ellie.b

Ambivalence.

Having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone.

What if Beckett and Castle didn't go back to question Jenkins and, therefore, never discovered the cover up?

Crossfire

The loft door slammed behind her, the sound echoing through the space like a gunshot. Kate barely noticed the way the sharp noise made Castle flinch—she was too busy trying to rein in the fury coursing through her veins. Her heart was still pounding, a mixture of leftover adrenaline and raw fear fueling her every step as she paced across the living room. The air between them was thick with tension, suffocating, like the moment right before a storm broke.

Castle stood by the counter, arms crossed, his jaw tight, eyes burning with equal parts frustration and defiance. “Are you just going to ignore me all night, or are you actually going to talk to me?”

Beckett stopped in her tracks, turning to him with fire in her eyes. “What do you want me to say, Castle? That I’m happy you were right? That I’m thrilled you almost got yourself killed proving it?” Her voice was sharp, edged with something dangerously close to breaking.

Castle’s hands flew into the air. “I wasn’t trying to prove anything! I had a hunch, Beckett. No one was taking it seriously, so I followed up on it.”

“Yeah, by going alone to a murder suspect’s house!” Her voice rose with each word, the memory slamming into her again—Castle, bruised and breathless, standing over the unconscious suspect, blood on his knuckles, his face pale but determined. The image made her stomach lurch. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I could find something that would break the case open,” he shot back, his frustration mirroring hers.

“And you did, right?” She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You found the murder weapon in his garden shed. But you didn’t think to call for backup before you went digging around in a killer’s backyard?”

Castle’s fingers curled into fists. “I was about to call you when he showed up,” he argued. “I handled myself just fine.”

Beckett’s stomach twisted violently, a wave of nausea rising as she remembered the way he had stumbled slightly as they reached him, the dirt and blood smeared across his clothes. The suspect had fought hard—what if Castle hadn’t fought harder?

“Handled yourself?” Beckett let out a choked, humourless laugh. “Castle, he attacked you. You could have been seriously hurt—or worse.”

Castle’s jaw tightened. “But I wasn’t.”

“That’s not the point!” Beckett’s voice cracked, her emotions breaking free as she stepped closer. Her chest ached, her breathing shallow, as if she had been running for miles. She could still feel the cold grip of fear that had clamped down on her the second she realized Castle wasn’t answering his phone.

Castle opened his mouth to respond, but she pressed forward, her voice lower now, thick with something she wasn’t sure she could control. “Castle, I—” She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I thought I was going to lose you tonight.”

The fight in Castle’s eyes softened, his arms dropping slightly as her words hit him.

“Beckett—”

“No,” she cut him off, shaking her head, her throat tight. “You don’t get to defend yourself right now. You did something reckless and I have every right to be mad at you for it. Did you even think about what it does to me?" Her voice trembled, the sheer weight of it pressing down on her, squeezing her chest. “I can’t lose you, Castle.”

Castle’s stance shifted, the sharp edges of his frustration dulling into something else—remorse, understanding. His shoulders slumped slightly, the tension easing. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieter this time. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Beckett exhaled shakily, closing her eyes for a beat before looking back at him. The fear was still there, buried deep, but the anger had burned down to something else. “Just… promise me next time you’ll trust me enough to let me have your back.”

Castle hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, his hand reaching for hers. His palm was warm, steady, grounding. She let her fingers slip between his, the familiar connection pulling her back from the edge.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice earnest.

“Partners?” he asked, his voice tentative.

She sighed, the smallest, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. Partners.”

Socked feet shuffled down the corridor, quickly but quietly, toward the elevator.

She pressed the button - once, twice, three times - urging it to hurry and growing more tense with each second that passed that those metal doors didn’t open.

The odds of Martha or Alexis coming out of the loft and seeing her were slim: practically non-existent given Alexis’ current state. But the very real threat of having to share the elevator with a neighbour still lingered ominously.

She wasn’t quite sure how she could convincingly explain away this situation. The bed hair, the still-heated flush of her skin, the jacket, boots and bra clutched to her chest. No, there was no way that this could be seen as anything other than what it was: a walk of shame.

She would just have to pray - and beg, and plead - to any and all of the almighty forces above that she could get into this elevator alone and unseen.

The doors opened and she sprung forward, pressing the door close button before they'd had the chance to open fully. Again and again, she pressed the button as if her life depended on it, as if each push would make it move faster. She knew it wouldn't.

Once the doors closed she would have less than 30 seconds to pull herself together, to ready herself to face the outside world. She had to move quick.

