LOG : Open to fanofthegenre

[mmkaternater]

The precinct is quiet. Most of the officers have gone home for the night, leaving behind their humming computers and the residue at the bottoms of two dozen chipped coffee cups. Most of the men at the precinct have families to go home to. The ones that don't, well, they volunteer to work the night shift. They roll into the precinct in pairs, jostling their belts, rattling the half-empty coffee carafes and bitching about last week's cast-off on Dancing With the Stars.

Castle sits against the wall outside Booking, a cup of oily coffee congealing between his fingers. He hasn't spoken to Beckett in twenty-four hours. He's starting to get nervous.

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[fanofthegenre]

Beckett - well, ever since her previous conversation with Castle, she's made any and all attempts to avoid him. Whether that means staying late at the precinct or burying herself in work from home, she's done her damndest to keep out of sight. She's even started keeping a room in Milliways, for those days when she doesn't want to bother running into anyone.

The words they have spoken are cordial, barely considered conversation - at least on her end. She's going to keep it that way for now.

Looking down at her coffee, she realizes it's in dire need of a refill, and with a groan, gets up and heads to the machine.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Ordinarily, when a woman avoids speaking to him, Castle can attribute it to one of two things: she's either a woman whose bed he's slipped out of in the wee small hours of the morning, or she's his mother. (It's important to Castle to make a strong distinction between those two phenomena.) With Beckett, it's different. Forget the fact that his publisher is snapping her capped jaws at his neck, wanting clear outlines of the next Nikki Heat chapter -- Beckett's a friend.

At least, she was until he'd let his curiosity stampede all over his respect for personal boundaries.

Hw sees Beckett moving across the room, like a brassy shark fin cutting through the shoulder-high carrels and offices. He can't make out her expression, but he knows she's worked a double today and that it has to be showing on her face at this point. Castle loses sight of her when she disappears into the break room. He gets up and bins the coffee cup. 'Comes to the threshold of the break room and stands there, pensive, hands in his pockets.

"You know, all work and no play makes Jack make unwise decisions about movie roles. Like Wolf." He rocks his brows toward his hairline, crushing his apprehension in the back of his throat. He's probably the last person she wants to see right now, but he can't leave well enough alone.

He never can.

[fanofthegenre]

The precinct's quiet as she makes her way through the rows of empty desks and the computers with their glaring blue screens. It gives the whole room this sort of eerie glow, and her footsteps might quicken by a fraction of a second as she heads into the break room.

As far as Beckett's concerned, she's all alone here, and that suits her just fine. She's not about to bemoan the lack of coworkers when she's got case files to close. Besides, the faster she works, the faster she can head home and get into bed before she has to wake up in another five hours to do it all over again.

She's pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee when Castle's voice sounds behind her. The noise startles her, and she jerks back, barely avoiding the hot liquid as some of it sloshes over the lip of her cup. A few drops do make contact with her knuckle, and she winces, but doesn't let the pain show as she reaches for a napkin to dab it off her skin.

"Yeah, well," she mutters, avoiding his gaze as she crosses the room to toss the napkin into the trash - which, inconveniently, puts her closer to him.

"Work can be a pretty good distraction sometimes."

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

There are a lot of ways to test the level of a woman's anger. Silence is the coup de grâce. At least she's registering his existence. He thinks he can get around that junkyard dog jaw if he works at it a little.

"You're avoiding me," he says, proving once again that mystery writers are always skilled at stating the obvious.

[fanofthegenre]

There's a long moment between Beckett finding the words and her actually uttering them out loud.

In between, she takes a sip of coffee. In between, she briefly glances up at him.

"Those are some staggering powers of deduction you've got there. Do they just come naturally, or did you take a class?"

It's sarcasm, of course. He's got a knack for figuring out the little details, the cracks beneath the surface, and they both know it.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

She has a right to be defensive, he thinks. After all, it's not every day that someone dredges up the deep, dark memories of your past after you explicitly asked them not to. Castle knows he should have left it alone. But he had connections that she didn't; if there was ever a time that his celebrity was worth something, this was it.

"I shouldnt've gone behind your back," he says evenly, "and for that I'm sorry. But if it means that we could have a fresh lead on your mother's case, don't you think that's worth it?"

[fanofthegenre]

To him, it's only been about a day since they've stopped talking, but thanks to Milliways, it's been a lot longer than that for her. She's had time to think, as well as time to drink. Old wounds have been opened up, though, and it's going to take a little more time before they start to close on their own. No amount of alcohol is actually capable of doing more than deceiving her into thinking everything's okay.

