his gun. Castle moved fast, flinging his gun towards his opponent with a quick jerk of his wrist. The cold steel collided with the man's face, and he toppled over, clutching his forehead. Castle calmly walked over and retrieved his gun, holstering it back inside his jacket before glancing down at the stunned agent.

"Do yourself a favor, and stay down," he said. He turned back to Beckett and smiled, grabbing her arm and tugging her towards the door. "Shall we?" Castle opened the outer door, and with his hand on her lower back, nudged her inside. He stepped in behind her as she stood there, watching him with wide eyes. He winked, and turned around to jam the door shut, hopefully delaying any attempt the recovering agents made at following them.

Castle turned to Beckett with a smile, placing his hands on her shoulders as he guided her through the inner door and into the small lobby of the apartment building. Once he'd secured the door, and released his hold on her, Beckett spun around, a defiant glint in her eye, and slapped him right across the face. He'd been expecting it, seen it coming, and could have stopped it, but he didn't. He deserved it.

"You asshole!" she spat out. "What the _hell_ was that?"

"Couldn't be helped," he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, gently rubbing his hurt cheek. He'd underestimated her strength. He wouldn't do that again. "I did warn them."

She shook her head, as if he'd misunderstood. He frowned, knitting his eyebrows together and waited her out. "I don't mean those guys out there, Castle… I mean the gun! What was that?"

"Oh, the gun," he nodded, finally seeing her point. "Yeah, sorry about that." Castle ducked his head guiltily and averted his eyes. "I'm afraid it had to be done." He took a tentative step towards her. "If I've cause you any harm at all, I'm really sorry, Kate. That wasn't my intent. I was trying to protect you."

"_Protect me_!?" she scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, not at all convinced. "_Please_… explain to me how holding a _gun_ to my head does that? And don't give me any of that national security BS. I think I deserve the truth."

Castle looked her dead in the eye and agreed. "You do. And I will. I promise. But… not here. Not now. We don't have much time." He gestured towards the elevator. "We should go."

Beckett stared at him for a long second before surrendering. "Fine," she sighed, though she didn't look like she believed him. He placed a hand on the small of her back as she led the way down the hall to the elevator.

A door creaked behind them, and Castle reacted on instinct. Sensing someone right behind him, he jabbed his elbow back, hitting whoever it was in the stomach and knocking them down to the floor. _Wow, that was fast_, he thought. He hadn't expected the agents to recover so quickly. But instead of one of the agents, Castle found an old man lying on the floor, clutching his stomach.

"Ernie!" Beckett cried out, pushing past him to kneel by the older man.

"Ernie?"

"Ernie Hostetler, the building manager," she elaborated, flicking her hair out of her face as she glared up at him, anger flaring in those beautiful eyes.

"Oh," Castle said, scrunching up his face in apology as he looked down at the man. "Sorry, I thought you were making a move. Sorry." He squinted as he looked the man over. "Yeah… you should probably put some ice on that."

"_Castle_," Beckett groaned.

"Well, he shouldn't have tried playing the hero," he asserted, again waving an apologetic hand down at the man. He bent down and grabbed her arm. "Come on, we should get going."

"We can't just leave him."

"He'll be fine. Tough old guy like that."

"I'm not leaving him like this, Castle," she growled, glaring up at him defiantly. "If you want me to come with you, then you have to let me help him."

Castle pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, and flipped it open. He quickly checked his link with the CCTV security cameras outside. Most of the agents were still rolling on the ground. Glancing back at the old man, and then at Beckett, he felt his will weakening. Why… oh, why did she have to be so beautiful? He sighed, "Okay, fine."

XXX

She blinked her eyes, and squinted in the bright light. Groaning, she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked up to see Agent Danberg, looking ruffled and sleep weary, standing by the foot of her bunk. "What is it?" Turner asked, scrubbing a hand up and down her face, trying to wake up.

"The team watching the Beckett residence just called in," he said.

"Castle?"

"Yes," Danberg nodded. "And more. I wasn't planning on waking you, but I think you really should see this."

XXX

"Are you sure you're okay?" Kate asked, not for the first time, wanting to make sure that they didn't leave Mr. Hostetler down here with any serious injuries. He was a sweet old man, and he'd been kind to her ever since she moved in. She didn't want to just leave without making sure everything was all right with him.

"Yes, I'm fine, Kate," the old man said, taking her hand in his own and patting it reassuringly with the other. They had him reclining back in his armchair with an ice pack and some water. "Just got the wind knocked out of me." He chuckled. "My own fault really for sticking my nose into other people's business."

Kate opened her mouth to object, but he shushed her with a wave of his hand.

"Don't worry about me, Kate," he asserted. "You can go. Your young fellow seems in quite the hurry to leave. I hope I didn't interrupt anything." He wiggled his bushy eyebrows, a knowing glint in his eye as he winked.

"No," Kate answered, maybe a little bit more forcibly than was strictly required. "No…," she repeated, more softly. "You didn't. Just… if you need anything, please, call me."

He nodded, and leaned back into his chair with a sigh, adjusting the ice pack pressed against his upper abdomen. Kate squeezed in his knee, before standing back up and walked over to Castle, who was waiting by the front door. He'd been checking that phone-like device almost ever minute, and was tapping his foot impatiently.

"You done?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm done," she replied evenly.

"Good," he nodded. "Let's go." He opened the door for her and gestured for her to precede. She looked back one more time at Mr. Hostetler before ducking out into the hallway, but not before hearing Castle apologize once again. Despite her own irritation with the man, she couldn't help the small tug of her lips. He might have been impatient, but his apology was genuine.

They rode up the elevator in silence. Kate had to suppress a shiver when his hand gently pressed against the small of her back as they exited onto her floor. There was an undeniable attraction between them. However, she couldn't allow her body to betray her like that. She was angry with him, and rightly so. He'd held a gun to her head, and it was taking all her inner will to state together and not succumb to haunting memories it conjured up. So far, Kate believed she was managing quite well, better than she'd expected. She smirked. It had felt good to slap him.

Stopping at her door, she paused. What was she doing? Why did she trust this man? What was so sensitive to national security that he'd used her to smuggle it out of Washington, D.C.? A hundred different scenarios flooded through her mind. As a homicide detective it wasn't too difficult to imagine the worse. He was clearly a trained professional. And fast. She had been left speechless by how quickly he'd taken care of those agents. Was he really the good guy, like he claimed? Or was he something else? Something dangerous?

As if sensing her hesitation, Castle moved his hand up her back to grip her shoulder. It wasn't painful, but still firm nonetheless. He glanced both ways, before nodding his head. "Open the door."

"Only if you answer a question first," she asserted, swallowing down her apprehension and projecting an image of the strong and fierce detective.

"Okay, just one. Then will you open the door?"

She nodded.

"Then ask away."

"My apartment. What's in it that you need so desperately that you'll break the law, take me hostage, and assault Federal agents?"

"The truth?"

"By all means. Yeah, that would be nice."

He took a deep breath before answering. "The key to saving my daughter."


	10. Chapter 9

**Private Eyes – Chapter 9**

_"The key to saving my daughter."_

Wow, that was so not what she'd been expecting. Kate had been almost absolutely positive he was going to say something about the fate of the country—or the world—was at stake, but trying to save his _daughter_. No. That hadn't even been in the wheelhouse. It came completely out of left field, and she honestly didn't know how to respond. Once again, Rick Castle had left her speechless. She stared at him, mouth open, unable to find any words. He looked at her expectantly, glancing towards the door. She blinked, and released a breath, pulling her eyes away from him, and fumbled with her keys before opening the door and stepping across the threshold.

Castle followed, closing the door behind her. He turned the deadbolt, and slid the two security chains into place. His eyes slowly lifted to lock with hers, and a disquieting silence descended between them. Kate didn't know what to do or say. Part of her even wondered if he had even told her the truth. He hadn't exactly been honest with her before. She had no reason to trust him. But the anguished look on his face appeared to be genuine. If he was lying to her, and this was all some sort of elaborate act to gain her trust, then she'd have to give him a round of applause. He was damn convincing.

She stared at him, trying to get a read on the man. Kate still wasn't entirely sure who he was, even if Rick Castle was his real name—which she doubted—but from what little she'd seen, she believed him to be some sort of covert operative, highly skilled and effective at his job. And if she had to guess what agency he worked for, she'd have to say the CIA. But he didn't seem like the sort to betray his country. So whatever had happened to his daughter—if that really was the truth—it had been more than enough to make him turn rogue. It was rather worrisome. Kate knew and understood the dark and destructive path investigating something so deeply personal could lead. She'd been down the rabbit hole and barely survived. Despite only knowing Castle for less than a day, Kate didn't want to see that happen to him.

"Where's your roller?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Huh?" she knitted her eyebrows together, confused, her mind lost in its wanderings, still so muddled with other thoughts. Those agents on the street had been intent on subduing him and taking him into custody. But they obviously hadn't expected his level of resistance.

"Your suitcase from the D.C. trip," he expanded. "Where is it?"

Kate's eyes snapped up to his. It took her just a moment to remember why they were here, in her apartment, and what it was that he wanted. "In my bedroom," Kate supplied, indicating the direction with a wave of her hand and stepping back to get out of his way.

He nodded, and stalked across the living room. Without comment or pause, he pushed the door open and stepped inside her bedroom. Kate remained standing there, frozen to spot, before she realized that Castle had just entered her bedroom without her. God knows what else he might look at while he was unsupervised. Shaking her head, Kate quickened her pace, nudging the door further open as she entered her bedroom. She was just in time to see Castle slip his hand into the unzipped back pocket of her roller case and retrieve what looked liked a USB flash drive.

"So is that it?" she asked. "The key that will save your daughter?"

Castle glanced up at her. "In a manner of speaking, yes," he said, holding the flash drive up for her to see. It was thin and slate gray in color. "At least, that's the plan." He quickly pocketed it and stood up, staring at her with a look of uncertainty. She swallowed, a little uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, his eyes warm and soothing. But at the same time, she felt a tingle dance down her spine and pool in her center, igniting thoughts and urges that shouldn't be there at present. It had been a long time since a man's gaze had stirred such feelings within her. And, she realized with surprise, she'd never felt this way when Josh had looked at her. Why was Castle so different?

"So…?" she hedged, ducking her head down and shifting anxiously, feeling uncharacteristically unsure of herself. Bringing her eyes back up, she gazed at him questioningly. "This is it?"

He pursed his lips and she watched as his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His blue eyes broadcasted his own apprehension. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and she held her breath, on edge as she waited for his answer, heart thumping profoundly beneath her ribs. She didn't know why, but a large part of her wanted him to say 'no'. Indecision stifled her. She'd never been faced with such a dilemma… with such a man. He was exciting, and being with him had brought a thrill into her life that had been severely lacking. He was a mystery, and she wanted to solve it. It helped too, that he wasn't that bad on the eyes.

"I wish it wasn't, but yeah… I guess it is," Castle said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, Kate… I… I wish things could be different. That we'd met at another time, another place… but I can only wish. It doesn't change reality. I'm sorry."

He closed the distance between them and brought up a hand to cup her cheek. Her breath hitched up as he moved closer, nudging their noses together. Kate closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, losing herself in his presence. She wondered if his heart was beating as wildly as hers.

"I… I wish for so many things," he mumbled, his breath warm against her lips, which quivered in anticipation. And then his mouth was covering hers, wondrously kissing her.

Kate responded in kind, bringing her hands up and running her fingers through his luxurious brown locks, kissing him back with a fervor that surprised even her. She smiled into his mouth as she heard a groan rumble up his throat. It was glorious, lighting up all the dark places within her, making her feel alive and… loved? Eventually, however, like all good things, it had to end.

Castle pulled back, releasing a sigh of regret at breaking their connection, and rested his forehead against hers, the pad of his thumb tenderly caressing her jawline. Kate's eyes fluttered open, and she returned his shimmering gaze, sharing air with him as they worked at calming their breaths.

"Extraordinary... so extraordinary," he crooned with a soft smile, caressing her face as he pressed one last chaste kiss to her lips before stepping back. "Goodbye, Kate. I… I wish you all the luck in the world."

He made a move to step around her, but Kate grabbed his arm and yanked him back, shaking her head. "No. You don't get to leave like that… not after that kiss."

"It was pretty good, wasn't it?" he asked smugly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Despite herself, Kate's lips quirked up in agreement. "Yes, it was."

"Dare I say… better than the first one?"

She nodded, ducking her head down as she bit her lower lip, tasting him. A blush spread across her cheeks. "I don't understand. I still don't know anything about you, yet… I feel drawn to you. I… I can't explain it."

"Then don't," he asserted, grabbing her hand in his and holding it to his chest. She swallowed, looking him in the eyes, trying not to dwell on their joined hands and how electrifyingly amazing it felt. "Just let yourself live in the moment." His eyes dropped down to her lips, and then he kissed her one more time, slow and languid, unhurried, yet at the same time instilled with a passion that simmered beneath the surface. She bit down on his lower lip as he pulled back, pleading with him to stay, but he wouldn't heed her request.

"I'm sorry I got you mixed up in all this," he said, running his fingers through her hair and down the back of her head.

"What exactly is _this_?" Kate asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.

He stepped back and sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's complicated, Kate."

"You promised you'd explain it," she reminded him, giving him a pointed look. The amorous mood was quickly fading, much to her chagrin, but she was owed some answers after everything that had happened.

"Yes, I did, and… I will, but…," he raked his fingers through his hair. "We're pressed for time here, Kate. They're not going to just sit by and do nothing."

"Who are _they_?" she demanded, frustrated at the lack of transparency, not blinking as she stared him down. There was a reason she was one of the city's best interrogators. She was relying on those skills now, trying to pry the truth from her reluctant companion. "Come on, Castle, you've got to give me something here. You don't expect me to just blindly follow you on faith alone… do you?" She paused, gauging his reaction. "Oh my God… you do!"

"Look, Kate, I know you don't trust me, but you have to believe what I'm telling you is the truth," he said, voice low and firm, leaving no room for any arguments. He was right. Despite the intense attraction between them, she didn't fully trust him. Not yet. At least, not until he explained everything. "Those bad people I told you about; They threatened to kill my daughter if she didn't do what they wanted. She's only 17, too young… too young to face the horrors that they'd bring to bare if she refused to cooperate. And those same people, they're hunting me… and now you."

"Me?"

"It was no coincidence those agents were waiting outside," he explained. "The moment they connected you with me, you became a priority. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd issued an APB for you through some domestic law enforcement agency as cover. But with those schmucks down there and the security cameras… I think we're good." He nodded. "Yeah. We've got proof you're my hostage. We've cleared you're name. With the locals at least, but it's a start. Something to build on."

Kate's mouth dropped. "What… why would they do that? These… bad people, as you call them? Is it because of that flash drive? Is that what they want?"

"Partly, yes."

"Then why don't you give it to them?" she nearly shouted.

"Because that won't save Alexis!"

"Alexis?"

Castle nodded. "My daughter." He turned his back to her, shoulders slumping. "I never meant for any of this to happen. It just did," he said. "If I could take it all back, I would?"

"Even the kiss?" Kate asked, astonished she was even asking it.

"No," Castle graced her with a fleeting smile, eyes twinkling. "Never. Not that."

She shook her head, attempting to clear her mind of enamored thoughts. "Look, Castle… this is all so… weird. But… I'll probably regret this—hell, I already do—but I'll help you," Kate spoke with a firm conviction that was almost foreign to her. Though, it hadn't really been that difficult of a decision to make. She'd made up her mind the moment he'd kissed her. All or nothing. "I'll help you save your daughter."

Castle stared at her, openly showing shock and awe. His mouth bobbed open and shut as he tried to form a response. But before he could reply the shrill ringing of her cell phone interrupted them.

XXX

With a combination of a skeptical and grim expression, Turner watched as, on the screen, rogue CIA operative Richard Castle threatened to shoot NYPD Detective Katherine Beckett in the head. She found the whole scenario rather amusing. It was so not like him. But it was convincing. Damn convincing. She'd grant him that. And the woman on screen did look afraid for her life, terrified eyes wide. It also helped that the agents on the ground, though aware of Castle's abilities, were still inexperience. For most, this had probably been their first field operation.

She frowned in dismay as she witnessed Castle's easy takedown of the five agents who had been sent to watch the Beckett residence. Her lips curled in derision. The fools had exceeded their orders, potentially blowing the entire operation. "If this is the future of the American covert intelligence community, then God help us," she grumbled, nodding to the tech seated in front of them, indicating for him to stop the playback. She crossed her arms and turned to Danberg.

"She's his hostage," he concluded.

Turner opened her mouth to object, but stopped. She glanced back at the screen, staring at the image of the tall brunette with a gun held to her head. She had her doubts, but from the evidence on hand, she really couldn't argue with Danberg's assertion.

"That's what it looks like, yes," she concurred with a nod.

Danberg leaned forward, reaching for the phone on the desk. "I'll call off the APB on Beckett," he said.

"No," Turner shook her head, stepping over to press the disconnect button on the landline phone as Danberg glanced at her with a confused expression. "Just… not yet. She may be an unwilling pawn in his games, but she still may prove to be valuable."

After some thought, Danberg lowered the phone back to it's cradle, nodding his head in agreement. "You're right. She's still a person of interest and may have information on what Castle is up to."

"Precisely," Turner inclined her head, spinning on her heels to glare back at the screen, now showing the real-time image of the inexperienced agents stumbling back up to their feet. She had a sinking feeling that Castle wasn't just returning the wayward detective home. Something else was going on. And she wanted to know. Her superiors would want to know as well. Making a decision, she strolled over to the communication hub. "Tell Farrell to pull his men back."

"Ma'am?" the communications tech glanced up at her with a confused look.

Turner looked at the screen again, before refocusing on the young woman. "You heard me."

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded, raising a hand to flick on the microphone on her headset, relaying the instructions.

Danberg cast her a questioning look, puzzled by her decision.

"They exceeded their orders," she explained. "I don't trust them not to screw this up."

He nodded in understanding. "Should we send the NYPD in?" he asked. "Castle might be more hesitant about resisting when confronted with NYPD blue."

"You think he respects them more than he does us?" Turner asked with a quirked eyebrow. Danberg shrugged. She shifted her stance and glanced away for a second. "Perhaps. But for now, I think we just need to keep eyes on him. Detective Beckett may not be his accomplice, but she's involved in this."

"But how?" Danberg inquired.

Turner shrugged, unable to answer. There had been something bugging her about Beckett's involvement. She narrowed her eyes, staring hard at the image of the frightened woman on the screen. Danberg had instructed some of the analysts to review the footage. As she watched the black and white image, a glimmer of recognition hit her. She vaguely recalled seeing Beckett on security footage before they'd followed Castle to New York.

Turning, she marched across the command center, Danberg on her heels. "Pull up the airport security tape again," she ordered as they approached the video analysts. The tech nodded, turning back to his computer terminal, and soon the monitor was filled with the footage of Castle in the check-in queue at Reagan National. Turner leaned over the tech's shoulder and watched the video. She spotted something.

"There… hold!"

Danberg squinted as he looked down at the monitor. "What are you seeing?"

On screen, Castle had just bumped into the person in front of him. He'd bent down to pick up the roller case that had fallen during the 'accidental' collision. Turner hissed out in self-reproach. How had she missed this before? The woman Castle had 'bumped' into was a tall brunette with a face she was now very familiar with. It had started there. And judging by the placement of his hand on the roller, Turner guessed Castle must have slipped something into Beckett's suitcase.

It all made sense now. The reason behind Beckett's sudden appearance in the case was now obvious. Turner had been overestimating the woman's involvement. Castle had only needed her to smuggle something to New York. And now he was going to retrieve it.

She pushed Danberg out of her way as she rushed back to the communication hub. "Cancel my last order."

"Ma'am?" the startled communications tech looked up, bewildered over the sudden change in mission directives.

"Do we have her apartment number?" she asked Danberg.

"Right here," he grabbed a folder from Agent Jones, and pulled out the printout of Katherine Beckett's driver's license. Turner snatched it and handed it to the communications tech.

"Tell them to go to this apartment and find a flash drive," she commanded. "And if they encounter resistance… they have my permission to use lethal force."

"I thought the Director wanted him alive?" Danberg stated in a hushed voice, after all some parts of the operation were still classified. Only she could sense the slight ripple in his calm demeanor.

"The Director is not out here in the field," Turner snapped her gaze back to him, annoyed with being second-guessed by her partner. "He doesn't know or understand the full extent of what's happening. We do. Castle's dangerous. He has to be stopped. We cannot allow him to disrupt national security any more than he already has."

"And what of Detective Beckett?" Danberg asked. "What if she get's caught in the crosshairs?"

"Collateral damage," Turner brushed off his concern. "She's a cop. She'd understand." She turned her attention back to the awaiting communications tech. "Relay my orders. Now."

XXX

Castle moved with lightning speed, covering the remaining distance between them in the blink of an eye. He slipped a hand inside her coat with skilled ease—which was kind of hot—and deftly retrieved the offending device. He looked it over in his hands, frowning. She raised an eyebrow in question, and he held it up for her to see the caller ID.

It read: _Ryan_.

"Kevin Ryan, he's one of my partners," she informed him.

"Then, you better answer it," he asserted, pressing the phone into her hand and stepping back to give her some space.

Kate knitted her eyebrows together, stunned that he'd actually let her talk with one of her colleagues, a fellow detective. She supposed he trusted her more than she him. Taking the phone, she held it up to her ear and tentatively answered.

"Hello?"

"_Beckett, is that you?_"

"Yeah," she furrowed her brow in confusion. "Why? Who else would it be?"

Ryan let out a nervous laugh on the other end of the line. "_It… It's just that… the FBI's put out an APB on you, Beckett. It says you're wanted for questioning._"

"Yeah, I know," she interjected, exchanging a look with Castle. He frowned; evidently super hearing was also one of his many skills. Or, as she now realized, he had surreptitiously switched the phone to speaker mode when he'd handed it to her. She flashed him a sardonic grin, before pulling the phone away from her ear and holding it out between them.

"_You know!? Wha—I don't…_," Ryan stammered in response. "_Whatever. Look, Esposito and I… well, obviously we're both worried. Is everything—?_"

Her colleague's question was cut off by what sounded like some rustling. She heard some hushed voices, and then Esposito came on the line. "_What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Beckett?_"

Kate glanced up at Castle. He returned her gaze with a steady stare, seemingly trusting her to make the decision as to how much she told her friends. "Honestly, I don't know."

"_We can meet you somewhere if you need help_," he asserted. She could hear Ryan's agreement in the background. Kate smiled, touched at the loyalty on display from her friends.

"If the FBI has an APB out on me, then I don't think it would be wise to meet," she asserted. "I don't want you guys getting into any trouble."

"_It's no trouble, Beckett_," Esposito protested. "_We're a team. We stick together_."

"I know," she sighed, and looked up at Castle, who was encouraging her to wrap it up. "And I appreciate that, but I… I can deal with this on my own."

"_Beckett… Kate_," Esposito's voice softened, and she could imagine him ducking down and hunching his back over his desk. "_Don't do anything stupid, alright? I don't want a repeat of last May_."

Her throat seized up as she was immediately assaulted with memories of that day—the sorrow the filled the air as she stepped up to the podium… the bright sun, the fresh green grass… the pain in her chest. Castle placed a hand on her shoulder, and she startled back to the present, opening her mouth for a quick intake of oxygen.

"No… it's… this is different," she said.

"_If you say so_," he sounded unconvinced. Esposito knew too well just how easily it was for her to fall down that rabbit hole. He'd witnessed it far to many times. They all had. Kate's heart clenched at the thought. Her friends shouldn't have had to deal with the fallout of her obsession.

"I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"_Can't promise that_," Esposito replied, and she smiled, once again touched by the concern and loyalty from her brothers in arms. "_Just… if you need anything, _anything_ at all, Kate… you call us_."

"I will. Promise," she said, and then hung up.

Castle took the phone from her, and immediately disassembled it, removing what, to her, appeared to be nothing more than some random circuit before he put it back together. He handed it back to her with a smile, his eyes sparkling with a boyish charm that melted her insides. Kate slid the phone into her pocket, disinclined to question him upon what it was he had just done. She'd ask him later. For now, she'd just accept it. He followed her with his eyes as she slowly worked her way around her room, her hand absently coming up to search for the ring dangling on the chain around her neck. His eyes flicked down, noticing the gesture.

"What happened last May?" he asked in a quiet voice, soft and filled with a touch of concern, which was surprising coming from the man who had just held her at gunpoint not too long ago.

"I… I don't want to talk about it," she averted her eyes, releasing her hold on her mother's ring as she became aware of her unconscious habit.

He inclined his head in understanding, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "If you've changed your mind about—"

"No," she asserted, her head snapping back up. "I'm coming with you, Castle," she continued with an easy smile. "You're not getting rid of me that easy."

He chuckled, and his eyes softened as he looked at her. She gazed back at him, her heart clenching with emotions that she should definitely not be feeling so early in their… _relationship_? But it couldn't be helped. Some things just were beyond her control. She, more than anyone else, understood that.

"Okay," he relented, his returning smile lighting up her world. Their moment was interrupted by a buzzing sound. Castle pursed his lips, and dug his old fashioned phone out of his jacket pocket. Kate frowned and arched her neck, catching a glimpse of the screen.

"How'd you tap into the CCTV cameras?" she asked, almost incredulous. He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand to stop him. "Wait… on second thought, I don't want to know."

Castle winked, and glanced back down at the screen, shaking his head in consternation. "Shit." After two more seconds, he flipped the phone close and shoved it back into his pocket. He walked over to her roller, and grabbed the handle. "Good thing you didn't unpack," he said, as he turned back to her. She glanced at him with a bewildered expression. "Cause, we gotta go… like now!"

"But… but all those are dirty? I'd planned on doing the laundry tomorrow," Kate feebly objected.

"Sorry, but you'll have to make do."

"Castle!" she growled.

"Fine," he sighed, shoving the roller into her arms. "I'll give you five minutes to pack some fresh clothes." He winked at her, and pulled his phone out again, flipping it open.

Kate huffed and turned around, unzipping the roller, unceremoniously dumping its contents into the hamper. She paused, eyeing her open closet. Castle glanced up at her, encouraging her to hurry. She sighed, dropping the roller, and reached for the duffel on the top shelf inside the closet. She unzipped it, and grabbed a pair of running sneakers. Rushing over to her dresser, Kate quickly went through her drawers, grabbing an assortment of clothing that she hoped were appropriate for life on the run.

God, she couldn't believe it. She'd always prided herself on being the best cop possible, yet here she was, willingly becoming a fugitive from justice. Why?

She glanced over at Castle, watching as he scratched his chin, his blue eyes locked on the screen of his phone. Her lips tugged upward on their own volition and her heartbeat quickened. Yeah. Okay, that's why. And if Castle was right, and they bought the whole hostage act, she should be okay, at least with the NYPD. Kate turned back to her task, opening her lingerie drawer, discreetly adding two pairs of alluring bra and panties to the bland and utilitarian pairs she'd already deposited into the duffel. _Just in case_, she told herself.

"You done?"

Kate jumped, startled by Castle's sudden close proximity. She frowned at his mischievous expression, wondering just how much he'd seen. "Almost," she answered. "I just need to grab some socks."

"Hurry," he said, glancing down at his phone. "They're in the elevator."

"What!?" she exclaimed, shoving four pairs of clean socks into the duffel and zipping it up. "How… how are we going to escape?"

He looked around. "Fire escape?"

"This way," Kate said, carrying the duffel bag in her hands as she led the way.

Castle held her duffel as she climbed out the window and out into the cold night air. She gritted her teeth as the metal platform groaned under her weight. It was probably too late to wonder about the maintenance upkeep. Besides, Castle was already sliding out the window and joining her. He handed her the duffel, and then swiped his gun out of his jacket.

"Lead the way, I'll follow," he insisted, gesturing for her to move.

Kate heaved in a quick breath and took off down the metal staircase, moving as fast as she dared. She wasn't going to risk slipping and breaking her neck on a fall. The scar between her breasts twisted as she made a turn, and pain shot through her body. She clenched her jaw, suppressing the cry that wanted out. Castle must have noticed the stiffening of her body as she fought the pain.

"Here, give me the duffel," he said, taking it before she could respond. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she hissed out.

He gave her a dubious look, but thankfully didn't question her further. They continued down the fire escape, until a soft pop and responding ricochet caught her ear. Castle groaned, placing a hand on her shoulder and shoving her forward, urging her to go faster. Kate didn't argue. _Holy shit,_ she thought. _They're really shooting at us_. And from the sounds of it, these guys were using silencers. Suddenly Castle's assertions about 'bad people' being after them became a lot more believable.

She could hear the clambering of their pursuers, but didn't risk looking back. Feeling the metal structure wobble, Kate grabbed the railing for support as she made the final turn. Castle paused behind her, arching his back and aiming above them, taking two shots. The reverberations echoed off the building facades.

"Go," he kicked the lever and the ladder unfurled with a loud clanging noise that filled the night air. Castle tossed the duffel over the side and it landed with a thud on the sidewalk below.

Kate swung her leg over the edge, suppressing a groan as her scar twisted, and hastily climbed down. She looked back up, grabbing a step to hold the ladder steady as Castle followed. He slid down the metal ladder, a move reminiscent of an action hero from a summer blockbuster. She bit her lip, impressed. Castle landed on his feet, and winked at her. She grinned back. His eyes narrowed, and before she could question him, he was shoving her aside and raising his gun. One shot sounded, and Kate glanced up to see a man collapse, clutching his shoulder. She didn't know why, but it pleased her that he hadn't killed the man.

Castle retrieved the duffel and held out his hand. "Come with me if you want to live."

Kate snorted, and rolled her eyes at the cheesy line, but accepted his proffered hand nonetheless. The shouts of their pursuers faded as they rounded the corner and dashed down North Moore Street. She spotted the black Taurus they'd driven in earlier, and turned to head for it, but Castle tugged her hand, shaking his head. They continued on, feet pounding the pavement as they turned onto Hudson and then curved onto Ericsson Place, where there were some parked cars.

Castle slowed to a trot, holding up his arm to stop her. He handed her the duffel bag, and pulled his phone-like device back out of his jacket pocket. Her chest heaved as she stood there, taking the opportunity to catch her breath. Her heart was hammering, and she could hardly hear over the thumping in her ears. The scar along her side ached, but she ignored it. She silently berated herself for being so out of shape. It didn't matter the trauma she'd recently been through. Running two city blocks should not affect her like this. In the past, before the _incident_, such a feat would have been a cakewalk.

Halfway down the block, a car responded to Castle's device, flashed its lights and beeped, unlocking. Kate couldn't help but noticed that it was also a Taurus, but this time it was silver. Castle opened the trunk, and Kate dropped the duffel in the rear compartment. He grinned at her as they jogged back to the front, climbing in. Kate closed the door and pulled the seatbelt across her torso, buckling herself in. She glanced over, and watched as Castle pointed his phone at the console, his thumb pressing a flat black button on the side of the odd device.

"What are you doing?" she asked through panting breaths, furrowing her brow as she watched.

"Using the craft," he mumbled enigmatically.

The car roared to life, and Castle flashed her a triumphant grin. Kate attempted to smile back, but it fell flat. Her heart was still pounding beneath her chest, her side ached, and her scars were throbbing. She swallowed, stifling the watering in her eyes as her pain suppressors began to wear off, along with the adrenalin. Kate wondered if she'd made a mistake in coming with Castle. After all, she really didn't know what she'd gotten herself in to. But one look at him, and the flutter it caused inside her, was enough to overrule her better judgment. She may be acting out of character, but she didn't care. She was done with the dull ache of a sad and lonely life. Her mother wouldn't have wanted that for her, as Dr. Burke had helped her realize.

Castle presented Kate with an opportunity to do something different, something exciting, yet still worthwhile. If Castle was to be believed—and after being chased out of her own apartment by shadowy agents, she was inclined to believe him—a young woman was out there, somewhere, in need of help. Kate was determined to offer what assistance she could in saving her. And if she happened to have fun while doing it, then so be it.

Kate finally found her smile, letting out a relieved breath as Castle, unaware of her inner thoughts, put the car into gear. He glanced over his shoulder, before accelerating away for the curb and out into the quiet street, speeding her away from her apartment and life as she knew it.


	11. Chapter 10

**Private Eyes – Chapter 10**

The world was unexpectedly spinning around her, disorientating and confusing. Searing pain shot through her entire body as she was propelled backwards, landing hard on the soft green grass. She wanted to scream and cry, but all words were clogged up in her throat. The pain rippled through her, stemming from a single spot on her chest. She could feel it, the liquid essence of her life force leaving her, coating her torso in horrific warmth. It was difficult to breath, and she had trouble focusing, vaguely aware of people shouting, their words incomprehensible. Her vision was blurry and all she could see was the blue sky above.

Why… why was it so blue?

A bright light—the sun, perhaps—flared in her periphery and then, a moment later, there was only the black void of nothingness.

Kate woke with a start, her body glistening with sweat, breath coming in pants. The dream faded. Only the lingering ache of the scar between her breasts and the one along her side remained as a reminder of the awful memory. She wasn't entire sure what it was that had yanked her from her dreadful slumber, but whatever it was, she was grateful. Still muddled, and recovering from her nightmare, it took a little while for her brain to register that she wasn't in her room.

It was foreign to her, only lit by the dim light filtering through the cracks in the venetian blinds from the streetlamps outside. The blanket that covered her was thin and scratch, like that kind passengers are given during long flights. Kate blinked her tired eyes and gazed up at the ceiling, staring at the curls of peeling paint. Pushing up on her elbows, Kate slowly sat up on the lumpy mattress, glancing down to notice that the goose feather pillow had lost all its substance, sagging where she had rested her head.

Where the hell was she?

Scrubbing her hands up and down her face, Kate furrowed her brow as she impatiently waited for the cobwebs of sleep to clear from her head. After washing away the lingering images from her nightmare, the first thing she was able to recall was a man with amazing blue eyes and luscious lips, his strong arms holding her tight as he kissed her senseless.

_Castle. Rick Castle._

Kate brought a hand up to her mouth, her fingertips ghosting along the curve of her lips. She still felt the phantom press of his mouth to hers. Damn, the man was a good kisser; she'd give him that. As she collapsed back into her memories, Kate slowly drew her lower lip under her teeth, recalling the raw heat of their embrace, and the long dormant passions it had ignited within her.

Yes. The fog of sleep finally lifted. She remembered now—the gunfire, the agents in suits chasing after them, the hurried exit down the fire escape of her apartment building, and then the running that made her scars throb and ache. Her hand came up to press against her chest. She absently rubbed at the puckered skin as she thought about the events of last night. Castle had hijacked a car using some sort of spy gadgetry. It had looked like one of those old fashioned flip phones, but it was clearly so much more than it appeared, just like the man who wielded it.

Glancing around the room for a second time, now more alert and aware, Kate could now easily recollect the drive across the Manhattan Bridge and into Brooklyn. Castle had said he knew of a rarely used safe house in the area, and that they should be able to hold up there for a while, at least, as he put it, _until the heat dies down_. Just like with her apartment, Castle parked two blocks away. Kate had been anxious about leaving their ride so far from the safe house, but he had assured her that if they did need a quick getaway, there was one available.

"Does that just mean you'll steal another car?" she'd scoffed, staring at him critically, already apprehensive with the number of laws they were violating, not that he appeared that overly concerned.

He'd merely chuckled at her worry, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "I prefer to think of it more as… borrowing," he had grinned at her, eyes sparkling, before then draping his arm over her shoulders, tugging her close, and taking the duffel from her. They had then walked the rest of the way to the safe house under the guise of a couple returning from an extended weekend getaway. It still surprised her at just how easily she fell into the role, and let him take the lead. Detective Beckett would never have done that. But right now, she wasn't a detective. She was off the clock, on forced vacation time. Not to mention the little fact that she was now on the run with a rogue CIA operative.

After he'd given her the grand tour of the humble one bedroom apartment, Castle had graciously offered—more like insisted—she take the bedroom while he 'crashed' on the lopsided sofa in the paltry living room. The kitchen hadn't been any better, just a tiny nook in the corner with an ancient looking refrigerator and a grimy disused electric stove. It was the definition of the classic spy cliché—the dingy safe house, the likes of which usually always popped up in some pulp fiction or discount thriller. She'd almost felt dirty just standing in the front doorway.

Kate rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes and squinted towards the door, which stood ajar, a sprinkling of light marking its edge. Fumbling in the dim light, she groped around on the busted up nightstand by the bed until she found her wristwatch. If she squinted just right, she could make out the time. Just after 1 in the morning. She hadn't really been asleep for that long, maybe just three hours at most. Shoving the blanket aside, Kate swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, curling her toes into the cold hardwood floorboards.

Raising her arms above her head, Kate arched her back as she stretched, attempting to work out the kinks in her muscles that had arisen from having slept on a rather uncomfortable mattress. Both her scars pulled, the pain dull, yet within her tolerance threshold. To be honest, she'd grown accustomed to it at this point, though she couldn't hold back the slight grimace that floated across her features.

An unexpected shiver ran throughout her body as she relaxed her muscles. Lowering her arms, Kate finally took stock of her appearance, and what she was wearing, or rather the lack thereof. She was wearing nothing but a thin undershirt and the simple black cotton panties she'd pulled on this morning. Swiveling her head around, she spotted the duffel on a dusty moth-earth armchair by the window. Lying beside the bag, draped over the arm of the chair, were her blouse and jeans.

Stepping around the bed, she quickly retrieved the jeans, and tugged them on. She thought about putting her blouse on, but decided to wear the hooded sweatshirt she'd shoved into the duffel bag. It was a little bulky on her slender frame, but it was warm and comfortable. Quietly padding across the hardwood floorboards, Kate nudged the door open and peeked out, spotting a flash movement.

It was Castle.

No. Not just Castle… a _shirtless_ Castle.

Kate licked her lips, but swallowed down the rising bait of arousal. Now was not the time to give in to her base needs—even if it had been a while since those needs had been fulfilled.

Slowly pushing the door all the way open, she slipped out as silently as possible. Castle's back was to her, every curve and contour available to her hungry eyes. There was no denying Rick Castle was an attractive man. Not only that, he was also strong, that much had been made abundantly clear from the events of the past evening. The way he'd handled himself had been nothing short of… amazing. But she had not expected to see the numerous cuts and scars, varying in size and complexity, that littered his back; a testament, no doubt, to his line of work.

