Close Encounters 3: Die Another Day

Once again, I do not claim ownership of any of these characters - not Bond, not Castle.

Please read Close Encounters 1 and 2 to have any idea whatsoever what's going on here. Not even I can keep track.

This one is for cartographical who loves Spy Castle so much that she browbeats me into writing him.

"You're terrible for me," she groaned, but her hips said something different.

He grinned into her mouth and dragged his hand down the arch of her back, the vivid and intense curl of her body as she came apart.

She gasped for breath and her eyes blinked open, the tremors vibrating so that he felt every single one, and he touched his mouth to the sweat at the hollow of her throat.

"I hate you. I really hate you," she gasped.

He licked and suckled at the ridge of her collarbone and gentled his hand against her stomach, tripped upwards to her mouth and kissed her softly.

She came down slowly, and then her body curled around his and she nuzzled into him.

He loved sleepy-cat Kate Beckett, where she often nibbled at his jaw or nudged her nose into him, warm and pliant and trying to get closer. Still fiercely independent, still ready and willing to brush him off if she thought he was at all smirking over it. Her.

"Kate," he hummed and pressed his lips into hers for another kiss.

"Mmm, yeah?"

"You're amazing."

"I know," she said faintly, already dipping into sleep. But he wanted more than that.

"You gonna marry me, Beckett?"

"You still haven't asked nicely."

"What was that?" he growled, nipping at her jaw, soothing it with his tongue. He gripped her hip and tugged her in closer to his body, her bed creaking as they moved. "I thought I just asked."

"That wasn't nicely. That was demanding and sardonic and-"

"How do you have so many good words after a round like that? You should be passed out," he muttered, traveling slowly up her jaw to her ear. She shivered though and curled an arm around his shoulders.

"Gotta be the right time," she murmured and her eyes opened to him, teasing and tired.

"I won't stop until you say yes."

"I won't say yes until you can mean it."

Oh, he meant it. But she was right. He'd only just gotten back to duty, a month of mostly travel for work - spy business, she called it - and when he was home, at her home, they did this.

They got reacquainted. And it was so very good.

But this wasn't how he wanted to start a marriage with her.

"I always mean it," he said finally. But she was asleep.

He meant it, but they weren't always good for each other; sometimes they rubbed each other raw, exposed, and neither of them had the ability to back down and call a truce.

It was war between them, and they battled without mercy.

But he'd have her. One day, some day. He'd have her.

It just might have to be after her mother's case was solved.

"Beckett, I think you should stop."

She stalked away from him, shoving both hands through her hair before pivoting on her heel to face him. She had to swallow down the instinctive urge to lash out, to hurt him for that, and instead she modulated her tone, kept herself in check.

"We are so close, Castle." She dropped her hands and lifted her eyes to his.

Standing there, her CIA spy looked for all the world like her apartment was his own little kingdom. He had a hip cocked against her kitchen counter, an insufferable twist on his lips, and when she actually looked around-

Shit, he'd practically moved in.

No wonder he thought he could order her around, flash his smile and have her on her knees for him. She was so tired of running into the wall of his damn CIA secrecy. He had a lead but he couldn't tell her; he knew a guy, but he couldn't have her come with him. He gave her bits and pieces and expected her to be grateful.

"I have a lead. I have a good lead on this case, Castle. I'm not stopping now."

"Beckett, we can't run at this head on. This guy has NSA in his back pocket; it calls for a subtlety you and the boys lack."

His smirk had her hands clenching. "You've been listening to your asshole of a father again, haven't you?"

He jerked back at that, the steeled ice sheeting his eyes and removing him from her.

But Black was a bastard, and Castle needed to stop calling the man whenever their investigation stalled, running to his father for help. She hated having Black's fingerprints all over this, with his sneering disdain for the NYPD and his not-at-all subtle comments about her capabilities.

"Let's leave my father out of this," he said finally, his eyes like polar ice caps. "I'm not changing my mind, Beckett. We're not starting a war until I'm certain we know who the hell we're fighting against."

"If it's a war, then it's a war. We're not sitting on this while-"

"Your life is in danger, Beckett. My life is in danger. These are serious threats."