The soft thud of the doors signified the start of her race against time: her boots and jacket dropped to the ground as she fumbled with her bra, untwisting the band and wrapping it around her waist. She hooked the clasps behind her back: the first, the second, shit... it wasn't aligned properly. But she didn't have time to waste, the third clasp would just have to stay unhooked.

She pulled the fabric of her shirt from under the band and wriggled the bra up her torso, into place. She shivered as her fingertips glided over her still over-sensitised skin, the memories of Castle's hands roaming, learning, adoring her body still so clear in her mind.

God, it had been so perfect. Everything she had ever imagined it would be, and more. That is, until he hid her in his closet.

With a huff, she pulled her shirt back down to cover herself, ignoring the uncomfortable bunching of her bra straps by her armpits. Her jacket would cover the visible lumps in her shirt - looking presentable was the goal here.

She wasn't really mad at him, though. Sure, it wasn't his finest moment but what was the alternative? An awkward encounter with Martha... having to explain this before they really had the chance to figure out exactly what this is. She understood wanting to keep things just between them for a little while.

Still, she would hold it over him for while because she just knew she would very much enjoy his attempts to make it up to her...

She leant against the wall to keep herself balanced in the moving carriage as she put on her boots. They were still slightly damp from the rain last night and she groaned as she stuffed her foot in, felt her sock slowly absorb the residual moisture. To think that when she first woke up, still wrapped in Castle's arms, she thought this day would be perfect, that nothing could ruin her mood. Oh how quickly the day had gone downhill.

She pulled the second boot on with a grimace, the wet sock sticking uncomfortably as she wiggled her foot into place.

The memories of last night would keep her spirits high, though. Nothing could happen that would completely ruin the utter peace she felt, the lightness after finally letting go of her fears.

She had wanted him. And she had gotten him, and it had been everything she had fantasized about and so much more.

She could still feel the heat of his body against hers, the weight of him as she had fallen asleep curled into his side, and it made her pulse quicken even now in the elevator. She almost wanted to go back, to do it all over again, to bask in the aftermath of it all.

And Castle… Castle was Castle. His antics were… well, they were Castle. Always unpredictable, always in motion. The closet incident? It had been, admittedly, absurd, but that was just part of the package deal. She knew that. His inability to sit still in the face of anything serious—whether it was their relationship or, apparently, his attempt to hide a near-miss with his mother—was something she had learned to roll with.

But, God, it was complicated. All of it.

She took a slow breath, finally getting her jacket on and adjusting it so it fit properly over her shoulders. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she stared at her reflection in the elevator doors. She looked the same as always; strong, confident, capable. No one would ever guess what had happened in the night. But she could feel it in the way she stood, in the way her body hummed with the remnants of Castle’s touch.

The doors dinged again, announcing her arrival at the ground floor. The elevator slowed to a halt with a jarring clunk that made her jump slightly.

For a brief moment, she just stood there, staring at the doors.

No matter how much she tried to push it down, to ignore the feeling in her chest, there it was. The tension. The uncertainty. The excitement of what had happened, but also the fear of what it meant. What they meant.

The elevator doors slid open, and Kate stepped out, making her way toward the exit.

As the door swung open, and Kate stepped into the cool air of the city, she knew one thing for sure. Whatever came next, she wouldn’t be walking away from this. Not now. Not after last night.

ALMOST TOO CUTE Post-series

She smells coffee.

It isn't unusual, seeing as how her husband makes their coffee 99% of the time, but it's the first morning all week that there's been noise in the kitchen as well.

Rick's had early meetings with Black Pawn every day, discussing everything from the promotion schedule for his next book, to future projects.

As a result, she's been juggling getting their three kids to school - all of them cranky thanks to the days of pouring down rain and the stubborn tail-end of colds - with budget meetings and performance reviews, and she's exhausted.

She glances outside, surprised to see the blanket of white. She vaguely remembers hearing that the temperatures would drop overnight, potentially turning the rain into sleet or snow, but she didn't realize it had gotten that cold.

"School's delayed."

She turns in surprise, leans into the kiss that Rick presses to her cheek. "And you're home," she observes, taking the mug he offers. Looking down, she smiles at the foam elephant, almost too cute to drink.

His arm curls around her waist and he tugs her into his side. "Yep. I called Gina, told her to reschedule. I'll get the kids up, get them to school, and maybe, if you don't need to go in, we can have a few hours to ourselves," he adds, his voice deepening.