Kate effortlessly recalled the last time she'd seen Castle without his shirt on, unashamedly watching as Josh had wrapped gauze around his naked torso. She'd glimpsed most of his strong chest and flat, toned stomach then, which, for the most part had been untouched, so the sight of such marks upon his back was a little startling.

"Hey, Kate."

His unanticipated greeting shocked her, causing her mouth to drop in surprise, leaving her standing there like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming automobile. She'd been as quiet as a mouse, even going so far as to tiptoe barefoot across the cold floorboards. Were his senses that attuned?

"Are you just going to stand there, mouth agape, or are you going to join me?" he inquired, not even bothering to turn and look at her.

Jolting out of her stunned daze, Kate took the necessary steps to round the sofa, and confidently sat herself down opposite him on a well-worn settee. She glanced down at the chipped and scratched top of the coffee table. Castle had completely disassembled his Sig Sauer, and was in the process of cleaning it. He was currently scrubbing the barrel.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his eyes on his work.

She rolled her shoulders, her back muscles still a little achy from the uncomfortable mattress. "The sheets are scratchy, the bed is lumpy, and the pillow is… deflated."

"Good enough answer than any," he chuckled, flashing her an apologetic grin, before returning his focus on the barrel. "Yeah, sorry about that. It's been a while since I've crashed here. Hell, I'm surprised the water and electricity still work. At least you managed a few hours of undisturbed sleep."

She nodded, not feeling inclined to correct him. He didn't need to know about her nightmares.

"You hungry? Thirsty?" he asked. "Because while you were sleeping, I ducked out to get a few things."

Kate stared at him in disbelief. "Are you crazy? I thought you said the people after us could tap into the CCTV camera throughout the city. You can… with that phone-like thing. So, I don't know, wasn't it a risk to go out like that?"

"Don't worry, I was careful," was all he said, shrugging it off like it was no big deal. She sighed in mild frustration, and brushed her hair back from her face as she inhaled a deep calmly breath. The jackass just ignored her legitimate concerns. It was a wonder he hadn't been caught already. "So… are you?"

"Huh?"

"Hungry or thirsty?" he repeated.

"No, no," she shook her head. "I'm fine." She frowned, tilting her head as she watched him work at cleaning the Sig Sauer. "How'd you know it was me?" she asked, suddenly curious.

His eyes flicked up to hers, and his lips quirked up ever so slightly. "You smell like cherries."

Kate knitted her eyebrows together, skeptical. Curling her fingers around a few locks of her long hair, she swept them over her nose for a sniff. "Really?" she cast a dubious expression his way as she released her tresses, letting them bounce back into place. "You smelled my shampoo from that far away?"

"It's a feminine scent," Castle shrugged, turning his eyes back down to his work, as if he was embarrassed. "Not the short of thing one usually associates with a ruggedly handsome rogue like myself." He paused, and glanced back up at her, making sure to look her straight in the eye. "I like it. It smells nice."

"Uh, thanks," she said, ducking her head as she smiled weakly, stifling the mild blush that started to work it's way onto her cheeks. She wasn't use to such flattery, particularly in reference to the scent of her shampoo or perfume. Her chest and ass were the usual suspects in that regard. It was rare to meet a man who saw beyond them. It was the same when he'd crashed her blind date with Andrew Miller. _You have gorgeous eyes_, he'd said. No one have ever complimented her eyes like that before, as if they were the first things he noticed about her.

"So, how'd the rest of that date go?" Castle asked, seemingly out of the blue, almost as if he could read her thoughts. He cast his eyes down, narrowing them as he finished scrubbing the barrel of his Sig Sauer. "Did Mr. Poem ever show?"

"You mean _the real_ Andrew Miller?" Kate volleyed back with a harrumph, glaring at him disapprovingly. And then added, a bit stumblingly, "Yeah. He… er… got held up in traffic."

"Ah, tough break," Castle grinned, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Poor guy. So, how'd he do?"

"Huh?"

"He get a kiss, too?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes, lounging back into the tattered piece of furniture, surprised to discover it was actually comfortable. "No. He did not. I just don't go about kissing strange men I've just met, I'll have you know!"

"Oh, could have fooled me," he chuckled, flashing her a wicked grin and winking suggestively. "So, what do you call what we did back at your place, then? Osculating?"

Kate narrowed her eyes in a glare, but found her lips tugging upwards on their own accord, matching his playful smirk. Oh, he liked the banter and teasing, this one. And she was rapidly learning that she had a penchant for it as well. It was almost better than foreplay. And if this was what foreplay was like, she couldn't wait for the… Wait? What? _No. No. No. Too soon_. She shook her head, frowning, and redoubled her efforts on her irritated glower.

"You're the one who kissed me… both times," she reminded him.

"Ah," he held up a finger, wagging it tauntingly. "But you kissed back, as you say… both times."

Kate huffed, raising her hands in surrender. He had her there. It would be pointless to repudiate. He grinned, knowing he had won, and turned his attention back to his weapon, before then redirecting it back on her. She tried not to let her gaze wander to the broad expanse of his bare chest, no matter how tempting.

"Could… um… you put on a shirt, please?" she asked, hating herself for doing so. She was enjoying the view, yes… but it was distracting. And right now, Kate wanted to be able to focus. She couldn't have the man displaying his toned pecs and those strong biceps.

Castle laughed, and his mouth spread wide, forming a smug and arrogant grin. "What's the matter, Detective? Too much skin getting you all hot and bothered?" he teased.

_You have no idea_, she thought, finding it a lot more difficult than she'd anticipated to hide just how true his words were. Still, she managed to roll her eyes and feign, at least what she hoped was, a convincing scoff. "Please, as if! Just… put a shirt on, would you?"

"Okay, okay, no need to get your panties in a knot," he chuckled, shaking his head at her as he complied with her request, stretching his arm out to grab his discarded shirt. He shrugged it on and quickly worked at buttoning it up. Unable to look away, Kate was mesmerized by the way his deft fingers notched the buttons into place. She found herself wondering what else he could do with such talented fingers. Shaking her head, she released a hot breath. Yes, despite how disappointing, it was probably for the best to remove temptation.

"By the way, I am sorry that I left. I was really enjoying that date," he offered, the sincerity in his voice undeniable. He looked truly remorseful for having cut and run, as it were. "Been a while since I was able to just sit down and enjoy a glass of wine with a beautiful woman."

She narrowed her eyes at him, now aware of his attempts at flattery. However, it wasn't as easy to suppress its effects as she'd thought. "Yeah… well, you owe me about twelve hundred dollars, _by the way_."

Castle had the decency to wince at the price. "Duly noted," he said with a crisp nod. "Sorry, I didn't intend for you to have to pay for that."

"Well, Andrew Miller refused to help out, seeing as he's allergic to grapes," she informed, a little bitterness seeping through.

"Definitely not your type then?" he chuckled.

"You could say that," Kate grinned back, finding it hard not too around this man. It was odd. She couldn't recall the last time she'd been so… happy? Just talking with Rick Castle seemed to brighten her mood. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. It was a little unnerving, but she decided it was probably best to just roll with it. _In for a penny, in for a pound_. She'd already committed herself to helping him save his daughter, and she wasn't going to change her mind on that, no matter what dangers that might entail, so she might as well just enjoy herself when she could. "Tell me about her."

"Who?" he glanced up, confused.

"Alexis."

"Oh," he knitted his eyebrows together and looked away. "Not much to tell really. I mean... I didn't even know she existed until about a month ago. I mean… I knew her for a while, I just didn't know she was my daughter until a month ago."

"Sorry," Kate said, not sure why she was apologizing.

Castle sighed, and set down the gun piece he'd been working at cleaning. He leaned back and rubbed his hand across the stubble on his jaw. "It's complicated," he said as way of explanation. She waited to see if he'd continue, but he didn't. Castle furrowed his brow and averted his eyes. He looked conflicted, probably not used to opening up and sharing so much of himself. Kate suspected it was just part of the territory that came with being a spy—not trusting people or forming attachments.

Kate shifted on the settee. "You don't have to say anymore if you don't want to."

"No, no," he shook his head, glancing back up at her with determined eyes. "If you're going to risk everything to help me, then you deserve to know." He paused. "Why don't I give you the cliff notes version?"

She bobbed her head. "Sure."

Castle swallowed and took a deep breath, building up the courage. "I had a brief—it doesn't feel right to call it a relationship—with her mother. Meredith. I… I don't even remember her last name." He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "God… I was so different back then, so young, troubled in a lot of ways, wayward and lost, alone, and… I guess I was looking for something to help me forget."

"And Meredith helped you with that?" Kate hedged, watching him closely. He was truly being open and honest with her, bare and raw. And the fact he was allowing her to witness that, which she gathered must be a rare thing, was humbling. There was a part of her the longed to just wrap her arms around him and hug him tight, prove to him that he wasn't alone anymore, even if it was too early for such things. It was silly. She still barely knew him. But it was oh so tempting.

"For a time, yes," Castle shrugged his shoulders, his eyes glancing away as if he was recalling some long lost memory. "It was right after my first… assignment." There was more there, Kate could tell—something to file away for later. "We weren't together that long. I was trying to recollect, and she… well, Meredith… she was an aspiring actress, so her attentions were more focused on trying to catch her big break than dealing with my… um… _recollecting_." He paused, pursing his lips. A hard crease formed between his eyebrows.

There was more to the story than that, beyond his vague references to something that had undoubtedly unsettled him after his first assignment. He was holding something back, but Kate chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. If it wasn't relevant to Alexis, then she didn't need to know. However, she still made a mental note to question him about it at another time.

"We just sort of drifted apart," he finished, looking somewhat forlorn, lost in his memories.

Kate was tempted to reach out and squeeze his hand in a sign of comfort and reassurance, but she held back. It was too soon for that. All they'd done was kiss. She didn't know what his intentions were, if he had any at all beyond getting into her pants. And even though she was extremely attracted to him, Kate wasn't looking for some brief affair. She'd wasted too much of her life in nowhere relationships with men she didn't love to do that. If something was ever going to happen between her and Castle, Kate wanted to make damn sure it was real, and not just carnal desires that drew them together.

"So Alexis?" she prodded, encouraging him to continue.

"Yeah…," he bobbed his head, shaking himself from the maudlin caused by his reminiscing. "As I said earlier, we weren't together for that long, and after six months, by leave was over and I was recalled to Langley to receive my next assignment." He sighed, and raked his fingers through his head, slumping back against the sofa's meager cushions. "It's my own fault, really. I never left her any contact information. I mean… it wasn't like we were dating or anything. So I can't really tell you what she did when she found out she was pregnant. What I do know is that the minute Alexis was born, she became a ward of the state. Eventually she was adopted by Gene and Alicia Harper, and she was raised in some small town in Kansas, of all places."

"So how'd she get mixed up in all this?"

"She was a prodigy. And certain powerful people took notice."

"What happened?"

"Not long after Alexis's 15th birthday, Gene and Alicia Harper died in a freak road accident," he answered, eyes darkening.

"And you don't think it was an accident?" she framed it as a question, but it was more of a statement.

"No," Castle shook his head. "Not anymore." He paused for a beat, a look of indecision manifesting its way across his face. In the end, whatever it was he was battling with, he chose to trust her. "There was no one to look after her, no extended family, so she fell back into foster care. That… that's where the Agency got her. And she just disappeared into the system."

"By 'the Agency', I'm assuming you mean the CIA?" Kate asked, finally finding a way to confirm her earlier suspicions. "They altered records, didn't they? Made it look like she'd been adopted or was never even in foster care to begin with?"

"Right on all three counts," he nodded, raising an eyebrow, looking impressed. "She was taken to a black site in D.C. where the Agency kept an eye on her, nurtured her innate talents for one single objective." He shifted and shoved his hand inside the right pocket of his pants, retrieving the slate gray USB flash drive. "This."

"What's on it?" her eyes flashed with undeniable curiosity.

Castle tossed it casually in his hand, like he would with a baseball, before clenching a fist around it. "Something extremely dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands," he answered enigmatically.

Kate felt like groaning in exasperation. Could she ever get a straight answer out of him? Telling her about his daughter and his dalliance with her mother was fine, but getting an honest answer about something important to the mission was like pulling teeth. It was extremely vexing.

"Castle, I think I deserve to know what's on that damn thing," she all but growled. "I'm risking my neck here helping you save your daughter."

"You're right, I'm sorry," he dropped his eyes, shamefaced. "It's just habit. I'm not… it's been a while since I've had a partner I could trust."

That last comment floored her. She stared at him, mouth agape, in open awe of what he'd just said. "You… you trust me?" she stammered out in utter disbelief. How could he trust her? They barely knew one another.

Castle smiled warmly at her, leaning forward to wrap his fingers around her knee. The moment he touched her, Kate could feel an electric spark shoot through her, aiming straight for her heart, warming her whole body with… feelings. Her breath hitched and she looked at him with wide eyes, awaiting his response.

"I'm a good judge of character," he said, gently squeezing her knee, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary as he pulled back. He sighed and glanced away. "Or, at least, I used to be."

She frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"My last partner tried to kill me," he tossed out that little bit of information like he was telling her the score of last night's ballgame.

"Whoa! Wait… what?" Kate stared at him in disbelief. "My God, is that how this all started?"

"Sort of," Castle answered tentatively. He swallowed and averted his gaze, his face scrunching up with a mixture of emotions: Sadness, anger, confusion, and regret among them.

Kate sat there and waited for him to come back around to her, but it appeared whatever had happened, it had been traumatic, or at the very least, disturbing. So, unable to hold back any longer, she reached out across the table to brush back the flop of hair that had fallen across his forehead. He startled, surprised by her touch. She smile softly and gently nudged his chin back up until his eyes were locked with hers. "You can tell me about that another time. Okay?"

He bobbed his head. "Yeah, okay," he released a breath. "So, because of what happened I requested some light duty for a while. My request was granted, and I was then given the assignment of protecting an asset the CIA had in D.C. with the codename 'Mockingbird'."

"Alexis."

"Yes. I got to know her… care about her. She's an amazing young woman," he smiled at that, the yet unrealized fatherly pride shining through. "And then about a month ago, while I was reviewing communication records going in and out of the site, I stumbled upon some encrypted emails. I was unable to find the recipient, but the source was undoubtedly Russian."

"How do you know that the encrypted emails was from the Russians?"

"They were all in Cyrillic."

"Oh my god," Kate was stunned. "So you're telling me there's a Russian mole within the CIA."

"Perhaps," he inclined his head. "Or that's just what they want us to think." She gave him a dumbfounded expression. "The Cold War isn't exactly over, Detective. A skilled operative would know this, and use it to their advantage."

Kate sighed, and carded her fingers through her long hair as she thought it over. "So if not the Russians, then who has Alexis?"

"What? No one," he chuckled, shaking his head at her like she was insane. "Alexis is fine. I staged a break-in and got her out of there. She's someplace safe, at least for now." He narrowed his eyes and looked away distractedly.

"What!?" Kate nearly screeched, snapping his attention back to her. "My God, Castle… if she's safe, then what the hell are we doing here? And why'd you get me mixed up in all this!?"

"Huh?" he glanced at her, clearly baffled by her outburst. "I said she was safe, not that she was out of danger."

"Doesn't one imply the other?" she questioned through gritted teeth.

"Sadly, no, not in this case," he replied. He twirled the flash drive around in his fingers. "I can't trust anyone in the CIA. They all think I've gone rogue. And I don't really have that many friends. So I'm sort of on my own… present company being exception." Castle paused for a beat. "Whoever is after this…," he held up the flash drive. "If they can't get their hands on it, they're going to go after the next best thing."

"Alexis."

Castle nodded in confirmation.

"So what are we going to do?" she asked.

"Find the mole, and expose them."

"How?"

"By using this," he tossed around the flash drive in his hand again, "as bait."


	12. Chapter 11

**Private Eyes – Chapter 11**

Roselyn Karpowski had been on duty when multiple reports of gunfire around Beckett's apartment had come in. She had then immediately contacted Esposito, who'd then called Kevin Ryan. He'd been enjoying an early morning cuddle with Jenny—his soon-to-be bride—when Esposito's call had come. He had arrived home late last night, and had planned on sleeping in and enjoying a lazy morning with his fiancée. But once Esposito's words registered, the blissful haze of sleep vanished with a sharp crack.

Ryan recalled their conversation with Beckett last night. She was involved in something that had the potential to be very messy. The FBI had put out an APB on her, for crying out loud. Whatever it was she'd found herself mixed up in, it was serious business. Despite her assurances over the phone, he and Esposito weren't going to abandon her when she most needed their help. So, when Esposito called, Ryan was out of bed and dressed, ready to go in under ten minutes. He kissed Jenny goodbye, and then met Esposito on the street.

When they arrived at Varick and Franklin, uniforms were already setting up the yellow tape to block of portions of the sidewalk. Ryan glanced around, trying to get a feel for what went down her last night. Esposito met up with the responding officers while Ryan spoke with Mr. Hostetler. The building manager was able to give him a detailed description of a man accompanying Beckett. This news piqued his interest. Beckett hadn't said anything about a man. He couldn't let it slip by.

"Would you be willing to sit with a sketch artist?" he'd asked.

"Oh, if you think it'll help, sure," Hostetler had hesitantly agreed, pushing his thick black-rimmed glasses back up his nose. The man appeared to be a little nervous. He kept rubbing at his side, as if a healing injury was bothering him. Ryan wondered if this mysterious man had assaulted Hostetler when the old man seen something he shouldn't.

How much danger was Beckett in?

Esposito had stationed a uniform at the front door to Beckett's apartment by the time Ryan made it up to her floor. The door had clearly been kicked in. The lock was busted, and the entryway was littered with shard and splinters from the doorsill. Besides that, there was no other evidence of a struggle. Everything was in its place; nothing was out of order… all neat and tidy.

Ryan had only just arrived when Esposito emerged from Beckett's bedroom. "Ooh," he let out a low whistle. "I don't think Beckett will like it that you went into her bedroom."

"In this case, I think she'd make an exception," Esposito replied, voice gruff and serious.

"What's up?"

"Looks like she packed in a hurry," he said. "Some of the drawers on the dresser were only half closed."

"You didn't look at her undies, did you?"

"Eww, gross, dude, she's like my little sister," Esposito shuddered, glancing at him with a disgusted look.

He shook his head and gestured towards the office, and Ryan followed him over to an opened window that led out to the fire escape. He stuck his head out for a look.

"It was open when I got here," Esposito informed him.

"What are you thinking?" Ryan asked, knitting his eyebrows together as he gazed back at his partner.

"Two possibilities," Esposito replied, holding up two fingers. "One, she's been taken hostage by this mystery man that Mr. Hostetler told you about."

"And two?"

"Two: This guy's mixed up in some serious shit, and he's dragged Beckett into it."

"I don't like either of those scenarios," Ryan admitted on a sigh, shaking his head, unable to stop himself from worrying over his friend. "You don't think…" he trailed off, unsure whether or not he should really voice his thought.

"What?" his partner encouraged.

"You don't think this has anything to do with her mother's case, do you?" Ryan questioned reluctantly. "I mean… I know Lanie talked her down from digging any further after that warehouse fire lead turned into a dead-end, but… I don't know, Javi… could she have been investigating it off books?"

Esposito seemed disturbed by the suggestion. "I don't know, man… anything's possible with Beckett. If she is doing her own investigating, she'd hidden it well." He groaned, and run a hand over his head, frustrated with Beckett's stubbornness. If only she'd talked to them more, explained what was going on… they could help her. They were her partners, and friends. No matter what, they had her back. Glancing around the office, Esposito sighed in resignation. "We should probably call the crime scene techs in to dust for prints and any potential trace evidence. If we're lucky, this mystery man left something behind."

Ryan nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket to make the call. But before he could even dial, a flash of blue caught his attention. A group of men were entering the apartment, and from the cut of their suits and the blue windbreakers they were wearing with three undeniable letters emblazoned on the back, he knew that the Feds had arrived.

One of the men approached with a serious expression. He flashed his badge and credentials. "Special Agent Danberg, FBI," he announced. "We'll be taking over now, if you don't mind."

XXX

She sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat as Castle drove them through the early morning traffic. If she was honest with herself, her discomfort was a result of her near constant need to be in control of any situation. It was one of the reasons why she always liked to be the one that drove the car. But Kate couldn't do that in this instance, and not just because she didn't know where they were going. After their conversation late last night, she'd had trouble getting back to bed, only managing three more hours sleep, waking up again just before dawn. It had all been so much to take in. Yet she didn't feel any uncertainty, nor did she have any doubts.

Kate had decided to put her full trust in Castle. If his story turned out to be a complete fabrication, then Kate firmly believed that she deserved whatever happened to her for being so easily duped, for only a master storyteller could have come up with a story as bizarre as the one he'd told her. But Kate had to trust her instincts, and as a seasoned interrogator, trained to read people, she believed him. When she looked at Castle, she didn't see a world-class spy—which she was absolutely positive he was—she saw a man willing to do whatever it took to keep his daughter safe. His concern for Alexis's safety was genuine and sincere. And if Kate couldn't trust her own highly honed powers of perception, then what could she trust?

Of course none of this was based off her immense physical attraction to the man. No. Not at all. Though, it's not like it didn't help that he was so ruggedly handsome. Still, good looks and charm aside, Kate genuinely liked Rick Castle. Okay… maybe a little more than liked. But she wasn't willing to go there. Yet. Still, there was some kind of special quality that drew her to him. He might just be the most intriguing man she'd ever met. And if she had to risk everything for someone, it would be him.

The sentiment seemed odd, especially considering the fact that she'd only really known him for less than two days, but the connection they shared, no matter the circumstances in which it was forged, was real. She had to believe that. Because if it wasn't, then the years she'd spent learning to read human behavior would be all for not.

Dr. Burke had encouraged her to embrace new experiences that were outside her comfort zone. And if this didn't constitute as breaking out of that bubble, then she didn't know what would.

"Can I ask you a question?" Castle's voice startled her out of her thoughts. She glanced over at him. He was looking over at her with a curious expression.

"Sure."

"Why are you helping me?"

_Because you're the most frustrating and amazing man I've ever met, and I think I might be falling for you_, but she didn't say that. Despite the flutter in her chest from his every look and glance, Kate still prided herself over having some self-restraint.

"Honestly… I don't know," Kate answered with a shrug. And it was the truth. There was no real reason for her to help him. He'd ruined her blind date, held a gun to her head, and turned her life upside down. Yet here she was, sitting in yet another 'borrowed' Taurus—this one a dark silver model—letting him be the leader and she followed, a position she wasn't all too used to. "I wish I could tell you, I really do. But I can't even explain it myself. I just… I don't know... I trust you. About… all of it." And she did. Nothing he'd done had really led her to believe he was a bad guy. His actions may be morally questionable at times, but when hadn't she done the same while hiding behind a badge. She was in no position to judge him.

"Sure it isn't because you find me so irresistible you can't say no?" he questioned with a cheeky grin, winking at her.

Kate bit her lower lip and rolled her eyes, turning her head away from him to look out the window as he pressed down on the accelerator when the light turned green. "That's assuming I even find you attractive," she retorted with a demure smile.

Castle chuckled. "After the way you ogled my bare chest last night, oh yes… you definitely find me attractive, Detective," he asserted, grinning widely, far too pleased with himself.

Kate gasped, astonished by his audacity, no matter the truth of his words. "I did not… _ogle_ you last night!" she protested. Her cheeks flamed a bright rosy pink, giving evidence to the contrary.

"Oh, please," he drawled, cocking his head slightly to glance across the center console at her. "You got so distracted by my masculine physique, you had to ask me to put a shirt on… or did you forget?"

"I… that… um… oh, shut up," she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at him in a glare, unable to find any sort of comeback for that. Because it had been true. She had been rather distracted by his lack of a shirt. He wasn't ripped like Josh was, but he was well toned and fit. Even now, skin and muscles hidden beneath a fitted white polo shirt, Kate still found him very appealing.

"That's what I thought," he hummed smugly and wiggled his eyebrows, before turning his attention back to the road. But before she could respond, he continued, shocking her into silence. "But don't fret, Detective. The feelings mutual."

Kate stared at him, struck silent by the contradiction that was Rick Castle. He flashed her a smile, and then focused back to driving, taking them in the general direction of the Brooklyn Bridge. One moment he was a flattering jackass, and then in the next he was a sweetest and most kindhearted man she'd ever met. The look in his eyes when he'd said that last bit was frightening, the raw realness of it threatened to overwhelm her. Yet at the same time, it made her blood pump fast, and her heart swell with a sense of… rightness, for the lack of a better word.

If she'd been a believer in fate and destiny, Kate would be inclined to agree that Rick Castle might very well be her soulmate. That's if she believed in that sort of thing. Which she didn't. No. No. Kate Beckett was a firm believer in logical and rational reasoning. She didn't take leaps of faith. But… wasn't that what she was doing right now in trusting Castle? It was confusing, and all too much. She didn't want to think about how her heart fluttered and her pulse raced when Castle looked at her. No. She wasn't going to think about it. She wasn't.

Yet, Kate couldn't deny that for the first time since waking up in the hospital with a bullet wound in the center of her chest, she didn't feel broken or incomplete.

In fact, she felt quite the opposite.

XXX

Gripping a fresh cup of coffee in her gloved hand, Agent Sophia Turner climbed up the front steps and through the front doors of the apartment building, having flashed her undercover FBI badge to the uniform manning the yellow tape line on the sidewalk. Danberg was already on scene. He had called her whilst she'd been in route, having gone ahead to liaise with the NYPD officers already on site. It annoyed her to no end that the local flatfoots got there before Agent Farrell's team could get off their collective asses and secure the scene.

Turner was very frustrated.

Last night had been a train wreck of epic proportions. Not only did Castle have the upper hand over Farrell's team, he also managed to slip through their fingers with relative ease. Arrogant enough to believe he could impress his superiors with his initiative by breaking protocol in an ultimately futile attempt to capture rogue agent Rick Castle, Farrell had only succeeded in displaying his sloppy command, and utter lack for proper procedure.

And because of Farrell's screw-up, Turner had to waste most of her morning reassuring the Director that the situation was still under control. If there was one thing she hated about her job, it was placating the higher-ups and playing agency politics. She longed for the days long since past where she could freely focus on the mission without the added distraction of having to report in every ten minutes. Of course, those times were different. Back then she'd had other, more pleasurable distractions, namely her ruggedly handsome partner.

But times change.

Rick Castle was now a threat to national security, and she'd been given a mandate from the DCI to bring him back into the fold… alive, if possible. She just hoped he didn't do anything too stupid and get himself killed before she had a chance to… question him, and his little girlfriend too. Images of the leggy brunette filtered through her mind, and Turner glowered in mild jealous hidden behind derision. She quickly gulped down half of her hot coffee in hopes of diverting her meandering thoughts, but it was futile. All she got for her troubles was a burned tongue.

She rode up the elevator with Agent Jones, who had been waiting for her in the small lobby of the modest apartment complex. Just before that she had talked with Ernie Hostetler, the building manager. He had been of little help, simply confirming that a good-looking man had accompanied Kate Beckett the previous night. "They seemed keen on each other," the old man had unnecessarily added. "I thought I'd interrupted their… fun, but Kate insisted I hadn't." He had paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "I'm not sure she was telling me the whole truth. Who could blame her, eh? It's not like I'm her father or anything. Anyways, whatever those two young folk were up too, it wasn't any of my business."

"Any news on Castle's whereabouts?" she asked her elevator companion, growing tired of the agent's stoic silence.

Jones turned his head just enough to look at her. "None yet," was all he said. A man of few words was Agent Jones.

Turner sighed, and took another sip of her coffee, coming to accept the fact she'd probably be grumpy all morning. Finally the elevator doors parted, and Jones stepped out, leading the way down the hallway towards Beckett's apartment. She paused before the opened doorway, taking a moment to collect herself. It was a habit she had, it helped to clear her mind of any extraneous thoughts, allowing her to focus and keep her eyes open for tiny details that often would get overlook if she simply rushed into a scene.

The apartment was very nice, mildly bohemian in style, with an eclectic taste that Turner found unusual for a workaholic like Beckett. It didn't fit with the psychological evaluations and behavior profiles that the CIA had on the detective. She had spent the previous night reading most of those reports, from which Turner had expected to find something more spartan and utilitarian from someone as work obsessed as Beckett.

She didn't like it.

After already making conclusions based off of supposedly solid intel, she didn't like being surprised.

Surveying the furniture with a critical and disapproving eye, Turner took in the colorful throw pillows and knitted blankets with disdain. She preferred finer things, high quality and superior, modern and chic, not the clashing assortment and mishmash of styles that she viewed in this apartment. It looked far too lived in for someone who was supposedly hardly there. Where did Beckett find the time to collect all this… junk?

Shaking her head and scowling in displeasure, disliking the energy flow Beckett's choice in decoration exuded, Turner moved around the sofa, and approached what appeared to be an office space, where most of the agents were clustered. Agent Johnson was working at the desk, going through the detective's personal computer. He looked uncomfortable in the dark blue FBI windbreaker. She spotted Agent Danberg speaking with two men she didn't recognize. One was a brown haired, blue-eyed man with impeccable dress sense, and the other looked like a macho ex-military type who probably thought he was God's gift to women thanks to his Latin blood.

Danberg excused himself from the discussion and stepped over to greet her. "Should I even ask how your call with the Director went?" he asked, picking up on her sour mood.

Turner inclined her head, frowning as she remembered her superior's terse words. He had not been happy with the chain of events.

"That bad?" Danberg raised an eyebrow.

"Who are they?" she asked, ignoring his question and tilting her head to the two men standing by the opened window that led to the fire escape.

He glanced back over his shoulder. "Detectives Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito," he said. "They're Beckett's colleagues at the 12th Precinct. They got here before us. Had already interviewed the witnesses, and were in the process of surveying the apartment. After I announced that we were taking over the case, they offered to… lend a hand."

Turner narrowed her eyes at the two men, who were glancing around at all the activity with far too much interest for her liking. "I bet they did."

"I'll make sure to be polite as I turn down their offer of assistance then," Danberg said with a tight smile, eyeing her pointedly.

"Sorry," she grumbled, taking a sip of her coffee. She'd never been good at interagency cooperation. Castle had always been the sociable one. "Rough morning."

"No need to apologize," Danberg flashed her an easy smile. He really was a good partner. Whatever may come in the approaching future, she could only hope that nothing ill befell him. He gestured towards the two unwelcomed detectives. "I'll just see to Detective Ryan and Esposito."

As Danberg dealt with Beckett's two colleagues, Turner walked around the office space, taking note of the bookshelf that covered one whole wall. Intrigued, knowing that the books someone reads can often tell something about them, she stepped over and brushed her fingers along the well-worn spines as she gazed at the titles. This woman was definitely a reader with tastes as varied as her home décor.

Scattered throughout the amalgamation of book genres, Turner spotted some Russian literature, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, to name a few. They weren't alone. It appeared Beckett was had copies by other famous authors from different parts of the globe… all in their native tongues. That was interesting. Besides her semester abroad in Kiev during college, Beckett's file hadn't mentioned anything about the woman's linguistic talents. Turner could just imagine Castle getting a thrill out of the brunette's talented tongue.

Judging from the severe creases in some of the book spines, Beckett was not just an avid reader, but would also often re-read certain books. There were two that were particularly loved, both in the mystery genre: _In A Hail of Bullets_ and _A Rose For Everafter_. Both were written by R.A. Rodgers, a pseudonym that Turner was quite familiar with. A sly smile formed across her lips. She wondered if he knew.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her thoughts, and she quickly whipped it out, checking the caller ID. Her brow turned into a frown. Turner glanced back at Danberg as he thanked the two detectives for their offer of assistance and began to escort them out of the apartment. Satisfied that she wouldn't be overheard, Turner pressed the green answer button and brought the cellphone up to her ear.

"What is it?" she hissed in a low voice. "I thought I told you never to call me on this number." She paused, listening to the caller's response. "Shit… okay, okay. Fine," she sighed, not happy at all. Yet another mess she'd have to clean up. "You have my permission. Do what you have to do, just remember that flash drive is mine."

XXX

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please," Kate took the proffered cup from Castle, and raised it to her lips, taking a cautious sip. Her eyebrows came together in surprise, and she let out a small moan when the rich flavors touched her tongue. Tilting her head, she glanced over at Castle with a questioning look.

"Grande skim latte, two pumps sugar-free vanilla," he declared with a relaxed expression. He turned his head to look at her with a boyish smirk. "I get it right?"

She inclined her head. "Yep," she grinned and eased back against the side of the dark silver Taurus, enjoying her latte as the gentle breeze swept in from across the East River. Castle took a long gulp of his own coffee before leaning his back against the side of the car as well, his eyes never leaving her.

"How did you know?"

"Huh?"

"My coffee preference."

He smirked, and let out a light chuckle, eyes twinkling. "Spy, remember."

Kate pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, grinning back at him. "Well, however you found out, thanks," she said, taking another sip of her coffee. "I needed this."

"You're welcome," he replied, he smiled at her. "I know you didn't sleep well last night, so I figured you could use a pick me up."

She nodded, and thanked him again, placing a hand on his arm and offering a gentle squeeze of gratitude. He was a man of many surprises. And this… bringing her coffee was actually kind of sweet. Kate felt her heart clench at the thought, and she swallowed down the emotion with another sip of the rich dark brew. She released a sigh of contentment, feeling the dark liquid warm her whole body as it moved down her esophagus. Staring out at the impressive view of the Brooklyn Bridge, towering in the background, Kate took in the rest of their surroundings as she enjoyed the remainder of her coffee.

Looking left and right down the street they were parked, all Kate could see were a bunch of warehouses, with two storage facilities on either side and what looked like an old packing storehouse off to the right. There weren't too many people about, only one or two, all packed tightly in coats against the fall chill. Not the ideal place to be hanging out. But Castle seemed at ease, unconcerned. And from the display of skill he'd exhibited last night, she supposed he had no reason to worry.

Kate, on the other hand, was still suffering from the lingering affects of being shot in the chest. During their first session, Dr. Burke had cautioned her that it was a long process. There was no quick fix, and she shouldn't expect to ever really be 'cured', because there was no really cure to PTSD. It would be with her the rest of her life. The best she could hope for would be to control it. Traumatic events, like the one she'd experienced, left many scars, and not just those visible on her flesh. It wasn't going to go away over night.

Somewhere off in the distance a car backfired and on instinct Kate flinched, much to her chagrin.

"You okay?" Castle asked, glancing at her worriedly.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine," she lied, unconsciously bringing a hand up to her chest, pressing her fingers against the scar hidden beneath her blouse and jacket. He looked at her uncertainly, but thankfully he didn't press. "So, what are we doing here?" she changed the subject.

"Enjoying a mid-morning coffee break," he replied with a witty grin.

She rolled her eyes, grateful for the lightheartedness he brought into the conversation. "I meant _here_, around all these warehouses," she offered with a pointed look, trying to put on the mask of Detective Beckett, and hide the face of Kate, the woman who'd survived a bullet to the chest.

"Nothing slips by you, Detective," he said, winking as he downed the last of his coffee, and then tossed the cardboard cup into a public trash bin not far away. He stepped around her, and reached inside his jacket to retrieve his old-fashioned phone-like device. He flipped it open, pressed a button, and the trunk of the dark silver Taurus unlocked and popped ajar. Just as he was about to lift the lid open, the shrill ringing of Kate's phone sounded.

Kate quickly dug it out of her pocket and looked at the caller I.D. "It's Esposito," she supplied, looking at him with a questioning expression.

He blinked. "You should answer," he said without any hesitation.

"But… I… I don't know, won't _they_ be able to track us or something?" She thought it was a reasonable assumption. Kate may not be into the world of covert espionage, but she knew enough about surveillance operations to know that a phone could easily be traced.

"No, it's all good," Castle dismissed her worries with a shake of his hand. "Answer."

Kate shook her head in disbelief, but didn't object. Looking back down at the ringing phone in her hand, she chewed on her bottom lip and quickly weighed the pros and cons, before relenting to Castle's suggestion, swiping her finger across the screen and accepting the call. "Hey, what's up?"

"_What's up?_" echoed Esposito, almost incredulous. "_Seriously?_"

"Good morning to you, too," Kate grumbled, rolling her eyes as she shifted her hips, turning to watch Castle as he opened the trunk lid and rifled through a gray-blue rucksack she remembered him putting in the trunk when they departed that filthy safe house earlier that morning.

"_You okay?_"

"Yes," she smiled when her gaze locked with Castle's. He winked at her, before ducking his head back down as he rummaged through his rucksack.

"_Are you sure?_" he asked, sounding unconvinced. "_Because Ryan talked with your building manager… Mr. Hostetler, and he mentioned that there was some guy following you. You sure you aren't being… pressured into anything?_"

Kate shook her head, laughing lightly at Esposito's big brother routine. It was quite amusing listening to him trying to be all delicate about his word usage. "No. Nothing like that. I'm quite aware of what I'm doing," she said, looking back down at Castle, admiring the way the jeans hugged his amazing posterior as he leaned over the edge of the trunk to reach for something that had slid to the back. She quirked up an eyebrow and repeated, "Quite aware."

"_Then what the hell is going on!?_" Esposito demanded, his frustration snapping her out of her lustful thoughts. "_We were just kicked out of the crime scene that is your apartment by the Feds. You've got to give me something, Beckett. Why would they put out an APB for you, calling you a person of interest in a matter of national security?_"

She glanced at Castle. "It's complicated, Espo," she said.

He scoffed, "_Not buying it, Beckett. You've got mixed up in something that's dangerous, and I'm not going to let you face it alone_."

"I'm not alone!" she asserted, surprised at her defensiveness. Castle looked back at her, and she waved away his concern.

Despite narrowing his eyes and casting her a doubtful look, Castle still relented and turned back to what he was doing. His trust in her seemingly absolute. He finished quickly and closed the trunk, turning back to her as he adjusted his khaki jacket, and tugged a distressed red baseball cap onto his head, ducking it down to shield his eyes. As she watched him, Kate couldn't stop the small smile that touched her lips. She recognized the outfit from the check-in queue at Reagan National four days ago.

"_I don't like this, Beckett. Everything's too secretive. Who's this guy? Are you sure he can be trusted?_"

"He's a friend, and yes," Kate said, purposely being evasive and keeping her answers vague, suddenly aware that in all likelihood their conversation was probably being recorded by the CIA. Before they had left her apartment, Castle had done something to her phone, which had made him unconcerned with her using it now. So, she was relatively certain that if this call were being recorded, it would most likely be on Esposito's end. He'd be completely unaware of it, of course. But Kate wasn't willing to take any chances.