"Because were are so close. We have him running scared, and now is the time to-"

"Now is the time to lie low," he hissed, reaching out and snagging her by the wrist. "Lie low and live to fight another day."

She shrugged him off and paced away. "You don't understand. I need-"

"The fuck I don't," he snorted. She spun back to him, eyes narrowed, but he looked just as pissed as she felt.

"Then help me. Help me, or I will do this alone, Castle."

"No, you won't. The Agency has jurisdiction-"

She snorted, crossed her arms over her chest. "When the hell have you ever cared about the Agency's jurisdiction? This is my mother's case, not your damn playground."

He jerked to attention. "Playground-"

"Showing up at the 12th, commandeering my team, seducing me so you can have your way, doling out pieces of information when you think I can handle it. I'm sick of you bullying me, Castle."

"Bullying you? What the hell-"

"I'm so tired of you holding it over my head. I know I fucked up. I was the one you bled all over, remember? But you don't get to-"

"I do get to," he snarled, stalking forward. "I get to say, Detective Beckett, because it is my case now. And you need to stop."

"It's my mother. And I won't stop," she said, her voice raw in her throat. "You know I won't."

"As the lead on this case, I'm telling you-"

"Fuck off," she snarled.

The cold in his eyes swirled up as he came closer. When he touched her, it wasn't the crushing, icy grip she was expecting, but the press of his warm palm to her neck, thumb stroking her jaw. He was turning the heat up, but it didn't melt the deadly, closed-off certainty in his eyes - or the resolve in hers.

He leaned in, his breath skirting her cheek, nose nuzzling. "As the man sleeping in your bed, Kate Beckett, I am asking you to stop."

She closed her eyes, tried to force breath past that.

Damn it. He was still seducing her for his own ends, bringing out the charm to beguile her away from what she knew to be true.

"I won't stop." She sucked in a breath and opened her eyes. "And you need to leave."

He couldn't believe they'd been talking about marriage only five months ago, ensconsed at her father's cabin with the scent of spring and the ripple of the lake. Marriage. They were both fooling themselves.

Castle slammed his door shut and threw the dead bolt, a guarantee that she couldn't come sneaking in later tonight, trying to make it up to him. Not that she would. She'd never apologize, but after some of their more spectacular fights, she'd slid into his bed at three in the morning, looking for sex.

He'd always been too angry or too stupid to say no to her. She knew exactly what to do to get him, and even though she would stay the next morning, wake him slowly, smile at him with all that feeling shining in her eyes, he also knew nothing had truly been resolved.

Well, tonight had resolved quite a lot, hadn't it?

He was a bully who was holding her mother's case hostage until she met his demands. And exactly how untrue was her accusation?

He was holding it hostage. Doling it out, as she'd said. He couldn't slip the leash and let her run wild; she'd kill herself going after this case. Already, he'd been informed through unofficial channels that the NSA wanted him done with it. The spent bullet left at his door, the dead fish in one of the motor pool cars - warnings and messages. We are close, we know what you're doing. You are going to stop.

And Beckett. If he was being targeted, then she was as well. She'd hidden the last two threatening voice mails, hadn't told him about them, but he'd tapped her phones a month ago after the first one came in. He hadn't told her that of course, but-

Yeah, he was a domineering brute who took after his bastard father. She was right.

His phone rang sharply in the dark quiet of his apartment and Castle realized he was just standing stupidly in the kitchen. He pulled out his phone and didn't recognize the number.

Probably not Beckett then.

"Castle," he answered.

"Agent Castle. This is Roy Montgomery. Beckett's Captain at the 12th."

"Yes, sir. I know who you are."

"No, I don't think you do. No one really does."

Castle's body pitched into high alert at the tone of the man's voice, alarm bells going off. "Sir?"

"I need you to meet me. And Beckett. Her life depends on it."

"What?" he hoarsed, already turning back for his front door. "I was just with her. What happened?"

"It's what will happen. Soon. And I'm going to need your help keeping Beckett alive."

He hit the hallway at a sprint.