"But you understand," she says, almost as quietly as a whisper. "You understand why I -- because I spent months, years, trying to figure this all out."

Her gaze lifts to his face again, and the hurt there is evident.

"And then you come along, with your high-ranking connections and your people on speed-dial," and now her voice is rising in volume as the frustration behind it all gets brought out into the light, "and you find a new lead in what, a week, tops?"

The hand gripping the coffee cup is already starting to tremble.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Castle is instantly cowed. How does she do that? In addition to feeling about six inches tall, Castle suddenly finds it very difficult to breathe under the verbal lash. He watches her knuckles contract around the edge of her coffee cup and thinks about setting up some caution tape, just in case.

His expression darkens when she suggests he used his celebrity as a fulcrum for answers. He had, of course, but not for the reasons she was claiming. "This wasn't a celebrity ego stroke," he says, "I didn't do it to get on Larry King Live. I did it because I thought I could help you."

He shakes his head. "And that's not what this is about anyway, is it? You were scared of what you'd find out."

[fanofthegenre]

He's right. Like so many other times, he's managed to see straight through the facade of her frustration to the fear within. Not that she's about to let him know that in her words. If there's anything that scares her most, it's letting that fear take over when she's not paying attention to it - and in front of Castle, of all people.

"That's not the point," Beckett goes on, even if her efforts to defend herself are proving somewhat futile.

It is the point. Here she'd thought her mother's death was just a random happening, but to discover that it's actually one in a series of horrible events? That whoever did it might still be out there, killing?

No. She won't let herself think about it, because as soon as it hits her...

Beckett has to set her cup down on the table, and suddenly, her footing doesn't feel entirely steady.

"Castle," she says, but she isn't sure if she's saying his name just to say it or if there's going to be more words that follow.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

"Look," he says, plunging ahead before she has a chance to cut him off, "none of this has been about selling books. None of it has been about coming up with a narrative, or stringing together a plot. People think I can't separate my work from my ego. I can. And I took your mother's file to the ME -- not because I thought it would make a good epilogue -- but because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I could help you. And if I went about it the wrong way -- sneakily, covertly, and behind you back -- well, you can lock me up for it."

He regards her evenly, his lower lip drawn tight against his teeth, like it's being vacuum sealed. He believes what he's telling her. The unpleasantness of going behind her back and courting a second opinion aside, it matters to him that she has some kind of answer.

[fanofthegenre]

She's hurt, too, when she thinks about that part, too. The fact that he would go on and investigate into things anyway, even after she specifically asked - no, told him not to - it hurts. It might matter, having more knowledge of what actually happened to her mother, but now she's not sure if she can entirely trust him anymore.

And reopening her mother's file - it's something she never thought she'd see herself doing again. Now that she has, she's not sure how to handle it.

"I'm not going to do that," Beckett says, her gaze holding firm, even while the tension in her shoulders begins to subside and the muscles in her legs feel as though they're turning into gelatin. "I wouldn't do that."

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

His face blossoms into exaggerated relief. "Good," he says, "because I had a feeling the statutes were a little shaky in the first place." He anticipates a smile out of her and when he doesn't get one, the joke withers on the vine. Beckett's not in the mood for humour. Castle has been lucky to get this far without a coffee mug-shaped welt on the side of his head.

"I'm sorry," he says, and this time, he actually means it.

[fanofthegenre]

It might take some more time before she's willing to crack a smile at one of his jokes, but she understands why he feels the need to continue making them. It's his defense mechanism; the tense mood in the room isn't as palpable as it used to be, and he's doing his best to improve things.

"I know," she answers, reaching for her coffee again. This time, her grip remains secure, and she starts to feel more awake and alert with every sip.

"Don't tell me you stayed this late just to run into me," Beckett adds.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Of course he had. "Of course not, what, are you kidding?' He puffed his lips in disdain. "This place is about as lively after dark as a Christian book store. Mother's entertaining tonight. She's got some Broadway producer holed up in her chambers. It's like the abattoir of Dr. Caligari up there." He steps past her and retrieves an empty coffee cup from the rack. "Alexis is at a friend's house. Remarkably. this is the most sane place I could come up with to go."

Part of that is true.

[fanofthegenre]

He might have some pretty powerful deducting abilities, but so does she, and there might be a smile that comes forth, but only briefly, and it's because she knows he's so clearly fibbing that she can't help it.

And then, at the same time, she silently curses him and his ability to do that.

Beckett clears her throat, and the smile disappears behind the rim of her coffee cup.