"_Talk to me, Beckett, I can help_," Esposito insisted, growling in frustration.

Kate bit her lower lip, her brow creasing with guilt. She wanted to tell him, she really did. But right now, it wasn't safe for the boys to know anything. Ignorance was going to keep them safe. It was for their own good. She had to protect them from the bad people that were threatening Alexis. "Later," she promised, and then hung up, sighing remorse.

"He'll understand," Castle said, startling her with his close proximity. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his fingers kneading the tense muscles. She willed her body not to react. It would have been far too easy to lean into his touch. But she couldn't. She had to stay strong, stand on her own.

She nodded as she stared down at her phone. "Castle, I was wondering…," her voice trailed off, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows as she frowned down at the device in her hand.

"Yes?" he hedged.

Kate glanced up at him, surprised by the nervous quality in his voice. She hesitated for a moment, pondering over reasons why he would be nervous, until her curiosity got the best of her and she eventually asked, "What did you do to my phone?"

Castle released a breath, sighing with relief. She raised an eyebrow, slightly amused at the anxious look that had been on his face. Perhaps he was worried that she was going to start questioning getting involved with his quest to keep his daughter safe.

"Well?" she prompted.

Castle looked around, before gesturing towards a storage facility down the street. "Let's walk and talk."

Kate inclined her head, and gulped down the last dregs of her latte, before tossing it into the trash bin and then catching up with Castle as he walked down the sidewalk. Grinning, he snagged her arm and looped it around his. She bit her lower lip, and happily followed his lead.

"So," she pressed. "What did you do to my phone that made me accepting a call from Esposito okay?"

"It's a long story."

"I'm all ears," she grinned cheekily.

He smirked. "Okay. So after 9/11 certain agencies were given a broad authority by congress that opened up legally gray areas that allowed them to tap the phones of suspected terrorist," Castle explained. "However, off the record, these discretionary powers were soon expanded to non-combatants as well."

"You mean civilians?"

"Yes," he inclined his head. "To be brutally honest, the NSA and CIA have been illegally listening to American citizens' phones for years. Hell, they did so even before the advent of cellular devices. With the addition of wireless and Wi-Fi capabilities, it just made it a hell of a lot easier. Congress had no idea the can of worms they'd opened up. A couple of years back, the CIA developed a covert listening surveillance network, if you will. They called it Overlord. Every things all top secret, of course. Very hush-hush. Actually not many people are even aware of Overlord. Only special units and operatives were even given access to the network."

Kate stared at him, aghast that such a system was in place, and used to spy on American citizens. "Oh my God," she exclaimed. "And you were one of those… operatives?"

Castle nodded. "I needed it for a case I worked a couple of years back," he responded, not volunteering any more information than that.

"God, I don't know," Kate breathed out, shaking her head as she tried to grasp the full enormity of what he'd just told her. "I wish I could find this more shocking than I already do. If the world was a different place, I'd only expect to see something like that in a spy novel."

"Tell me about it," Castle grinned boyishly. "God, I love spy novels. James Bond is my favorite. I know, kind of cliché, but when I was a kid, this guy at the New York Public Library handed me a copy of Casino Royale, and I've been a fan of Ian Fleming ever since." He paused, seemingly lost in his memories. "Back then, I never would have thought I'd actually get to be something akin to James Bond."

"Oh really?" Kate beamed, glancing at him with interest, delighted at this brief glimpse into the mystery behind the man.

"Yep," he glanced at her with a look of nostalgia glazing across his eyes. "Believe it or not, there was a time I'd dreamed of being a writer." The spark in his eyes dimmed a little and he sighed. "Dreams of a child, nothing more." He shook his head, and smiled, but she could tell it was forced. After a moment's pause, he shifted gears back to their discussion of the Overlord network. "I couldn't risk being found, so I had to ditch my fancy new iPhone for this old piece of junk." He held up the old flip phone, his eyes twinkling with undisputed amusement. "Actually, to be honest, I prefer this old friend to those new products."

"I could see that," Kate concurred with a nod. "It's been field tested, and it obviously works."

"Extremely well," he added. "Took them a while to even realize I was using the TCD-74."

"TCD? What does that stand for?"

"Telecommunications device."

"How original," she said dryly.

Castle shrugged. "It was an off year for the lab coats at Langley." He grinned. "Anyways, the circuitry I removed from your phone was what linked it to the Overlord network. Once I disconnected it, your phone went 'off the grid', to borrow a phrase."

"So like a burner phone?" she asked.

"Sort of, but different," he was reluctant to agree. "Overlord can actually pick up and trace burner phones. It's built into it… in the circuitry. Manufacturers have unknowingly been assisting the CIA for years now. But with the right components removed, your phone is finally secured once again from nosy eavesdroppers with a government salary."

Kate was silent for a moment after he'd finished. "Wow," she said. "Just wow. I had no idea—_no idea_—that such things actually happened. I'd always assumed that was just some crazy conspiracy theory."

"Welcome to the other side, Detective Beckett," he grinned impishly. "Where the impossible is possible. You'll soon discover that even amongst all the crackpot theories, the truth is out there." He started to whistle _The X-Files_ theme song.

"Oh, now you're just being silly," she lightly slapped his shoulder playfully, smiling back at him.

Castle grinned, a dopey expression on his face. Kate felt her heart flutter as they locked eyes. The rest of the world faded away, and she was struck with an overwhelming urge to just kiss that lopsided grin off his face. But before she could make good on that impulse, Castle's head twisted away and she felt his muscles grow tense. Blinking her eyes, and heaving in a couple of quick breaths to regain her equilibrium, Kate turned to follow his gaze, shifting her eyes away from his handsome features and to a series of uniform building, all with neon orange rolling doors.

They had arrived at the storage facility.

Letting her eyes wander, interested in seeing what it was that had alerted Castle, Kate concentrated on pulling up all her skills and experience as a seasoned investigator. It didn't take long to spot the two black escalades parked unobtrusively behind the storage facilities front offices, where all the blinds were conveniently pulled shut.

Castle released her hand, spinning his place as he quickly shoved her back, pressing them up against the cinderblock wall that acted as a barrier between the storage facility and the street. The entrance was only wide enough for a single automobile to pass in or out. Kate held her breath and waited for him to make a decision. Castle frowned, his eyes darting around as he thought.

He swore under his breath, and then looked back at her. "Before we go in, I need to give you something," he declared, and Kate licked her lips, irrationally thinking he was referring to a kiss. But instead, and slightly to her own disappointment, Castle reached inside his jacket and produced a Glock, which he then handed to her.

"Trusting me with a weapon? How brave of you, Mr. Castle," she smirked, trying to lighten the mood as she deftly cocked the slide back and checked the magazine.

"You are one of the NYPD's best," he contended, soundly mildly offended that she wasn't aware of this. "Besides, sweet cheeks, I couldn't ask for finer back up," he added, waggling his eyebrows at her.

Kate let out a snort, fighting a grin, pleased he was acting more like the Rick Castle she'd come to know and love… to like. Yes… to know and like. Schooling her features, she tossed a pointed look back at him. "You know, I should probably shoot you for that 'sweet cheeks' comment," she countered. "But just this once, I'll let it slide."

"Much appreciated," he declared, taking out his own weapon with a flashy flourish, as if he was attempting to impress her. He did not. He shot her a pout, before checking his Sig Sauer, and flicking the safety off. She followed his lead. Castle flashed her a boyish grin, eyes sparkling with mischief, belying the seriousness of the situation. "Ready?"

"Ready," she asserted with a nod, feeling more like the detective she was, the familiar weight of a Glock in her hand agreeing with her. "Lead the way."

And with weapon in hand, Beckett followed Castle around the corner of the wall of cinderblocks and into the storage facility.


	13. Chapter 12

**Private Eyes – Chapter 12**

His first thought was of _her_. He wracked his brain, searching for a hint or clue that would explain how she'd even know of this place. He thought he'd done a good job, paying for it off books, never mentioning it to anyone. It wasn't even under his name. But somehow… she must have found a connection. She was sneaky like that. Once, long ago, he'd admired her cleverness, especially with how she put those talents to use under the sheets. But now he loathed them.

_Hell hath no fury_, he thought, briefly thinking back to the time after a botched assignment in Morocco. Their 'arrangement'—for the lack of a better word—had become a major distraction, almost getting them killed and nearly derailing a two year long operation. York had been furious, forced finally call them out on it, after having spent so long turning a blind eye to their off-the-clock 'recreation'. It was then that they had mutually decided to end things.

It was supposed to be over.

At least that's what he'd thought at the time.

But even after one side of their relationship had been terminated, another lived on. They still had to work together after all. It was difficult at first, having spent so long 'together', but they both managed, and in the end, thanks to their extremely productive teamwork, the mission had been salvaged. Afterwards, they had parted on amicable terms.

Or so he thought.

Admittedly, he was a little surprised at this recent move. It wasn't like her. She didn't operate like this. It wasn't her style. She much preferred the slower seduction, like a spider drawing her prey into her web as she lured them in for the kill. He wasn't taking any chances when it came to her. She'd almost done it to him… more than once.

"Stay behind me," Castle instructed in a soft, yet firm voice as he slowly approached the edge of the cinderblock wall. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Beckett open her mouth to protest, but then upon seeing his expression, stayed silent, for which he was grateful. He didn't want to get into an argument. It wasn't like he was trying to be a chauvinist or sexist by insisting she to stay behind him. He knew Kate Beckett could take care of herself.

But this was different. The stakes were higher… even more than his daughter's life was at stake. In the wrong hands Spyglass had the potential to topple nations. And with such high stakes, it would be stupid to take too many risks. He'd already taken some risks, trusting Kate Beckett for one, but those had been necessary risks. Charging into the storage facility was not. They were entering the unknown, and it was better to be safe than sorry. Better that only one of them risk getting hit from a hidden gunman than both.

He flicked his eyes up to hers and she gave a nod of understanding. Castle paused, momentarily taken aback by the undeniable connection they shared. It was like they were on the same wavelength. He was stunned by the complete and utter trust that washed over him, not just in the person, but in her abilities as well. It had been a long while since he had felt he could trust the person who had his back. Not since Istanbul, when his last partner tried to kill him. So many things had gone wrong that day. Things ended so badly that York had almost pulled the plug on the whole operation. It had only been through his own sheer force of will, and a timely nighttime rescue by U.S. Special Forces, that Castle had even survived the harrowing Kilmer's betrayal.

Shaking his head, he willed the memories away. Now was not the time to dwell on the troubled past. The current situation was too worrisome to be stuck pondering over how things had gone down with his last partner. Castle took one more moment to look at Beckett, taking in her fierce beauty and determination. He remembered being surprised when he'd discovered she was a homicide detective. In his experience, most women like her usually became doctors or lawyers. But not her. She was a mystery… one he'd enjoy unraveling, but later.

It was rather remarkable that she was still there with him. After everything he told her last night, she could have easily just cut and run. But she hadn't. She had believed him, probably going against her better judgment. And now she was right there with him, unwavering in her support, and that… that amazed him.

She met his gaze with an unyielding resolve and solid perseverance that amazed. There was something… extraordinary about this woman that he'd never encountered before. He was impressed with Beckett's ability to compartmentalize. Castle had always struggled with his emotions, which was part the reason he couldn't stand by and watch Alexis co-opted into working for the bad guys. She was still young, and had a promising life ahead of her. He wasn't going to let them take that away from her.

"I'm ready," Beckett said with a nod, in a quiet voice so that only he could hear.

Returning her nod, Castle brought his Sig Sauer up into position, and, without any further delay, slipped around the edge of the cinderblock wall, quickly scanning the open area in front of the manager's office. Just as before, the only things readily visible were the two black Escalades, parked off to the side of the square-shaped office. He narrowed his eyes. Now that he got a better look at the Escalades, Castle was beginning to second-guess his original theory.

These weren't your garden variety SUVs; they were high end, top dollar vehicles that the budget coordinators back at Langley wouldn't sign off on. And he knew for a fact that York, as a result of some pressure from the Director's office, was currently working at tightening the belt. Many senior operatives were being asked to accept lesser paying desk jobs or were being forced into an early retirement. When he'd been assigned to Operation Mockingbird, Castle had initially wonder when his time would come. After all, he was in his mid-forties, and he'd been a field operative since his early twenties.

It was only a matter of time.

But that was a worry for another time. And considering his current 'rogue' status with the Agency, he wasn't certain he would even have a job when the dust settled. So, he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the two very big, very black Escalades, which he doubted were CIA or government issued. It meant _she_ was going outside the Agency to deal with him… with the problem he'd created for her.

Castle glanced around, taking in the whole scene. The storage facility was like a ghost town. That, in and of itself, had set off the alarm bells in his head even before he'd spotted the two SUVs. As he cautiously approached the block-shaped front office, Castle glanced around with a trained eye for observation and tactical analysis.

He didn't like this. It was too quiet. The blinds were drawn shut, and it was impossible to tell whether or not someone was waiting inside. Castle was beginning to suspect that he wouldn't be dealing with the same fresh faced, raw recruits he had easily dispatched in front of Beckett's apartment.

No.

Everything about this setup screamed of experience. If it were him, he'd send in a group of highly skilled private contractors who specialized in being discreet.

With his free hand, he signaled Beckett, and she reacted without further prompting, just as he knew she would. She flanked off to his right, Glock raised and at the ready. The image was so breathtaking. For the first time in a long, long time, his mind began to conjure up ideas for a story. He squinted, retraining his focus, but logging in those ideas away for later peruse.

They moved as one, in sync without ever training together. The concept alone was unfathomable, yet there it was, happening right in front of him. Beckett was fluid in her movements, matching him step for step. It was almost like they'd spent an hour before their entrance plotting out their advance. Castle let the feeling cascade over him, allowing himself to accept that his trust in her, despite the short time they'd spent together, was unfaltering and absolute. He suppressed a grin as they crept forward, bold yet cautious. An oxymoron if ever there was one.

Beckett held back as he proceeded her, reaching the office door. He glanced over at her, checking her position. She nodded, ready. Castle shifted into a better defensive posture, and grabbed the handle, turning it with a twist and kicking the door open. He swooped in, Beckett on his six. Florescent lights hummed above them as they crossed the threshold. Beige chairs lined one side of the wall across from a reception counter. There were no customers waiting, and no one manning the desk. Castle exchanged a curious look with Beckett before they mutually decided to split up and search the rest of the small building.

Castle went off to the right, while Beckett took the left. The manager's office was empty, saved for a potted ficus that had seen better days. Hanging on the wall behind the desk was a portrait of the Brooklyn Bridge from nearly the same angle as seen from outside. He looked over the desktop, seeing nothing of interest. Beckett covered the other two rooms; a poorly filed records room and a restroom… both were empty.

"All clear," Beckett confirmed, in cop mode, as she met him back by the reception counter.

"Same," he frowned, scratching the side of his head, not liking this. "Odd. At the very least there should be some evidence that people had been here. The place opened less than an hour ago. But there's nothing."

She nodded. "Not even a lukewarm cup of coffee on the desk."

Castle carded through his fingers as he looked around the empty reception room. That uneasy feeling only twisted more in his gut. He didn't like this. Beckett strolled around the counter, and began searching through the documents left on the desk. Castle watched her, waiting.

"Anything?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Just a bunch of blank purchase forms." She sighed and rubbed a hand down her face. "Maybe we're just being paranoid. I mean, two black Escalades don't necessarily mean there's a hit squad out for us."

"True," Castle concurred, flashing her a quick smile, going for reassuring, as he slipped his Sig back inside his jacket. "I should know. I used to be one of them. When we were on an op, we always drove something that could blend in. And those two Escalades stand out."

Beckett inclined her head. "Sounds logical, but still… with what we're up against, I think a little dose of paranoia isn't such a bad thing."

Castle cracked a grin. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

She smiled back, ducking her head bashfully as her cheeks blossomed a rosy pink that looked good on her. Even standing under those unflattering bright florescent lights in a drab and boring office, she was still breathtakingly stunning. Not for the first time, Castle was struck with the insane series of events that had brought them together. When he'd made the decision to get Alexis out of the CIA black site, Castle would never had expected that it would lead him straight to someone with whom he'd share such a unique connection.

He hadn't been lying when he'd told her that the feeling was mutual. How could it not be? Beside the obvious physical beauty she possessed, there was another quality about Kate Beckett that he was drawn to. It was a quiet, subtle part that he yearned to explore. There was more to her than met the surface. She had a fierce intellect and cunning mind. And she was a lot stronger than her delicate model-like features would suggest. He could spend a lifetime getting to know her and never grow bored.

Clearing his throat, and forcing such thoughts aside, at least for now, Castle jerked his head back towards the front door. "We should get going. I don't think we'll learn anything more here. Might as well get what we came for."

"Which is?" Beckett inquired as she walked back around the counter to join him.

He arched his neck to look at her and raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Supplies."

XXX

The occasional phone rung, and was subsequently answered. Murmuring voices added to the dull drone of the bullpen as detectives and uniforms alike conversed over case details. The sun was out today and was streaming through the windows, giving the squad room a nice bright feel that was usually lacking. But it was still a numbing drag of a day. And the coffee still tasted like a monkey peed in battery acid.

Ryan grimaced at the mug in his hand before shoving it away. He didn't care what Esposito said; he would never grow to tolerate that sludge. But, alas, it was all they had. He sighed, wondering if it was just some unwritten rule that all cop's had to drink awful office coffee. Really, those mechanical coffee dispensers produced a higher quality than the budget-approved grounds they brewed each and every day. On reflection, he supposed that was why Beckett always stopped by a coffee shop on the way into work.

"Hey," Ryan spun around in his chair so that he could face his partner, the mug of lukewarm coffee sitting forgotten on his desk. "What do you think is up with Beckett?"

"Huh?" Esposito looked up from the thick stack of files he was reviewing, letting out a grunt of a reply. "Don't know."

"Aren't you, I don't know… just a bit, curious?" Ryan pressed, sliding his chair across the small gap between their desks.

Slamming the file shut, Esposito glared up at him with an exasperated expression. "Damn it, of course I'm curious," he all but growled. "She's acting all… weird and secretive, even for her. She's vague in her answers and didn't seem all too concerned that the FBI consider her a person of interest in something that has to do with 'national security'."

"Yeah," Ryan bobbed his head, grinning slightly at the disgruntled look on his partner's face. "And then there's this mystery man." He blinked, and then on second thought, he pushed his chair back over to his desk, before rolling it back to drop the portrait the department sketch artist, after sitting down with Mr. Hostetler, had made of the Beckett's mystery companion.

"Who's this?" Esposito asked, picking up the paper and staring down at the sketch with the same fierceness he usually reserved for suspects.

"The mystery guy that Beckett's with," Ryan repeated. "He's handsome, I guess… in a rugged way. At least, that's what Jenny would say. I can see why Beckett would be—" He trailed off when he noticed his partner was looking at him with a sprinkling of mirth in his eyes. "Alright… so just for the hoot of it…"

"_For the hoot of it_?" parroted Esposito with an amused expression. "Damn, dude, Jenny's really got you housed trained. So whipped!" He made a cracking noise and flicked his wrist in a pantomime of striking the air with a whip.

Ryan knitted his eyebrows together, but ignored his partner's teasing. "Anyways…," he went on. "I pulled in some favors with a buddy in the Justice Department, and had him run it through the Federal facial rec database."

"And?"

"Nothing," Ryan sighed. "Zilch, zip, nada… diddly-squat. Not a thing." Esposito raised his eyebrow at him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Ryan shut up, and leaned back in his chair, flashing him a brief look of apology before continuing. "Hey, perhaps it's not nothing. The fact the guy's face doesn't appear at all in the Federal database has got to say something."

"Like what?" huffed Esposito, clearly beyond tolerance.

Ryan shrugged, as casually as he could. "I don't know… maybe he's a spy?"

Esposito's brow creased as he mulled that over. He looked off into the distance, deep in thought. His eyes flicked back to Ryan as he bobbed his head in agreement. "Maybe you're on to something," he said. "I mean, that _would_ explain Beckett's vague replies and her irregular behavior."

"Going solo, I wouldn't call that atypical behavior for Kate Beckett," Ryan interjected.

"I know," grounded out Esposito, giving him a pointed look. "But even still, she's usually more blunt about not needing help. I'm telling you… she was down right polite."  
"Now that's odd behavior," Ryan inclined his head. "You think she's in over her head?"  
"Oh, without a doubt," he replied. "But she can handle herself. Beckett's badass. And if she needs help, she knows who to call."

Ryan raised an eyebrow in question. "Who?"

"Us, you numbskull," Esposito shook his head in disbelief. He rolled his eyes and was about to tease him more when the door to the Captain's office swung open and Iron Gates herself made a terrifying appearance.

"Detectives Esposito and Ryan," she growled, clearly very upset. "My office. Now! You two have a lot of explaining to do."

Ryan shared a look with Esposito, and he knew his partner was thinking the same thing. Those favors he'd called in to help identify Beckett's mystery man had raised some red flags with some higher-up. Whatever it was she and her mystery man were involved in… it was big. As Ryan stood up and followed Esposito into the captain's office, head hung like a schoolboy being called into the principle's office, he couldn't help but wonder if Beckett truly understood what she was mixed up in. Because he sure as hell didn't.

XXX

She followed him down the row of storage units, keeping her eyes peeled. Kate firmly believed that a healthy dose of paranoia was a good thing, just as long as you didn't let it consume you. She'd made that mistake, and the bullet wound in the center of her chest was a testament to that obsession. It was not a mistake she intended on repeating. And now that she was fully invested in helping Castle protect his daughter, Kate wasn't taking any chances.

Castle stopped in front of a storage unit with the number 47 stenciled in black across the center of the bright neon orange rolling door. She watched as he retrieved a key from his pocket and bent down to unlock the padlock at the base of the door. Kate pursed her lips, not to subtly appreciating the way his jeans hugged his backside. Her brow furrowed and she shook her head, trying to stay on focus. Now was no the time to get distracted by the attractive portions of her companion.

Thankfully unaware of her ogling, Castle stood up, pulling the door with him. It rattled noisily as it rolled up. Beckett blinked, pulling her eyes away from his deliciously shaped ass and up to the dark interior of the storage unit. Castle stepped inside and flicked a switch, turning on the overhead florescent light.

The small space was set up like a storm shelter, along with a sleepy cot, a hand cranked lamp and radio sitting beside it on top of a footstool. One side was lined with stacks of utilitarian gray plastic slap-lid boxes. Each was labeled with a white sticker in crisp, clear handwriting. Several packages of water bottles were stacked in the corner, along with a black lockbox. There was a metal cabinet sealed with a padlock. Kate had her suspicions as to what it held. Castle walked right past it all, going straight for the lockbox.

He dropped down to one knee and quickly punched in the code. A metallic click sounded as the bolts freed, unlocking the latch. Castle opened it up and reached inside, puling out large stacks of cash. Kate watched with interest, trying to count the amount. He placed them on the cot, eyeing each before going for more. When he'd pulled out the amount he deemed appropriate, he shut the lockbox and shoved the bundles of cash into a small black duffel he'd pulled out from underneath the cot.

"We really need that much cash?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in question

He bobbed his head. "We can't risk using a credit card or visiting an ATM," he asserted. He gestured towards the locked metal cabinet on the other side of the room. "Seven-Four-Two-Nine."

"Huh?"

"The combination for the lock," he elaborated. "Here," he tossed her another empty duffel. "Grab us some ammo."

"Okay," Kate caught the duffel and stepped around the cot. She came to a halt when she caught sight of a large stack of spiral binders shelved in a bookcase beside the metal cabinet. Her eyebrows knitted together as she ran her fingers along the binding. About twelve of them were labeled with the name 'Derrick Storm' followed by a number, as if they were part of a series. "What are these?"

Castle glanced up and frowned. "Huh? Oh… those. After my first mission, some Langley therapist suggested it would be cathartic to write things out. So I did, just not in the manner in which he'd envisioned," he pursed his lips in a tiny smile. "I told you I wanted to write. So… I did."

Kate smiled. "There's like… more than twenty books here. Did you ever try and get them published?"

"I'm a spy, Kate," he reminded her with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Technically I died after college. Very well couldn't be writing books while I was dead, now could I?"

"Can I read one?" she asked.

Castle stared at her for a long moment. She could tell he was hesitant. He swallowed, and she watched his throat bob as he did so. "Sure… why the hell not."

"Thanks!" she beamed, grabbing the manuscript labeled _Derrick Storm #1_. She moved to slip it into the duffel he'd given her, when she paused, noticing the cover page. Underneath the title was the name _R.A. Rodgers_.

Kate suppressed a gasp of disbelief. She glanced back at Castle, who was oblivious to her surprise, still counting out cash from the lockbox, and then back at the cover page. No. It couldn't be. That would just be too… unreal. But, she couldn't deny what was staring back at her in crisp black Times New Roman font. _Oh my God_, Kate thought, _this is incredible._ She fought the urge to fangirl.

R.A. Rodgers was one of her favorite mystery authors. His books had helped her battle through the tragedy of her mother's death. In them she found the closure that she'd never found in real life. The good guys always won, and that had been something she'd needed back then. He'd only ever written two books, both of which she had reread many times. Kate had always wondered why R.A. Rodgers had never written another book. Arching her neck to look back at Castle, she supposed she now knew that answer to that question.

Deciding to keep silent on her revelation—if Castle wanted to tell her, then he would—Kate slipped the manuscript into the duffel bag and then turned to the metal cabinet. She grabbed the lock, but paused. Her mind went blank. _Shit_. She had been distracted by her discovery of R.A. Rodgers' true identity that she'd forgotten the combination for the lock. She shifted her weight on her feet, slightly embarrassed.

"Um, Castle… what was that combination again?"

Castle was too busy counting the bills to notice her embarrassment. "Seven-Four-Two-Nine."

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, nodding her head, remembering it now that he'd said it again. She reached for the lock and quickly entered the combination, smiling with satisfaction when it the tumblers clicked and the lock snapped open. Swinging the cabinet door open, she let out a low whistle of astonishment at what she found inside. Yes. Her earlier suspicions had been right. "Impressive. How long have you been stockpiling all this?"

Castle shrugged his shoulders. "About a year."

"You don't do things by halves, do you?"

"Nope," he declared with a lopsided grin that was adorable. She had to fight the urge to smile back at him. Really, it was getting ridiculous how easy it was for her inside to turn to mush. She'd never been this… smitten?

Biting her lower lip, Kate suppressed her feelings, and concentrated on stuffing the duffel bag with as many ammo boxes as she could, along with some filled magazine cartridges. She noticed a couple of flash grenades along the inner shelf, and shrugged, figuring those could be useful at some point. _You never know when you'd need a good flash grenade_, she thought, smirking to herself as she added six to the growing stockpile in the duffel bag.

When she'd finished packing what she thought they might need, Kate turned around to find Castle watching her with a soft gaze that made her feel self-conscious. He seemed to be in a slight daze, as if he was lost in some fantasy. She cleared her throat, pursing her lips and tilting her head, holding her chin up.

He snapped out of his reverie, and shook his head. "Sorry," he said, giving her a wink, before moving to close the lockbox. "Got everything?"

"I think so," she said, hefting the bag up. "You?"

He bobbed his head. "Let's head back to the car and get out of here before anyone shows up."

"Sounds good to me."

They made a quick departure from the storage facility. Castle offered to switch bags, suggesting that hers might be too heavy. She refused, almost like she had something to prove. He had cocked his head, dubious, but relented with a shrug. They moved cautiously, keeping an eye out for another suspicious. Kate followed behind him as he surveyed their path. When they arrived back at the manager's office, Kate couldn't hide her surprise when they'd found the black Escalades gone.

Castle chuckled. "I guess it was just our paranoia getting the best of us."

"Yeah," she chuckled back, still uneasy. Kate had learned to trust her gut, and right now her gut was still telling her something was off. It was like they were being watched. Castle seemed unfazed. He was probably used to his mission parameters constantly shifting.

They exited the storage facility without further delay. As they walked down the street, Kate found herself looking over her shoulder with every step. The uneasy feeling in her gut just wouldn't leave her. It was too easy. If they were really being followed, then they should not have been able to retrieve their supplies unmolested. She sighed. Maybe Castle was right. Maybe it was just their paranoia getting the best of them.

The Ford Taurus was where they'd left it, and looked untouched. Castle popped the trunk open, and deposited the duffel with the money. Kate stepped over and handed him the bag with the ammo, and he shoved that in as well. She turned around as he was shifting their bags in the trunk, and froze.

_Shit_.

"You know, the trunk space is bigger than I tho—"

"Castle," she hissed, raising her hands up in the air.

"Huh?" he turned around, raising an eyebrow in question. But when he saw what she did, the smile that had been spreading across his face fell. He sighed, and reluctantly raised his hands up in surrender. "Oh, just great."

"Richard Castle," the tall man holding the gun on them smiled. He had an accent that was hard to place. "Long time no see."

"Not long enough, if you ask me," Castle grumbled.

"Who's the pretty lady?"

"No one important," Castle offered. "What can I say, Clyde? My line of work is a lonely one. Sometimes I just need a little… um… companionship. It doesn't matter at all that her affections towards me are a result of the price I agreed to pay."

Kate bristled at his words. Was he really trying to pass her off as some sort of… high-class _escort_? She opened her mouth to object, but before she could, Castle silenced her with a look. She swallowed back her protest.

"She's very beautiful," Clyde noted. "Perhaps you won't mind sharing?"

"Sorry, no," Castle asserted with a growl of protectiveness. Kate gritted her teeth in mild indignation when Castle moved to stand between her and this Clyde fellow, as if he could shield her from danger. It didn't really help. Clyde wasn't alone. There were six others with him, all packing guns with silencers attached. "Besides, you know how much I hate sharing."  
"This is true," Clyde nodded, grinning, his eyes roaming Kate.

"Did Sophia send you?" Castle asked, trying to change the focus of the conversation. And it worked. Clyde's eyes darted away from Kate, and she involuntarily released a breath. His gaze had made her feel sick. Unlike Castle, who gazed at her with an adoration and fondness that just seemed to keep growing the longer they spent time together, Clyde's gaze was one of pure lascivious lust.

"Ah, the lovely Sophia," he crooned, smirking wickedly, like he knew some inside joke. "Perhaps yes… perhaps not. It's not my place to say." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Where's Spyglass?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Spyglass, where is it? I know you have it, Rick," Clyde said, glaring at Castle. "Hand it over, and you shall not be harmed."

"As if," Castle laughed in the face of danger. "You said the same thing in Brussels."

"Ah, Brussels… that… that was an entirely different matter, my friend," Clyde replied with an amused smirk. It faded quickly, replaced with a steely glare. "But again, I must ask, where is Spyglass?"

"You have to know, Clyde, I would never tell you," Castle asserted defiantly.

Clyde sighed. "As you wish, Rick," he said, and gestured to one of his men.

The man holstered his weapon, and reached inside his coat, retrieving a small plastic case. He popped it open and Kate saw two syringes with clear liquid inside.

"I suggest you don't struggle," Clyde said. "Owen's hands aren't as steady as they used to be."

Owen removed one syringe, and tested it. He looked towards them with disinterest, and waited for his boss's order. Clyde gave a nod and Owen stepped forward. Kate felt her chest tighten as panic began to set in. Her breath hitched, and the scar along her side began to throb along with her quickening heartbeat.

"Castle?" Kate hissed out in desperation, hoping he had some sort of plan to get them out of this.

He turned to her with a defeated look. "I'm sorry, Kate," he murmured. His eyes flicked over to Owen and then back to her. "It's just a sedative. Don't struggle, okay? He wants us alive."

Kate shook her head, this couldn't happen. "Castle!" she cried out as two men grabbed her, pulling her away from the spy. One beefy hand grabbed her head, shoving it to the side as he brushed her hair aside to expose her neck. Kate grunted and gritted her teeth, trying to fight off the thugs. Her resistance was futile. Owen grinned sickeningly as he stabbed the needle into the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder.

"Castle!" she all but sobbed.

His expression morphed into one of sorrow and regret. "I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so sorry."

Kate fought against the effects of the sedative. But it was stronger than she'd been anticipating. She struggled to maintain eye contact with Castle, silently pleading with him to help her, to do… something. He was a freaking spy for crying out loud; surely he had some trick up his sleeve. Yet he just stood there, doing nothing. He sighed, and looked away. Her strength was lost to her, and she couldn't do anything else but give in. Tears of frustration and anger prickled at the corners of her eyes as she slipped into unconsciousness.


	14. Chapter 13

**Private Eyes – Chapter 13**

It started with a flare of light, followed by a bang, and then a searing pain in her chest. Everything turned upside down, only the sky before her… above her? She couldn't really tell; it was all so muddled. Breathing was difficult. It was a struggle to inhale and exhale. Her heart was screaming within her chest, and all she wanted to do was cry, but she couldn't find her voice. A cloudless sky loomed above her, a pleasant azure color taunting her with its brightness. Using all her strength, she heaved in a deep breath, fighting to remain conscious, but the terrible ache in the center of her chest was too much. She surrendered to the relenting pull, and slipped into darkness.

When she opened her eyes, Kate was sailing through a swirling void, gray mists obscuring her path. It was dark. She couldn't see anything ahead of her. Arching her neck, she squinted her eyes as she attempted to ascertain the path she'd taken to get here. Nothing. It was just more of the same, just an overwhelming darkness devoid of light. Her head was heavy, thoughts muddled. She tried to recall what had come before, what had lead her to this void of swirling gray mist, but she was coming up blank.

The memory of her shooting was vivid in her mind, the pain as fresh as the day it happened. Her jaw tensed and her eyes clenched shut as her body contorted in agony. Her breath was expelled from her lungs as she struggled against its overwhelming presence. Her heart pounded profoundly beneath her breast and a wave of anguish rolled over her.

Forcing her eyes open, determined to meet her fate head on, Kate let out a gasp as she caught sight of a face in the mist. The jaw, the nose, the brow, those lips… she knew that face, had grown to adore it, despite the brief time in which she'd known its owner. It was Castle. His lips were moving soundlessly, as if he was talking to her, reassuring her that everything would be okay, that all she had to do was accept it, embrace the darkness.

But Kate didn't want too. She couldn't.

Castle murmured something she couldn't quite make out. But before she could respond, his mouth was on hers, and she felt a moan rise up through her throat. His presence engulfed her, surrounding her with its security and reassurance. She sighed, melting into his embrace and closed her eyes, accepting his advice.

She surrendered to the void.

XXX

Two hours. It had been nearly two hours since the outside consultant had called her, asking for orders, and… nothing. Sophia Turner was growing restless. She didn't like being kept waiting. It was one of things about her job that she hated most.

Danberg standing behind Agent Riley, watching as the younger agent scourged through the files on Detective Beckett's desktop computer. So far there wasn't much of note except for what appeared to be an extensive digital collection of evidence, witness reports, and other such documents all pertaining to the murder of Johanna Beckett, the detective's deceased mother. It bordered on obsessive.

As she waited for a return call from the outside consultant, Turner leaned back against the wall in the small office niche, one of R.A. Rodgers's books in hand as she leisurely flipped through the pages. She was curious to see just how much of the man she knew could be read in the words he'd written so long ago. He'd clearly changed a lot during the intervening years since the book had been published, less idealistic and more jaded in some respects, but despite all that, there was still an optimist buried deep inside him. Turner had always admired that about Castle. Despite all the shit he'd seen and done, somehow he'd remained a romantic at heart.

She furrowed her brow, and tenderly stroked her fingers over the words on the page, reminiscing of a time where he was hers. It hadn't been an ideal relationship, if you could even call it that, more like an exclusive 'friends-with-benefits' arrangement that had lasted almost six years before their supervisor found out about it during a nearly botched assignment in Morocco. Had things ever progress beyond the physical? No. Not for her. But Castle was an emotional man, and he'd invested. She'd been hoping to use that to her advantage, but York finding out about them had derailed that plan.

The generic ring of a cell phone interrupted her thoughts. Turner snapped the book shut, replacing it on the shelf, before reaching inside her jacket to pull out her phone. No. It wasn't hers. She glanced up to see Danberg answer his phone.

Sighing, she crossed her arms and strolled out from the office niche, needing to do something. Turner let her eyes wandering around the bohemian living room again. Standing in the middle of Kate Beckett's apartment was a strange experience. The feel of the apartment contrasted with what she'd read about the NYPD Detective in the profiles and dossiers that the CIA had on the woman. Turner felt like she now understood the woman a little more than she had before. There was definitely more to Kate Beckett than the hard-nosed, kicking ass and taking names detective that she'd seen on paper.

Assessing the room with trained eyes, Turner already knew that there wouldn't anything that would lead them to Castle, Spyglass, or Mockingbird. The information on the computer might be useful in the future, but it was hardly worth her time. Maneuvering around the sofa, Turner headed for the only room she'd yet to personally survey. Glancing over her shoulder to check on Danberg and Riley one more time, she pushed open the door and slipped into the bedroom.

Beckett's private space was just as artsy and bohemian as the living room. Little trinkets littered any available flat surface space. Turner shuddered, having an instant dislike for it, just as she'd had with the décor in the living room. The closet was ajar, and several drawers on the antique dresser were half opened. It was as if someone had been in a haste to pack. Turner's eyes dropped to the roller case lying lopsided by the foot of the bed. She lifted her gaze up to the rumpled and disheveled bed sheets, the pillows lying haphazardly against the wrought iron headboard.

She frowned, finding herself wondering if it was possible that Castle had already seduced and bedded the woman. She made a mental note to have the crime scene techs check the sheets for fluids.

When Danberg and Riley checked on Beckett's previous online history, they'd discovered that she had a profile on some website similar to , but for blind dates. Turner chuckled to herself. The woman must have been desperate for companionship. She was probably putty in Castle's hands. Oh… and what _good_ hands he had. It undoubtedly hadn't taken much work on his part to get the detective into bed.

Turner was snapped out of her musing when her phone buzzed. A devilish smile tugged at her lips as she read the text message. The outside consultant had come through. And he'd managed not only to snag Castle, but Beckett as well.

Oh… this was going to be fun.

XXX

Kate was brought back into the conscious world by a sudden lurch, only to find herself still in darkness. She blinked her eyes slowly, allowing the fog of whatever sedative they'd used on her to gradually fade away. From what she could tell, she was lying on her side with something warm and heavy draped across her waist. Squinting her eyes, she arched her neck in an attempt to examine what it was. Yet it was too dark, it was impossible to see. Just as she pulled her head back, deciding it was a futile endeavor, her entire body was suddenly lifted off the floor, before then immediately slamming back down.