"After that experience, if I ever have to be hitched to someone, it would be you." "Hitched?" "Hitched? No, I didn’t say hitched. I said cuffed. Handcuffed, not hitched, the colloquial or any connotation or meaning." "It’s okay, Castle. I understood what you meant."

Grief is love’s echo, the hollow ache where someone you cherished once stood. It’s the longing for their laughter, their touch, the way they made the world feel brighter. It can be sharp, like shards of glass in your chest, or dull, like an endless weight pressing down.

But it’s also a teacher. It shows you how deeply you can love and how that love lingers, even when they’re gone. In time, the fog thins. You start to see the sun again, though its light will always feel a little different. Grief doesn’t vanish—it shifts. It becomes part of who you are, a quiet companion on the path forward. And though it hurts, it’s a reminder that they mattered, that they were real, and that your love for them will always endure.

Kate Beckett stared out the window of the loft, the city’s lights stretching endlessly into the night. A mug of coffee rested in her hands, long gone cold, but she didn’t move to reheat it. Instead, her gaze fell to the framed photograph on the mantle—the one of her mother, smiling wide and free, her hand resting on Kate’s shoulder.

Twelve years. It had been twelve years since she’d caught her mother’s killer. Twelve years since she’d thought her grief had finally settled, tucked away like a book on a high shelf. But grief, she’d learned, never truly left. It lingered, shifting its weight at the most unexpected times.

Now, with three sleeping children down the hall, it felt closer than ever. She thought about the way her daughter Lily’s laugh sometimes mirrored her mother’s, the way her boys had inherited her tenacity. That same fierceness lived in them, the determination to make things right, no matter the cost.

Grief wasn’t just love’s echo; it was a reminder of what she’d promised herself all those years ago: that she would carry her mother’s legacy forward. But being a mother herself? That was harder than she’d imagined. There were days she felt like she’d failed, days she worried her scars from the past were bleeding into her parenting.

“Mom?” Lily’s soft voice broke the quiet, pulling Kate back into the moment. She turned to see her oldest daughter standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Kate said, setting down the mug.

“What are you doing up?”

“I had a bad dream,” Lily admitted, stepping closer.

“Can I stay with you for a bit?”

Kate opened her arms, and Lily climbed into her lap, her warmth a grounding presence against the memories swirling in Kate’s mind. She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s hair.

“Of course you can,” Kate whispered, stroking Lily’s back. “I’ve got you.”

A REASON TO SURVIVE

A Still post-ep

She's so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that if it wasn't for Castle and the solid support of his arm around her waist, she may have just laid down in the elevator and fallen asleep right there.

Instead, she leans on him, lets him guide her into her apartment, vaguely registers him dropping her keys into the bowl by the door. She hadn't protested even a little bit when he'd taken the keys and opened the passenger door for her.

Fuck, she's tired.

He walks her to the couch, lowers her to it, and kneels in front of her. "What do you need?" he asks quietly, his hands rubbing the tops of her thighs.

Heat begins to simmer though her at his touch, but all the adrenaline that got her through the day is gone. She can't even think right now. "I don't know," she whispers, covering his hands with hers, stopping their slow journey over her jeans.

He slides his hands out from under hers, but doesn't go far, lifts her legs so he can undo her boots. "What did Gates say?"

She can only watch as he slides her boots from her feet, then peels off her socks, one-by-one. He stands and holds out his hands, and really, she shouldn't be surprised when he lifts her into his arms.

"To take tomorrow off," she murmurs, dropping her cheek to his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. she feels his steps stutter when her lips brush across his skin, but neither of them escalates.

He sets her onto her bed and ducks into the bathroom, and she hears the bathwater start running moments before he reappears. He pulls her into a standing position again, this time tugging at her shirt, slowly undressing her.

"You'll join me, right?"

He chuckles, the low rumble sending trembles through her body as he wraps his arms around her from behind. "Of course."

She doesn't know if it's the hot water or the man sitting at her back, but the bath works wonders, slowly relaxing her rigid muscles, her boyfriend's arms around her offering a place to call home.

Her eyes begin to flutter shut, but before sleep can pull her under she moves forward, Castle's protest dying when she turns and kneels in front of him. "Thank you," she whispers, lifting her hands from the water, pressing her wet palms to his cheeks.

He turns his head and smudges a kiss to her palm. "For what?"

"For staying. I wish you hadn't - stop." She covers his mouth with her hand when he starts to protest. "I'm still mad that you did, that you were willing to die, just like that. But you being there, staying, it..." She trails off, collecting her thoughts. "I resigned myself to my fate. You gave me a reason to keep fighting. To survive."