"Here, at the precinct, and not at the impressive brownstone of one of your adoring fans? I'm shocked, Castle."

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

"James Brolin had a previous engagement." A cloud of steam curls out of the edges of the espresso machine as Castle, like the Great and Powerful Oz, twists knobs and dials in an attempt to create the perfect cup of coffee.

"You gonna' work all night?" he asks, shooting her a look through the steam that might actually be genuine concern.

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett shrugs.

"I've got a few cases left to officially close," she says, which equals lots and lots of paperwork. "It shouldn't take more than another hour or two."

Of course, she has been known to fall asleep at her desk and wake up to the hustle and bustle of the morning shift, so she's definitely not ruling out that possibility.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

"Anything I can help with?" he asks hopefully. "Maybe a case with an angle that you deft And determined gumshoes haven't been able to figure out and that requires the assistance of the hard-edged, wizened, mysteriously handsome outsider cum pain-in-your-ass?"

[fanofthegenre]

"Hard-edged and wizened?" Beckett murmurs, attempting to brush past him and get through the doorway.

"Someone's feeling generous with the adjectives tonight."

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Castle steps aside to let her pass, following her into the bullpen like a puppy on a leash. "Does that mean murder?" he probes. "Mystery? Intrigue? A wealthy baroness with a dead husband and an axe to grind?"

[fanofthegenre]

"Nothing that exciting, I'm afraid."

She stops at her desk, setting her cup down and taking a moment to stretch before taking a seat. She can already feel the knots building in her shoulders, and unless she wants to be popping ibuprofen tomorrow, she has to remember to move periodically.

"Just filling out the papers for the last week's worth of cases."

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

He slumps, like he's disappointed. Lackluster workdays are a penny a pound for Beckett and Castle knows that not every day is filled with a car chase, big bust or shocking revelation. Most of what Beckett did was right there in front of her in the piles and piles of requisition forms, incident reports and bureaucratic palaver. It's boring. It's not writable. But it's Beckett.

"Forget the paperwork," he says, "it'll be there tomorrow." He puts his coffee down on the edge of the desk and sinks into the chair, his blazer ricking up around his shoulders and making his neck look ridiculously short. "Let's order from Thai Gardens. 'Bet even money on the fact you haven't eaten today."

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett shoots him a look. Paperwork, without a doubt, is one of the least exciting aspects of the profession of detective. But it's part of the job, and if you keep ignoring it, letting it stack up on you, sooner or later it's going to come back to bite you in the ass. She's been bogged down with cases of the unusual variety lately, and as such hasn't been able to get to actually closing them - or closing them as far as Records is concerned.

And now, here he is, trying to get her to procrastinate further in favor of takeout Thai. A meal does sound tempting, and she does her best to hide the rumble of her stomach when he mentions food, but her body betrays her words.

"Fine. But until the food gets here, I'm going to file these."

The look on her face implies - no, declares - that arguing is out of the question.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Castle's expression morphs into one of earnest understanding. He's used to this side of her: the begrudging Beckett. The Beckett that lets him tag along because she's such a stickler for The Book that she doesn't challenge the decision. The Beckett that still gives him the sidelong look that says 'you're here, but only for a little while.'

"File away," he says, stamping his hands on the arms of the chair. He pulls his cell phone from his pocket like a magician's trick. "Khao Pad for you, right? Chicken?" They've shared enough of these late night red tape sessions for Castle to know where Beckett's gustatory tastes lean. He calls the restaurant and his face blossoms into a broad smile when he is not only recognized, but complimented by the proprietor for his latest yarn. He hangs up after he's placed the order.

"Lao is looking forward to Nikki Heat," he tells Beckett, whose mouth he's determined to crease into an upward direction, "keep this up, and you'll be eating free at Thai Gardens for the rest of your natural life."

[fanofthegenre]

While he's making the phone call, Beckett sets in to start wrapping up the file she'd started prior to her coffee break. Suspect apprehended, she writes, and later charged with the murder of... She can hear Castle's voice in the background, a pause, and then a chuckle as something said on the other line starts to amuse him. Beckett shakes her head, pauses, then redirects her attention back to the sentence she's writing.

That file is finally closed and placed into the smaller finished pile, and Beckett eyes the larger unopened folders with a brief look of disdain. There's going to be a stack awaiting her tomorrow - but whether it's bigger or smaller is all up to how much she accomplishes in the next twenty minutes - and how much Castle tries to distract her.

"Oh, goody," she says, but her voice is distant due to her attention primarily focused on the newly opened manila folder in front of her. Her eyes scan through the pages, refreshing her memory on the case itself.