A muffled grunt came from behind her.

Her eyes went wide. Gritting her teeth, she contorted her torso around, suppressing the jolt of rippling pain as the scar down her left side twisted and pulled. Kate blinked in the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust. But it was no use. There just wasn't any light to cast shadows. She settled back onto her side, and moved to stretch her arm out in an attempt to search her surroundings. But before she could move her hand too far, it caught on something. She frowned, tilting her head down in the blackness in a futile attempt to see what was trapping her hand.

"Oh, we're handcuffed," came a familiar male voice from behind her. His warm breath brushed across the nape of her neck, causing a pleasant shiver to dance down her spine. "Kinky."

"Castle?"

"The one and only," he declared, no doubt with a smug smirk.

"Where are we?"

"In the trunk of a car, I believe," he answered with a slight chuckle.

"This isn't funny, Castle," Kate growled in the blackness. If she could see him, she would most definitely have graced him with one of her patented glares that she usually reserved for suspects.

"I didn't say this was funny," he defended, lifting his arm up to rattle the metal handcuffs linking them together. "I said it was _kinky_." Castle shifted, and Kate's eyes went wide as she felt his pelvis brush against her ass, suddenly realizing that in this position they must be spooning, or at least as best as they could while trapped in the trunk of a car. Castle hummed low, as if in approval. _Jackass_. She could feel his chest vibrate with it against her back, and she tried with all her might to stifle her body's instant reaction. "Oh, isn't this cozy," he proclaimed, nuzzling up against her back.

"Shove it, Castle," Kate groused, not in the mood, even if the warmth pooling in her lower abdomen attested differently.

"Don't mind if I do," he purred into her ear, resting his palm comfortably low against her stomach. "Just shift your hips a bit and we'll be in business."

She opened her mouth, but her retort was cut off when the car hit another bump, sending Kate colliding back into Castle. His larger frame caught her, and she couldn't hold back the loud gasp when his front molded deliciously against her back. She swallowed down a moan.

Castle coughed, covering a groan, as he helped her right herself, his hand "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered, a little too quickly.

The car made a sharp turn. She couldn't hold back a yelp as they both shifted around in the trunk. Castle's hands latched onto her, holding her as steady as possible, trying to take the brunt of the impacts caused by the car's sudden movements. Her body twisted awkwardly when the car swerved again, and she couldn't hold back a small cry as the scar along her side pulled uncomfortably.

"Kate?"

She gritted her teeth, breathing heavily through her nose. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he insisted, using his skillful hands to shift her around until they were facing one another. Kate thought it was ridiculous, because they couldn't really see one another, but she relented. If it made him calmer, then so be it. She was not going to argue. "Please, Kate… talk to me. I want to help."

She sighed, the pleading edge in his voice getting to her. It was difficult to say no to him. Maybe that's how she had ended up stuck in the dark trunk of some car instead of lounging comfortably in her clawfoot bathtub with a good book. Kate licked her lips, feeling a sudden wave of nervous energy ripple up inside her, causing her doubts to rise up to the surface. She wanted to tell him, she really did. But she couldn't. She wasn't ready.

"I… I can't," Kate dropped her head in shame, feeling her cheeks warm with it. She moved her hand up in the darkness, blindly searching for him. Finding him, she cradled his face in her hand. "It's not that I don't want to tell you… I do. I… I'm just not ready." Kate paused, rubbing her thumb against the stubble along his jaw, feeling her heart clench with emotion. She narrowed her brow in determination. "But I will… later. I promise."

"Okay," he agreed, his tone leaving no doubt in her mind that he was going to hold her to that promise. Kate sighed, feeling her heart calm beneath her chest. It was reassuring too, that he believed that they would have a later to discuss things.

Castle rotated his cuffed hand around and gripped her hand, slowly interlacing their fingers together. He gave her a gentle squeeze of understanding. Kate pursed her lips and let the tension in her body release, relaxing as best she could into the hard lining of the trunk. They stayed quiet for some time, listening to the sounds of the wheels on the pavement. Kate didn't know what to say, if there was anything to say. She was so confused and conflicted over everything. But one thing was certain, despite how dire their situation was, Kate found herself believing they could make it through it. She couldn't explain it. It seemed almost irrational, yet there it was.

A sudden thought came to her. "Have you tried the inner latch?" she asked. "Perhaps we could pop the trunk and—"

"Already tried it," Castle asserted before she could get any further. His tone was defeated. He let out a sigh, and she felt his free hand come up to brush her hair back from her face. It was a gentle and tender gesture that caused her heart to flutter with feelings she'd been trying hard to suppress ever since he'd barged his way into her life. "They hit you with a stronger dose of the sedative, so you were out longer."

"How long?"

"About an hour," Castle said. "If we haven't left the city limits, we probably will soon."

Kate nodded, absorbing the news. Knitting her eyebrows together, she flicked her head back up. "Castle? Who's this Clyde?"

Castle groaned. "South African merc," he said. "He used to work for a warlord, running guns through Eastern Europe, which was how we ran into each other in Brussels. He was attempting to purchase a batch of AK-47s we—the CIA, I mean—had put on the black market to snare the gunrunners. Almost worked too, but he managed to slip through our fingers."

"Do you think…? I mean, could he be working with the mole?" asked Kate, part of he amazed at how much he'd revealed just now. So far it was the most detailed answer she'd ever got about his past.

"It's possible," Castle concurred. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if it was someone else. Believe it or not, some news in the intelligence community travels like wildfire. I'm sure most of the world's top agencies knew I'd taken Spyglass before we even bumped into one another in DC." He chuckled. "Whoever's paying him, I'm sure it's a fortune. Clyde doesn't come cheap."

The car made another turn, and they rolled with it. Castle gripped her forearm with one hand, turning serious. "Look, Kate, I don't know what's going to happen when we reach our destination and they open the trunk, and you really don't have any reason to trust me, especially now, but…," he trailed off. Kate held her breath, feeling her heart pound beneath her breast, the anticipation killing her. "I need you to know—to understand—that though we've met under unusual circumstances and still have a lot to learn about one another, everything between us… our attraction, this connection we share… has been real. I haven't been faking. Sure, at the start, I might have considered trying to seduce you to get to the flash drive, but that's change. I swear. I know my word probably isn't that good, but… Kate, it was never my plan to get you mixed up in all this, let alone develop—"

"Castle," she growled, interrupting him.

"Yes?"

She let out a huff and rolled her eyes. "Will you just shut up and kiss me."

He was caught off guard by her directness, as was she. But she couldn't take it back, and within moments, he complied to her demands, tilting his body into a better position as he slanted his mouth over hers, finding her in the darkness with ease. Kate pushed back, returning the kiss with all the emotion she felt swelling up in her beating heart. Castle was correct when he'd said that they hardly knew one another, but what they did know was enough. He cared for her, and she… she cared for him. They mutually _cared for _each other. And for now that was enough.

It was a staggering revelation to realize while stuck in the trunk of a car, being carried off to some uncertain future. But Kate embraced the moment, unwilling to let any doubts she might still harbor intrude. Her lips moved passionately over his, and she grinned when she coaxed a moan from deep within his throat. His free hand moved down her side, sprawling wide low along the small of her back, teasing the curve of her ass. Kate closed her eyes, ignoring the cutting pain as the metal cuffs dug into her wrist as she pivoted her body even more into his, needing to be closer to him. Neither of them knew what was to come. And if these were to be their final moments together, she wanted them to be memorable. Her whole body tingled with electric energy as his hand gripped her hip, nudging her onto his back as he moved over her, deepening the kiss.

So absorbed in one another, neither felt the car come to a halt or heard the low rumble of the engine cease. It was just them, alone in the dark, the rest of the world nonexistent. But that blissful ignorance was soon dashed, when the trunk popped open and a bright light assaulted their eyes. Kate grimaced, squinting as she pulled back to shield her eyes.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me!" groaned Castle.

"Sorry to interrupt," came Clyde's cruel voice, not at all apologetic. "But my employer wishes to talk with the lovely lady."

"What!?" Castle gasped out, clearly baffled. He arched his torso around to glare up at their captor. "Why?"

"None of your concern, old friend," Clyde replied with a sly grin. He raised his hand, and swiftly knocked Castle out with a small rubber cudgel.

Kate cried out when Castle's body jerked from the hit and slumped back against her. She squeezed her arms around him, attempting to rouse him. Flicking her eyes up at Clyde, she glared at him with undisguised hatred.

The mercenary ignored her disdain, reaching inside his pocket to produce a key. Two of his thugs materialized from behind him, and they twisted Castle around to grab at their linked hands. Kate struggled against them, but they were too strong, and the effects of the sedative hadn't yet fully diminished from her system.

"Play nice, now," drawled Clyde, grinning sickeningly, his evil eyes enjoying the entertainment. Kate fought out, earning an elbow to stomach. While she gasped for breath, Clyde moved in and unlocked the cuffs that linked her and Castle together. He grinned as he stepped back, nodding to his men.

The two thugs returned and big hands reached out for her. Gathering all her strength, Kate fought them off as best she could, but they were two and she was just one. She managed to kick one of the men in the nose, grinning triumphantly when she heard a loud crack. The brute cursed, jerking his head back as he spat out blood. Clyde stood off to the side, a displeased expression working its way onto his face.

"Fools! Stop messing around!" he shouted.

Her gloating cost her, and Kate was unprepared for the punch to the gut. She coughed, doubling over, and when the men reached in to grab her for the second time, she was unable to resist. The thugs hauled her out of the trunk and she stumbled onto the concrete floor. One beefy hand gripped the back of her neck and yanked her back onto her feet. She gritted her teeth and glared at Cracked Nose, blood smearing his ugly mug.

Clyde stepped in front of her, grinning. "Now, play nice, pretty lady."

Kate flicked her stare to him, and curled her lips in disgust. But before she could respond by spitting in his face, a black canvas bag was being shoved over her head.

XXX

Castle groaned as he gradually fought his way back to consciousness. His head was throbbing, and a major headache was brewing. As awareness returned to him, his first thoughts were of Kate. Snapping his eyes open, he found himself in a dark dank room, retching of blood and sewage. The concrete floor was cold, hard, and wet. He struggled against his bonds, but couldn't free himself. He attempted to shout out for Kate, but soon learned that his mouth was gag with a filthy cloth. Clenching his jaw, he contorted his body around, ignoring the ache along his side where he'd bruised his ribs that other day, arching his neck as he scanned the room for Kate. There was no sign of her. Wherever they'd taken her, it wasn't here.

Perhaps he should be grateful for that, because his quick survey of the room quickly explained the reason for the foul stench. A single table and chair furnished the room. The tabletop was littered with a variety of knives and other heinous tools of torture. He'd seen them all before, had endured worse. In the center of the room a rusting chain hung from the ceiling. It swung slightly, evidence that it had been lowered from its original height.

A deep mental click sounded and Castle rolled over just in time to see the gray slab of a door open. Clyde appeared, flanked by four of his men. A henchman with two white bandage strips over his bruised nose folded his arms and stopped in the doorway, blocking any escape. Clyde casually walked over to the table and examined the instruments on it. He picked up a knife with a wicked curve and one serried side before placing it back down on the table. He looked over at Castle and grinned.

Two of the thugs came over and grabbed him, violently hauling him up onto his feet. One looked to Clyde for instruction. He gave a curt nod, and the man removed the gag from Castle's mouth.

"Where's Kate!?" he demanded in a hoarse voice.

"Your pretty lady friend?" Clyde's lips morphed into a sadistic grin as he exchanged a look with his bodyguard. "She's being entertained by some of my… _less civilized_ associates. They were quite thrilled with the opportunity, especially once I told them she was a police officer. It's awful. Many of these men have been unjustly punished by your countries legal system."

Castle controlled his anger. His past experience with Clyde telling him to be cautious with what the man said. Most of it would be fabrication, meant to cause a reaction in him. Castle was determined not to play the game. Instead, he remained silent, simply glaring at Clyde.

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "You doubt my words?" he challenged. "My word is my bond, Rick. I would be nothing without my word. After all, I have a reputation to maintain."

Castle curled his lips in a snarl. "I'm going to kill you."

"Ha," Clyde laughed. "When? If you haven't noticed, I'm in complete control. Plus there are five of us, and you're tied up."

Castle shrugged, stretching his neck slowly as he glanced around at all the thick-necked goons. "I've seen better."

Clyde ignored him, returning his attention back to the table of torture instruments. "I've acquired some new skills since last we met, old friend," he said. "Perhaps I should show you?"

"Whatever floats your boat." The retort earned him a punch in the gut. He suppressed the groan, not wanting to give his captors the satisfaction.

Clyde smirked, shaking his head at Castle's temerity. "My employer has certain questions that require answers," he informed Castle. "And I, for one, intend not to disappoint." Taking off his jacket and depositing it on the back of the chair, Clyde unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll up his sleeves. "Prepare him," he ordered.

Clenching his jaw, Castle summoned up his courage, knowing he'd need it for the next hour or so. He was dragged over to the chain that hung down from the ceiling. He didn't resist. Resistance would be pointless at this juncture. His white polo shirt was cut away and his arms were hitched up to the back of the chain. This was going to be brutal. Clyde wasn't exactly known for his mercy. But this wouldn't be the first time he'd been tortured. Castle had experienced far worse than Clyde, and he felt confident in his ability to take whatever the man could dish out.

Finished securing him to the chain, the men backed off and Clyde gave a signal to his bodyguard, who turned the winch. The chain rattled, and Castle closed his eyes as his arms were tugged up above his head; his muscles tensing at they were stretched and strained. He thought of his daughter… and Kate. The kiss they'd shared in the dark of the trunk was going to be a safe haven for him during this. He'd never had something like that. Before, when faced with similar situations, Castle had just let his mind go dead, numb to the pain that would be inflicted upon him. He'd never had a memory to rely on to get him through it. With that settled, he nodded to himself, determined to survive this for them… for Kate and Alexis. They could do whatever they wanted to him, he'd never surrender. As long as Alexis was safe… that was all that mattered.

Opening his eyes, Castle glared at the smug Clyde as the man played around with the various tools on the table, attempting to taunt him. He made a silent vow that somehow, someway, he'd make good on his threat to kill the bastard.

Having finally decided on an instrument, a strange looking curved knife with two barbed prongs, Clyde slowly strolled around the table to stand in front of Castle, waving the instrument menacingly in front of him. "Shall me begin?"


	15. Chapter 14

**Private Eyes – Chapter 14**

She couldn't see a thing.

That should have terrified her. But instead, a steady calm had settled over Kate. She reasoned that it was her body's way to keep her alert and at the ready for whenever an opportunity for escape presented itself. Once it had become clear that resistance was only going to get her punched in the stomach—again, Kate had given up fighting them and simply surrendered. One goon clutched her bicep, the firm grip almost too tight. It wasn't exactly painful, just unpleasant and irritating. She went were he directed her, relying on her other senses to help her stay aware of her surroundings. Her ears were on alert, listening for anything that could provide her with some clue as to where they were.

From what little Kate had seen when they'd torn her from the trunk, they had been in an underground parking structure. And from the fissures in the concrete and plant growth attempting to reclaim the pillars, she had guessed they were in some long abandon complex. After they had put the bag over her head, Kate had heard Clyde order some of his men to take Castle to 'the room'. She hadn't liked the ominous sound of that.

When it came to her, however, it appeared that Clyde had no need to give any orders, as the henchman leading her away already seemed to know where to take her.

So far these mercenaries had executed their plans rather flawlessly. But Kate didn't believe in a perfect plan. There was no such thing. She knew that from experience. All it took was time. Eventually a crack in their plan would appear. Small at first, but soon it would grow until there was a chasm wide enough to slip through. Then—and only then—would Kate strike. But first, she had to play along, keep herself alive long enough for such a window to open.

Since she was currently visually impaired, due to the black sack over her head, Kate just closed her eyes, hoping by doing so she'd assist in heightening her other senses.

The mercenary had first led her through a door with one of those metal push bars. Kate could hear the characteristic clunk and thunk as the door opened, and then closed after they'd passed through. Her designer boots echoed off the concrete floor as they continued on. If she'd have to guess, she would say they were walking down a corridor. After two turns, one to the right and the other to the left, the thug escorting her tugged her arm back until she came to a halt. She held her breath and listened.

She heard a distinctive light tap. The shuddering rumble of the sliding doors added further evidence to her belief that they would be entering an elevator. The man nudged her forward, and Kate stumbled over the gap the marked the entrance to the lift. The floor shifted slightly beneath her feet, just as it always did when she'd step on an elevator. The door rattled shut after another light tap. The electric hum and cranking of gears above her head was unmistakable. The mechanism vibrated to life and the ancient concepts of Archimedes, perfected through the centuries by a succession of engineers, went to work, moving the box to its requested destination. However, Kate was unable to ascertain whether they were going up or down. She wanted to say down. There was just something about the general motion she felt while on the lift that made her think they were going down.

Stepping off when the elevator arrived at its destination, Kate became aware of a chilly dampness to the air when she inhaled and exhaled. Gooseflesh materialized along her arms as she shivered. The brute clenched his fingers tighter around her bicep, urging her forward. She complied, slowly putting one foot in front of the other, listening to the click of her heels against the rough concrete floor.

"In here," the man grunted after she heard him open a door. He directed her inside, and then maneuvered her into a cold metal chair.

As Kate leaned back, her anxiety began to return, crashing through the calm that she'd thus far maintained through the ordeal. Blowing out a breath, the thug grabbed her arms, and roughly pulled them behind the back of the chair. Kate gritted her teeth, his none-too-gentle hands causing the scar between her breasts to pull unpleasantly. She felt him slide a loose pair of zip ties over her wrists, before he tightened them, the hard plastic digging agonizingly into the tender flesh.

Wordlessly, the man pulled the bag off her head, and Kate blinked under the gaze of a hot light directly above her. She glared defiantly up at the man. He sneered down at her, and backhanded her across the face. Kate jerked back causing the front legs of the chair to slightly rise up off the floor, before gravity righted her.

With the sneer still plastered across his face, the man left, slamming the door behind him, leaving Kate alone in the room, illuminated only by the sole light bulb swinging above her.

XXX

The fist flew at him from the left, striking his jaw. The second came from the right, knocking him in the solar plexus, sending him into a daze. The brute paused and cracked his knuckles, and then swung at him again, delivering a sucker punch to the gut. The air expelled from his lungs, and he stifled a groan, not wanting to give his tormentors the satisfaction. The pain they inflicted upon his body was nothing compared to the mental and emotional gratification he received at witnessing these idiots grasp at straws and come up empty handed.

Knuckle Cracker pulled his fist back, ready to renew his assault. But before he could follow throw, Clyde raised his hand.

"Enough!" he shouted, growing frustrated and irritable at the lack of any real progress.

The mercenary leader stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in, watching the whole scene with feigned disinterest. Castle took the opportunity during the lull of abuse to spit out a mouth full of blood. He probed his cracked lip with his tongue, suppressing a wince. Knuckle Cracker's fist had already caused a cut on his brow, and a small trickle of blood was obscuring the vision in his right eye. With wary eyes, breathing steadily through his mouth, as it was too painful to breathe through his nose, Castle watched as Clyde strolled over to the table and once again examined the tools of his trade.

He first picked up a pair of pliers, but soon rejected them. He eyed the car battery and associated jumper cables for a moment, before turning his attention back to the selection of blades, which were clearly his favor instrument to deliver pain. After much thought, Clyde grabbed a wickedly curved dagger off the table, and pushed Knuckle Cracker out of the way. He brought the sharp curve of the blade up to Castle's throat, pressing it in just enough to cause discomfort, yet not breaking the skin or drawing blood.

"I don't understand you, Rick? Why remain silent?" Clyde questioned. "There's nothing to be gained from refusing to talk. It's not like you need to impress that lady cop of yours. Actually, she's quite entertained at the moment, I can assure you. I even might give Giles a break so he could partake."

Castle clenched his jaw, avoiding Clyde's gaze. He kept his lips sealed, refusing to rise to the bait. From their past experiences, he knew Clyde was a talker. Most of his threats were empty. And if Clyde's employer had really wanted to speak with Kate, Castle highly doubted the mercenary would risk losing his pay by delivering damaged goods for inspection.

Knuckle Cracker, otherwise known as Giles, bobbed his head as he grinned wickedly, enthusiastically agreeing with his boss's suggestion. Clyde pulled the blade down from Castle's throat, running the sharp edge across his collarbone, before pressing it into his left pectoral, finally cutting some skin. Warm blood oozed out, trickling down his chest. Castle gritted his teeth, using his CIA conditioning to block out the pain. Clyde pursed his lips as he withdrew the blade, holding it up in front of Castle's eyes to show him the blood.

"I don't enjoy doing this, Rick," Clyde asserted, feigning sincerity and compassion. "Despite our adversarial nature, we are friends, are we not?"

Castle tilted his head up and graced him with a hard stare. Really!? After everything he'd just done to him, the man expected him to believe that horseshit.

"This could all end," Clyde tried again. "You don't need to suffer needlessly. Just… just tell me what I want to know and it will all stop."

He gave him nothing.

Clyde sighed and pulled back. He turned to Knuckle Cracker, and nodded. The muscled brute let out a grunt of annoyance as he… yep, you guessed it, cracked his knuckles, before stepping forward and taking another swing at him. Castle jerked with each punch, yet held his tongue, unwilling to cry out in pain from the pummeling in. After five minutes, his body could no longer handle the abuse and succumbed to exhaustion, granting him the bliss of unconsciousness.

XXX

Kate stared out into the darkness around her. The halo of light that shone down above her onto the bare concrete floor did not extend far enough to illuminate except for six feet in every direction, leaving much still hidden within the shadows. Swallowing her anxiety, Kate ignored the pounding beneath her ribs, and forced her courage up. She had been up against far worse than a shadowed room. Last year she'd faced down a dirty bomb and lived to tell the tale. It had only been through sheer dumb luck that she'd survived when in one final desperate gamble she'd pulled all the wires. And before that, she and Esposito, after going rogue in their search for a group of terrorist, had been trapped in a shipping container freezing unit, whilst on the hunt for the very same dirty bomb.

Compared to that… this was nothing.

"Hello?" she tentatively called out. "Is anyone there?"

Nothing. No response. She tried again, more determined. Again, nothing. Knitting her eyebrows together, Kate glared out into the darkness.

"You have no right to hold me," she shouted. "If you don't already know, I'm a Detective with the NYPD. Badge number 41319." She paused for a beat. "Release me and my friend. Let us walk away, and I promise no charges will be filed."

A decidedly feminine laugh filled the air.

The click of heels echoed around the room. Kate narrowed her eyes, scanning the darkness. It took her but a moment to pinpoint the source as coming from behind her. Snapping her head around, Kate watched as a tall dark haired woman with almond colored eyes stepped out of the shadows and into the light.

"Detective Katherine Houghton Beckett," the woman spoke with a refined voice, superior and a little smug. "We meet at least." She slowly walked around in a circle, looking Kate up and down with a critical eye. She came to a halt in front of Kate when she finished her assessment, letting out a little hum. "The photos don't do you justice, Kate. You're a beautiful woman."

"So are you," Kate noted, furrowing her brow, recalling what Castle had asked Clyde, when the mercenary had ambushed them outside the storage facility in Brooklyn. "You're Sophia, aren't you?"

"So Rick's talked about me?" the woman asked, before she could stop herself, unintentionally confirming Kate's question.

Kate knitted her eyebrows together as she thought, trying to remember whether or not Castle had mentioned this woman. "No… not really. Sorry," she shook her head, pursing her lips on a tight smile when she noticed a small frown form on the woman's features. Kate tilted her head slightly as she watched the woman, wondering just who she was in Castle's past. Then she remembered him mentioning that his partner had tried to kill him. "Were you his partner?"

A knowing smile touched Sophia's lips, and her eyes came alight with something akin to nostalgia. "I was… a long time ago," she answered at length. Kate didn't like the look of that smirk. "But not for a while. We… decided to go our separate ways. As did our superiors."

Kate frowned, unsure how to take that. "So you weren't the one who tried to kill him?" she asked for clarification, understandably confused. The only partner Castle had ever mentioned was the one whom he'd said tried to kill him.

"No," she shook her head. "That wasn't me." Sophia cocked her head, and stared at Kate for a long moment. The silence stretched between them, each woman eyeing up the other. "You do know he's crazy, right?"

"What?"

"Rick," Sophia said, looking down at her with sympathy. "He's unstable. After his partner tried to kill him, he just wasn't the same. Oh, he'd cleared the psych tests, but for someone like Rick, those are easy to fake. Rick… he's a one of the best, believe me… I know." She smiled suggestively.

Kate did not like the woman's tone. From the sounds of it, Sophia wasn't just speaking about Castle's professional abilities. She was beginning to suspect that this woman had known Castle on a much more personal level than as work colleagues. Instead of voicing her thoughts, she remained quiet, waiting Sophia out, interested in seeing what other information the woman would volunteer.

"The conference you attended in DC last week, it wasn't the only one. The intelligence community also met up for a war game— codename Spyglass. Rick was one of the participants. But something went wrong. He started accusing the Agency of kidnapping his long lost daughter—one, I might add, he'd never known about before then. The shrinks back at Langley believe he's had a nervous breakdown brought on by a bout of post traumatic stress…," Sophia paused and cocked her head as she stared down at Kate. "Something I believe you'd know a lot about."

She could not stop the sudden intake of oxygen even if she'd tried. The scars that marred her body as a result of her ordeal throbbed in reminder. Kate clenched her eyes shut, and hung her head, letting a curtain of hair fall down to shield her face from Sophia's gaze. Taking a moment to gather herself, Kate flicked her head back up and stared defiantly up at her interrogator.

"I don't believe you," she declared defiantly.

Sophia chuckled. "Oh, Kate… I feel sorry for you. I truly do," she brushed some of her dark wavy locks away from her face. "You're not the first, you know. He's done this before… with other women. It's… a coping mechanism for him. I've seen it happen. Our job… it can be demanding—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Sometimes we just need an escape from reality. I'm sorry, Kate, but you've just been caught up in one of his delusional fantasies."

Kate jerked her chin up stiffly, refusing to believe that. "Doesn't seem like a fantasy from where I'm sitting."

"True, some things that have been happening are real… very real," Sophia said darkly. "And I am truly sorry that you've been dragged into this. But let's be honest, shall we? You were looking for an escape from reality as well. And Rick provided it. Look, Kate, I know you've slept with him, don't try to deny it. I saw the state of your bed. I don't blame you. He's quite a skilled lover. From the looks of it, you two had quite the evening. Tell me, did he do that thing with his tongue?"

She was about to open her mouth to deny it, but that last little bit of personal detail about his tongue caught her off guard, and she froze, mouth half open. Kate remained silent, eyeing the woman cautiously. She swallowed and averted her gaze, suddenly unsure what she should be feeling at the moment.

"Oh, Kate… Kate, Kate, Kate," Sophia shook her head, looking at her with a sympathetic gaze. "I hope you weren't so naïve to actually think he cares about you. Because he doesn't. Look, I understand. He's amazing in bed, but don't go thinking his feelings go beyond getting into your pants. But that's all it was—a seduction ploy. We've all used it at one time or another. Even if it was more than that, it wasn't because he actually has any real feelings for you. Kate, please… just be honest with yourself. You were just a distraction to him. Nothing more."

_No_, Kate thought, recalling the kiss they'd shared in the trunk before Clyde had interrupted them. A kiss like that could not have been faked. Castle did care for her. And she cared for him. She wasn't going to let this woman persuade her otherwise. She was beginning to wonder what Sophia's agenda was, because this certainly did not feel like an interrogation.

Sophia sighed, staring down at Kate like she felt pity for her. "You have the power to end this, Kate," she said, dropping some of the pretense of being a friendly Federal agent.

"I do?" Kate stammered out, instantly hating how unsteady her voice was.

"Yes," Sophia said, stepping closer to her. "Even in his delusional state, Castle's managed to breach national security." She paused, waiting for Kate to look her in the eye. "All you have to do is tell me where Spyglass is."

"_Spyglass_?" Kate parroted, her brow creasing in puzzlement. She wasn't sure she'd heard that codename before. Castle had told her about Mockingbird, but that was in reference to Alexis. Could it be part of the same thing? He might have mentioned it, but Kate couldn't recall if he had or not. She just didn't know. She said as much to Sophia. "I don't even know what that is?"

"Never mind that," Sophia waved a hand in dismissal, showing the first signs of impatience. "Just tell me if you've seen him with a flash drive. And, if so, where he put it. This is important, Kate. You tell me this and all your problems go away, and you can go back to your life, like none of this has ever happened."

Kate mulled over the offer, chewing on her lower lip as she thought. She wasn't actually considering it, but she needed to by more time. This hadn't been what she'd expected when Clyde's goon had escorted her here. If her gut instincts were anything to go by, and she liked to believe they were, then she'd found the mole. If Sophia were really working with the CIA on this, then she would not have needed to resort to the use of hired thugs to accomplish her goals. The Russian Cyrillic in those emails Castle had uncovered must have been a deception to throw him off.

"This offer is only on the table for a limited time, Kate," Sophia asserted. "I suggest you take it."

She could feel time slipping away from her. Kate had to make a decision. Even if some of what Sophia had said were true, Kate didn't buy it. Castle may be a little intense, but she'd never call him crazy or delusional. She trusted him. She believed him.

"No," she asserted, proud of the defiant strength in her voice. "I'm not saying anymore. And if you're really working for the government, then I assert my constitutional right to speak with my attorney."

Sophia frowned, crossing her arms beneath her shapely breasts, looking very displeased. "You disappoint me, Kate," she said. "I would have thought you'd be smarter than this." A phone buzzed, and Sophia reached inside her pocket to look at the message. Her calm and in-control demeanor faded for a split second as she glowered at the text message. Kate watched her, curious. Something must have just occurred that disrupted this woman's plans. After a brief hesitation, Sophia tapped out a response. "I'm afraid our time is up, Kate. Last chance to change your mind."

"Not happening."

"Fine," Sophia snapped. "Have it your way. Be the fool that follows the fool."

Kate arched her neck to follow her as the woman stormed away. She knocked on the metal door, and it opened, revealing the thug who'd escorted Kate here. She recognized him as the one called Owen, the mercenary who had injected her and Castle with the sedative. He glanced at Sophia questioningly.

"I'm done with her," Sophia informed him, not at all caring that Kate could overhear there conversation, which she realized wasn't exactly reassuring. "She's just as stubborn as Castle. Speaking of, has he talked yet?"

Owen shook his head. "No, ma'am."

"It's vital I get the information I paid for."

"You'll get it," Owen insisted. "Mr. Pendergast never fails to deliver on a client's request."

"Then you better remind him that his _client_ is growing impatient," Sophia asserted through clenched teeth. She moved to leave, but then stopped, glancing back over her shoulder at Kate. A wicked grin slowly spread across her face. Kate swallowed, not liking the implications. "If Clyde's having such difficulties with Castle, you should tell him to use her. Castle may not care about his own life, but he'll spill his guts to protect her."

And with that said, the mysterious woman, known as Sophia, was gone.

XXX

A ripple of pain struck like lightning, flaring down his back, causing him to jerk violently, eyes snapping open as he returned to reality. Castle gasped out a breath, chest heaving as his muddled mind awoke from unconsciousness, blinking in the harsh light that had suddenly manifested. Someone had turned on the overhead lights. Squeezing his eyes shut, he ignored the throbbing along his chest, ribs, and the side of his face. He flicked his tongue out over the cut on his bottom lip, and winced slightly. At least it seemed like he's stopped bleeding. Above his head the chain swayed slightly from the recent upward motion, the links making quiet metallic clinking noises. The sounds were oddly comforting. It was a rude way to wake him, but he supposed it was better than letting him drop and face slam on the hard concrete beneath him.

When his vision finally cleared, Castle noticed that there had been some changes made to the room. Sitting a couple feet from him was a large barrel tub filled with ice water. The thug with the bandages over his bruised nose was in the process of topping it off. Some water sloshed over the edge and splashed onto the concrete floor.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Clyde asserted with a smirk, stepping into the room.

Castle squinted as he stared at the man. Out in the hall, he could just barely make out the figure of a woman hidden in the shadows. Her face was obscured, and before he could try and get a better look at her, she was gone. Castle turned his attention back to Clyde, jerking his chin towards the tub of ice water.

"Let me guess, we'll be bobbing for apples now."

Clyde chuckled, glancing at one of his men, who nodded in agreement, cracking a knowing smile at some joke that Castle was obviously unaware of. Clyde slowly meandered around the tub, stopping off to the side, near the table full with those heinous instruments. "Not exactly, my friend," he said. He pulled out his phone, and sent a quick text.

Somewhere in the distance a metal latch creaked open, and slammed shut. Footsteps echoed down the corridors, filtering into the room. Bruised Nose stepped way from the doorway, and Owen and Knuckle Cracker—otherwise known as Giles—entered, dragging along with them a struggling woman with a black bag over her head.

Castle gritted his teeth as Owen roughly shoved her down to her knees before the tub of ice water. Clyde danced his fingers over the various sharp instruments, before he picked up an icepick. He tauntingly tossed it up into the air, catching the rounded handle in his hand with a wicked gleam in his eyes. After his flaunting display, he walked around the tub to stand behind the hooded woman.

Clyde nodded to Knuckle Cracker. The muscled brute bent down and pulled the bag off the woman's head. Castle's eyes locked with hers the moment the bag was clear. Kate's long hair tumbled down around her face, curls jumbled and all over the place.

"Castle," she gasped out, her voice filled with longing and regret.

"Kate!" he shouted back, struggling against his bonds.

Clyde stepped in, grinning maliciously. "I gave you a choice, Rick. But you refused to talk. Perhaps now you'll be more willing to cooperate." He glanced over at Knuckle Cracker and inclined his head.

The brute grinned, and grabbed a fistful of Kate's beautiful hair. She let out a cry as he plunged her head down into the icy water. Castle shook with rage. The chain rattled above him. Curses fell from his lips as he watched her struggle against the man's hold on her. After a long twenty seconds, Clyde inclined his head again, and the brute pulled Kate back. She gasped for air, chest shaking as she coughed. Her hair was soaked, plastered at odd angles around her frightened face.

She coughed again, her shoulders shaking with each rough expel of air. Castle struggled against his bonds. The chain rattled noisily above him. Kate's eyes snapped up to his, and she shook her head. "Don't…," she stammered out through a bout of coughing fits. "Don't tell him anything!"

"Again," Clyde ordered calmly.

Before Castle could say anything to stop them, Knuckle Cracker had shoved her back under the water. He watched helplessly as she thrashed about, water spilling over the rim of the tub. They held her under for longer this time. When Clyde signaled for his man to pull her back, Kate was coughing violently, and the man released his hold on her, letting her collapse down onto the concrete floor. She doubled over as she expelled water from her lungs.

With an annoyed groan, Knuckle Cracker stooped down to pull her back up, keeping a beefy hand on her shoulder to keep her upright. Kate sat there with her head hung, the wet tendrils of her hair curtaining her face. Clyde crouched down beside her. He arched his neck over his shoulder to look back at Castle, flashing him an evil grin, before focusing back on Kate as he ran the sharp tip of the icepick across her clavicle and slowly down the center of her blouse, snapping off buttons as he went. Kate was too out of it to react, merely swaying listlessly as her chest slowly rose and fell with each intake of breath.

"You care for her, yes?" Clyde asked tauntingly, arching his neck over his shoulder to look at Castle. "She's a beautiful woman. How could you not?"

Castle clenched his jaw and fought against the restraints as Clyde parted her blouse open, exposing the white cotton bra underneath. He brought his hand up and ran his fingers along her pronounced collarbones, before letting them fall down the center of her chest, taking the opportunity to grope her.

"Don't touch her!" Castle fumed, his blood boiling with rage.

Before Clyde could toss back a retort, Kate's head jerked forward as she head-butted him. He fell back onto his ass with a curse. "Get your hands off me, you son-of-a-bitch," she growled in a hoarse voice.

"That a girl," Castle muttered under his breath, his chest swelling with pride at her defiant actions.

Clyde reared back up, brows arched in anger, face red from embarrassment at being humiliated in front of his men. He slapped her across the face, and signaled Knuckle Cracker, who immediately grab Kate with his beef hands and shoved her head back down into the icy cold water, clutching the nape of her neck to hold her under. Clyde fumbled up to his feet. Cocking his head to the side, he spat out some blood, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Stalking towards Castle, he brandished the icepick threateningly.

"Tell me where Spyglass is or you'll have to watch your lady cop drown!" he roared, his forehead vein throbbing.

Castle's eyes darted back and forth between Kate and Clyde, using all his experience and training to think of a solution. Finding purchase, he put on a performance that would have made his mother proud. His head fell forward in surrender. "Okay, okay… just don't hurt her," he slumped forward, letting the chain go taut and support his weight.

"Giles!"

Knuckle Cracker groaned in protest, but obeyed, yanking Kate back. She gasped and sputtered, blinking her eyes furiously as her body sagged and she coughed up water. Her bloodshot eyes flicked up to Castle's and she shook her head. "No," she managed to croak out. "No, Castle. Don't."

"I'm sorry, Kate… I'm so sorry," he hung his head in shame, putting on an act that she completely bought. She shook her head, began mumbling incoherently as she pleaded with him not to give in. Castle forced himself to ignore her, turning his attention to Clyde. "I'll tell you."

Clyde pursed his lips, trying to suppress the triumphant grin as he leaned in to listen. "I'm all ears."

And that's when Castle made his move. Launching his feet off the floor, he spun in the air, using the taut chain for support as he kicked out Clyde's legs. Caught off guard, the man fell with a startled yelp, dropping the icepick. The henchman gripping the winch, let go, rushing forward to assist his boss. The chain went slack, clanking down. Castle rolled his body to soften the impact as he collapsed onto the concrete floor.

He grunted as a jolt of pain shot through his side, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Contorting his body around, he reached for the icepick that had fortuitously rolled in his direction when Clyde had dropped it. Unable to see what he was doing, Castle fumbled with the icepick behind his back. He clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. He moved it around, blocking out the throbbing in his wrists as the bindings dug into his skin. After a couple seconds of blindly maneuvering the icepick around behind his back, there was a distinctive click.

Castle grinned in triumph.

XXX

Kate blinked her eyes in stunned disbelief when she witnessed Castle knock Clyde off his feet. The man holding the chain up release his grip and Castle went tumbling to the ground, hitting the concrete floor with a hard thud. What the hell was he doing? She heaved in a breath, ignoring the ache in her lungs as she watched him roll around and contort his body at an odd angle. It was difficult to see what he was doing. Her body was shivering, teeth clattering. She was cold, tired, and her mind was growing sluggish. She blinked again, nearly missing what happened next, when, in what seemed like a flash, Castle was bounding up onto his feet, hands freed and held up at the ready as the henchman that had been holding up the winch charged him.