The warm glow of the Old Haunt’s dim lights cast a soft ambiance over the gang as they settled into their usual corner booth. Glasses clinked, laughter filled the air, and the occasional quiet murmur of other patrons blended in with the soft hum of background music. The night had been long, but the team was still buzzing from their latest case. Castle leaned back, savoring the moment, while Beckett stirred her drink thoughtfully.

Ryan, his ever-curious nature getting the best of him, turned to Espo with a grin. "You know, I’ve always thought undercover work was the best part of the job," he said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes twinkling. "The thrill of becoming someone else for a while, the danger, the adrenaline… What about you, Espo? You like it, right?"

Espo grinned, raising his beer in a mock salute. "Hell yeah, it’s the best. There's nothing like slipping into a whole new persona and messing with people’s heads. And the danger? Oh, definitely the best part."

Beckett, who had been quietly sipping her drink, couldn't help but roll her eyes slightly. "You guys are crazy. Undercover work isn’t all fun and games. It gets dirty. It’s unpredictable. And you never know if you’ll make it out unscathed."

"But you’ve done it, right?" Ryan asked, leaning across the table, eager to hear more. "What about you, Beckett? Any undercover gigs that stood out? The good ones, the ones you actually enjoyed?"

Beckett froze for just a moment, her fingers tightening around the glass before she put it down on the table. Her expression was unreadable as she turned to face Ryan and Espo, her lips curling into a tight smile.

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You think I have an undercover story I’ve never told you?"

Castle, who had been listening quietly, shot a quick glance at Beckett, his expression suddenly turning more serious. He had an instinctive feeling they were treading dangerously close to an area neither of them had spoken about since that fateful undercover case weeks ago.

Ryan was insistent, though, his curiosity piqued. "Oh, come on, Beckett. There’s gotta be at least one undercover mission that you actually liked. We all have our favorites. I mean, what’s the point of doing it if you don’t enjoy it a little?"

"I had this one case, with Detective Porter," Esposito told them all, eyes lighting up just at the mention of Porter's name. "We had this kiss and... let's just say, it was a little more than… professional."

The room went momentarily silent, the words hanging in the air. Ryan and Espo exchanged a grin.

Beckett’s eyes narrowed, her poker face in full force. She could feel Castle’s gaze burning into her from across the table, but she kept her focus on the two detectives. “Undercover work’s never about enjoying it, guys. It’s about getting the job done.”

Castle cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of the tension creeping into the conversation. "Yeah, sure. But there’s getting the job done... and then there’s getting the job done with flair, right?"

The hint of mischief in Castle’s voice was unmistakable, and though Beckett’s eyes darted to him for a split second, she quickly masked it.

“Flair?” Beckett asked coolly, her gaze now fixed on Castle. "Since when are you the expert on flair?"

Castle shrugged, giving her a playful grin, but there was something deeper in his eyes—a shared secret that neither could entirely mask.

Espo raised his glass, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between them. “Well, maybe we’ll just have to get you to share some of those undercover stories one of these days, Beckett. You know, the really good ones.”

Beckett didn’t respond immediately, but her lips quirked ever so slightly as she glanced back at Castle, the faintest of smiles playing on her face. "Maybe one day. But not tonight."

Ryan, still enthusiastic, grinned. "I’m still waiting for that undercover kiss story, though."

Castle almost choked on his drink. Beckett shot him a quick, unreadable look before turning back to the group, raising her glass and shifting the conversation.

"Alright, enough about my so-called undercover 'flair,'" she said with a forced laugh. "We’re not all as... experienced in that department as you two. How about we focus on something else tonight?"

Espo shrugged but let it go, clearly sensing that the topic had hit a nerve. But Ryan, always the eager one, was already steering the conversation to safer waters.

Castle leaned back in his seat, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. His mind, however, kept drifting back to that day in the field. The kiss with Beckett... one that was so unexpected, yet so deeply felt.

Beckett and Castle lingered behind, the conversation between them a little quieter now that the group’s chatter had faded into the background.

"Well," Castle said, his tone light but his eyes scanning Beckett's face with a hint of curiosity, "That was an interesting conversation. And you didn’t even tell them the juicy details."

Beckett smiled, though there was something guarded in her expression as she shrugged. "Some things are better left unsaid."

Castle raised an eyebrow, watching as the last of their friends exited. "Really? You sure about that?" He took a step closer, his voice lowering just a little. "Seems like there’s a lot of things you haven’t said lately."

Beckett’s gaze flickered to him, her heart skipping a beat at the subtle change in his tone. She shifted slightly, as if the weight of his words was suddenly too much to ignore. "Castle," she began, her voice slightly strained, "we’ve talked about this."

