Charlie P

Summary: There's so much of Beckett that Castle doesn't know. She's not good at sharing her past and Castle knows now not to push (too much). But every so often a little bit of her history will be revealed and shared between them. Set sometime in late Season 5 or perhaps Season 6.

Nominated for The 12th Fan Awards 2013 - Best Alternate Universe Fic

Disclaimer – even in my wildest dreams I don't own Castle or any of the characters. If I did, you'd see way more than primetime TV allows!

All the other legal stuff applies too.

She's not entirely sure it was a good idea to let him help. In fact she's pretty damn sure that it's a really bad idea to let him help pack her stuff. Already his discoveries have resulted in a too frequent stream of interruptions to the packing, a raft of questions and frequent impromptu make out moments.

But it was too late now. She'd agreed to move in with him and make the loft their home. She was pretty sure – actually really sure - it was the right decision, but she was equally certain it would tax her patience and sanity, just like it was now.

"Hey Beckett, who's Charlie P?" the author's voice drift's through the doorway into her bedroom where she's attempting to pack her delicates without the interference of her boyfriend and the heightened risk of serious and extended delays to the packing schedule they need to stick to.

Kate Beckett freezes; she's not heard that name in 8 years. Moving from the bedroom into the living room, she finds Castle holding up a single photo of a much younger Beckett standing close to a much older man who despite the suit is clearly a cop. She's taller than the man whose suit is rumpled and tired like the wearer. Beckett is in dark pants and white button down, but her face has a bit too much makeup on for a detective in professional office attire. On the back is the name "Charlie P". No date, no other reference.

Her voice is flat and Castle almost flinches at the glacial, "Where did you find that?" she issues in her best interrogation tone.

"It fell out from between the books as I was boxing them up," as the author tries to convey innocence and hey, this wasn't my fault along with his best puppy-dog face. He then reinforces with the love beams from his eyes that neither of them have been able control, or to be honest want to stop since they went public six months ago. The sort that have Espo & Ryan mimicking gagging frequently and Lanie demanding real details again.

Beckett sighs; her top teeth gently snagging her bottom lip, and Castle visibly relaxes. After all the years he's pretty sure he knows her tells but it doesn't mean she doesn't leave him second guessing from time-to-time. To be honest she likes it that way, and she's pretty sure her man does too.

"Make me a coffee, we'll take a break – a short one - and I'll tell you".

Detective Charles Parker felt every one of his 53 years. His once lean frame had rounded out a bit (but not too much), but his time worn face carried enough authority to compensate for his relative lack of stature for a male cop. He had nothing to retire to since the death of his wife and with no kids he'd rather come to work than hang out in a cop bar all day since he did enough of that at night.

He was back in Vice after an almost twenty year break. Officially he was here to help mentor the younger cops he was told. Park him somewhere until he could be encouraged to retire was more likely.

A few days in and he had found his feet and joined in the almost constant street operations that were part of the Mayor's zero tolerance platform - but minimal overtime as cops liked to grumble. To be honest, he was fairly ambivalent about most of his fellow squad members – the usual mix of wide eyed (not for long) rookies, career vice and ladder climbers. Except for Beckett. She had the fire.

The kid was driven, aggressive even, smart and undoubtedly attractive. The latter was probably why she was in Vice. Based on her acerbic comments, often barely hidden behind the "can-do" attitude, it was certain that Beckett felt like she was being tagged and used for her looks. Regardless, she was damn good at her job and set a professional, even cool tone for everything she did.

"So Beckett, you don't think male cops working Vice can find it demeaning too?" as he watches her – too tired to change out of her street clothes - almost fall into the squad room seat across from him.

Beckett rolls her eyes and a barely perceptible shake of her head clearly signifies a strongly felt negative.

"While you have to get out there and strut your stuff in the hooker gear, how do you think I feel constantly being the dirty old man? I've got self-esteem issues too, you know!" he deadpans.

Despite her best efforts at neutrality, she can't help the gentle smirk that twitches the edges of her mouth upwards.

"So what do I call you?" she asks.

"Charlie P works for me". God knows the glee personnel had taken in assigning 3 officers with the surname Parker - 2 male, 1 female – to a squad of 12.

"Beckett, Kate Beckett," as she stretches a long limb across with a proffered hand for him to shake, and a cautious but genuine smile that makes her face light up, accompanies it.

15 months later, Beckett and Charlie P are finishing up the paperwork on their latest case. A pretty major bust of a human trafficking and prostitution ring and just for once, Beckett had avoided the hooker gear and been dressed in modest slacks and an admittedly tight sweater. She ignored the petty comments and anything worse, she shot down herself or Charlie P had her back, as always.

The Captain calls them into his office. Normally, he would be passing on the 'congratulations' in the bullpen but for both officers this is a pivotal moment for their careers. The Captain pulls no punches. Doesn't dress it up and for that they're grateful.

"Charlie P, your retirement is approved. With your accrued leave and the department's retirement orientation courses, this was your last case.

"Beckett, it's your last case here too. I got orders from 1PP. You're off to 12th Precinct, Homicide. Congratulations.

"Finish you paperwork up tomorrow and then drinks after work. I may even buy the first round."

Her last memory of Charlie P is in The Last Beat – the cop bar that Charlie called his second home. Beckett didn't often go there except with Charlie P, it was the haunt of a much older generation of cops, many of whom still openly wore their derision of female cops, more-so young, smart, attractive ones, especially those who out-performed them.

Charlie had placed his hands on her shoulders, ensured that she met his eyes, and pulled her into a tight hug, and then wordlessly let her step back. He raised his glass and tilted it towards her in a final salute, as Beckett spun on her heels, moistened eyes firmly locked on the door and safety of the night before the tears can flow.

Castle simply nods his appreciation as Beckett finishes gifting him a new memory from her past. His eyes are locked on her eyes, and she holds the gaze. She didn't plan to, but she feels the need to explain and to ensure that Rick understands, so she speaks again.

"After Royce, Charlie P restored my faith in the older cops, those with experience and smarts, and let me open myself to their help and guidance. It's not something I was ever that comfortable with; I let so few through you know," as her eyes fix on his in that familiar yet exciting combination of attraction, comfort and challenge.

"And some of them, no most of them, still hurt me even if it wasn't their intention". He nods, saying nothing.

"Charlie P, got me my introduction to homicide, put the word in with Roy, and gave me a path out of Vice. It was his parting gift to me.

Of course, the storyteller in Castle, can't let it rest. "What happened to Charlie?"

Her head down and now facing away from Castle, Beckett feels herself tearing up, and within seconds she feels her Writer's arms wrapping round her and his chin rests against the top of her head. Her man may not know everything about her past but he knows her so well and instinctively knows when and how to comfort her.

"Cancer. He had cancer. Less than 6 months after he retired…"

She says nothing else. Wordlessly, Castle holds her.

After a few minutes they both rise, and once Kate has safely stored the photo away they resume packing. After all there is a deadline – Beckett only has the weekend off; her lease expires next week and the loft – their home - is waiting.