But before Kate could see the first punch, the brute behind her was grabbing a fistful of her hair and was propelling her head first into the ice water. Kate clenched her eyes shut, struggling with the beefy hands holding her down. The solid ice bounced around her as she thrashed about. But her endurance was running low. Her chest squeezed painfully, and her scars throbbed with each beat of her heart, as her lungs ached, begging for oxygen. It wasn't too long until she felt the urge to open her mouth. Her willpower was abandoning her. She needed to open her mouth to heave in a breath. But she couldn't. If she did, she'd only be taking in water.

Kate couldn't allow that to happen. She wouldn't give up. She wouldn't surrender. It was odd, just a couple of days ago, things might have been different. But things had changed now. She kept seeing Castle's face in her mind's eye. And she kept remembering the way he made her feel when he looked at her, held her in his arms, or kissed her. Kate didn't care what Sophia had said. Her claims were invalid. Even if what she'd said were true, Sophia's assertions were associated with a different man than the one Kate knew. It was different. He was different. She believed in him. Their connection was real.

She stopped her struggling in an attempt to preserve as much energy as possible. But she was rapidly running out of time. _Breathe. Breathe_. Her lungs pleaded with her for precious oxygen, and she was losing the battle. Before Kate could stop herself, her mouth was opening and she inhaled a gush of water. Her lungs screamed in protest, and Kate thrashed about, expelling the last of her energy. Her vision blurred and everything started to fade.

And then, like some miracle, she was being yanked out of the icy water. Comforting hands held her, gently rolling her onto her back as she coughed, spitting out the water and struggling to breathe. A tender hand brushed the wet hair away from her face, and through fuzzy vision she glimpsed a familiar figure.

"Just breathe, Kate… breathe," he commanded, his voice urgent and desperate. "Please… oh God. Please, Kate… just breathe." She readily obeyed, unable to stand the anguish in his voice. His hand was warm and comforting against the side of her face, and she closed her eyes, easing into his touch.

After she managed to cough up most of the water, Kate was able to move a hand up to brush his hand way from her face. "Help me up," she wheezed out.

"Take it easy, Kate," he cautioned, though did as she asked. "You were under for a long time."

As the world righted itself, so did her vision. Things came into focus, and she couldn't hold back the slight upwards tug of her lips as Castle's face came into sight. His brow was bleeding and swollen on one side, bruised lip, and a nasty cut along his forehead. Yet despite the beating he'd taken, he was still very handsome. _Figures_, she thought. Nothing could change that. The man was irrepressible.

Her heart pounded beneath her breast as a realization struck, like lightning. It was like an epiphany, but not. It was an understanding that had slowly been building up inside since Castle had stormed into her world.

"Castle…," she croaked out, struggling to find the words to express herself. She had to tell him.

"Shh, Kate," he hushed, pressing a finger to her lips. "Relax. Catch your breath." She blinked at him, ready to object. This was important. She didn't want to lose the moment. But before she could say anything, his mouth was on hers. It was quick and hurried, but enough to silence her words. She let out a small sigh of disappointment when he pulled back from the brief kiss. "It's almost over, Kate… just focus on breathing."

Castle helped her over to the wall, which she used to support her weight when he released her. He spun away as if to leave. She opened her mouth to call him back, but her protest died on her lips when she saw Owen and another mercenary, with bandages over his nose, advance on him. Kate worked on steadying her breathing as she watched in amazement as Castle danced around them with the skill of a seasoned prizefighter. Sophia had been right. He really was the best.

Her eyes flirted over to the slumped form of Clyde. The man was beginning to stir. He propped himself up and shook his head, glancing about. His eyes latched on to her, and he sneered. Struggling up to his feet, he grabbed something off the table before stumbling over to her. Kate almost panicked. She was in no state to fight him off. Her body was still recovering from inhaling a lungful of ice cold water.

Clyde approached her, wielding a nasty looking blade. Kate struggled to stand. Her hands groped along the wall for purchase, searching for anything that would give her leverage to help heave herself up. But there was nothing. He was almost on her. She glared up at him defiantly, unwilling to surrender. She watched him hesitate for just a moment, and she pursed her lips into a tight smile, seeing something he did not.

Growling, Clyde raised the knife. But before he could strike, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his neck in an expert headlock. Castle gritted his teeth as he glared at the man, squeezing his arms around his throat. Clyde struggled, eyes bulging with terror. "You made one mistake, _old friend_," Castle hissed out through his clenched teeth. "You threatened her." And then with a quick twist of his arms, Castle snapped the man's neck. Clyde went limp, and Castle let him fall to the ground. He stared down at the man with contempt in his eyes. "I told you I'd kill you."

"Castle," Kate gasped out, pulling his attention away from the dead mercenary. He immediately came to her, dropping down onto his knees beside her. His hands came up and he ran shaking fingers along her face.

"Kate, Kate, Kate," he chanted her name, concern dripping from his voice. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No… no," she breathed out, finding her voice. "I'm fine. Just… help me up."

"Yes, yes, of course," Castle bobbed his head, pulling her arm over his shoulder as he helped her up.

Kate sighed with relief when she was finally standing on her own feet. She unashamedly clung to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. His scent was almost overpowering. Her fingers dug into his biceps as she canted into him. He ran his hand down the back of her head, and murmured reassurances into her ear.

"You good to walk?" he asked after what seemed like ages.

"I think so," Kate replied, testing her legs.

Castle inclined his head, moving them over to the table near the swinging chain that had been holding him up. Kate took the opportunity to finally survey the room. It looked like a battlefield. It had frightened her a bit when she'd seen the murderous rage in his eyes as he snapped Clyde's neck. She had never really thought about that side of him. But now she realized that it must be there. It had to be, considering his profession. Yet, at that moment, Kate found herself not caring. In her mind, the violent act had been justified. She wasn't sure if Castle had killed every single mercenary in the room as well. It should appall her, the level of carnage she was seeing. Yet after what these men had done to them, just like their leader, Kate felt no sympathy for them.

Kate leaned against the table, her palms pressed into the surface top while Castle took the opportunity to gather some supplies. He snatched up two knives, and dropped down to search through the jackets of the closest henchmen. He returned to her side with two semiautomatic pistols. When he handed her one, she smiled to him in thanks, before checking the magazine and clearing the round in the barrel.

As she did so, Castle went back to Clyde's body and quickly rifled through the man's jacket pockets until he came up with that old phone he used. He stood up and flipped it open, staring at the screen for a long moment before he hurriedly punched in some numbers on the keypad. It took a while for a reply to come, but when the phone buzzed, Kate saw Castle's worried expression fade into one of relief. He sighed and carded his fingers through his messy hair as he pocketed the phone. When he returned to her side, Kate glanced at him questioningly.

Castle cocked his head to the side, leaving her question unanswered. "You ready to get out of here?" he asked, gazing down at her with a boyish grin that looked out of place on his bruised and battered face. Kate nodded, clutching the gun tightly as Castle grabbed her free hand and led her out of the room.


	16. Chapter 15

**Private Eyes – Chapter 15**

Castle took the lead, both hands now gripping the gun up at the ready as he cautiously walked down the corridor. Everything was a dull gray concrete. It was utilitarian, with no unnecessary design elements to distract from its purpose. A shiver ran down his spine, reminding him that he was shirtless. The air was cold and damp, leading him to suspect they could be underground. Kate had told him what little she knew, and from her description, Castle had to agree with her assessment that they were in some underground abandoned facility.

"Any idea where that elevator was?" he arched his neck to glance back at Kate.

"Sorry, no," she shook her head, hair still wet, clinging to her face and neck. Her shoulders were still shaking, and Castle wished he could do more for her.

He gave a nod. "That's okay," he replied in a soft voice. "We'll just have to look around."

Readjusting his hold on the pistol he'd recovered off the body of one of Clyde's goons, Castle continued forward with Kate following not far behind him. As they silently moved through the facility, he would chance a glance in her direction every now and then, just to make sure she was okay. She seemed to be doing fine. Her eyes were wide and alert, and her posture was straight and firm. Castle nodded himself, certain, without a doubt, that Kate Beckett could take care of herself in any situation.

He was quite impressed with the way she'd handled the water torture. He'd experience waterboarding once, which was much more unpleasant, in his opinion, and had very nearly caved. And if it hadn't been for Sophia's last minute rescue, Castle didn't know what would have happened.

Sophia Turner.

Castle wondered about her. She'd been different after they had ended their no-strings sexual relationship. He wasn't sure just what to make of that. He knew that he'd begun to develop genuine feelings for her—hell, he still cared about her, if only just a little. Though most of his feelings now were for another… and they were growing at an astonishingly rapid pace. He looked over at Kate as she slid up against the edge of the wall and glanced around the corner, bobbing her chin in an 'all clear' signal. He tightened his grip on the gun and took point, sweeping around the turn and searching for any signs of hidden dangers.

If Sophia had felt anything for him, she kept it hidden. He certainly didn't know. She was difficult to read. In bed it had been easy to decipher what she wanted or needed. But out of the sheets, Sophia Turner remained a mystery, an unknown quantity that seemed perfectly happy to remain aloof and distant. Castle looked at Kate again. Though she was clearly holding back on certain things, Kate did not seem to be as detached and unsociable as Sophia. She might be a little reserved at times, but he would never describe her as remote or withdrawn. The connection he shared with Kate Beckett, though forged during an unorthodox time, was stronger and more powerful than any he'd ever had with any other woman, and that even included Kyra, the one that got away.

"You hear that?" the hiss of Kate's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

Leaning against the cold concrete wall beside her, Castle paused for a moment, closing his eyes briefly as he felt a touch of fatigue hit him. His tank was empty and he was running on adrenaline alone. Soon he'd succumb to the exhaustion, but until then, he needed to keep it together. He inhaled a quick breath, sending out a silent prayer that he could manage through the fumes until he could find time to get a fill up.

Respite done, Castle narrowed his eyes as he listened, straining to hear anything beyond the drowning silence. After a few seconds, he was able to pick up the faint reverberations of low voices. Castle locked eyes with Kate, and inclined his head, holding up one finger over his lips. She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes at him. He smirked. Of course, he should have known better. Kate was a trained professional; not exactly like him, but close.

Castle quietly stepped over to Kate, and slinked around her, changing positions. He couldn't help but notice the rise and fall of her chest, what with it being so exposed. Her white cotton bra had become soaked, now somewhat see-through, and he could see certain… things. She was definitely cold, no doubt about that. A faint hint of rosy pink coated the delectable flesh as they skillfully maneuvered around each other. He tried to suppress the smirk. Pressing his back up against the wall, Castle flicked his head around the corner for a brief second and a half, before pulling back. Kate glanced at him questioningly.

"Three," he said. "They're clustered close, using a rusted storage barrel as a table to play cards." He paused, and then added, "They're guarding the elevator."

Kate knitted her eyebrows together. "We can take them," she asserted. Castle's lips quirked up at her confidence.

His eyes flicked down briefly before returning to her eyes. "I have an idea."

"Yeah?"

"You… distract them."

"Me? How?" she frowned, her nose wrinkling adorably.

Castle's gaze once again dropped to her exposed chest, and he tried hard to ignore the pucker mark nestled between her cotton-covered breasts. He'd had inklings, but it was the first time he'd seen it. Kate must have noticed where he was looking, and he could practically feel her stiffen in anticipation for a comment. There was still a lot they didn't know about each other. And Castle wanted to find out. But not now. Not so soon after they'd both been tortured and were in the midst of trying to escape. It could keep until later.

Castle raised his eyes back to hers, deliberately looking her in the eye. "You're half-naked," he said, smirking for effect. "How do you think?"

Kate grumbled, glowering at him, but relented with a nod. She handed him her gun, and then quickly and quietly divested herself of the ruined fabric that had once been her blouse. Castle swallowed, trying desperately not to become aroused at the sight of so much flesh. His eyes skimmed eagerly over her pale skin. He saw another scar, this one running down her left side. He pursed his lips and remained silent. He didn't need to say anything. A pucker mark between her breasts, and a long scar down her side… he had no trouble recognizing those kinds of marks.

Kate Beckett had been shot in the chest.

"I got this," she said, retrieving her gun from his proffered hand, and hiding it behind her back, tucking it into the waistband of her pants. "Watch and learn, Spy Boy." She flashed him a saucy grin, before schooling her features and casually stepping out around the corner.

Staying concealed, Castle watched as Kate straightened her back and pushed her chest up, flaunting the goods, so to speak. His eyes danced down her gorgeous mane of hair, down the sloping curve of her back until he was unabashedly staring at her ass, which, in his humble opinion, was hugged perfectly by her jeans.

"Hey boys," she hollered seductively, slowly sauntering down the hall.

The men glanced up from their card game, at first startled by her sudden and unexpected presence, but soon transfixed. Kate flicked her head to the side, and her wet hair bounced majestically around her face. It had magical properties, her hair. She was like the sirens of myth, luring men to their doom. The goons, distracted by her beauty, dropped their cards and rushed to meet her halfway, foolishly believing that today was their lucky day. Castle almost felt sorry for them, because—Really!?—this was like one of the oldest tricks in the book, and they were so easily falling for it.

Kate struck, like a prowling feline, the moment the first one got close enough. Swiping her hand around to her back, she grabbed the handle of her gun, and pistol whipped the man across the face in a move that was so fast that even Castle, who had a trained eye for such things, had nearly missed it. The two others weren't fast enough. Kate kicked one in the groin, while knocking the other in the solar plexus. Castle winced in male sympathy as the one guard clutched his crotch, his expression one of extreme agony. The other thug staggered about in a daze, leaving himself vulnerable to another attack. Kate vaulted around the man and whacked him on the back of the head with the butt of her gun, effectively knocking him out.

Puffing out a breath of air to blow a strand of hair out of her face, Kate turned around to face Castle, flashing him a triumphant grin.

Castle quirked an eyebrow up as he stepped around the corner. "Is it wrong that I found that extremely hot?" he asked.

Kate chuckled, and rolled her eyes. Dropping down into a crouch, she shoved one of the unconscious goons over and set to work at tugging his coat off. Castle sauntered up and cocked his head to the side, watching her. When she caught him staring, she raised her eyebrows and met his gaze.

"It's not like he'll be needing it," she said with a shrug of her shoulders and a grin. "Besides, I'm cold."

"I noticed."

XXX

Turner opened the door in a rush, letting out a breath as she hurried down the hallway, her long dark hair bouncing with each step. Pushing through the double doors on the right, she entered the buzz and hubbub of the command center. Agent Jones was talking with Riley, the two of them appeared to be reviewing the downloaded copy of Detective Beckett's computer hard drive. The large screens on the front walls were displaying satellite surveillance images of Manhattan and Brooklyn. Another screen was split into multiple sections, each displaying a live feed from security cameras throughout the city.

Scanning the room, Turner grounded her teeth in exasperation. She was used to things going as planned. And this latest curveball wasn't part of her plan. Spotting Agent Danberg in the conference room, Turner took a deep breath to calm her nerves, before stepping around the console and rushing analysts. Seeing her through the glass wall, her partner excused himself from the conversation he was having with a familiar tall man with a shaved head.

Grabbing the handle, Danberg pulled the glass door open and stepped out to meet her. "Where the hell have you been?" he questioned, brows furrowed in frustration.

Turner nodded in apology. "Sorry. I was following up on a lead," she lied easily, pursing her lips as she recalled the image of a bruised and battered Castle dangling from a metal chain. "It was a dead end." Her lips almost betrayed her and tugged up in a smirk, but she managed to contain it. Knitting her eyebrows together, she flirted her gaze over Danberg's shoulder to stare at Samson York, the head of National Clandestine Services, and one of the most influential men within the internal hierarchy of the Agency. Many even considered him to be more powerful than the Director. "When did he get here?"

"About two hours ago," Danberg informed her. "What took you so long? I've had to stall. And I'll tell you, it wasn't easy."

Straightening her coat, and steeling herself for the meeting ahead, Turner focused back on her partner. "Any luck on locating Mockingbird?" she asked. If Castle still wouldn't talk after Clyde and his men threatened Beckett, then Turner's last hope would be the girl.

"No," Danberg shook his head in exasperation. "We have most of our resources geared towards finding Castle and recovering Spyglass."

"Well… see what you can do, okay?" she asked, and he nodded. "I'll deal with our… visitor."

"Good luck," Danberg called after her as she stalked towards the conference room.

She tossed him a smile over her shoulder. "Thanks, but I don't need it. York and I go way back." Turner grabbed the handle on the glass door, and paused, heaving in a deep calming breath, before she pushed it open and stepped inside the conference room to face her superior.

"Ah, Sophia, there you are," York acknowledged with a slight incline of his shaved head, his Southern drawl as disarming as ever. He always had this gentlemanly quality to him that hid the ruthless operator underneath. He gestured towards one of the seats at the conference table, but she waved it off, preferring to stand. He shrugged, before turning around to accept a folder from one of the agents in his retinue. He flipped it open and scanned through its contents. "Having trouble locating Richard, are we?"

She ground her teeth at his condescending tone. He'd always been so superior and arrogant, like most high-ranking officials at the Agency. But York was different. Most people were afraid of him, and for good reason. Turner, however, knew him better than most, and though she acknowledged the danger in defying him, she wasn't as worried as some at playing with crossing that line. "Is that why you're here?" she asked, glaring across the room at him, not even bothering to hide her displeasure at his presence.

"It's been several days, Sophia," York asserted, snapping the folder shut and looking up at her with a disapproving expression. "The Director is disappointed. He expected results. Not failures." He pursed his lips and offered her a small smile, raising one eyebrow. "I certainly hope what happened in Morocco six years ago isn't still affecting your judgment."

"I can assure you, _sir_… my judgment is fine," she bit out.

"Is it really?" he cocked up an eyebrow as he studied her with intelligent and knowing eyes. "You aren't… _hiding_ him, are you? Say… at some abandoned black site?"

_How did he—?_ Turner faltered for a second, briefly wondering if she'd been compromised. But as he stared at her, awaiting her reply, the silence growing between them, she slowly relaxed, regaining her composure.

"Why would I?" she asked, meeting York's gaze. "We both know I never felt anything for him. It was purely physical. He was the one that developed… _feelings_." She said the word like it was disgusting. In truth, Turner had liked him. He was fun, and excellent in bed, but in the end he had just been a means to an end. She had planned on using his feelings for her against him when the time was right, but York's discovery of their affair had ruined that scheme.

"Yes," York agreed, putting the file down on the table. "Knowing him as well as I do, since it was I who recruited him, I know him to be a man of deep conviction and emotion, passionate about what he believes in. Which is why I find it curious—_very_ curious—that he has not reached out to you in his moment of need. All the events surrounding Mockingbird's disappearance are still yet unknown. The Rick Castle I know would never do something so dangerous without reason."

"You're the one who assigned him to Operation Mockingbird," Turner asserted, folding her arms defiantly across her chest. "If anyone is to blame for this quagmire, it's you."

"Perhaps I am partly to blame, yes, " York conceded with a nod. "But still, you were tasked with retrieving Spyglass, and so far you have failed spectacularly."

"So, I repeat my earlier question, why are you here?"

"The Director wants the situation resolved, and he's sent me to ensure that it is done so, promptly… and quietly," York said, his voice as indifferent and calm as always. He took a seat at the head of the conference table, and gestured for her to sit as well. Sighing in resignation—she'd known the moment she saw him that her position as task force leader was at an end—Turner did as instructed, taking a seat.

York pursed his lips and smiled at her again, feigning a look of sympathy for her demotion. _Bastard_. "Now, if you do not mind, I think it is about time we discuss all the particulars of this case…" He picked up the folder again, opening it to check one of the pages within before continuing, "Specifically NYPD Detective Kate Beckett, and how she fits into all this."

XXX

Waking up from her afternoon nap, she parted the curtains and checked out the window, seeing gray clouds forming on the horizon. She reckoned they were in for another storm. It had rained earlier that week, so she wasn't too surprised that another system was coming in. As usual, the local meteorologist had been completely wrong. But then again, the woman was just a pair of fake breasts and a pretty face. Sighing, she rubbed her hands together, grimacing at the arthritic stiffness that came with age.

She turned from the window and made her way into the en-suite bathroom attached to the master bedroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, she located her pills. But before she could pop the cap off, a buzzing noise reverberated from her bedroom. Abandoning the pills, she rushed back into the bedroom and grabbed the old phone that he'd given her. She'd been worried. It had been a while since he'd texted her. It wasn't like him to go so long without checking in.

Flipping the device open, she narrowed her eyes as a series of numbers appeared. Grabbing the Moleskin notebook that contained the cypher, she translated the numbers as quickly as possible. Once she'd deciphered his text, her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Arching her neck, she looked towards the alarm clock that sat on the ornate wooden stand that rested by her bed.

After confirming the time, she briefly glanced back at the scribbling handwriting inside the Moleskin notebook, before managing to type back a response in the code he'd devised. She waited for a moment after pressing send, and sure enough another message appeared. Putting the device back down on the bedside table, she exited the bedroom and sauntered into the living room, easily locating her charge, curled up in one of the armchairs with a thick book in her lap.

"He's on his way, dear," she announced. "And he won't be alone."

XXX

Kate sat in the driver's seat, fingers curled tightly around the wheel as she steered the car towards the interstate. The afternoon was overcast and there weren't that many cars on the road, so their journey shouldn't be that difficult. And if the GPS from Castle's old flip phone was to be believed—she had no reason to doubt it—then they were only two hours away from the city.

After she'd knocked out those men guarding the elevator, they'd managed to make their escape without further impediment. And as luck would have it, the car that Clyde had used to transport them to the abandoned facility out in the boondocks of upper New York state was none other than the dark silver model Taurus that Castle had 'borrowed' earlier that day. They had retrieved a fresh set of clothing from the trunk before Castle used the spy craft wizardry on his old flip phone to start the ignition. Kate had then been surprised when he'd asked her to drive, giving her an address in Soho, on the corner of Broome and Crosby.

"I know what you're thinking," he had said. "It's like heading back into the belly of the beast. But trust me, Kate… we'll be safe there. It's the last place anyone will look."

Everything about this went against her very nature. Kate Beckett did not trust so completely as she was willing to do with Castle, who was still really very much a stranger to her. Yet she could not deny the intense connection they shared. It was unrelenting and inescapable. She was like a moth to a flame. She couldn't resist.

Was it possible to fall in love with someone after only knowing him for just a few days? If so, then she was in deep trouble.

Rick Castle was a force of nature, bursting into her world and upsetting the applecart, which, at this moment in her life was just what she'd needed. He was a breath of fresh air, bringing excitement and adventure in her life. He stirred feelings and emotions in her that had been dormant for the vast majority of her adult life. It was overwhelming, yet exhilarating at the same time. And even after the experiences of the last couple of hours, Kate found that she didn't regret getting involved and joining him on his quest to save his daughter.

She certainly didn't regret kissing him.

Quite the opposite.

Kate could already tell that what she was feeling for Castle was definitely more than what she'd felt for any man before. It wasn't just lust or a primal desire that attracted her, though there was a healthy dose of that. She knew lust, understood it, and how to work with it. This was different. She just didn't want to rip off his clothes and fuck his brains out—though she wouldn't object to that. It was more. For example, she wouldn't mind just doing nothing but cuddling with him, sharing some intimate touches and kisses. And that was something she'd never wanted to do with any other man. She was not a cuddler. Had never been one, except with her Mom, when they'd kick her Dad out of the living room and have a _Temptation Lane _marathon.

It was because of this, that Kate knew that Castle was different than Will, Tom, Josh, and any other past relationship she'd ever had. Though, what she and Castle had at the moment couldn't technically be called a relationship. They hadn't done anything beyond kiss… get shot at, go on the run, and then get captured and tortured together—quite a bonding experience for a first date.

She glanced over at Castle, watching as he worked at patching himself back up. He'd been unusually quiet ever since they'd turned off the back roads and started down the interstate. His silence unnerved her. Ever since she'd met him, he had been a chatterbox, incapable of keeping his mouth shut. Though, Kate supposed she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Still, she was unable to stop herself from wondering when he would start asking questions about the scars that marred her body. She could easily understand if he was curious and wanted some answers, since she was herself about the scars she'd seen on his back the previous night. Yet, despite that obvious curiosity, Castle had remained blessedly silent on the matter. It was not like she didn't want to tell him. She did. After what they had just gone through together, Kate believed he deserved to know. However, she still couldn't find voice to her thoughts.

_Soon_, she told herself as she averted her gaze and stared back out at the road. _After things have settled down._

Castle grunted as he shifted in the passenger seat, adjusting the seatbelt strap away from a tender spot on his right shoulder. Back in the parking garage, while she had slipped off to hide behind one of Clyde's black Escalades to change into fresh underwear and clean, dry clothing, Castle had pulled out an emergency med-kit from the trunk of the Taurus and worked at applying temporary dressings to his wounds. Castle shifted in the seat again, hissing in discomfort, before he stubbornly unbuckled the seatbelt, clearly willing to sacrifice his safety for comfort.

Kate sighed, unable to remain silent any longer. "I need to get you to a doctor," she said, worryingly eyeing the bloodstains gradually soaking the white fabric of his shirt.

"I'm fine," he brushed off her concern, furrowing his brow as he glared out the window.

Kate didn't like it. He needed proper medical assistance. Her mind raced with options. She could call Josh. But Kate didn't really want to see him again. She didn't like the idea that she'd owe him a favor if she did call him, worried how he'd want to collect.

"Fine," she relented with a growl. "Be that way. But God help you if you pass out on me!"

Castle glanced at her with a slightly bemused expression. "What if I want to take a nap?"

"Don't."

He stuck out his lower lip on a pout, but as she flicked her gaze over to him, she noticed the twinkle in his eyes. "Seriously, Kate, I'm fine," he asserted. Her breath hitched when he reached across the central console and placed a hand on her thigh, offering her a gentle squeeze of assurance. The reaction her body had to the simple touch startled her to such a degree that she nearly drove them off the road and straight into the center median.

God, she had it bad.

Castle soon retrieved his hand, grinning knowingly at her, as if he could read her mind and knew exactly what sort of effect he had on her. "How about you, Kate? How are you holding up? You had it pretty bad."

"I'm okay," she breathed out, trying to calm the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "I've endured worse."

He gave a nod, his eyes dropping momentarily to her chest. Again, Kate wondered if he'd bring up the scars. But, once more, he surprised her by saying nothing. He averted his gaze and stared out the window, a frown creasing his forehead. "What happened with Clyde's employer?" Castle asked, startling her with the change of topic.

"Nothing much," Kate replied with a shrug, trying to concentrate on the road and not all the things Sophia had said to get under her skin. "I don't know," she fudged the truth a bit. "I guess… we just sort of talked. I think she was CIA."

"She?"

"Um… yeah," Kate hedged, flicking her eyes over to him as he shifted in his seat to look at her questioningly. "She introduced herself as Sophia."

"Sophia?" he parroted.

"Yeah, that's what she said," Kate paused, narrowing her eyes at Castle. "You already knew she was the mole, didn't you?"

He gulped, but gave a jerky nod. "I… suspected," he confirmed. "I just needed confirmation." Castle glanced at her hesitantly. "So which tactic did she use this time?"

Kate knitted her eyebrows together, unexpectedly finding herself questioning some of the things about the man sharing the car with her. Some of what Sophia said could very well be true. But Kate refused to believe anything that woman said, preferring to rely on Castle for confirmation. She debated how much to tell him, but in the end, decided that nothing but the truth would do. After all, her mother had been a firm believer that the truth conquered all.

"She… she said you were crazy," she informed him. "That you'd suffered a psychotic break after a stressful mission and have become delusional."

"Clearly you disagree with her assessment, otherwise you wouldn't be here," Castle interjected.

"Obviously," she concurred, before going on, her brow creasing a bit as she recalled a specific part of the conversation with Sophia that had confused her, especially since what the woman had kept insisting on was something that had yet to happen. "She seemed quite adamant in believing that I've slept with you. In a way it was almost like she was jealous. But then she went on to say I shouldn't read too much into your interest in me, that I wasn't special… just one in a long line of women you've bedded when on a mission. She then made a point to flaunt a sexual history she'd shared with you." She swallowed and warily glanced at him. "Is that true?"

"Which part?"

"That you've slept with her?"

Castle sighed, and looked away, his silence all the confirmation she required. Clenching her jaw, ignoring the bitter tang of jealousy in the back of her mouth, Kate flexed her fingers around the steering wheel. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't help feeling envious of the woman, especially when Sophia had flaunted that little intimate detail about his talented tongue. Kate had yet to experience any of that with him, and she truly didn't know how to feel about that.

"It's true, Kate," Castle spoke up in a soft, almost apologetic voice, breaking the awkward silence. "Sophia and I… we had a rather long term no-strings relationship. But that ended nearly six years ago." He sighed, and scrubbed a hand down his face. "But… Kate, Sophia was wrong. Dead wrong. You are special… very special." He paused to take a breath. "Look, Kate, I'm not going to sit here and say there hasn't been other women, because we both know that would be a lie. And it's not like you're some vestal virgin waiting for your wedding night."

She blushed at that, but conceded his point with a nod. They were both grown adults. It would be foolish to believe that neither one of them had a past. It was only logical that he'd have other relationships before meeting her, just as she'd had others before him. What mattered was now, and what they felt for each other. That was the important part. The past… it was nothing compared to the present.

"So yes, there have been others, but Kate… none of them were you," he pursed his lips and looked at her with such longing that it made her chest clench from the raw intensity she glimpsed in his gaze. Kate held her breath, unable to stop the rapid pulse of her heart beneath her chest. "And," Castle went on, seemingly oblivious of the deeper impact his words had just had on her. "I need you to believe me when I tell you that everything I've said to you—about my feelings, our connection—is the truth. I've never felt this way before, Kate." His voice wavered for a moment, before he pleaded, "You have to believe me."

She had listened to his speech with an open ear, and was mildly surprised at how passionate he was about asserting himself and his feelings. His words were genuine and sincere. And she believed him. There was no denying that. This was as close as she'd ever come to hearing a man affirm his sincere and true love for her. And if there was one thing Montgomery had done right, it was train her to be the best damn detective she could be. And Kate was excellent at reading people. It was because of that training that she'd been convinced that Sophia hadn't been telling the whole truth, and also why she believed in Castle. Deciding to put him out of his misery, Kate reached out with one hand across the center console, an offer he gratefully accepted. Castle took her hand in his, slowly lacing their fingers together as he stared back at her with a hopeful expression.

"You believe me?" he asked.

She smiled at him, gently squeezing his hand. "I never stopped."


	17. Chapter 16

**Private Eyes – Chapter 16**

The sky had opened up late that afternoon, just around the time they finally crossed into the city limits. Inside the car, Kate listened to the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers as they flicked back and forth, keeping her view of the road clear and unobstructed from the thick droplets of rain. When they passed through Manhattan, Kate reached over and gently nudged Castle awake. Despite her earlier objections to the contrary, she had let him succumb to his fatigue and take a nap. Still, it hadn't stopped her from worrying. He really did need some medical assistance, even if he had field experience at dressing and patching up his own wounds.

"We're back in the city?" he blinked slowly, scrubbing his hand down his face as he worked at dislodging his mind from the fog of sleep. The question was rhetorical, as he didn't expect her to answer. So she didn't. He squinted out the window and with a dry tone he said, "Oh, and how lovely, it's raining."

"I like the rain," Kate said softly. "It freshens the air, has a cleansing effect." Castle gave her a disbelieving look and opened his mouth, no doubt to remind her that she'd just been water tortured. But when Kate raised her eyebrows at him, he opted to hold his tongue.

Castle rested back into the passenger seat, getting comfortable as they drove through the light city traffic. Kate chanced a glance in his direction as often as she could, worrying her bottom lip as she watched his eyes grow droopy. His head lolled forward and his chin rested on his chest as he slipped back under. She wished she had her department issued gumball. Then she'd be able to get him to the new safe house faster.

It took an extra forty-five minutes to get across the city to Soho. She drove passed the corner of Broome and Crosby once, before circling the book several times, eyes wide and alert as she scanned the surrounding buildings and parked cars for signs of surveillance. Seeing none, at least none that immediately stood out to her, Kate located a parking spot as close to the building's front door as possible.

Unsure how to kill the engine, as she had no keys to begin with, Kate pulled the parking brake on and then turned to Castle, once again gently nudging him awake, mindful of his tender shoulder. His eyelids fluttered open slowly, a frown touching his brow as he looked around blurrily for a moment, until he glanced out the window and up towards the building's façade.

He sighed in what seemed like relief. "Good, we're here."

"Castle?" Kate questioned softly, recapturing his attention by gently tugging his earlobe. He made a soft pleasant humming noise as he turned himself back around to face her. "How do I kill the engine?"

"Oh, yeah… the engine… don't want to waste fuel by leaving the car idling on the curb, now do we," he chuckled lightly, reaching inside his jacket pocket to pull out the flip phone. He pressed a button along the side and the engine cut off. "It would probably be easier if I'd been able to give you a key."

Kate inclined her head in agreement, pausing to reach across the space between them to brush back some of the hair that had flopped down over his forehead. Her hand lingered, tenderly caressing down the side of his face. "How are you doing?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm good," he assured her, bringing up a hand to join hers. "I'm just tired." He paused, inhaling a slow deep breath through his nose. "Let's just get inside."

"Okay," she nodded, retrieving her hand and popping the door open. Swinging her legs out, she stood up and slammed the door behind her as she walked around the car to join Castle on the sidewalk. He used his phone-like device to unlock the trunk. "I've got it," she assured him, holding him back before he could make a move to retrieve their bags.

"You sure you can handle it?" he asked, watching her as she stepped around to the trunk.

"Yeah, Castle, I'm sure," she replied, pursing her lips and offering him a reassuring smile. Kate ducked her head down as she pulled her duffel bag and his rucksack forward. Before she hefted them up and out of the trunk, Kate opened the bag with the guns and ammo, and made sure to transfer over two Glocks and enough ammo so they'd have a decent supply, just in case things went south. She also grabbed the spiral bound manuscript of R.A. Rodgers's _Derrick Storm 1_, secreting it away into her duffel.

Castle eyed her warily as she hefted the bags out of the trunk. He must have caught her grimace when the scar along her side had pulled unpleasantly. "You sure you don't need any help?"

"I'm sure, Castle," she offered him a brief taste of her infamous glare, before she slammed the lid shut and joined him back on the sidewalk. Kate supposed she'd have to get better at hiding her winces whenever her scars pulled. She longed for the day she'd healed enough that it wouldn't bother her so much. "I'm stronger than I look. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get out of the rain."

"What?" his brow furrowed as his eyes snapped back up to hers. He looked somewhat distracted, and Kate frowned. It hadn't gone unnoticed that he'd been staring at her chest. And from the look in his eye, Kate knew it had nothing to do with admiring her feminine form. He'd been staring directly at the location the scar laid nestled between her breasts, now hidden beneath the fabric of her clean blouse, which was rapidly becoming soaked in this downpour.

"Castle?" she ground out to garner his attention.

"Huh?" he shook his head and looked up, blinking in the rain, and gave an apologetic nod. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. This way." He gestured with a wave of his hand and shuffled over towards the front door. The doorman seemed to recognize Castle, and he let them in without a word, holding the door open for them and offering them evening greetings.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Rodgers," he said. "Should I call up to let Mrs. Rodgers know you're here?"

"No, Eduardo, that's ok," Castle informed the man. "She's expecting us."

"Very good, sir," Eduardo said. He then noticed Kate struggling with the bags, and offered to ease her burden.

Kate hesitated, uncertain, but the earnest look in the man's eyes made her relent. She accepted his kind offer, and he walked with them to the elevator. She glanced at Castle, watching as he slowly shuffled across the lobby. The doorman had called him Mr. Rodgers, and had then mentioned a Mrs. Rodgers, who was apparently expecting them. Kate couldn't help wonder about this woman who shared Castle's name, and was unable to suppress the small tinge of jealous that flared up in her chest. It seemed silly. For all she new the use of the Rodgers name was simply used to hide his true identity.

When the elevator doors rattled opened, Kate turned to the doorman. "Thank you, I've got it from here," she assured him.

"You sure?" Castle hedged, glancing at her cautiously as she took the rucksack back from Eduardo.

Pursing her lips and rolling her eyes, she cast a withering glare Castle's way before responding, "Didn't I answer this already?"

Castle smirked at her as he pressed the button for the top floor and the elevator doors slid closed. "Just messing with you, Detective," he winked, or at least did as best he could with his left eye; the socket was still a little tender and swollen from the beating he'd retrieved. Fortunately, the majority of the bruises on his face seemed to already be healing, and were mostly superficial, except for the cut on his lip and the gash along his forehead, which thankfully had stopped bleeding and had congealed over long before they'd even reached the city.

"You okay?" Kate inquired when she noticed Castle sway slightly in place.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, before giving a nod. "Just tired," he answered as he scrubbed his hands down his face and carded his fingers through his disheveled hair.

She pursed her lips, eyes softening as she watched him, unable to suppress the feel of her heart swelling with raw emotion as she took in his handsome features. He swayed again. Kate dropped one of the bags, and reached out with a hand to steady him.

"You really should let me take you to a doctor," Kate asserted out loud. She thought about calling Josh once again, but only briefly, quickly abandoning the idea and throwing it away. No. Nope. Never. She was done with him. And besides, Josh wasn't the only doctor she knew. Though she mainly worked with dead people, there was always Lanie Parish. Kate made a mental note to make a call as soon as possible.

A cheerful ding announced their arrival, and Kate hooked an arm around Castle's, letting him rest some of his weight on her shoulder as they shuffled out onto the floor. Using her free hand, she somehow managed to drag along both duffel bags. She could only imagine where her strength was coming from. It was probably leftover adrenaline from their escape.

"Castle?" she questioned, looking around the hall. She didn't know where they were going, and he hadn't yet offered up any clues.

He tilted his head into hers, nuzzling his nose in her hair. A goofy grin touched his lips as he breathed in her scent. "After everything that's happened, how can you still smell so good?" he asked, smiling like a lovesick fool.

_Oh no, not good_, Kate thought. She recognized the signs of fatigue setting in. But he couldn't pass out yet, not before he told her which door to knock on.

"Castle?" she asked again, keeping her voice calm, but adding enough of a firm edge to it so he knew she meant business. "Which apartment number?"