He leaned in a little, his eyes never leaving hers. "We’ve talked, but we haven’t really talked, have we?" he murmured. The playful edge in his voice was still there, but there was an undercurrent of something more serious now.

Beckett sighed, turning away from him for a moment, gathering her thoughts. The moment in the alley, the undercover case where they’d kissed—her pulse quickened at the memory. It hadn’t been part of the plan, but it had felt so real, so right. And now, weeks later, they were both walking around it, pretending it hadn't changed anything.

"I thought we agreed that it was just part of the job," she said, her voice steady but her hands fidgeting with the hem of her jacket. "That’s what undercover work is, Castle. It’s not about... anything else."

Castle took a small step forward, the space between them closing. "Maybe that’s true... for most people," he said softly. "But I’ve never been most people, Kate."

Beckett’s heart skipped again. She wanted to look away, to pretend like she wasn’t affected by his words, but she couldn’t. Not now.

"Castle, this... we... it’s complicated," she said, her voice softer, more vulnerable than she intended. "What happened was... unexpected. And I don’t know if I’m ready to-"

Castle reached out, gently cupping her cheek, silencing her with the touch. His thumb brushed over her skin, sending a shiver through her.

"Kate, I’m not asking for answers," he said, his voice low and earnest. "I’m not asking you to have it all figured out. I just..." He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. "I just want to be honest. About how I feel. About us."

Her breath caught, and for a long moment, neither of them moved, the silence thick with unspoken things. Then, Castle leaned in again, this time capturing her lips with his. It was slow at first—hesitant, like they were both testing the waters—but then the world seemed to fall away. All the uncertainty, the tension, the distance they’d put between them, disappeared in that one kiss.

Beckett’s hand slid up to rest on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt as she kissed him back. She could feel his pulse racing beneath her fingertips, matching her own. Everything she had been holding inside, all the things she hadn’t been able to say, seemed to dissolve in the heat of the moment.

Just as things were beginning to deepen, a voice broke through the quiet air, slicing the moment like a knife.

"Hey, I forgot my phone."

Beckett’s eyes flew open as they broke the kiss. Castle stepped back, looking equally startled, as Jenny’s head popped around the corner of the door, her expression one of complete shock.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene—the way Beckett and Castle were standing so close, the unmistakable flush of their faces, and, of course, the kiss still lingering in the air between them.

"Oh my God," Jenny gasped, her voice rising with a mix of surprise and disbelief. She stood frozen for a moment, her hand still on the doorknob, as her brain processed what she had just walked in on. "Am I interrupting something? You two—what—what the hell is going on here?"

Beckett quickly pulled back from Castle, the heat of the moment fading as she flushed even deeper. She shot Castle an almost frantic look, as if to say what now?

Castle, clearly caught off guard, awkwardly cleared his throat and tried to regain some composure. "Uh... just... you know... finishing up some business."

Jenny blinked, still staring at the two of them with wide eyes, clearly flabbergasted. "Business? Business?" she echoed, shaking her head in disbelief. "It looks like more than just business."

Beckett's lips parted as she scrambled for something to say, but Jenny cut her off with a knowing smile, one eyebrow arched.

"Okay, okay. I get it. You two are... finally—" she waved a hand, trying to find the right words. "I mean, I always thought there was something there, but wow... I did not expect to walk in on that."

Castle rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, and Beckett, still mortified, could barely meet Jenny's gaze. "Jenny," Beckett said, half-laughing, half-sighing, but before she could ask for a moment, Jenny gasped.

"Oh my god! Does Kevin know?"

"No!" Beckett and Castle exclaimed in unison, fear filling them entirely.

Jenny smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay, I can keep a secret." She glanced at them one last time, her expression a mix of surprise and teasing, "But, eventually, I want all the details. And trust me, I’m not letting this go."

Before Beckett could respond, Jenny was already heading toward the bar, leaving them in a stunned silence.

Castle let out a quiet laugh, looking back at Beckett, still flushed and flustered. "Well... that was... unexpected."

Beckett, her pulse still racing from the kiss and Jenny’s abrupt arrival, exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. "Yeah, you can say that again."

They shared a brief, lingering look, and for a moment, neither of them seemed quite sure how to move forward, but the tension between them was unmistakable.

Finally, Beckett reached up and gently touched his cheek. "One step at a time," she whispered, her voice still a little shaky but more resolute than before.

Castle nodded, his grin widening. "One step at a time."