Castle found the airfield with little need for navigation, parked the CIA motor pool's Range Rover in the dark shadows at the back of the hangar. He spotted Beckett's unmarked and passed it, felt the hood. She'd been here a while.

He stepped quickly along the concrete, checked his holster for his weapon and pulled it out as he found the side door. He could hear voices, an argument, the stress breaking Beckett's voice. The sound of it made his chest tight, how needy she was, how she'd gotten so far down that hole already and it was his fault. He'd done this to her.

They'd come back from his recovery at her father's cabin, and as if he needed to prove something to her, make it up to her, he'd thrown himself into her mother's case. He went to physical therapy at the CIA office, and then he spent equal time chasing down leads.

He was close to an answer.

Castle slipped inside the hangar, the vast space wreaking havoc with his depth perception, Beckett's insistent voice echoing in the air. Her captain's tones were lower, but somehow more unhinged than hers.

A high-ranking official with DoD ties and the NSA at his command. Someone who'd become involved in a scheme to kidnap mafia members and hold them for ransom. But Castle's leads kept dying - assassinated or disappeared before he and Beckett could get to them. Both of the cops who'd confessed to the kidnap plot - dead. The third man in that group was still an unknown.

He shifted around the last plane and came to a stunned stop.

They had their weapons trained on each other. Her captain.

"It was you. Did you kill her?" Beckett said, her voice trembling but so angry. Pissed.

Castle squeezed the grip of his weapon and took a soft, slow step forward.

"No. No, I'd never - but it was our fault. And the moment you came into my precinct, Kate, it was like a gift from God. A chance at redemption, to atone for the things I'd done, the things I let happen."

Castle came forward, keeping to the shadows. So far, neither had noticed him.

"Tell me who," she said, her voice ringing in the hangar.

"No. I do that, might as well shoot you where you stand. They want you dead, Kate-"

"You owe me that. A name. You owe me a name-"

"I will not let them kill you. I couldn't stop your mother-"

"A name. Just give me the name."

"They're coming for you, Beckett. Right now. But I'm going to stop them. That's why I called him."

Castle froze, but it was too late; Montgomery had seen him even in the shadows. Beckett had lowered her gun but now she twisted to look at him.

"Castle."

"Go on, Agent. Take her out of here."

"They're coming right now?" he asked, stepping forward into the pale light. The front of the hangar was open to the moon and the flat expanse of runway.

"A set-up. I was supposed to deliver Kate to them. But I won't. I'm taking them down with me-"

"No. Wait," Beckett begged, stepping forward. "You want forgiveness? I forgive you. Just tell me who's behind all this."

She still couldn't stop. Montgomery was right to call him; she'd stay here and battle if he let her.

And then he saw the twin beams of headlights down the road, heard the sudden roar of motors. A caravan. A hit squad.

"Agent Castle. Get her out now."

Castle strode forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, picked her up.

"No!" She thrashed, elbow digging hard into his shoulder, a heel against his shin, but he backed away, his eyes on Montgomery's steady, rock-solid profile. "Castle, please. Castle-"

"Take her out of here. I've got to do this." Captain Montgomery nodded at him and Castle turned his eyes to the cars approaching. She struggled against him.

"Let me stay with you," Kate begged, one of her arms trying to wriggle out from under his, the other beseeching her Captain. "We can do this together. Please, please, Roy-"

"It's not your fight, Beckett."

"No," she moaned, but Castle had already turned around and was heading for the side door even as she sobbed. "Castle, let me down. Let me down, God, they're going to kill him-"

But Montgomery had made it clear. And he knew the man was right; Beckett would stand and fight, in full view, spit in the face of her killers.

Castle gripped her harder even as she struggled, hustled her out into the night.

If he could get her to stay put, to just stay in the damn car, maybe he could come back and take a few of them out.

It was all the could offer the man who'd chosen to stay behind.

"Castle, please."

He pressed his body against hers at his Range Rover, a hand over her mouth as she sobbed, begged to be let back inside that hangar. She fought, but she couldn't overwhelm him.