"Apartment? Number?" Castle frowned, confused. He glanced around, and his eyebrows shot up as if he'd just realized where they were. "Oh… yeah," he jerked his head to the right. "Number Four."

Kate shifted underneath his weight and got him to move his feet. They shuffled across the hall until they reached a red painted door with a golden embossed number four attached to its face. Kate dumped the bags to her side, and maneuvered around a bit to secure her hold on Castle. He leaned into her side, grimacing slightly from his bruised ribs. Cautiously, Kate raised a fist and knocked on the door. The sound echoed down the hall, and she waited. Nothing. She knocked again, and after a moment, the door cracked open.

Two worried blue eyes met hers. "Yes?"

Before Kate could open her mouth, Castle was slumping forward, one hand shooting up to plant on the door's flat surface, pushing at it. "Open up… it's me," he groaned, slumping further against Kate.

The door immediately swung open all the way, revealing an aged diva in all her glory. The woman was clad in a startling dress of clashing neon colors. It should have been a fashion nightmare, yet somehow the older redhead made it work.

"Richard, darling!" she exclaimed, reaching for Castle. He canted towards her. Kate let him go. The woman caught him, holding him to her chest, hands clutching him with a desperate fierceness. "Oh, Richard… what's happened to you?"

Castle pulled back from the older woman, squeezing her hands in reassurance. "It's a long story, Mother."

"Mother!?" Kate gasped, eyes flirting up to the woman. It took her a moment, but she was soon able to see the familial resemblance. It was in the eyes more than anything else. The rest of Castle's features must have come from his father.

"Yeah," Castle inclined his head, turning back to her.

Martha raised an eyebrow and examined her with an interested eye. "Oh my... Richard, who's this lovely creature."

Castle grinned boyishly, leaning into Kate again, an arm slinking around her waist. "Detective Kate Beckett, meet my mother, Martha Rodgers, the Queen of Broadway."

"Oh my god, you… you're mother is Martha Rodgers!" Kate nearly screeched. She fumbled over herself as she turned towards the Broadway diva. She held out her hand in greeting. "Mrs. Rodgers, it's a real pleasure to meet you. My mother was a big fan."

"Please, Katherine darling, call me Martha," Castle's mother said with a wave of her hand, and before she knew it, Kate was being pulled into a suffocating embrace. Martha hugged her tightly, spinning her around until releasing her back to Castle. Kate stumbled for a moment, briefly dizzy from the intensity of it all. She looked over her shoulder to see Castle grinning at her, eyes twinkling with amusement. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"DAD!"

They all turned in the direction of the excited scream. A young woman with long flowing red hair came charging down the stairs. She came bounding down towards them, colliding with Castle. He stumbled back, an 'oof' sound expelling from his lungs, and Kate's brow furrowed with concern, but otherwise he seemed fine. His eyes closed as he embraced the young woman, a happy and content expression making its way onto his face. Kate watched with interest, her eyes softening with a tender longing that she never thought she'd ever have.

This must be Alexis.

Pulling back, the young redhead gave him a little glare. "What happened, Dad?" she demanded. "You stopped checking in. We were worried something bad had happened to you."

"That's what I asked," Martha declared, raising a hand in a dramatic wave. She then paused and narrowed her eyes at her son. Stepping forward, Martha put a hand on Alexis's shoulder. "Though, dear, I think it can wait until later."

"Huh?" Alexis knitted her eyebrows together, looking at her grandmother before turning back to her father, examining the lip cut and healing bruises on his face. "Oh my God, Dad… you need a doctor!"

Kate chose that moment to speak up, hoping that his daughter's assertion would help add weight to her own. "That's what I've been trying to tell him," she said.

Alexis jerked her head up towards Kate, finally noticing her for the first time. Her blue eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped down. "I'm sorry… I didn't see you there," she said, her brow creasing in confusion as her eyes narrowed with suspicion. She involuntarily inched closer to her father, almost taking up what appeared to be a protective stance. "Um… sorry, but who are you?"

Before Kate could introduce herself, Martha beat her to the punch. "Oh, Alexis, dear… this is Katherine," she proclaimed dramatically, with a theatrical flare. Her eyebrows came together as she looked at Kate, before she added, "I believe she's your father's girlfriend."

XXX

Castle eased down into the armchair, hissing slightly as his mother pressed an icepack wrapped in a washcloth into his bruised side. Alexis was helping Kate with their things, and he watched as the two walked up the stairs, carrying their duffel bags to the spare room. His daughter and girlfriend, as his mother had so eloquently put it, were talking quietly, and he strained his ears in an attempt to eavesdrop, but by the time he'd situated himself, they'd disappeared down the upstairs hallway. He sighed, disappointed, though he was pleased to see that the earlier tension between the two, before Martha had made introductions, was gone.

He leaned back into the chair and scrubbed a hand down his face, and glanced up at his mother as she returned with a glass of water and some Tylenol. Castle accepted the pills, popping them in his mouth, and then drowned them down with a large gulp of water.

"Sorry, Richard, I think I overstepped myself," Martha said, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him. "She's not your girlfriend." He inclined his head. "At least not yet, yes?" He smirked, shaking his head. His mother was always quite intuitive.

"Honestly, Mother, I don't know what she is at this point," he confessed. "We've only known each other for a few days. I think it's too early to be putting labels on anything."

"But she's special… this one," Martha said, not even bothering to conceal her interest in her son's love life.

"Yes, she is," he agreed, unable to keep the lovesick grin off his face. "You remember Kyra?" he asked.

"How could I forget the woman who broke my son's heart," Martha declared with a wave of her hand. "As I recall, you proposed and she declined the offer, flying off to London to… what was it again? Oh yes… to 'find' herself."

"Yeah," he bobbed his head, scowling as he recalled the memory and the deep melancholy that had followed. He didn't know it at the time, but his state of mind had made him highly suggestible. It was during that time that Samson York had found him in the Old Haunt, a local bar that had been one of Castle's sanctuaries after Kyra left him. The older man had filled his head with fanciful ideas, letting him believe that he could lead the life of his favorite fictional character—James Bond. And he had… for a time. But the real world of espionage was nothing like Ian Fleming's world. It was a hard life… a lonely life.

Hearing laughter from upstairs, his eyes shot up and he stared, waiting for two of the most important women in his life to reappear on the upstairs landing.

"Well?" Martha inquired.

"Huh?" he flicked his gave back to his mother, who was staring at him expectantly. "Oh, yes… well, you see, for the longest time I believed that Kyra was the one that got away, my one and only true love. But…," his eyes flirted back up to the upstairs landing just as Kate and Alexis appeared. Kate seemed to since his gaze and their eyes locked from across the distance. A small smile formed on his lips as he turned back to his mother. "I've since discovered that I'd been wrong."

"Oh, Richard…," Martha reached out and patted his knee, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face in what could only be called a motherly fashion. "I'm happy for you," she murmured softly. Her eyes grew watery. "I'm just happy all around. For years I've thought you'd just disappeared, feared you were dead. But then three weeks ago, you showed up at my door, asking for my help in protecting my granddaughter." She paused, dropping her head to collect herself. "I… I'm almost afraid it's all too good to be true."

Castle sat forward, gritting his teeth, suppressing the ripple of agony along his side as his aching ribs protested his sudden movement. He clasped her hands in his. "It's almost over," he assured her, firm in his belief. Now that he knew for certain that Sophia was the mole, it would only be a matter of time until he could unmask her for the villain that she was. But first, he needed to rest and regain his strength.

Martha gave a nod, so willing to believe him. She brought a hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes, giving him a watery smile. "I hope so, Richard, I really do."

"Really!? No way… I don't believe that!" Kate laughed.

"It's all true," Alexis declared, grinning widely.

The sound of Kate's laughter had pulled Castle's focus away from his mother, and he cocked his head up to watch Alexis and Kate reach the bottom of the stairs and then walk over to join them in the living room. He couldn't help but smile at seeming his 'girlfriend' and daughter chatting so amicably, seeming to become fast friends.

"I had no idea hauling luggage up a flight of stairs could be such a bonding experience," he asserted with a smirk. "If I'd known, I would have insisted on being part of the fun!" The two women shook their heads and laughed at him. He raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of him. "What's so funny?" he inquired.

Kate turned to him, her lips pressing together as she tried to suppress a smirk. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all."

"I was just telling Kate about the birthday surprise Agent Evans helped me throw for you earlier this year," Alexis explain.

Castle knitted his eyebrows together on a frown. "Oh… well, I don't see what's so funny about that."  
Kate couldn't hold back her laugh any longer. Castle watched with delight as her whole being seemed to light up. God, she was gorgeous. Her laugh was like music to his ears. She needed to laugh more often. Kate clutched her stomach with one hand while the other held onto Alexis's shoulder for support. "I wish… oh… I wish there was a picture. The look on your face must have been priceless when you realized those red wires weren't wires at all, but red vines. And that the 'bomb' was just a square-shaped cake with dark chocolate frosting."

"Hey, it wasn't funny!" he asserted, pouting his lower lip. Castle could easily recall the initial panic that had spread through his veins when he had entered one of the DC facility's recreation rooms to find what had appeared to be a bomb. "Alexis, genius that she is, embedded a digital display in the cake, and the damn thing just wouldn't stop no matter how many wires I cut."

Alexis snorted in amusement and covered her mouth, her face turning a decidedly rosy pink. "Oh, Dad…," she chuckled. "Please, it wasn't even that convincing."

"The room was dark, okay?" Castle defended. "How was I supposed to be able to read the lettering across the top that said 'Happy Birthday, Agent Castle'?" He stuck out his lower lip on a pout, feigning offense at their ridicule of him, but in actuality, it thrilled him to see Alexis and Kate getting along so well together. He turned to Martha and smiled. She returned it, leaning forward to pat his knee.

"It's good to have you home, Richard," she asserted in a quiet voice.

He stared back up at his mother, and bobbed his head in agreement. "Yes. It's good to be home."

XXX

Kate sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with Castle's special CIA crafted flip phone in her hand. She wondered if she'd made the right decision in calling Lanie while Castle had been in the bathroom, preparing for bed. Even after Alexis and Martha had added their insistence to hers, Castle had still been a stubborn ass, proclaiming he didn't need any medical assistance other than that which he could do himself. She had been willing to respect his wishes, until she caught him grimacing, trying to suppress the pain in his side as they climbed up the stairs after having a light supper with his family. Her decision had been made then. And it had felt right when she'd talked with Lanie, who was happy to hear from her. Esposito had filled Lanie in on what had been going on, at least from what little he knew. Before ending the call, she'd given Lanie the address for Martha's loft. Now all she had to do was wait for her friend's arrival.

Sighing, Kate brushed her hair back from her face and glanced around the small bedroom. Just like Sophia, both Martha and Alexis had made assumptions about her and Castle's relationship, which was how they'd ended up in the guestroom together. Though, she was willing to admit that those assumptions weren't totally off base, because her and Castle definitely had feelings for one another. Kate supposed she was just worried about the other women's opinions. Castle was unique in the fact that getting involved with him meant that she'd also becoming involved in Alexis and Martha's life.

He had a family.

Whereas she didn't. Well, she did have her father, but their relationship was still such a frail thing. Kate wasn't sure if she was ready to join a family, even if it meant she could be with Castle.

Standing up, Kate paced the room, carding her fingers through her hair. She didn't know what she was doing here. Castle clearly had more control over things than he'd led her to believe. Alexis didn't seem to be in any real immediate danger, even if she was under a self-imposed house arrest. She paused and glanced at her reflection in the mirror attached to the vanity that rested against the wall by the bed.

Kate slowly unbuttoned her blouse. Parting it open, she tilted her head down to stare at the puckered scar between her breasts. Tentatively, still a little unnerved by it, she reached up and brushed her fingertips along the raised skin. Her heart thumped profoundly beneath her chest as she scrutinized her appearance in the vanity mirror. She twisted her torso, parting the blouse further open to glimpse the long thin scar that ran down her side.

If she was honest with herself, Kate was still extremely self-conscious about the scars. It wasn't like she thought they distracted from her natural beauty, no. She just had always prided herself on having healthy, unblemished skin. And the vainglorious part of her, which she tried unsuccessfully to suppress on most days, especially after the shooting, believed that those scars took away from that… perfection?

Sure, Kate had always been confident in her body, and by extent her sexuality. She knew she was attractive, and that men found her hot and sexy, a fact she'd used to her advantage on more than one occasion. Once she had fully blossomed into womanhood, it had never been too difficult for her to attract attention. Even so, Kate still had some insecurities, just like anyone else. She may have tried modeling out one summer when she was younger—and been offered a long-term gig at _Modern Fashion_—but she wasn't conceited enough to actually believe she was perfect. Besides, that kind of life wasn't for her.

Kate liked to think of herself as down to earth… she was real. Her body wasn't a product of surgery or excessive dieting, though she was still struggling with regaining the weight she'd lost after she'd been shot and had neglected eating right while she'd gone into seclusion afterwards. If she was honest with herself, which she rarely was—she was the queen of denial—Kate hadn't had much of an appetite at the time. Still didn't. But as she stared across the room towards the door leading to the en-suite bathroom, she felt that that could change.

Even after only knowing him for a few days, Kate was willing to admit that she was probably in love with Castle. His life may be crazy, and his past still a bigger mystery than the one surrounding Alexis and her role in this Operation Spyglass or Mockingbird—or whatever the hell it was called. In the end, when it can down to the things that really mattered, Kate found that she didn't care about all that. The only thing that mattered to her was that she loved him. Yes… there, she'd admitted it. _No longer the queen of denial_, she thought to herself.

The door to the en-suite bathroom opened and Castle entered the room, having changed clothes and was now wearing black sweat pants and a gray t-shirt. He paused when he spotted Kate's state of undress.

"You want the bathroom?" he asked, gesturing with a flick of his thumb over his shoulder.

"No," she answered quietly, staring at his silhouette in the vanity mirror. "I'm fine." Kate let her hand drop and she turned around, shrugging out of her blouse.

Castle's eyes widen in surprise, and gaze dropped briefly to her chest. "Kate?"

She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She'd made this decision during the drive into the city while he'd been napping. It was time she told him. Yet, it was still difficult to find her voice. She couldn't explain it, but opening up to him about what happened last May seemed like a big step in their… relationship?

"I was shot in the chest," Kate blurted out, deciding it was best to just rip the bandage off. She let out a stuttering breath, suddenly feeling lighter, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"When?" his voice held no pity, which made her grateful. She didn't want that. She didn't need that.

"Last May," she elaborated, at length. "Some… bad things happened last May, too much to go into detail now—later, I promise—and my captain, Roy Montgomery… he… he was killed." She swallowed past the lump in her throat. She was still dealing with his betrayal and self-sacrifice—his own personal redemption. She was still unsure how she should feel about that as well.

Everything was so… conflicting.

All she knew was that she missed him. He'd been her mentor, almost a second father. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. She sucked in a long withheld sob. And suddenly Castle was by her side, guiding her to the bed. He sat down beside her and reached out, cupped her jaw in his palm, and wiping away the tears with his thumb. His touch was both gentle and tender; dare she say… loving?

"It happened at his funeral," she told him through her panting sobs. "I was giving the eulogy when a flash of light caught my eye. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, a searing pain in the center of my chest."

"Getting shot… it hurts like a bitch," Castle replied with a wiry smile.

"Yeah, no shit," Kate replied, smirking back at him. It felt good to have someone to talk to who'd actually had similar experiences. She'd seen the scars on his back the other night, and knew he'd probably been shot… more than once. Though he wasn't the only other person she knew who'd been shot. There had also always been Esposito. With his service in the Special Forces, he would have made the ideal person to talk to, but at the same time, since he was a friend and colleague, she couldn't. Castle, on the other hand, was different. He was more than a friend or colleague. He was so much more. He was special to her, and after experiencing what they had today, Kate felt like their connection was even stronger than before. They'd both endured terrible things. But when she was with him it seemed as if she—_they_—could overcome anything.

"Kate," Castle spoke softly after a long lull in the conversation, a little hesitant. His hand dropped to hers in her lap, and he gently toyed with her fingers, glancing down at them as if they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen. He swallowed and dragged his eyes back up to hers. "I know now might not be the right time for this, but…" his voice trailed off as if he was having second thoughts.

"Yes?" she urged, tilting her head back up to meet his gaze.

Castle stared back at her and seemed emboldened by her encouragement. He heaved in a deep breath and moved his hands up to her face, caressing her jaw and neck, tenderly tucking some loose locks behind her ear. "Kate… I love you," he declared softly, and then repeated himself, with more conviction, leaving no doubts as to the depth of his feelings. "I love you, Kate."

Kate's chest tightened and her heart thumped with joy. Her eyes watered with happy tears, but she held them back. Unable to find the words to immediately reciprocate his declaration, Kate just leaned into him, pressing her lips to his in a soft and tentative kiss. When she pulled back, she was able to put voice to her feelings. "I think I love you, too."

"_You think_?" his lips quirked up, his eyes twinkling with boyish charm.

She grinned back, resting her forehead against his, breathing in his heavenly scent. "Alright… I don't think… I know," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "I love you, Richard Castle."

Castle smiled at her, his bruised and battered face beaming with joyous happiness. It was radiant, and Kate couldn't help but smile back. He kissed her again, gripping the side of her face with his hand, pulling her close. She returned his kiss, matching him for passion and intensity. Relinquishing her emotional suppressors, Kate poured all her feels into the delicious movement of her lips against his. Their tongues met, and she moaned in pleasure, digging her fingers into his shoulders as she worked at deepening the kiss.

There was no uncertainty in her actions. This was right. This was real. It was what she wanted.

Clutching his t-shirt in a fist, Kate clawed it, tugging it up and over his head. Tossing the material aside, she latched back onto him, melding her mouth to his. Feeling a pooling warmth coalesce in her lower abdomen, Kate gently pushed him down onto the mattress. She crawled up over him and straddled him, her thighs bracketing his hips. She lowered herself over him, running her fingers over his bare chest, feeling every curve and contour of the muscles that lay beneath. Her brain was in a haze of lust and desire. Nothing else mattered but touching him.

Castle nipped at her jaw, coaxing little moans from her throat, as he ran his hands through her hair and down her back. His fingers began to fumbling with her bra strap as his mouth found hers again. He was just about to unclasp her bra, when a sudden knock intruded onto the moment.

"Richard, Katherine!" came Martha's voice. "Sorry to disturb you, but there's someone at the door. She claims Katherine called her."

_Shit_. Kate groaned, dropping her head onto Castle's heaving chest. Things had been heating up so fast with Castle that she'd forgotten about Lanie. Slowly pulling back, she flashed him an apologetic look. "Sorry, we got so caught up in… things, I forgot I called her," she breathed out, panting between each word, her skin still flushed with arousal. Her eyes widened as she glanced down at his bare chest and saw the rather large angry-looking bruise along his side. She jerked back instinctively, rolling off him. Shaky hands came up to hover over his healing wounds. "Castle! Oh… oh… I'm so, so sorry. I totally forgot about your injuries. God… did I hurt you?"

He shushed her with a gentle kiss, running his hand tenderly down the side of her face. "I'm fine," he reassured her. "I'm fine. But yeah… you're right… my side hurts like hell, but it's not your fault, Kate." He moved his hand down to rest on her chest, just above her rapidly beating heart. She shivered, feeling his fingers brush along the top swell of her breasts. "I want this, and nothing was going to stop me, certainty not some bruised ribs."

Kate sighed, and flashed him a grateful smile. "I want this, too, Castle," she said, leaning over to brush a soft kiss against his lips. "And thank you. I know I probably overreacted a little there, but… I don't want you to get hurt anymore than you already are. Our first time…," she blushed, ducking her head bashfully, before returning his gaze, and finishing her thought, "our first time together shouldn't be so soon after you've been tortured."

He opened his mouth to object, but she put a finger on his lips to silence him. She smiled down at him, letting her eyes fill with the affection and love—yes, love, she wasn't going to deny it—she felt for him. She completely understood his desire to not hold back any more, especially now that they'd both told the other their feelings, but Kate also understood what this meant to her, and call it girly, but she wanted their first time making love to be… special.

"Raincheck?" she asked.

Castle sighed in resignation. "Raincheck," he agreed.

After sealing the deal with a kiss, Kate slipped off the bed and bent down to retrieve her blouse. Castle heaved in a deep breath, and lumbered up into a sitting position on the mattress. He reached up and brushed back a flop of hair that had fallen over his forehead during their intense make out. Kate watched him with a bemused purse of her lips as she worked at buttoning up her blouse.

"You okay?" she asked, knitting her brow together as he shifted slowly to the edge of the bed.

"Huh? Yeah," he inclined his head. "Um… Look, why don't you go down ahead of me and meet your friend. I'll just need a minute."

Kate pursed her lips, and inclined her head in understanding. Having been pressed up close to him just moments before, she knew he needed a little time to… come down, so to speak. Stepping back to the side of the bed, she leaned over and rewarded his amazing acceptance of the situation with a deep kiss. He moaned into her mouth, reaching up to grab the back of her head and tug her back before she could pull away. He kissed her soundly, whispering his love with his lips against hers.

"Just so you know," he purred seductively. "I'm going to hold you to that raincheck."

Kate tugged her lower lip under her teeth and gazed at him with an almost bashful expression, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. She leaned back in and brushed her lips along the shell of his ear. "Oh, Castle… you have no idea." Grinning wickedly at him, she pulled back, and gave him a saucy wink, a little surprised at her own boldness. "I'll meet you downstairs," she called back over her shoulder as she opened the door. "Don't take too long."


	18. Chapter 17

**Private Eyes – Chapter 17**

Turner sat silently at the computer terminal, eyes glazed over as she mindlessly flicked through numerous video feeds of packed city streets. The vast horde that was New York City filled the two computer screens before her, sectioned off into separate windows on each monitor, allowing her to view multiple CCTV footage at once. It was crowded and busy, mind-numbingly boring. And since she was not really paying too much attention to the mass of people going to and fro, she would not be surprised if she missed anything.

And to be honest, she couldn't care less.

She no longer had control over the situation now that NCS Director Samson York had arrived and taken charge. He had direct command over the task force, and she had been regulated to second fiddle, at best. The bald bastard was currently on the phone with the Director, most likely telling him that her judgment had been compromised and that she had allowed things to get personal. He would probably recommend that she be reprimanded for her handling of the case, a permanent mark put down in her file.

_Not like it matters_, she thought. Once Turner got a hold of Spyglass, she would be gone: Her mission complete. Nonetheless, York was correct in his inference that her personal past with Castle had affected her judgment… to a degree.

When this had all started, Turner had not planned on letting her past relationship with Rick Castle affect her mission. But she'd soon discovered otherwise, especially after he had recruited Detective Kate Beckett, with her mile long legs, flowing mane of hair, and super model looks. At first, Turner had assumed Castle's interest in the woman was purely professional—as in using her as a mule to get Spyglass out of New York. Then when she had seen a picture of the woman, Turner had then expanded that original assessment to include sex. After all, she knew from first hand experience just how much Rick Castle enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh.

But when Kate Beckett continued to pop up in the course of her investigation, Turner had been unable to suppress an almost visceral feeling—was it envy?—from seizing control. At first, she had been annoyed at the idea of this woman interfering in her mission. But as time progress, and they delved deeper in Beckett's life, and Castle spent more time with the woman, it was almost like Turner was jealous, which was absurd.

She had no reason to be jealous. Her past relationship with Castle had just been physical. She had used him for sex. Nothing more, nothing less. Feelings had not played a part in her dealings with the ruggedly handsome operative. They never had. Yet if that were true, then why did it irk her so much that Castle had taken a fancy to the detective? Why did it irritate her so much when she had seen the rumpled bed sheets that told of a passionate night between new lovers? This sudden appearance of the green-eyed monster was confusing.

Turner clenched her jaw and lowered her brow, trying to clear her mind of such thoughts. But it was useless. She couldn't stop the taunting images of Castle's head buried deep between Beckett's naked thighs as he did that special thing with his tongue, something he had always claimed he'd only done with her.

Growling in frustration, Turner shook her head, and focused on the CCTV footage on the two monitors in front of her. She narrowed her eyes as she stared at the numerous images of people running back and forth, consumed with their little mundane, insignificant lives, completely unaware of the larger forces at work.

She had been unable to get ahold of Clyde for the past couple of hours. Her patience was beginning to wear thin. She glanced around, ensuring that she wasn't being observed, and dug out her phone. An hour ago Turner had called in a favor from a retired operative, asking him to check in on Clyde and his mercenaries. Hitting the speed dial, she held the phone up to her ear and waited for it to connect.

"_Knave_," came a cold, emotionless voice.

Turner smirked, finding his alias both amusing and apropos. "Have you got anything for me?"

"_Your boy Clyde is dead_," he answered. "_There is no sign of Castle or the woman you described._"

"They escaped?" she tried hard to hide her astonishment.

"_Looks like_," Knave confirmed.

"Damn," Turner hissed under her breath. Another mess she'd have to deal with. "I'm busy at the moment, do you mind taking care of the clean up?"

"_Sure, just as long as I'm properly compensated_," came Knave's reply. "_What do you want me to do with those that survived?_"  
"Survived?" she echoed, surprised. "You're saying he didn't kill them all?"

"_Perhaps he's getting soft in his old age_," Knave said with a dry chuckle. "_Only kills I found were in that pathetic excuse of an interrogation room_."

Turner thought for a moment. She could not have any loose ends. Lowering her brow, she made a decision. "I want no survivors. Extract what information you can from them, and then kill them."

"_Will do_," Knave said. "_Nice doing business with you_."

And then he hung up. Turner scowled. If Castle and Beckett had escaped, that meant her window of opportunity was closing… and fast. She needed to find Spyglass or Mockingbird as soon as possible. Turning back to her computer terminal, she knitted her eyebrows together in thought as she leaned her elbows against the desktop and rested her chin on the back of her hands. Castle had been apprehended in the city, and it seemed as if he had no intention of leaving it so soon.

The girl.

Turner raised her eyebrows as she looked up at the flickering CCTV footage on the screens before her. How could she be so blind? Castle had hidden the girl somewhere in the city. And now that he had escaped from Clyde, Turner had no doubt that he'd retrieve the girl before going completely off grid. But how could she track him? She tapped her finger against her chin as her eyes scanned over the camera feeds in front of her. _Beckett_. It was near impossible to do a trace on Castle, since much of the information on his life prior to his CIA recruitment had been erased, saved for the hardcopies kept in a vault at Langley. But Beckett would be an entirely different story.

Sitting back in her chair, Turner spread her fingers out across the keyboard, and though she was out of practice in coding, she still managed to enter in the appropriate commands that would link the windows she had opened on her computer screens with the CIA's facial recognition software. A digital beep sounded when the program was ready for activation.

But she hesitated.

York already had several computer techs running the facial rec for sightings of Castle and Beckett. It would be a waste of her time to do the same. Standing up, Turner ignored some of the looks thrown her direction as she maneuvered around the banks of computers, acting like she was just going to get coffee. When she no longer felt the curious eyes following her, she changed direction and walked over to the terminal where Danberg and Agent Riley were working.

"Hey," she inclined her head in a soft greeting when they looked up at her approach. "Have you guys got anything?"

"Not much," Riley answered. "Nothing on social media. Last time she updated Facebook was over a year ago. No Twitter or Instagram. Most of her emails are either from her father or work related."

"She didn't appear to have much of a social life," Danberg finished. "Apart from a 'Josh Davidson', but that seemed to stop around May. Looks like he performed part of the surgery." He frowned. "Nothing from the medical ethics board on that."

"Perhaps he was the only one on call at the time," Turner offered.

Danberg nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps."

Turner paused for a bit, before indicating the large stack of files sitting besides Riley's keyboard. "Mind if I take these?" she asked. "I want to give them another look through."

"Sure, knock yourself out," Riley said distractedly, most of his attention already back on the computer screen as he continued his work of scanning through the files on Beckett's computer.

"Want some help?" Danberg questioned, glancing up with an eager expression. He was probably board out of his mind with the data search he was doing with Agent Riley.

"No, I got it," Turner replied quickly. "But thank you."

Danberg watched her with curious eyes as she picked up the stack of files and carried them off. He was probably confused by her polite manner.

Returning to her workstation, Turner dumped the stack of files down on the desktop. Plopping down in her chair with a sigh, she began flipping through the files in search of the list that one of the computer techs had generated of Beckett's family, friends, co-workers, and acquaintances. Once she found it, Turner did a quick background check on the people Beckett most frequently called and talked with over the phone, which was made easier by the fact that it took her very little effort to acquire her cell phone records.

She quickly dismissed all her co-workers. There was no way Beckett would go to one of them for help. Turner may dislike the woman, but she was willing to admit that Beckett wasn't stupid. Glancing over the names on the list, she stopped at Josh Davidson. Danberg had mentioned the man as being part of Kate Beckett's social life. She did a search on him, and smiled. Beckett's boyfriend, or rather ex-boyfriend, was a looker. She could see why the detective would have been interested in him, in a purely physical way of course. His personality profile, however, left much to be desired.

Danberg had been right. The calls between the two had ceased around last May, not long after Beckett had been shot. Perhaps the near-death experience had made the detective question her relationship goals with the cardiac surgeon. Turner made a note to contact Davidson and question him about the detective. The more information she had, the better prepared she'd be for their next encounter.

Going back to the phone records, Turner took note of the numerous calls made between Detective Beckett and Dr. Lanie Parish, a medical examiner. Judging from the time stamps, it was not too difficult to deduce that the two were friends outside of work. Turner pulled up Parish's profile on one of her computer screens. Nodding to herself, she added the OCME I.D. photo of the attractive African-American medical examiner to the one of Dr. Joshua Davidson already in the search field parameters. Out of all the people Kate Beckett were acquainted with, Turner believed that these two might be the only ones Beckett could turn to for help.

After typing in the command that set the facial recognition software into motion, Turner sat back, and crossed her arms. Now all she had to do was wait.

XXX

She watched from a distance as Castle worked at stifling a groan as he worked at pulling his shirt back on. Martha remained hovering nearby as he finished the task and leaned back against the plush cushions on the sofa. The older redhead was taking the opportunity so rarely given her to mother her son. Kate smiled softly as she watched their interaction, her heart melting at the obviously strong familial love shared between mother and son despite their long separation. She didn't know much about Martha Rodgers, besides the woman's famous Broadway career, but it was obvious that she loved her son.

Turning away from the heartwarming sight, Kate faced her intrigued friend and gestured towards the kitchen, which she believed would provide them with a modicum amount of privacy to have their long delayed talk. Lanie had been kind and held her tongue, keeping her unavoidable questions at bay until she had seen to Castle. And for that, Kate couldn't be more grateful for her friend's atypical restraint.

Things had gone relatively smoothly, once Kate had explained who Lanie was and why she'd called her. Though obviously reluctant, Castle had grudgingly submitted to the medical examiner's inspection, thanks in large part to Martha's added insistence to her own. Judging by his facial expressions as she'd watched Lanie examine Castle, Kate thought he might still be a little vexed that their moment had been interrupted. And if she was honest with herself, Kate was too. However, Castle's health far outweighed her almost primal need to just rip his clothes off and have her way with him.

They'd get there. Just not now.

"Would you like something to drink?" Kate offered, then frowned to herself, because this wasn't her house yet she was playing hostess. And, on second thought, she didn't even know where anything was.

The pursed lip smirk on Lanie's face informed Kate that her friend knew exactly what had just run through her mind. "No, that's okay. I'm fine."

Kate nodded, letting out a grateful breath. She gave her shoulders a roll in an attempt to loosen some of the tension that had slowly begun to build up in anticipation of this talk. "Lanie, I just want to thank you again for coming over on such short notice. I know you probably have better things to do."

Lanie gave a shrug of her shoulders, and casually leaned back against the counter. "No, not really. Javi was watching the Knicks game. So I was bored. I needed some excitement, and this definitely qualified." She glanced over at Castle, who was unsuccessfully fighting off Martha's mothering. "_Hmm_," she hummed out in approval. "Kate, where did you find him? He's yummy."

"_Lanie_!" she gasped, unable to stop her cheeks from flushing a rosy shade of pink.

"What?" Lanie raised an eyebrow as she returned her gaze back to Kate. "All because I'm in a relationship doesn't mean I can't appreciate a fine specimen of masculinity when I see one. And this Castle, damn girl… he is one fine hunk of meat."

"Ugh, really, you didn't just call him a _hunk of meat_?" Kate snorted, rolling her eyes.

"What can I say?" Lanie chuckled softly. "It's hard not to appreciate the goods." She paused for dramatic effect. "And don't pretend you haven't been _appreciating_ those goods as well."

Kate sighed, not wanting to have this conversation, at least not yet, even if it was true that she had been _appreciating_ the goods, as Lanie put it. But what her friend didn't know was that Kate had been 'appreciating' Castle in an entirely different way just moments before she had arrived. So before their conversation could get completely derailed, Kate focused in on what she really wanted to know, and the main reason she'd called her friend over to Martha's loft so late at night. "How is he doing?"

Lanie's eyebrows came together for a moment as she registered Kate's shift in conversation. She knew Kate was a private person, yet it usually wasn't that difficult for Lanie to get her to spill. But from the serious tone of her voice, and the obvious worry etched on her features, Lanie thankfully decided to let the matter drop, at least for the time being. Clearly not liking the anxious look on her friend's face, Lanie decided to try and lighten the mood. She shook her head and offered Kate a smirk. "Girl, you do realize that most of my patients are dead, right?"

"Lanie," Kate ground out, not in the mood.

"Fine, fine," she held up a hand to forestall anymore of Kate's irritation. "He's actually in better condition than he looks. His ribs, however, are another story. He definitely has bruised ribs. Those injuries seem to be a couple of days older than some of the others. And they'd begun to heal. But it looks like he took a beating. I can't be sure, but he might have two fractured ribs, but I couldn't tell you for sure without doing an x-ray… which I'm assuming is out of the question."

Kate bobbed her head, confirming her friend's suspicion.

"Okay," Lanie inclined her head and went on. "I re-cleaned the cuts and scrapes with disinfectant, though some of those might require stitches. Right now, all I've really done is bandaged him back up." She paused, and glanced curiously at Kate. "I couldn't help but notice that he'd been patched up by someone with basic field training. Was that you?"

"No," Kate shook her head, glancing over at Castle as he reclined on the sofa, chatting quietly with Martha. "That was all him. He did most of that while I drove us back into the city."

"Kate… what happened? I mean, you look alright, but you're shaking, like you've been through some kind of trauma," Lanie said, reaching out to lightly touch her arm. "And your friend, he obviously endured much worse."

"I… Lanie, it's complicated," Kate asserted, trying desperately to keep them off that topic. She didn't want to drag her friend into the whole mess her and Castle had found themselves in, especially when she still didn't fully understand all of it yet either. "Right now, Lanie, all I need to know is that he'll be okay."

"Okay," Lanie relented, giving her a soft smile. "You must really like the guy."

She pursed her lips, and put her hands on her hips. "Lanie…"

"Yeah, sweetie, he's good," Lanie reassured her. She cocked her head over her shoulder to look at Castle, scrutinizing the man with knowing eyes. "He's more than good. He just needs some rest."

Kate nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. She let out a shaky breath, unable to keep her eyes off him for long. "Good," she sighed with relief, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. She hadn't been aware of just how worried she'd been until now.

Lanie studied her for a long moment, before breaking the silence that had settled between them. "How'd you two meet?"

Kate bit her lower lip and pulled her gaze away from Castle before responding. "Believe it or not, on that blind date you set me up on," she answered.

"Oh, so that dating site actually worked?"

"Um, no… well, sort of… I guess," her nose wrinkled as her eyebrows knitted together. "Actually. No. It didn't. Not really. But… it did?"

Lanie raised an eyebrow. "You're not making a lot of sense right now, sweetie," she interjected, giving her a pointed look. "Care to explain?"

"It's a little complicated," Kate offered with a contrite expression, knowing how much her friend hated that phrase.

"Things are always going to be complicated, girl," Lanie shook her head. "Just start from the beginning."

"Okay… so he wasn't really my date," Kate explained. "He just pretended to be. And we were actually having a good time just… talking. It was amazing, Lanie. I hadn't had so much fun just…" her voice trailed off.

"Talking?" Lanie supplied.

Kate bobbed her head, glancing back at Castle and smiling as she watched him try and fail at pushing off Martha's mothering. "He ordered some really, really nice wine, and then… right in the middle of the conversation, he just leans over the table and kissed me!"

"What!?"

Kate nodded, unable to keep the dreamy grin from spreading across her lips. "It was amazing, Lanie. So wonderful… and just… everything a first kiss should be," she elaborated, sighing happily at the memory of that first kiss and those that had followed. It was difficult to pick out which kiss was the best. They just kept getting better. "But then, he was gone, and the next thing I knew, my _real_ date was sitting down and apologizing for being late."

"Wow," Lanie shook her head. "So how'd you two bump into each other again?"  
Kate smirked. "Funny that you'd put it that way."

"What way?"  
"Bump into each other," Kate said. She then went on to explain how Castle had literally fallen from a rooftop and onto the top of the very cab she'd been a passenger. Lanie listened with wide eyes as Kate preceded to fill her in on what had been happening over the last couple of days, leaving out a minor detail or two—Lanie didn't need to know everything. She was as vague as possible in describing Castle's situation and the circumstances that had brought him to New York, but it was impossible to explain all of it without mentioning the CIA, Alexis, and the mole within the Agency. By the time she finished telling her story, Lanie was understandably shocked**.**

"Wow, Kate… I honestly don't know what to say," Lanie gasped, placing a hand on the countertop to steady herself as she absorbed all that information. "I guess this explains why the FBI put a BOLO out on you." She brushed her fingers through her hair and heaved in a deep breath, flicking her eyes over at Castle and Martha in the living room. "Do… do you believe him?"

Kate crossed her arms over her chest and stared out across the open loft at Castle. Her eyebrows knitted together as she thought over her response. "Yes," she answered at length, the conviction in her voice firm and unwavering. "Yes. I do."

"Well, you did say you wanted some excitement in your life," Lanie chuckled, but it was only halfhearted. It was clear from her friend's expression that she was concerned. "Kate, I know I don't know all the facts, but are you sure it's wise to get… involved in all this… with him?" Lanie punctuated her question by gesturing towards Castle.

Kate bit her lower lip. "It may not be wise, or the smart thing to do, but Lanie, right now—for me—it's the _right_ thing to do. Besides… I'm already involved. I can't back out now. I need to see this through to the end."

Lanie stared at her for a long moment, and Kate almost squirmed under her friend's gaze. Lanie had a talent for reading her that she didn't always appreciate. "Oh my god, you've got a thing for him! Don't you try and deny it, Kate Beckett. It's written all over your face. Don't think I didn't notice the way you looked at him."

"God, Lanie, could you keep your voice down?" Kate hissed, flicking her eyes around to ensure they hadn't drawn the attention of Castle or his mother. "Alexis is asleep upstairs."

"Excuses," Lanie chuckled. "Oh, sweetie, no need to feel embarrassed. Hmmm. I like this look on you. It looks good."

"What?" Kate wasn't too sure she was properly following the conversation anymore.

"So, have you jumped his bones yet?"

"Lanie," she groaned, rolling her eyes, though was unable to keep her cheeks from flushing pink, an instant tell.

"Ooh," her friend gushed, reading her like a book. "I know that look. You've fooled around, right? Made out like horny teenagers?"

Kate lowered her voice, and ducked her head closer to her friend. "Okay, okay, quiet down," she shushed.

"Don't hold out on me, Kate. I want all the juicy details."

"Alright," she sighed, brushing her hair back from her face. "You want the truth?" Lanie bobbed her head way too enthusiastically. Kate would never understand her friend's fascination with her love life. "Before you arrived Castle was seconds away from unhooking my bra. Now, does that answer your question?"

Lanie's face fell, and she reached out, grabbing Kate's hand, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. "Oh God, sweetie… I'm so sorry. Did I interrupt?"

Kate shook her head and squeezed Lanie's hand back in reassurance. "Don't worry about it, Lanie," she asserted. "As you said, he has bruised ribs. I don't think sex would have helped."

"Oh, I don't know," Lanie shrugged, smirking deviously.

Kate scoffed, dubious.

"Endorphins are a natural pain inhibitor. Sex is good for your health… just saying."

XXX

His ears were warm, and he flicked his gaze across the open loft space, staring into the kitchen at Kate and Lanie, watching as the two huddled close and talked in quiet voices, the occasional giggle coming from the medical examiner. He gulped, wishing they would turn just a bit so he could see their faces, because then perhaps he could then ascertain what they were talking about. He was good at lip reading.

"Do you think they're talking about me?" he questioned, turning his attention back to his hovering mother.

"Oh, I'd count on it, kiddo," Martha replied with a knowing smile. She leaned forward and gently brushed her fingers through the unruly flop of hair that hung down over his forehead. "I wouldn't worry about it, though."

Castle sighed and leaned back into the cushion, cutting off his view of Kate and Lanie, removing temptation. "I can't help but worry, Mother," he said. "This thing between us—Kate and I—it's new, fragile. We still have so much to learn about one another. I… I don't want any misunderstanding or misperceptions messing with that."

"Richard, you need to calm down," Martha said, grabbing his hands and his attention. "Katherine's a smart girl. If she had any doubts, she wouldn't be here."

"You make a good point," Castle inclined his head, grinning. "Guess I'm just a natural worrier. I can't help it. This feels so different." He shook his head, and shifted his weight on the cushions. "It didn't feel like this with Kyra."

Martha raised an eyebrow. "How is it different? Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you in love with Kyra?"

"Yeah, I was, but… it was… I don't know, I can't explain it," he sighed. "It was…"

"Yeah, I know… different," Martha finished as he nodded. She curled her fingers around his and gripped his hand tightly, almost as if she was afraid he'd vanish before her eyes. He looked up into her eyes, seeing glistening tears held at bay. "Richard, darling… take some advice from someone who's already more than halfway through the movie, don't hold back… for a second. If she's the one… really, truly, the one for you, Richard… then don't fight it. Don't give up. Embrace it."

"Is… is that what you did with my father?"

"Oh, Richard," Martha sighed, dropping his hand so she could reach up and caress the side of his face. "What I had with your father… it was special, but it wasn't like what you've described with Katherine."

"Do… do you regret it?" he asked hesitantly. He had always had so many questions. His father's identity was still a complete mystery to him. He had no complaints about his childhood. Martha had been an amazing mother, and he loved her dearly. But he'd always wondered who his father was, even if he had never made any real effort to unravel the truth.

"No," Martha declared firmly. "Not for one second. Your father and I, we may not have been in love—in the traditional sense—but that night… we loved one another enough for a lifetime. I would never regret it. Never. I got you. And I would never give that up. I may not have been the best mother, but I love you with my whole heart and soul, Richard."

"I never thought otherwise," he asserted, feeling his eyes water with emotion. He leaned forward and clutched his mother's hand in his. He was finally realizing the full consequences of his actions when he had accepted Samson York's offer to join the CIA. "I'm sorry, Mother, so sorry for leaving you like that, and letting you believe I was dead. It… it was never my intention to hurt you. You were a wonderful mother. No boy could have asked for better."

Martha wiped at her eyes, and inclined her head in gratitude. "I'm just glad you came back, Richard," she leaned forward to hug him.

"Things will be different now," he promised her, hugging her back. "Once Alexis's safety is ensured and the mole is dealt with, things will be different."

He embraced his mother with a fierceness that gave proof to how affected he'd really been at having to cut her out of his life. Martha Rodgers was a vibrant, dramatic and loving soul. And it did him good to have her back in his life. He had no intention of changing that now.

Someone cleared their throat, and Castle eased his mother back out of their embrace, gently rubbing her shoulder as he looked up to see Kate and Lanie. "Yes?"

"It's getting late, so I'm going to head home," Lanie declared. "It was nice to meet you, Rick… and you, too, Martha."

"The pleasure was all ours, Dr. Parish," Martha declared with a theatrical flare, already recovering from her emotional discussion with her son. Castle smiled warmly, pleased to see his mother's strength.

Lanie inclined her head, and then Kate excused herself, seeing her friend to the door. Martha stood up and adjusted her glittering purple nightgown. "I think I'll head to bed now," she announced. "See you in the morning?"

Castle looked up, noting the touch of worry in that question. "Yes," he asserted confidently. "See you in the morning."

Martha smiled happily. "Well, then, tell Katherine I said goodnight." His mother swooped out of the living room with an added flourish, and headed off in the direction of the master bedroom.

After a minute or two, Kate returned and sat down next to him on the couch. She looked around in confusion, her nose wrinkling adorably. "Where's Martha?"

"She went to bed," Castle informed her. "She told me to tell you she said goodnight."

Kate smiled, and surprised him by leaning into his side, wrapping her arm around his. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. Castle swallowed, feeling his heart clench within his chest. It had been a while since he'd… _cuddled_ with someone. Were they cuddling?

"Tired?" he asked, unsure what to do or say. He was a little overwhelmed at Kate's affectionate display. Though, he supposed that after what had almost happened in the upstairs guestroom, it was probably a good bet to say that they were unofficially a couple now. Oh, he had no complaints. It had just been a long time since he'd done anything that could be considered… _couply_? Her scent was already invading his olfactory senses, and he could feel its power pulling him in. Her presence was intoxicating. This was a different kind of intimacy that he wasn't used to. Sex… he understood. He liked sex. But this… he found he liked this too. And he liked it because it was with Kate.

"I guess so, yeah," Kate answered at length, leaning back to brush her hair away from her face as she raised her head up to look him in the eye. She paused, and arched up to press her lips against his in a soft kiss, no hesitation or restraint in it. It was a simple, chaste gesture, yet it made his heart soar with its implied meaning. She tugged her lower lip under her teeth as she pulled back. "Lanie knows about us. She kind of forced it out of me."

"Oh?" he stammered, uncertain how to respond to that.

"She approves."

"Really?" he nearly scoffed in disbelief. "I mean… she really doesn't know me. How can she be sure?"

"She has magical powers," Kate joked, shaking her head and laughing before sobering. "Seriously… I guess, even though we've both been through hell and haven't really had time to breathe, she can tell."

"Tell what?"

"That you make me happy," Kate said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say. "And that's all she needs to know. The rest… well, that can come later."

XXX

Turner had fallen asleep in front of the monitors, waiting for a hit from the facial recognition program. Her neck ached, and her back felt stiff, but her lips were spread wide in a triumphant smile. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she called up all the sightings of Dr. Lanie Parish, mapping her movements through the city during the last 24 hours. The medical examiner had left her apartment earlier that evening, only to make a stop at a place in Soho that she'd never been before. Turner could think of only one explanation.

"I've got you now, Castle."


	19. Chapter 18

**Private Eyes – Chapter 18**

Cursing under her breath, Turner brushed her dark hair back from her face before reaching out for her phone and silencing the wake up alarm. She glared at the time as she slid her thumb across the screen, quickly unlocking it and checking to see if she had missed any calls or messages while she'd been asleep. It was too early to be up, especially after how late she had stayed up, but she had a mission to complete. Last night, after she'd confirmed Castle's location, Turner had snuck out of the command center and called her contact, seeking orders. Her lips tugged upwards as she remembered him giving the final go ahead, as well as blanket authority to deal with the situation as she saw fit.

Sitting up, she swung her legs over the edge of the cot and carded her fingers through her dark hair. She adjusted her blouse, which had rumpled slightly in her sleep. She hadn't bother changing before collapsing for a power nap. Her eyes stared off into nothingness as she contemplated the contact's instructions. Yes, he'd given her permission to do what she wanted, but there were also some subtle suggestions as to how that might be achieved. Castle had to die. He knew too much. As did his lady friend… _Kate Beckett_. Turner glowered at the mere thought of the woman. She was going to take get pleasure in permanently silencing the pair of them. But she could sense that the client also wanted Beckett dealt with for reasons other than her connection to Castle and the knowledge that the detective must have gain from him.

She grabbed her handgun off the bedside table, quickly checking the magazine cartridge, before ramming it back home, and then cocking the barrel to make certain the chamber was clear. Confident that her weapon was ready for action, she stood up off the cot and holstered the Sig Sauer against her hip. Turner pulled on her blazer, tugging the sides closer together in order to conceal the gun. Her gray overcoat hung from the hook on the door, and she shrugged it on, letting her arms slid through the sleeves at a leisurely pace.

Today was a day to savor. After today, she'd have Spyglass, and nothing would then be able to stop the charade and end her long forced exile from the motherland. The acquisition of Spyglass meant her freedom.

Donning a blasé expression, Turner exited her sleeping quarters and marched down the hallway, nodding curtly to two passing analysts, both in desperate need of sleep. She paused at the double glass doors leading into the command center. Narrowing her eyes, she looked around to any sign of NCS Director Samson York. Seeing none, she let out a sigh of relief, and continued onwards, pushing a glass door open and entering the command center.

The room was buzzing with activity, even at such an early hour. The low murmur of analysts and tech specialists filled the room. Now that York was in town they were working around the clock. It was a miracle that she'd even been able to get away to grab four hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Danberg spotted her the second she across the threshold. He had been a good partner during the last two years. To her surprise, Turner felt a little guilty about deceiving him, but it was an easy enough emotion to suppress when she reminded herself of the stakes. He quickly excused himself from the conversation he was involved in with a sleepy looking Agent Riley, and power walked over to her.

"Sleep well?" he asked, his handsome features displaying nothing but friendly curiosity.

Turner offered a shrug of her shoulder. "As best as can be expected under the circumstances," she replied stopping by her station to double check the address to Martha Rodgers' loft. She had written it down last night, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finding the address, she powered down the monitor and made to move.

However, before she could get very far, Danberg placed a hand on her arm, halting her movement. It was a light touch, nothing to be concerned about. "You going somewhere?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes as he watched her face, trying to read her.

She glanced up at him and feigned a smile. "I just need some fresh air," she asserted, stepping around the station and heading in the direction of the exit. "I won't be long."

Turner spared one last look over her shoulder at her partner, taking in his furrowed brow and questioning eyes. She stifled down the rising worry that Danberg was on to her. She had managed to survive the vast majority of her life hidden behind the cloak of deception; it was a little late in the game to start having concerns. Besides, it had never slipped, not once—not even in those brief unguarded moments in bed with Rick Castle, where she had let a truth or two squeak through the veil of lies.

Her secret identity was secure.

But just in case it wasn't, and Danberg did suspect something, Turner began to mentally prepare herself for the eventuality that she might have to kill him as well. Closing her eyes, and taking a long cleansing breath, Turner road down the elevator, letting her mind be free for just a few more moment. The bell dinged, and her eyes open, shining with resolve. She exited the Federal Building and merged into the early morning hustle and bustle of New York City, easily disappearing in the crowd.

XXX

Grabbing the spatula, Kate deftly guided the perfectly fluffed scrambled eggs off the skillet and onto the platter. She smiled at her creation, feeling her chest swell with pride. It had been a while since she'd cooked breakfast, let alone a meal designed for more than one person. Too many of her meals as of late had been take out, or on the go. She rarely had the time to indulge in cooking. It made her feel free, lighter than she had in quite a while. She turned to check on the bacon, the sizzling sound was music to her ears. It brought back so many happy memories.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw a door, across from the kitchen, open. Martha appeared, dressed in a bizarrely pattern dress, a mismatch of blues, greens, and purple, with a splattering of rhinestones around the collar. The Broadway star swept into the room with an ease and confidence that Kate admired.

"Good morning, Martha," she smiled in greeting. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, that would be lovely, my dear," Martha replied, smiling back, her eyes alight with interest. Kate poured a cup and handed it to Castle's mother. "Thanks." She took a sip, and her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Excellent," she praised. "I'm duly impressed, Katherine. I've been trying to get that confounded contraption to work for months."

"Just beginner's luck, I guess," Kate replied, shrugging conciliatorily. She turned back to the bacon as Martha took another sip, humming low in approval as she did so.

Eager and light feet padded down the stairs, announcing the arrival of the teenager. "I smelled coffee!" she exclaimed, rushing over to join them. Kate offered Alexis a cup, and the teen prodigy gratefully accepted it. "Thanks." After a long gulp, Castle's daughter noticed the large breakfast spread on the countertop. "Wow! Did you make all this?" she asked, clearly impressed

Kate inclined her head. "Yeah," she declared, moving around the kitchen like a pro. "I wanted to have it all ready before your dad woke up. We had a late night." The moment the words were out of her mouth, she froze, caught like a deer in the headlights. She glanced up to see Martha and Alexis exchange knowing looks as if they were receiving confirmation of what they'd suspected.

"So," Martha tossed out, turning back to look at Kate with a quizzical look. "I'm assuming your doctor friend from last night gave you two the okay."

"Oh… um… I… I didn't… no… no not like that," Kate stammered, flushing with embarrassment. "When I said we had a late night… I… I didn't mean it like that. We just talked. _Really_." She stressed the last word when the two redheads just chuckled, clearly unconvinced.

"Whatever you say, Katherine," Martha patted her arm with feigned sympathy, giving her a saucy wink.

Kate shook her head, turning to Alexis as the young woman spooned some of the fluffy scrambled eggs onto her plat. "I'm not lying. Nothing happened last night except some cuddling. Honest."

"Is that what they're calling it nowadays," the teen said with a playful smirk.

Just before Kate could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps dragging across the floor upstairs announced to them all that Castle had finally woke up. It took just a moment before he appeared on the upstairs landing.

"Mm, morning," he mumbled, blinking blurrily as he stared down at the trio of women in the kitchen, before beginning his descent down the stairs. "I just woke up, and literally smelled the coffee and bacon."

"Good morning to you, Richard," Martha smiled indulgently at her son as he shuffled over to join them. With a dramatic wave of her hand, she gestured towards Kate. "Well, she cooks!"

Kate took great pleasure in the way his eyes lit up as he surveyed the literal buffet she'd prepared. "I'm impressed," Castle declared, flicking his eyes up to hers, his lips curling up into a warm smile.

"Thank you," Kate smiled in return, turning back to check on the bacon. She used the spatula to scoop up the sizzling strips and deposit them on a paper towel for draining. Castle stole a small one with quick and nimble fingers, popping it into his mouth, before he realized just how hot it was. Kate chuckled along with Martha and Alexis at his comedic act of fanning his tongue. "Actually, my mom was an amazing cook," she supplied, meeting Castle's gaze over the scrambled eggs. "She used to make Sunday brunch. And I would get to choose between pancakes, omelets, or waffles."

"Wow," he said. "That's funny. Every Sunday, my mother would have me make her an ice pack and a Bloody Mary."

Kate laughed lightly as Martha shook her head at her son and Alexis furrowed her brow and watched from the sidelines, clearly interested in learning more about her biological family.

"Don't listen to him, darling," Martha asserted, reaching out to pat Kate's hand that was resting on the counter. "That only happened twice… tops!" she declared with a dramatic flare, thowing her arms up in the air. "Besides, I'm sure it came in handy later on, didn't it, Richard? What with your James Bond lifestyle."

"Ha, ha… very funny, Mother," Castle feigned a laugh, yet the tiny smile on his lips proved he wasn't really offended. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on his mother's cheek. Martha beamed, basking in the affection from her son.

Kate's insides went all warm and fuzzy watching it all. From their late night conversations before going to bed, Kate knew that allowing his mother to believe him to be dead was something he had always regretted. He had recounted their first meeting since the day of his recruitment into the CIA. It had been only three weeks before he got Alexis out of the CIA black site in DC. Castle told her how Martha had put aside her anger at being lied too for years, and had embraced her son, eager to help him with whatever he required.

She had been genuinely touched that he was willing to share that with her. And it was clear, from just their interaction, that Castle loved Martha very much, despite his feigned bemoaning of her mothering. Kate found it all quite adorable, really. For a man who had made a living deceiving and killing people without blinking twice, Castle was surprisingly stable and sane. Kate would have gone stir crazy if she'd been in his shoes. After what happened to her mom, she would never have been able to do that to her dad without being consumed with guilt.

_Dad_.

A pang of guilt squeezed her heart as she suddenly remembered her father. It had been a while since she'd seen him, or even talked with him over the phone. She made a silent vow to rectify that as soon as possible.

"So, what's the plan, kiddo?" Martha asked, pulling Kate out of her thoughts. She blinked and glanced up to see the Rodgers clan sitting side by side, in generational order: Martha, Castle, and then Alexis.

"Yeah," the teen chirped, popping a grape into her mouth. "Are we still going to the French Rivera? Or is it the Austrian Alps? Oh… wait, I know… Palermo!"

Castle chuckled, and shook his head. "No, no… we're fine," he said. He gestured towards Kate with a nod of his head. "Thanks to Kate, I've been able to confirm that Sophia Turner is the mole."

Alexis laughed, and rolled her eyes. "Was that ever in doubt?" she asked. She scrunched up her eyes as she stared at Castle. "I told you it was her."

"Well, pardon me for wanting some verification," Castle defended. "We all can't be geniuses." The teen smirked at that, and grabbed a strip of bacon off the platter. "But yes, I have a plan. And so far it has been working out extremely well."

"And how does getting abducted and tortured work into that?" Martha questioned, a little chastising, though her motherly concern was evident in the tone of her voice.

"An unfortunate professional hazard," Castle assured, turning towards her and placing a hand over hers. "And just as I told Kate, I've endured far worse."

"You know, Richard, darling… I really don't find that at all reassuring," Martha declared.

"Yeah, that isn't helping much, Dad," Alexis added.

Kate took advantaged of the brief pause to join in and save Castle. "Coffee?"

He flashed her a small smile, eyes filled with gratitude. "Yes, that would be great. Thanks."

Kate pirouetted around and stretched up on her toes to grab a cup from the cupboard. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her movements with eager and hungry eyes. Yes. He was most definitely admiring the way the dark leggings she was wearing hugged her ass. She pursed her lips, suppressing a smirk. Snagging a large mug, she dropped back onto her soles, and turned back around to pour him a cup of coffee. She handed it over to him without adding any cream or sugar.

"Black, just as I like it," he grinned after taking a sip. "How'd you know?"

"A girl has to have some secrets," she replied back with a smirk and teasing wink, Martha and Alexis nodding approvingly.

XXX

"How are you doing, Alexis?"

The redhead glanced up at him, and offered a small smile, accepting the cleaned plate from him, using the purple washcloth to dry it before placing it on the drainer. Seeing as Kate had cooked, Castle had volunteered to do the clean up. Alexis had offered to join him. While he and his daughter washed the dishes, Kate went upstairs to change out of her pajamas. Martha was in the living room browsing through one of her theater magazine; the occasional divisive snort could be heard whenever she stumbled upon a critic's review she disagreed with.

"Alexis?" he pressed when she had failed to answer.

She shrugged noncommittally. "I'm still trying to get used to it all. I mean, not too long ago I thought I was an orphan. After my parents… um, my adoptive parents, I guess… died, child's services just dropped me back into the foster system. And then when Wendy and David—I mean Agent May and Reinhardt—showed up with the paperwork saying that they'd adopted me, I… well, I supposed I felt relieved. The home I'd been in was okay. Mrs. Lovelet was nice, but she was more interested in the younger kids than the teens."

She paused, glancing away to gather her courage. Castle remained silent, waiting her out, knowing she would say more when she was ready. It didn't bother him that she referred to Gene and Alicia Harper as her parents. After all, they were the ones that had raised and loved her. They _were_ her parents. Blood had nothing to do with it. He would be forever grateful to them for the amazing job they had done in raising his daughter.

Alexis let out a small sigh, and was ready to continue. He gave her his full attention. "I know it might seem odd," she continued, "But I really do appreciate everything the CIA did for me, providing me with top-class schooling and just about anything I could wish for, yet… I… I missed out on so much." She glanced up at him with watery eyes. "I know I'm not like other teens, but it would have been nice to have a normal life."

"Oh, Alexis, come here," Castle slipped his arms around her small frame and tugged her into his broad chest, enveloping her into a fatherly embrace as he gently caressed the back of her head as he tried to soothe her. "I'm sorry. So sorry, Alexis. If I had known about you, that you were my daughter, things… things would've been different."

"It's okay," she sniffled, pulling back to wipe at her eyes. "In the end, you found me. You're here now." She gave him a genuine smile, and chuckled. "And I have Grams."

Castle chuckled with her too, pulling her back for another hug, squeezing her tight. "Whatever happens, I promise you that I'll do my best to be the father you deserve."

"You're already a great father," she asserted, staring up at him with defiance in her eyes. "You uncovered a mole seeking to use my work for nefarious schemes. You got me out of there before she could abduct me from under the CIA's nose and deliver me to God knows where. You introduced me to my grandmother, proved that I am not really an orphan, that I'm not alone in this world. God, Dad, you've risked so much to protect me. Gone above and beyond what the CIA required of you when you were assigned to my protection detail. You've proven yourself. So please," she gave him a stern glare. "Don't ever sell yourself short. You may not have known about be until recently, but once he did, you never once shirked the responsibilities of being a parent."

Castle stared at his daughter in astonishment, both humbled and awed by her fierce passion and daughterly love. He ran his hand down her face, gazing into her eyes, letting her see the unconditional love reflecting back at her. It still surprised him, the depth of that fatherly love. When he first learned that his protectee was his biological daughter, born of a summer fling he had with some B-grade actress, he had been understandably shocked. But what he had never expected was just how quickly those parental instincts would kick in.

"Dad," Alexis's soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "I can't breathe."

"Oh, sorry," he puffed out, releasing his hold of her, and stepped back, giving her a small apologetic smile. "I got a little emotional there, for a second."

Alexis grinned back at him, eyes shining with happiness. "Yeah… me too."

At that moment, the doorbell buzzed, and Martha jumped up from her seat on the sofa, declaring with a flourish that she'd get it. Castle flicked his eyes out across the loft towards his mother, before returning his attention to his daughter, curious as too his mother's enthusiasm to open the door.

"Is she expecting anyone?"

Alexis brushed a stray strand of red hair back behind her eyes, ducking her down, before nodding. "I helped her set up a MyFace account on Tuesday," she informed him. "And she… um… reconnected with an old high school boyfriend. I think she's planning on going out with him today."

"Why didn't she say anything about this to me last night?"

Alexis shrugged, her eyes flirting over his shoulder as she caught sight of something. "Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend?"

XXX

Kate stepped out of the guest bedroom, dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a dark gray top. She walked down the hallway and approached the upstairs landing, stopping when she spied Castle and his daughter chatting quietly over the kitchen sink. Their conversation seemed intense and emotional, and she watched as Castle tugged the young redhead into a hug, squeezing her tight and pressing a kiss on the top of her head. The interaction made her heart clench with feeling. Never would she have thought that seeing a man be all parental would do it for her. But with Castle, seeing how much he cared for his daughter, it did.

The doorbell buzzed and Martha announced, in what Kate was learning was her usual dramatic flare, that she would answer it. Kate used the break to begin her descend down the stairs. Halfway down, Alexis's eyes locked with hers, and soon after Castle was spinning in place to gaze up at her with a wondrous awe glistening in his eyes. His lips spread wide in a beaming smile, one she matched as she finished her descent down the stairs.

Kate almost felt like skipping with happiness, but that would be too much. Castle was gazing at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She ducked her head, hiding her blush behind a curtain of brunette hair, when a harsh voice intruded into the moment.

"No one moves or the old lady gets a bullet in the head!"


	20. Chapter 19

**Private Eyes – Chapter 19**

"No one moves or the old lady gets a bullet in the head!"

Everyone froze.

Kate halted in place, feeling all her muscles go tense. Her eyes quickly darted towards the source of the voice. Martha stood stock still in the open doorway, the barrel of a Sig Sauer pressed tightly against her temple. A tall woman with dark hair and almond-colored eyes stood behind her, protecting herself from any counterattack. This was not good. Not good at all. Kate felt her shoulders tense as she easily recognized the woman from their only previous meeting.

"Sophia!?" Castle gasped from his spot behind the kitchen island with Alexis. He took one step to the left, shielding his daughter from the rogue spy cunning gaze.

"Well isn't this all so very sickeningly domestic," Sophia Turner answered with a sneer of revulsion. Her gaze snapped to Kate, still standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes grew dark with contempt and animosity. "Still with the slutty cop, I see," she noted, shifting her focus back to Castle with a dry, humorless laugh. "Bit unusual for you, isn't it? Don't you usually bed them and leave them? Makes me wonder what makes this one so special." She turned her eyes back to Kate, her lips curling into a tauntingly smug smile. "Has he done that thing with his tongue yet?"

Kate held her head high, matching the glare with one of her own, unwilling to give this woman the satisfaction of a reply. Her heart hammered in her chest as each second ticked off the clock. The woman was trying to bait them, and Kate refused to allow her taunts to get to her, especially with Martha at risk.

A small frown formed on Turner's brow when she was unable to get a rise out of Kate. Frustrated, she quickly turned her attention back to Castle. "Rick," Turner greeted with a curt nod, slowly nudging Martha further into the loft, kicking the door shut behind her. "You're a hard man to find." Her eyes scanned the loft, pausing on Kate once again, before returning to Castle. "Been a while since you've brought a girl home to mommy, hasn't it?"

Castle was too smart to take the bait. Kate narrowed her eyes as she watched Turner advance into the loft with Martha as both a human shield and a warning against any attempt at retaliation. Turner ordered Castle and Alexis out from behind the kitchen counter. Her threat to harm Martha if they did not comply was enough incentive to get the two of them to move without protest.

Turner jerked her head towards Kate. "You, too, Detective," she instructed with a sneer, her disdain dripping from every word.

Kate was obedient. She padded across the hardwood floor to join Castle and his daughter, both of whom were already on their knees.

"Kneel," she commanded, gesturing threateningly with her gun.

Kate dropped to her knees beside Castle. She glanced over to see Alexis on his other side, holding it together surprisingly well. From their brief talk last night, Kate knew that the girl had been through some trying experiences. But, still… being held hostage, at gunpoint, in her grandmother's home, a place she was supposed to be safe, was probably not something she was prepared for.

Turner gripped Martha by the back of the neck and manhandled her around the sofa until she was in front of them. She then shoved the older woman to the ground, but not before striking her on the back of the head with the butt of the Sig Sauer. Martha let out a small cry as she fell. She struck the hardwood floor with a resounding thud, knocked unconscious. Alexis jerked, obviously wanting to reach for her fallen grandmother. And Castle, to his credit, didn't even flinch. He remained perfectly still and stoic as Turner waved her gun around threateningly, sweeping it back and forth along her line of hostages.

"What are you doing here, Sophia?" Castle asked at length, after Turner had grudgingly allowed him and Alexis to move the aging Broadway diva into a more comfortable position, her head now cradled in her granddaughter's lap. And after allowing such hospitality, Turner had then quickly zip tied all their hands behind their backs. She had taken special delight in zipping the ties extremely tight around Kate's wrists, causing the plastic bindings to dig into her skin and nearly cut off the blood circulation to her fingers. Kate ignored the stinging pain. She'd had to deal with worse.

"What does it look like?" Turner snarled back, prowling around them like a predator scrutinizing its prey, making a selection before it launched in for the killing blow. "I'm here for Spyglass."

"How long?" Castle demanded, straightening his back and defiantly glaring up at Turner. Kate tensed beside him, hoping his obvious distaste for the woman wouldn't get him killed. She hadn't known him for too long, barely a week, but she already knew that he meant more to her than any man ever had. Kate could not lose him, not yet before they'd even had a chance to be together.

"What?" Turner spun around, halting her pacing as she stared down at him.

Castle's jaw clenched and his eyes stayed locked on hers. "How long have you been a traitor?"

The smallest of crooked smiles formed on Turner's face. Her dark eyes were alight with amusement and mirth. "Never," she declared. "My loyalty has never wavered. I have done my duty, hidden within the shadows of America's covert intelligence community. I've sacrificed my entire adult life to ensure that I could be in place to help win the war."

"War? What war?" Castle questioned, shaking his head in disbelief. Kate couldn't believe him. She had seen him in action. He could easily take Turner out, yet here he was… probing and prodding, asking questions… stalling. What was his game?

Turner laughed. "Come now, Rick, you can't be that dense?" she said, resuming her circling of them. She gestured towards Alexis with her gun. "Ask her. Your daughter knows what I'm talking about."

"Alexis?"

Still clutching onto her grandmother, Alexis answered with a wavering voice, "It's a hidden, unending war. Unseen by most. It's as old as time, since the dawn of human civilization."

"What is?" Kate voiced her confusion, unable to stay silent.

"Power," Turner supplied, providing the answer before Alexis could. "The war for power. It is a constant struggle. America has been the world's sole super power for far too long. It has become decadent. Your leaders are as corrupt as they are immoral. And the arrogance over your own superiority only further compounds the inevitable."

"Inevitable?" Castle questioned.

"Like the fall of Rome," Turner asserted, stepping around to face him, keeping her gun aimed at Alexis's head. "It happens to all great civilizations. They reach a tipping point of no return, where the weight of their accomplishes crushes them. America just needs to be nudged across the Rubicon." She paused for a beat, basking in her inculcated beliefs. "Do you know what Spyglass is, Rick? What it really is? Has your sweet little daughter even told you it's true application?"

"Castle, don't listen to—"

"Quiet, whore," Turner snarled, shifting her aim towards her. Kate bristled at the insult, but complied nonetheless, glancing uneasily over at Castle as she waited to see what he would do.

"Alexis?" he asked in an almost pleading voice.

But before the teen could reply, Turner grew frustrated with the wait, and offered the answer herself. "Ms. Harper is a prodigy. A genius, not just in one field, but in many." She paused for a beat. "Such as mathematics."

"What does math have to do with this?"

"Everything," Turner asserted, looking down at Castle as if he was an imbecile. "Alexis devised math based predictive models for us. Models to help create geopolitical change."

"What do you mean by that?" Kate asked, ignoring the glare Turner shot her when she spoke.

"The Agency would give her a problem—how can we prevent 'Country A' from getting a bomb, or cause a regime change in 'Country B'. And then Alexis would find the solutions."

"How?"

"Linchpins," Alexis blurted out, almost like a sob as she squeezed her arms around her grandmother, hugging her close. "I would find a small event that could trigger a larger one."

"Clever. Like the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand causing World War I," Castle said, glancing sidelong at his daughter.

Alexis bobbed her head.

"Exactly," Turner voiced the confirmation. "She once told me that you only had to knock over one domino and if it was the right domino the rest would fall." She paused, smiling victoriously. "That's Spyglass. That is its true application."

"How? Spyglass is a computer program," Castle objected, mystified. His brow furrowed as he glanced back and forth between Turner and his daughter.

Turner pursed her lips and cocked her head towards Kate. "You sure you want this one? He's pretty dense at times."

Kate chose to ignore the taunt.

"Sophia wanted to call it Pandora," Alexis supplied, having regained some of her composure, along with a bit of courage.

Turner shrugged, casually letting her aim sweep back and forth along her row of hostages. "I thought it would've been a more apropos name," she stalked around them, pointing the barrel of her gun behind Kate's skull.

Kate held her back straight, keeping a lock on her nerves. She wasn't going to give this woman the satisfaction of seeing just how much this situation frightened her. She wondered why Castle still hadn't made a move yet. Having seen him in action, Kate knew he was a master at close quarter combat. Perhaps he was playing it safe with Martha and Alexis in the balance.

"Oh… I get it," Castle blurted out, a half grin of triumph spreading across his face. "Spyglass can pinpoint linchpin moments. That's why you want it. So you can manipulate events to your advantage… for power and dominance."

Turner pulled her gun back and resumed her circling. "Bingo," she smiled wickedly. "Now you get it."

"If Spyglass is all that you need. Then why are you here, Sophia?" Castle asked after a long silence, his back ramrod straight, gaze defiant to the end. "You could have easily copied Spyglass off the servers back in DC. Why go through all this trouble?"

Turner narrowed her eyes at him, clearly mulling over whether or not to answer his question. "Because you just don't stop, Rick," she said. "You need to know the story—the whole story. If something doesn't add up, you just don't let it go." She hesitated for a moment before going along with what she wanted to say. "Why do you think you were assigned to Mockingbird?"

"I requested a transfer."

"And York sent you to me," Turner said. "As agent-in-charge of Mockingbird, I had my pick of agents. Do you honestly think I would not have been consulted?" She shook her head at him in disbelief. "Really, Rick, I thought better of you. I was protecting my mission."

"Like you were protecting it when you had Clyde abduct and torture us?" Kate spoke up, glaring at the traitorous woman.

"Sorry about that. Had to be done," Turner smirked, not at all apologetic. "I had to use Clyde. There were some things that I couldn't do using CIA assets." She adjusted her handle on her gun and walked around behind them.

"I don't buy it," Castle asserted, arching his neck to keep an eye on Turner. "The Sophia I knew would never sell out her country. Not for money, not for anything."

"Well, that's one thing you got wrong, Rick," she said, and then her voice changed, dropping an octave, and Kate recognized the tones of the Russian tongue. "_Eto nikogda ne bylo moyey strane_." _This was never my country_.

Castle obviously understood as well, not at all surprised that she was Russian. It certainly explained the use of the encrypted emails written in Cyrillic. "So that's it?" he asked, sounding disheartened. "You're just going to kill us and take Spyglass to your KGB friends?"

Kate nearly flinched at the sound of Turner's facetious laugh. "Oh, Rick, stop thinking on such small terms. The KGB may have been the ones to originally send me here to infiltrate your country's intelligence services, but their influence fell with the Soviets and the Wall. I wouldn't even trust the FSB with it. Still, there are others back home who could use Spyglass to great effectiveness. And there is also always the black market. Spyglass would fetch a pretty money."

"So you'd betray, not only America, but also your KGB handlers… for _money_?" Castle demanded, seemingly bewildered by the woman before him. "You are definitely not the Sophia Turner I knew."

"I have news for you, Rick," Turner purred, running a finger along the arch of his nose. "I never was. Every minute—every intimate moment we ever shared—was all part of a strategy to help maintain my cover."

"That can't be true," Castle shook his head. "I refuse to believe that. I can accept a lot of things, but I _cannot_ accept that."

Turner raised her eyebrows and glanced towards Kate. "See how he defends me. Must be love."

Kate scoffed and rolled her eyes, but didn't rise to the bait.

"I'll never give you Spyglass," Castle maintained, ignoring the taunt, much to Kate's relief.

"You don't have to," Turner claimed with a smug arrogance to her voice that Kate found very grating.

"You are never going to get away with this," Kate asserted, only half believing what she was saying. She knew Ryan, Esposito, and Lanie wouldn't believe whatever fictitious CIA report Turner planned on fabricating to explain their deaths. She had faith in her friends and colleague to not leave her death unexplained.

But her trust in the system, in which her friends would have to work within, had been shaken as of late. Even Roy Montgomery, one of the most noble and honorable men she had ever known, had been tainted by the corruption that permeated their society. If Turner was able to hide so long in plain sight, then maybe their country deserved to fall from its self-anointed mantle as the leaders of the free world.

Turner sighed, paced back around to face them once more, probably for the final time. She retained her aim on Kate to keep Castle in line. "Oh, but I will," she contended. "No one even knows I'm here. The CIA already thinks Rick has gone off the reservation. They'll say he snapped, and killed you and the old bat before committing suicide."

"What about Alexis?"

"Oh, yes… the girl," Turner smiled slyly. "How could I forget? She'll be my insurance policy in case Spyglass has any glitches." She crouched down before Castle, while keeping her gun aimed at Kate. She reached out and caressed the side of his face. "We had some good times, didn't we, Rick?"

"If you say so," he gritted out in reply. His body was stiff as she touched him. Kate could see the look of disgust in his face as he glared up at the rogue spy. Turner seemed oblivious to it, lost in her own little imaginary world.

"Yes, I do," she sighed. "It was fun while it lasted. You were a welcoming distraction from the stress of the job." Turner flicked her eyes over at Kate, and couldn't help herself from tossing in one final taunt. "No man has ever satisfied me the way you did."

She then kissed him full on, mouth to mouth, a glimpse of tongue. Kate suppressed the urge to scream. Castle tried to pull away, but Turner gripped the back of his skull, keeping him in place. Finished, Turner slowly retreated, biting his lower lip and tugging on it suggestively as she pulled back.

Turner smiled brazenly, pleased with herself, as she stood up and slowly stalked around them. "Oh Rick, if only you hadn't been so inquisitive," she sighed, as if her disappointment was sincere. "Everything would have been so much simpler if you hadn't forced me to show my hand. I would have just taken you into custody. Regain some of my creditability with the Agency, and stick it to York. But then you came running home to mommy. So I'm afraid I now have to just kill you and take the girl." She raised her gun and aimed it directly at the back of Kate's head. "I think I'll start with your NYPD whore. Be brave, Rick. I'll be sure to tell your father you died with dignity, right before I blow his brains out."

"My… father?"

Turner chuckled darkly. "You don't think Samson York just plucked you out of nowhere, did you?"