He didn't even have a chance to go back for Roy; her fists beat at his chest, but her knees gave away, sliding down, and he held her up, cradled her through the agony of an endless round of gunfire.

"Shh, shh, Kate. Please," he murmured, his fingers wet with her tears, his palm with the heat of her open, sobbing mouth. "I know, I know, love, but you have to be quiet."

Her head rolled back and her throat worked convulsively, her rage and her grief so intertwined that he couldn't keep her still. Her heart threw itself at the cage of her ribs, making them both shake, and he leaned his hips further into hers, pressed his forehead against Kate's and breathed in her gulping sobs. Just breathed with her, because he could do nothing else.

Nothing.

Behind him, all went quiet, preternaturally still, but he hadn't heard the cars leav-

A gunshot ripped the night and she broke in his arms, crumpling even as he fought to keep her up, both of them swanning to the gravel at the back wheel of his vehicle.

She sobbed and he held her against him, cradled her, even as he knew, he knew - no one was leaving that hangar alive.

"This stays between us," she said quietly, her head down and her shoulders hunched. "Stays in the family."

Castle kept his hands to himself, kept watch as the sentinel outside their little group, even though he wanted to cover her with his body, enclose her.

Esposito turned and gave him a dark look. The other one, Ryan, was refusing to look at all.

"What about him? He ain't family."

Castle shifted on his feet to step away, but she lifted her head and angrily eyed her detective. "He's the one who got me this far, who figured it out, Javi. He's in this."

Ryan's eyes moved to his in a long look, more sober assessment in them than in his partner's. Castle would have to cultivate that when given the opportunity; Ryan was asset material.

"Fine. He's in. But tell me we are not giving this over to the damn CIA."

"You're not," Castle answered instead. "You didn't have this case in the first place. So it's still not yours."

"What?" Ryan yelped, but Espo was on his feet in a flash.

Castle wouldn't take his eyes off them to look at Beckett, but he didn't need to know her position. It hadn't changed, despite what had happened in that hangar two nights ago. She was against him.

"This case is mine. I used federal resources to crack it open, and a federal crime is being perpetrated. Not to mention the NSA is involved. In order to maintain national security, this doesn't go past me."

"My Captain was murdered," Esposito spit back.

"I was there."

A noise from Beckett had him side-stepping Esposito and heading for Kate before he could stop himself. She raised her head and her eyes were so desolate, so cold, that he halted in his tracks.

She didn't want him. He was a bully, right? That's what she'd said. He was a bully who liked to hold her mother's case over her head until he got what he wanted.

Fine.

Castle turned around and went back to his spot on the edge of the circle. He blanked his mind, regained his center, and kept it off his face.

Beckett made fists on the couch and cleared her throat. "Javi, the case isn't ours, but that's - that could be a good thing."

Castle gritted his teeth against the hope that flared white-hot in his chest, tamped it down even as his body betrayed him and his eyes sought hers.

She was trying to say something, in that look, something she wanted him to know.

He just didn't know what it was.

"How's that a good thing?" Ryan said suddenly. "Tell us why letting him have this case is a good thing."

Beckett pressed her lips together but her eyes were on Castle's still. When she answered, he could hear the long, terrible night in her voice.

"Because we can't let it get out, what he did. What Montgomery did. Investigating his murder requires asking questions that. . ."

"Are best left to me," Castle finished.

Kate nodded slowly, once, but she couldn't seem to bring her eyes back to his.

He was a bully still, even if he was right.

He stayed when the others left. She stood in the middle of her living room and watched the tic in his jaw, the muscle that flared and moved under skin she'd tasted, and she wanted to be lost. Forget for a while.

"Castle."

His head came up slowly.

"Stay tonight."

"No." His voice was like sandpaper and she flinched. But he stepped closer, a hand gesturing ineffectually at his side. "Either I stay. Or I don't."

She blinked and looked at him.

"Not just because - not just tonight." His eyes were a bleak mid-winter.

"Stay," she corrected, even knowing she shouldn't. But it was him - Castle, her spy. They'd fought, but they always fought. And now her Captain was dead. "Just stay."

He came for her then, wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his nose in her neck, and the grief flashed over her in a flood.