Castle went silent, his controlled expression cracking just enough to show his shock.

"You really don't know, do you?" Turner questioned, somewhere between amused and surprised. She shrugged, indifferently. "I guess you never will."

Kate's heart pounded in her chest. Her scars throbbed along with her pulse as she watched the entire exchange. That little quip about his father had done it. Turner had managed to knock Castle off his game, and whatever plan he had to save them—she was sure he had had a plan—was no more. Gone. Kate bit her lower lip. She could barely keep the slight tremble at bay as Turner pressed the cold steel barrel against the back of her skull. This couldn't be the end. They'd gone through so much, survived being abducted and tortured; they couldn't die like this, not before they'd yet to live.

"Kate," Castle's voice broke through the torrent of her thoughts. It was barely above a whisper, just loud enough for her to hear. She glanced at him as surreptitiously as possible. His eyes were filled with sorrow and regret, failure. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Castle," she murmured back. "It's not your fault. You gave me an out, and I chose not to take it. I… before I… I just want you to know that I—"

Turner scoffed in annoyance. "Enough with the goodbyes."

Kate maintained her eye contact with Castle. If this was to be her end, she wanted his ruggedly handsome face to be the last thing she saw. Castle stared back at her, his eyes filling with what she could only describe as love. It was an emotion Kate had long ago vowed to deny and wall off, yet it flowed freely out of his startling blue eyes and straight into her. Kate mouthed the words she had tried to speak before Turner had interrupted, and Castle mouthed them back.

She was as ready as she could be.

A shot rang out, and Alexis screamed. Kate's eyes went wide as Castle's eyes dropped from hers. He fell backwards. _No. No. _Turner was going to shoot her first. She torqued her body around, feeling her chest tighten in terrible anticipation. Her breath caught in her throat and her scars pulled violently, protesting the twisting of her torso. But when she spun around, she saw Sophia Turner lying face first on the hardwood floor, blood beginning to pool around her body.

"Castle!?" Kate gasped, flicking her eyes back around, relief flooding her body when she found him sprawled protectively across Alexis. He released a puff of air, and glanced up at her with astonished and relieved eyes. After he checked to make sure his daughter was unharmed, he rolled himself back onto his knees, his expression morphing into one of confused sorrow as he gazed down at the lifeless Sophia Turner.

The dull drone of white noise faded away, and Kate eventually became aware of the buzz of activity around them. She glanced up just in time to see a man in a nice suit holster his Glock. He was surrounded by a group of men in tactical uniforms, black flak vests emblazoned with white block letters proclaiming them to be FBI. The man approached her, taking out a pocketknife. He crouched behind her and cut the zip ties around her wrists.

"Don't be afraid, Detective Beckett," the man said. "We're here to help. I'm Martin Danberg."

"How do you know—?" Kate started but was interrupted by Castle.

"Martin," he nodded his head in greeting, rubbing his raw wrists after one of the tact team members had cut his bindings. "What took you so long?"


	21. Chapter 20

**Private Eyes – Chapter 20**

It almost seemed surreal.

One moment they were being held hostage by a double agent, and then the next they were sitting in the luxurious backseat of a big black Escalade, being chauffeured to the federal building in downtown Manhattan. Agent Danberg, the one who had led the tact-team that had rescued them had rode ahead, to brief his superior, NCS Director Samson York, from what Kate had gathered, the man who had recruited Castle for the CIA.

Castle was quiet during the ride, his face a mask, stoic, like he was preparing for some hardship. He had stayed at Martha's loft long enough to ensure his mother was seen to by paramedics, and ensure that a protective detail was assigned to Alexis. The young teen had wanted to come with them, but Castle had told her to go with her grandmother to the hospital. Alexis had reluctantly agreed, making him promise to call her immediately once things had been settled.

Kate could tell that he was still somewhat shaken by the depth of Sophia Turner's betrayal. Sophia's motives baffled him. She had not known him for that long, but from what little she did know, Kate knew that Castle was very loyal to the people in his life. And, for better or worse, Sophia had been a big part of his life. She thought that perhaps, even though he had known the truth, hearing it confirmed by Sophia herself had just overwhelmed him, made him question is own judgments and perceptions.

Kate knew enough about Castle that she could tell that he was blaming himself for what had happened in the loft. "I got cocky and overconfident," he had said. "I'd just thought that what… that it had been real, not some part of her schemes. Perhaps I've lost my edge. Maybe it's time for me to step aside and rethink my life." Kate didn't know how to respond to such statement from a man like Rick Castle. In many ways he was still an enigma, a mystery she had yet to solve.

But she wanted to, with every fiber of her being, Kate Beckett wanted to, for the rest of her life if she had to.

"We're here," the driver announced, and the door was opened for her. She stretched her legs and climbed out of the backseat. Castle scooted out behind her, standing beside her on the sidewalk before the tall façade of the federal building, the glass windows glistening in the mid-morning sunlight. He slowly slipped his hand down her arm, until he could interlock their fingers. He held her hand tightly, and together, they followed a waiting agent inside.

Agent Jones greeted them in the lobby, and took them the rest of the way. They rode the elevator in silence. Kate was uncertain how she was supposed to feel. There was a small bit of awkwardness to this all. Castle stood tense beside her, as if he knew something she didn't, and was holding back. She wanted to ask him, to have an actual conversation before they were debriefed by the CIA, but she hadn't found the time to do so, as much of the focus before had been on getting Martha safely out of the loft and to the hospital. And now it didn't feel right to have such a conversation with the expressionless Agent Jones as their audience.

An electronic beep announced their arrival and the elevator doors slid open, revealing Agent Martin Danberg. He gestured them into the hallway, sticking out a hand to shake Kate's.

"We never got a chance to meet properly," he said. "Martin Danberg."

"Kate Beckett," she returned the introduction, glancing at Castle, trying to gauge his reaction to the senior agent. Still nothing. She knew she hadn't known Castle for long, but she had thought she would have a better read on him after last night.

Danberg nodded. "If you come with me, Detective," he gestured down the hall towards a door marked 1B.

She followed his lead, but stopped when she noticed that Castle was no longer beside her. She looked back, seeing him talking with Agent Jones.

"Castle?"

He turned when he heard his name and their eyes locked. There was a sorrowfulness about him, a heavy cloud that hung above him, making his shoulders slump and his face fall. _Oh_. He wasn't coming with her. She swallowed her disappointment. It made sense, though. She should have known that they were to be debriefed separately. She would do that same if she were in Danberg's place.

Castle closed the distance between them, cupping her jaw in his large warm hand. "Don't worry, Kate," he reassured. "It's just procedure. Just tell them the truth." His lips quirked up into a tiny smile. "The truth conquers all."

Kate nodded, glancing back up at him with a small sad smile. "That's what my mom always said."

"Then she was a wise woman."

She bobbed her head, closing her eyes as she leaned into Castle's embrace, the grief still too close, even after all these years. Castle gently caressed her jaw, tipping her chin up until she was looking up at him once again. He gazed into her eyes with such emotion that it made Kate's heart pound profoundly beneath chest. As a little girl—even as a teen—she had hoped and dreamed that one day she would meet a mine that would look upon her with the same reverence and devotion that her father had when he gazed lovingly at her mother. When her mom had died, Kate had given up on such a dream. So it was hard to contain her surprise that she now had that long lost dream.

"I'll see you soon," Castle murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, filled with hope and promise… and love. Yes, love. She could finally admit it to herself, if not yet out loud. She returned the sentiment, resting her hand above his beating heart, both comforted and overwhelmed by the steady thump. Kate titled her head up one more time, kissing him again, before she pulled back, ready for her interview.

Kate turned and walked back towards Agent Danberg, who was standing patiently down the hall. His gaze strayed behind her towards Castle, and the two exchanged looks. Exactly what was said in that look was a mystery to her. She didn't know the full extent of their past, but it was clear that the two had worked together before and had become friends, of a sort. Kate still wasn't certain on whether or not Danberg had been working with Castle, or if their little exchange back at the loft had been one of relief and gratitude. Whatever it was, it was clear that the two held a mutual respect for one another.

She had just about caught up with Danberg when the agent turned his attention back to her. "Right this way, Detective," he gestured towards an unmarked door along the right hand side of the hallway.

XXX

Castle watched as Beckett disappeared down the hallway with Danberg leading her off to an interview room. His gut was twisted into a tight coil of guilt. He had just lied to her, and it killed him to do so, but it was necessary. He didn't know when he'd see her again, but he knew it wouldn't be anytime soon. Sophia Turner had obviously been discovered, but even with that, he knew he was still going to have to answer for his actions. The Director would be feeling pressure from not only other agencies involved in Spyglass, but also the President. Someone was going to have to pay the price, and it would probably fall on him now that Sophia was dead.

Breathing in deeply, Castle tried to prepare himself for the meeting to come. When the clench in his stomach eased just enough to be ignored, he turned and nodded to Agent Jones. The man gestured for him to follow, and they walked down the hall, in the opposite direction that Beckett and Danberg had gone. Jones opened an unmarked door and Castle stepped inside without hesitation.

And there he was, standing tall and unmoving, hands in his pockets, as he stared through the two-way mirror at the interrogation room beyond. Samson York, the man who'd visited a young and depressed Richard Rodgers with an offer that was too good to let pass by. The room was dark, saved for the dim lights overhead. His shaved crown shined in the low light. Castle blinked once, and crossed the threshold. Agent Jones closed the door behind him.

"Sir," Castle greeted, back stiff, formal. He really did not know what to expect from his boss.

There was a brief pause as Samson York mulled over his words.

"You've put me in a pretty tough spot, Rick," York said, his gaze remaining fixated on the room beyond the two-way mirror where two agents were interrogating a shifty looking man with sandy-brown hair.

Castle thought he recognized him, but he couldn't quite place his face. He squinted, stepping further into the room, coming up along side his mentor. "Who are the suits?" he asked, referring to the two interrogators. It was an attempt to break the ice and cut through the awkward tension that had filled the room. It was always difficult to get a read on York. The man had been in the business for a long time, and was a master interrogator. He was an imposing and intimidating force at Langley. Not many people were willing to cross him, and that included the Director.

"Justice Department," York answered, casual and uncaring, as if it was of little importance. "They are here at the insistence of that prissy little Attorney General."

Castle couldn't help but grin at that. Through his years with the Agency, Samson York had seen many administrations come and go. Each of them, in his opinion, inexperienced and unqualified for the job. York despised dealing with them, because in his view, politicians were all just temps, transitory… none of them ever stuck around long enough to face the consequences of some of their decisions.

Castle looked at the woman first—a stern, serious face, with dark curly hair. Her partner wore a similar dour expression. Despite that, they both seemed to be quite good at their jobs. Shifty, with the familiar face, was close to breaking. It wouldn't take too much longer before he did. Castle was certain these agents could do it. Turning his gaze away from the interrogation room, he gave his boss a sidelong glance.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked, steering the conversation back to their original topic.

York pursed his lips and tilted his head to meet Castle's gaze. "Difficult to say," he admitted. "It is easy with Detective Beckett. She's got a solid record. She's a good cop, a fine officer. We'll have her sign a nondisclosure agreement and send her on her way."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm not allowed to see her again?" Castle asked, trying hard to suppress the longing in his voice. It hadn't been long, but he truly did develop genuine feelings for Kate Beckett. If York ordered him not to see her again, Castle didn't know if he could obey.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Rick," York shook his head. "I may be an ornery son-of-a-bitch a times, but I'm still human… However," he paused, giving Castle a subtle look, "things aren't that easy. The fact of the matter is, despite how noble and right your intentions were… you still went rogue, and very nearly caused an international incident. You absconded with CIA property, and revealed classified information to not one, but two civilians. And that's not even mentioning the mess you made at Detective Beckett's apartment. But yes, to answer your question, that was my way for telling you that you can't see her again… at least for the time being. And I think you knew that."

Castle inclined his head. "Yeah, I did. Hurts like hell though."

"I know, Rick," York said, actually showing some uncharacteristic sympathy as he reached out and patted his shoulder. "I know. I feel for you, Rick. I truly do. But who knows, maybe it's for the best. Right now things are just complicated for you."

"Aren't they always," Castle grinned cockily, seeing if a joke could crack York's impenetrable façade.

It worked. The man's lips tugged upwards ever so slightly. "That they are, Rick," he said. "But you always pull through. It's what makes you one of my best agents. However, you got a bit overconfident on this one. You put, not only your own life, but the lives of Miss Harper, Mrs. Rodgers, and Detective Beckett in danger."

"I'd like to point out that they would never have been in danger if we hadn't had a viper in our midst," Castle interjected.

"I'll grant you that," York conceded. "Seeing as you helped uncover a traitor, the Director is willing to overlook your indiscretions."

"So the ends justify the means?"

"In this case… yes," York inclined his head. "But don't get used to it, Rick. This is a one time thing."

"Yes, sir," Castle nodded, relieved. Though he understood just how easily things could have gone the other way. He had a strong suspicion that the Director's leniency was thanks in large part to York… or perhaps his father.

Sophia had mentioned his father. But before he could ask York, the bald man was moving away from the two-way mirror and stepping over to the console station along the sidewall. His hand hovered over a stack of folders before he selected one and handed it to Castle.

"After I took over the case, I did some digging into Detective Beckett. Did you know she was married?"  
"What? No," Castle raised his eyebrows in surprise, quickly opening the file to take a look. "No, she didn't say."

"Probably doesn't remember it," York said with a disapproving shake of his head. "1997, Drive-Through Chapel of Love."

"Vegas?"

York nodded in confirmation. "The information is all there."

"And she's still married to the guy?"

"It would seem so," York said. "I had Agent Riley run a background check on him. Rogan O'Leary. Fucking idiot, if you ask me. He has a long rap sheet, mostly petty crime, minor cons, nothing major. But he was caught impersonating a FBI agent once. Did some time for that."

"I would think so," Castle agreed, brow furrowing as he looked over the information in the file. He looked at O'Leary's photo. The guy looked like an idiot. What did Beckett ever see in him? He glanced up at York. "Why are you telling me this?"  
York clucked his tongue in disappointment. "Come now, Rick, what did I teach you?" he asked. "It always pays to be well-informed." He paused. "You care about this woman, yes? So I thought it was only right that you should have all the information before getting in too deep." York looked back through the two-way mirror as the two Justice Department agents continued to interrogate the sandy-haired man. "Have you slept with her?" he asked as if it was a casual question.

Castle's jaw dropped, shocked. York had always been one of those bosses that never inquired about his personal life. "I… I don't think that's any of your business, sir," Castle asserted, closing the file on principle and putting it back on the table. He didn't want to learn anything about Kate that she wasn't willing to tell him. He had gained her trust and he wasn't wiling to risk that.

York gave him a sidelong glance. "When it involves a case crucial to national security, I think it does," he said, stern and reproachful. "Rick, I can only protect you so much. The Director may be willing to let you off the hook, but he's still pissed as hell, and quite frankly so am I. He, as well as the President, want to know how we allowed a double agent into our midst."

It dawned on him then. He finally understood the interest in his relationship with Kate Beckett. "Is this because Sophia and I…?" He left the rest unsaid.

York gave a noncommittal shrug. "It has brought up some concerns, yes. The Director wants to know if you've been compromised, that you can be trusted to do your job."

"I haven't… and I can," Castle asserted defensively, feeling some indignation at his loyalty being questioned. "I would like to point out that I did my job, sir. I protected the asset from a credible threat, one—I might add—none one else saw."

"That you did," York agreed with a nod. "And that won't be forgotten. But dammit… Rick, when were you going to tell me that Alexis Harper was your daughter?"

"I didn't know until just over a month ago," he admitted. "I was just skimming her file, you know, to learn as much as I could about my protectee, when I noticed her biological mother was Meredith Cooper. I doubled checked her birthdate, and I did the math. It wasn't too difficult to realize when she was conceived."

"Still, how could you be sure she was _yours_?" York questioned. "Your name isn't on the birth certificate. And we looked into her mother before we took her in. Meredith Cooper wasn't all that faithful to—"

"Don't you think I know that," Castle said through gritted teeth, carding his fingers through his hair. "It was one of the reasons why I ended things when I did." He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "You've seen her picture, sir. Tell me she's not mine."

"I'll grant you that, not so much the hair, but the eyes… yes," York said as he looked directly into Castle's. "The eyes are all yours."

"I'm no fool, sir," Castle continued, knowing he was being mildly patronized. "I had to make sure. So, I had an old buddy run a DNA comparison, off the books. When it came back as a paternal match, I knew what I had to do."

"All right," York inclined his head, relenting. "I'll see what I can do to smooth things over with the Director on that front." He wagged a finger at Castle. "You're lucky I like you, Rick, otherwise I wouldn't balk at tossing your ass to the wolves."

Castle cracked a smile. "Thanks, sir." He paused. "I have one favor though."

"Only one?" York chuckled. "I'm assuming this is about Detective Beckett?"  
"No," he shook his head, though the mention of her name again brought back some of the guilt over how he was about to abandon her. It wasn't by choice. And he hoped that someday she'd know that and forgive him. But right now, there were much larger things to worry about besides his love life. Using his training, he compartmentalized his feelings for Beckett, and hid them away where they couldn't interfere. "I already know you're not going to hold her. It's about Alexis."

"What about her?"

"I want the CIA to leave her alone."

"I'm not too sure you're in a position to dictate terms, Rick, especially after all we've already forgiven," York gave him a disapproving stare. "The CIA has spent considerable expense on Operation Mockingbird. With a mind like hers, Alexis Harper still has much to offer."

"That may be so," Castle conceded, "but she should be allowed to share that gift out in the open, not hidden away in the shadows. You have Spyglass, let her go."

"And if we don't?"

"Then you'll have me as an enemy. And you know how difficult I can make things."

York considered him for a moment. "Right," he grunted. "I'll see what I can do. I make no promises, though."

"That's all I ask," Castle said.

"For now, she can stay with her grandmother."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, Rick," York chuckled. "I still have to convince the Director."

"I have every faith in you, sir," Castle assured.

York pursed his lips and squinted his eyes as he stared back into the interrogation room. Castle followed his mentor's gaze. It looked like the Justice Department agents had finished up with their suspect. The man was exiting the room while the woman wrapped up things.

"Who is it that they're interrogating?" he asked, unable to suppress his natural curiosity.

"Johann Kriedt," came a deep voice from behind him. Castle blinked, but managed to hide his astonishment as he turned, spying a tall lean man with white hair stepping out of the shadows. He was surprised. If this man had been able to stay unseen throughout his conversation with York, then he must be highly skilled… even more so than Castle himself, and ego aside, he was one of the best. So it was a little unnerving to discover that they'd had an audience. "Rick Castle, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard nothing but good things," the man said, extending his hand. Castle took it, noting the firm grip. "I'm Jackson Hunt."

"An alias?"

The man's mouth quirked up in a charismatic smirk. "What else is new in our line of work, eh, son?" Hunt said with a wink.

"Point taken," Castle returned the smile, before turning back around to stare at the sandy-haired man, now in the process of spilling his secrets. "Johann Kriedt, you say? The arms-dealer? Haven't we been searching for him for over five years?"

York nodded. "Ten and a half to be precise," he said. "He's been a slippery bastard. He managed to hide his face for years. But we got lucky. Langley flagged one of his known aliases on a flight from London to New York earlier this week. We passed on the information to our fellow agencies, and the AG assigned the case to a special task force. Agents Stack and McCord were able to locate Kriedt without too much trouble. We would have found him, but we were too busy looking for you." York grinned, and Castle smiled back, recognizing the signs that he was back in his boss's good graces.

"Turns out Kriedt had a thing for S&amp;M," Jackson Hunt supplied in his smooth voice. "They tracked him to a dungeon operated by a lovely lady by the name of Irena."

"What was he doing in New York?" Castle inquired, his brow furrowing into a frown.

"I think we're about to find out," Hunt noted.

Just then a knock came from the door, before it opened and the two agents—Stack and McCord—who had been interrogating Kriedt stepped in. York raised an eyebrow in question, as he looked at the pair.

"Well? Why did Kriedt risk exposure after years of keeping off the grid?"

"He was here to meet with someone claiming to have possession of top-secret U.S. Intelligence hardware," Stack said.

"Spyglass?" Hunt asked.

McCord turned to look at the older man. She narrowed her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah, that's what he said," she confirmed, before shifting her gaze back to York. "You care to fill us in, sir?"

"Need to know," the bald man smirked. "I think you'd appreciate the irony of hearing those words."

McCord shrugged indifferently, apparently used to the fact she was never given the whole picture. Stack was unfazed by it as well. Castle shook his head. Agents like these annoyed him. They did their jobs well, true, but they weren't willing to question things, examine the finer details and see the bigger picture. They were fine with doing what they were told. It was a symptom of a much larger problem within the intelligence community, at least in his opinion. If he had simply done as they had, Alexis would most likely be in the hands of some Russian oligarch or worse… dead.

"Anything else, Agent McCord?" York inquired.

"Yes," she hedged, looking wary, her blue eyes darting back and forth between the three of them. "He also mentioned an intermediary, a middleman between him and the seller."

"Who?"

"_The Knave_," McCord answered, looking serious. "He said he was called _The Knave_."

Castle's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He exchanged looks with York, who was gazing at him knowingly. "I think we just found your next assignment, Rick."

XXX

"All right, I think that about clears it all up," Danberg said, flashing her a reassuring smile as he packed up the thick file he'd been skimming through, off and on, during their entire interview. Kate had been a little startled when she'd seen the size of the file that the CIA had on her. She wondered what they could have on her that would require such a large stack of files.

"So… that's it?" she asked, her nose wrinkling in confusion. They had barely discussed any thing other than the incident with Sophia Turner at the loft.

"Yep," Danberg said, flashing her another smile as he finished up putting the files away into the folder. "That about covers all of it." He closed the folder and slid a form across the table. "I'll just need you to sign this and then you're free to go."

"What's this?"

"A nondisclosure agreement," he said. "Just a formality. You know, you're guarantee that you won't discuss anything you've learned, been told, or seen relating to classified material with anyone."

"Oh," she nodded, and took the pen he offered. She skimmed through the document, unwilling to just sign it without giving it a read. Her parents had been lawyers after all. Danberg waited patiently, and smiled politely when she handed the document back, signed. "Now what?"

Danberg slipped the nondisclosure agreement into the folder, and stood up. "Now… you're free to go," he said. He walked towards the door; the thick folder tucked under one arm. "I'll send someone to see you out."

"Wait… what about Castle?"

Danberg looked at her with a bemused expression that slowly morphed into understanding, with a touch of sympathy. "He didn't tell you, did he?"  
"Tell me what?" Kate asked, feeling an unexpected fear and panic rise up in her chest.

Danberg hesitated for a moment, knitting his eyebrows together. "You won't be seeing him again, at least for the time being," he said as diplomatically as possible.

"What do you mean by that?" Kate demanded. She didn't understand. Castle had promised her. Out in the hallway, he'd caressed her face with loving care, and told her that she would see him soon. Had he been lying?

"Just that," Danberg gazed at her with what looked like pity. "I'm sorry, Detective Beckett. I thought you knew. Though he thwarted a traitor and mole, he still went rogue. And there are consequences to that."

Kate merely stood there, mouth agape, speechless. Danberg gave her one more sympathetic look, before ducking out of the interrogation room. Kate staggered back and plopped down into the chair. She put her elbows on the flat surface of the table and rested her forehead in her palms. How had she been so blind? Had she actually thought they'd get to walk off into the sunset, hand in hand, and have their romance? They had never really had time to define what they were… if they were anything at all. Was it just an attraction? Perhaps Sophia had been right. Maybe he'd just been interested in sex and she was the most readily available woman to have a quick romp with. But that's just it; they never got the chance to have a romp or anything of the like.

She felt sick to her stomach.

God… she wished she'd never met Rick Castle, at least then she wouldn't feel this gnawing pain, like her heart had been spooned out of her chest.

She was being stupid, Kate knew that. There were more important things going on than her love life and her feelings for Castle. And how the two of those things went together. He'd gone rogue. And despite the end result, of course there were going to be consequences. Kate understood that. She was still astonished that she was being let go with little more than a slap on the rest, and a 'don't tell anyone about this' warning. It only made sense that Castle's punishment would be more severe than hers.

She wiped furiously at the tears stinging her eyes, refusing to cry. She wasn't going to cry. Kate sighed and brushed her hair away from her face, leaning back in the chair as she let the past few days wash over her. Her jaw clenched and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to relive some of the more happy moments of the last few days. Images of Castle sprung to mind, his warm smile and soft gaze, his touch… the way he held her, the way he kissed her, like she was the most precious thing on this Earth. Kate suddenly recalled something he had said last night as they'd cuddled together on the sofa.

"_I trust you, Kate Beckett_," he had said, tugging her hand over his heart, so they she could feel the steady rhythm of each beat. "_And Mile Zero starts here_."

It had been silly. She didn't even know how they had got on the subject, but she had unloaded on him about some of her past failures in relationships. Travel and distance had been killers. Castle had asked her if she knew about the Hundred Mile Rule, the one that said you could do whatever—meaning whoever—you wanted if you were more than a hundred miles away. It was sort of a variation on the 'What Happens in Vegas' Rule.

At the time, she had laughed at it, thinking he was making a joke. But now… now she understood. He was trying to tell her in his own subtle way that he would have to leave once the mission was over, but that the feelings he had for her weren't transitory or of the moment. In his own way, Castle had been defining their relationship.

Kate heaved in a deep breath, her pulse quickening as she finally understood what he had been trying to tell her. That though he may be gone for some time, this wasn't the end. Not really.

This was only the beginning.


	22. Epilogue

**Private Eyes – Epilogue**

* * *

_Why you try to put up a front for me  
__I'm a spy but on your side, you see  
__Slip on into any disguise  
__I'll still know you  
__Look into my Private Eyes  
__\- Hall &amp; Oates, "Private Eyes"_

* * *

Kate Beckett stood alone off to the side with everyone else as they watched Kevin Ryan and Jenny O'Malley dance for the first time as husband and wife. She smiled softly, seeing the joy and delight on her friend's face as he embraced his bride, kissing her and swaying to the gentle music. A couple of minutes later, the DJ invited others to join and soon the dance floor was filled with happy couples dancing and having fun. Kate drifted back, lingering by the long white linen covered table filled with the hors d'oeuvres. She plucked up a flute of champagne and sipped delicately as she soaked in the atmosphere of love. It brought back memories… and dreams yet to be fulfilled.

Sighing, she let her mind wander to those few days in October when she was happier than she had ever been in her life. It had been a long three months with not seeing him, only hearing snippets of what he was doing or where he was during her weekly visits with Martha and Alexis. After her debrief with Agent Danberg, Kate had made a promise to herself that she would look after Castle's family while he was away. But he hadn't left her empty handed. He must have known what was going to happen, because he hand left her a key to his storage locker.

She had since devoured all of his books. It had been the only way, besides her visits with Martha and Alexis, that she was able to feel close to him. Her favorite thing to do after a long grueling case was to soak in her bathtub with one of Castle's manuscripts. She loved his writing just as much as she loved him. She longed to see him again, to talk to him, to… kiss him. Kate missed him.

Blinking her eyes, Kate worked at suppressing the tears that were threatening. Hopefully if anyone noticed, they would just assume they were happy tears. She looked out at the dance floor, spying Ryan and Jenny laughing together. The sight tugged at her heartstrings, making her wish that was her out there with Castle.

The soft slow melody of some generic romantic ballad changed, and Hall &amp; Oates's 'Private Eyes' began to reverberate through the speakers. Kate wiped at her eyes, thinking of Castle.

"Hello, gorgeous," the familiar timber and inclinations of his voice startled her. He tugged at her hand, pulling her out away from the hors d'oeuvres table, and before she knew what was happening, she was swaying to the music with Rick Castle. He grinned at her, blue eyes sparkling. "You look beautiful. Sorry I'm late."

"Three months late," Kate grumbled, but returned his smile. She soaked in the image of him in a tuxedo. Damn, was he gorgeous! She draped her arm around his shoulder and followed his lead.

"I did say that I'd see you soon," he protested.

"I think you and I have a different definition of the word _soon_," Kate quipped back, gracing him with one of her glares.

Castle gulped, his smirk faltering. "Yeah, I know," he replied, squeezing her hand as he held it to his chest as they continued to move to the music. "I'm really sorry, Kate. I had no choice. And though York was more forgiving than I had expected, I still had to face the consequences of my actions."

"I know," she murmured, leaning into his embrace, amazed at how right and sure she felt in his arms. It was almost as if the last three months hadn't happened. "It still hurt, though. You knew this was going to happen; yet you didn't tell me. Why?"

"I tried to… I wanted to," he spoke softly, like he was remembering a memory. "But, to my eternal shame, I couldn't." He slowed their movements to a gentle sway. "I was afraid, Kate."

"Afraid of what?" she wrinkled her nose, confused. What could a man like Rick Castle be afraid of?

"You," he confessed.

"Me?" Kate was taken aback.

He nodded, looking solemn and sincere. "I've loved two women in my life," he confessed, speaking slowly. It was clear this was difficult for him. She waited him out, watching him with understanding eyes. "I lost the first because I was too afraid to admit what I was feeling."

"And the second?"

"I'm not sure, yet," he said. "I think she's mad at me."

Kate bit her lower lip, realizing he was referring to her. "Yeah, a little, but I think she'll soften," she said with a small quirk of her lips.

"Really?" his voice held so much hope that it made her heart swell with joy.

"Yeah," she nodded. She had almost given up hope. Kate made a note to thank Alexis for keeping her spirits up and helping her survive the last three months without Castle. "But I think she'll need some further convincing of your intentions."

Castle stopped dancing, and they stood motionless in a sea of dancing partygoers. He moved his hands up to cup her face in his warm palms. "Kate, I love you," he said, so earnest and sincere that there was no doubt in her mind that he meant it. "I love you, Kate." And then his lips were on hers, and they shared a magical kiss.

"Rick," She hummed in approval, resting her forehead against his. "I love you, too, Rick." He sighed and his hands clenched around her waist, keeping her close. She nudged her nose against his, then moved her mouth up along the side of his face until her lips were skimming along the shell of his ear. "Let's get out of here," she suggested in a breathy voice, full of want and desire.

"Shouldn't we at least congratulate the happy couple?" Castle asked, as Kate slowly interlaced their fingers together, beginning to tug him off the dance floor.

She shook her head. "They won't mind," Kate asserted. "They're too into one another to even notice what's going on around them." She paused at the entrance to the dance hall, turning back to look into Castle's eyes one more time. "And besides… we have three months to make up for."

XXX

They stumbled into her apartment, dumping Castle's rucksack unceremoniously on the floor by the door, hands all over the place, mouths fused together as they swapped saliva, kissing each other with a brutal passion, borne of a deep need and desire for one another that had yet to be satisfied. Castle shrugged his jacket off as she kicked her heels off, relishing the height difference when she dropped down. She tugged at his bowtie, pulling the loose black fabric off his neck and set to work on divesting him of his shirt. Her fingers worked furiously down the buttons as Castle's fingers squeezed around her hips, directing her towards her bedroom.

Castle maneuvered her down onto the mattress, crawling up over her. She shivered in anticipation as his hand skimmed up her legs. He had his hand up her dress and she moaned as he yanked her panties aside and finally touched her. He groaned at the feeling of her, so very ready for him. They worked quickly to remove her brown gray dress.

"Matching undies… I like," Castle crooned as he gazed down at her with dark eyes. She was clad only in dark lacy lingerie. He seized her mouth in searing kiss, reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. She rolled her shoulders, shivering in delight as the straps slipped down her arms. Castle pulled the rest of the fabric away, exposing her chest to him.

Kate felt her heart clench for a moment. She bit down hard on her lower lip as she watched Castle's eyes scrutinize her naked torso, marred by two hideous scars. But her worry was unfounded, which she soon discovered, when Castle dipped his head down and pressed a reverent kiss on the scar between her breasts. He raised his head, and gazed at her with nothing but love.

"You're beautiful, Kate," he declared, his voice laced with emotion, eyes shining with awe. "So very beautiful."

"Oh, Rick," she mumbled, grabbing at his biceps and pulling him down for a kiss. Her eyes watered with joy as Castle worshiped her, as she was, scars and all.

He dropped kisses down her neck and collarbone, palming one of her breasts. Kate arched her back, her pulse quickening in anticipation as he tugged her panties down. She sat up, working quickly to unbuckle his belt, and free him from his slacks. Castle wiggled out of his boxers and moved over her, cupping her jaw as he kissed her.

Kate sighed as finally… finally they were skin to skin. He was warm, all solid flesh above her. He hovered over her, touching her in all the right places as he took his time in exploring her naked body. Her heart skipped and her stomach flipped flopped. She was nervous in a way she hadn't been in a long, long time. It was almost like she was a virgin again, and this was her first time, which was ridiculous, really, because she was decidedly _not_ a virgin.

Granted, it had been a while for her. The only men to see her naked in the past six months had been doctors, excluding her ex-boyfriend. And after she'd fully recovered from the shooting, whenever she'd been in the mood, she had taken care of herself. But there was something different about this time, about being with Castle. Perhaps, she thought, it was because she loved him. Truly loved him. Yeah. That was it.

"Protection?" Castle asked breathlessly, snapping her back to the moment.

"I… um…," She blinked, her brow furrowed as she thought. "I don't… that is…" she flushed bright pink. "To be honest, it's been a while."

"Oh," Castle paused, his expression unreadable. "I can go check my bag—"

"No!" she nearly shouted, startling him with her vehemence. She took in a breath, and repeated herself, more softly this time. "No. That's okay. We don't need it. I… I just want you."

"Okay," he smiled, brushing his fingers through her hair as he gazed down at her with such a tender adoration that it had her heart melting with joy. He leaned down and kissed her softly, before pulling back and slipping down her body.

"Castle?" she questioned, unabashedly wanton. "What are you doing?"

He paused over her navel, teasing her bellybutton with his tongue, making her hips squirm. "I think it's time I showed you that thing I do with my tongue."

XXX

Kate rested languidly against his warm body, fully sated and satisfied like never before, allowing herself the luxury to drift into a blissful state as she lazily traced her fingers over the scars on his back, sinking deeply into the soft mattress, her naked thigh draped over her lover's magnificent ass. Castle, however, was restless, turning in place, and disturbing her sated slumber. He gently nudged her over onto her back and she stretched lazily, arching her back like a cat.

She smiled dreamily. "I appreciate the offer, Rick, but I don't know if I'm ready for round four yet," she murmured as Castle chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"I just need to get something," he assured her. "Though, if you're interested, I'd be more than happy to take care of you." He winked suggestively.

"Would you?" Kate grinned happily, feeling so light and free that she wasn't even sure who she was anymore. Kate Beckett was never this happy… at least not since her mother's death.

"Just a moment, sweet cheeks," he smirked, knowing she abhorred that nickname, even if she did have a firm backside that could rival that of any super model. Castle crawled over her, making sure he let her feel every inch of his desire for her as he did so. _Smug bastard_.

She rolled her eyes, trapping her bottom lip under her teeth as she watched him hop off the bed and grace her with a delightful view of his delicious rear end. She licked her lips as she watched him walk out of the room. She smiled to herself, pushing up on her elbows as she took in the disheveled state of her bed. The pillows laid askew, one having toppled over onto the floor. Oh, that had been fun. The best. And despite her earlier protest, she was eagerly anticipating round four.

Castle came back, unashamed of his naked glory, dropping his rucksack on the floor beside the left side of the bed, before climbing back onto the mattress. She narrowed her eyes as he rolled over to join her. He had something in his hand.

"What's this?" she asked as he pressed it into her hand.

"The twelve thousand I owe you," he said. "You know, for that bottle of wine that we never did get to enjoy."

"Gee, Castle, couldn't think of a better time?" she snarked teasingly. "You just had to give it to me after we had sex, like you were paying for services rendered."

"And what nice services they were."

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes. "I'm very tempted to smack you with it right now."

"You can try," he smiled smugly. "Or, you can forget about it and we can go for round four."

Kate paused, looking between the bundle of cash and Castle's magnificent naked body. Laughing, she tossed the stack over her shoulder and clambered up on top of him, straddling his hips, a moan escaping her lips when she felt his desire for her brush against where she wanted him most.

He grinned, the smug bastard. "Round four it is!"

XXX

Much later, they laid together in her rumpled bed, fully spent after seven rounds of lovemaking—because that's what she wanted to call it. "This is like a dream I wish would never end," Kate sighed against his bare chest, snuggling close. She would be perfectly content for the rest of her life in this bed with him.

"I'd have to agree there," Castle said, sounding breathless. "You… that… God, Kate… I've never felt more alive. You are extraordinary."

"You're not so bad yourself, Spy Boy," she teased with a playful wink and a flash of her pink tongue between her teeth. Kate stretched up to press a kiss to his lips. He returned it lazily, skimming his fingers down her bare back until his palm came to rest on the curve of her ass. She hummed into his mouth and kissed him again, with tongue, stealing his breath. "So," she hedged as she pulled back, resting her head against the propped up pillows. "What were you doing for three months?"

His jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes. "Running down a lead, amongst other things," he left it at that, and she allowed him to, not wanting to ruin the mood. Castle arched his neck and looked down at her, hesitating for a second before speaking. "Does the name Rogan O'Leary mean anything to you?"

Kate frowned, her brow furrowing as she thought. "No, not that I can think of," she shook her head. "Why? Am I supposed to know who he is?"

"No… not at all," he said quickly. Too quickly. "Anyways, I took care of it. So it doesn't matter anymore."

"If you say so," she hummed, not all too sure about that. There was definitely a story there. She'd have to remember to question him further about it some time later.

Castle remained silent for several minutes, before his eyes brightened and he looked back down at her and declared, "Oh… and I wrote another book." He sat up and she followed him with her eyes, smiling as he jumped out of bed and she was gifted with another delicious sight of his glorious ass. Oh, she was never going to get tired of this. Never. He padded over to his rucksack, and rummaged through it for a moment, before returning with a spiral-bounded manuscript. He handed it to her. "I dedicated it to you. So, I thought you might like to read it."

Kate held it in her hands for a moment, looking at the title. "I can read it later, Castle," she said, putting it aside. "Right now, I just want you."

He grinned and slid back into bed with her. The manuscript lay forgotten on the floor as the two of them took their time to enjoy one another's company.

The title: _Heat Wave_.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

*RICK and KATE will return in… _**PRIVATE EYES 2: PSYCHO KILLER**_.


End file.

Castle, Adventure, Romance