She'd treated him so badly, been so withdrawn and alone since Montgomery was shot two days ago, and all he wanted was this. All he asked for was this.

"I'm so sorry, Kate-"

"No, I'm sorry," she moaned, pressing her mouth to his cheek. "I am so sorry-"

"I didn't know what else to do-"

"It's not your fault that he's dead," she said, gulping hard to get herself under control. "Not at all your fault. He made those choices."

"I meant. You're right. I am a bully; I've been holding this case back from you because I couldn't see any other way-"

She groaned and clasped his face with her hands, pressed her mouth to his just to stop his unceasing, limitless love. She'd been narrowed down to her baser elements these past few months - years, really - and she'd treated him like crap because of it. The case always did that to her, stripped her of everything else.

She cradled his cheeks and softened her kiss, broke from him to see the way his emotion came rising to the surface of his eyes. He let her see it now; he was letting her see everything.

"I don't deserve you," she murmured. "You are so beautiful to me and I-"

"Stop," he said gruffly, drawing his hands up to her face and mirroring her posture. His love was like a taste in her mouth, rich and explosive. "I don't want to hear it anymore. I want you, Kate."

"Come to bed," she offered, her only consolation for the past week's worth of rigid and terrible behavior, the last two nights' cold distance. "Let me love you."

"You already do," he whispered, his lips touching hers.

But she knew he wasn't right. She knew a love like his required more from her, demanded more, deserved more.

He deserved better of her.

And she'd do her best to make it up to him.

His mouth was warm, but his skin on fire.

She roamed down his torso to the waistband of his jeans, stroked her hands over his thighs. He stilled suddenly in the hallway, made their bodies collide, and she lifted her eyes to look at him.

He was staring at her, heavy with lust. She stopped her slow tease, reached for his jaw and brushed her thumbs over the rough scrape of unshaven cheeks.

"Kate." His voice was broken when it came, and he closed his eyes as if ashamed of it.

She clutched the back of his neck and pushed up on her toes to reach him, her mouth at his eyelids. "I'm going to be more for you than this, I promise. I promise you, Rick. I can be more than this."

His lashes fluttered open against her lips and she took his mouth instead, pressing deep, deep, until he parted for her and she could stroke her tongue inside. Let it be slow, let it be good, let his body encompass hers and let her forget.

Let her get lost in him.

His hands were broad at her back and pulling her in against him, so strong again, so demanding, and she knew-

before she let herself take, she had to give.

"I can be more," she murmured, her hands tugging his shirt. "Let me show you."

Castle woke to Beckett draped over his back, her cheek pressed at his shoulder blade, the alarm blaring. He reached out from under her and snapped it off, hoped he hadn't broken it. Kate stirred and rolled her face into his skin, her mouth open on a deep breath that shot a jolt straight to his blood.

"Becks, gotta get up."

She huffed and slid off of him, nestling down near his face, her palm scraping down his jaw and curling at his neck. "Hi."

He hummed at her, opened his eyes to study the lines in her face, that slow-dawning realization that today was the day for mourning.

"No one calls me that anymore," she said instead.

"Becks?"

"Mm." She rolled her shoulders and pushed off against his back, climbed over him once more for the bathroom. "I need to shower, get ready. You have clothes for the service here?"

"Yeah," he answered, turned his head to watch her walk away. He liked the loose drape of the tshirt she'd dragged on sometime during the night; he'd scooped it up off the floor when she'd shivered and curled closer.

He got to see it come off again now, the fall of her hair back over her shoulders, her arching spine. She dropped the shirt to the bathroom floor and paused before the shower, reached in to twist the knob. He kept his eyes open and on her, knew he needed to get up and get going, but the warmth of her home was always so very seductive.

"Castle."

He saw she'd turned her head to him, her body in silhouette. She crooked her fingers at him and he slid out of bed and came to her, the bathroom already steaming up.

She took him by the wrist and stepped through the curtain, tugging him after her.

"We only have a few minutes," he murmured, felt her fingers working at his boxers to get rid of them. "Kate, love-"

"We have enough."