Withholding, for idontlikegravy
Title: Withholding
Written for: idontlikegravy
Author: The Detective Watcher
Fandom: Highlander/Castle
Pairing/Characters: Methos, Castle, Beckett, Esposito, Ryan
Rating: PG
Notes: So, this is actually my first attempt at trying to capture Castle in fic... Thanks to kristories for holding my hand through my first attempt at ever writing in the Castle fandom. And thanks to csi_chic_jayme and nufaciel for the ultra quick betas and sly_fuck for being awesome :) I hope you enjoy it! Happy Holidays :D
Summary: Methos probably should have gone back to Paris...
~*~
Methos inwardly rolled his eyes as he fidgeted as naturally as possible, knowing that someone could be watching through the mirror. Maybe New York wasn’t the best place to get another degree and set up another life. Sighing softly, he considered the logistics of heading back to Paris. Or maybe London.
The door opened to allow a woman and man to enter. “Mr Pierson, I’m Detective Beckett and this is Richard Castle.” The tall man waved from behind her back and offered a charming smile.
“Yes, nice to meet you both. Why was I brought down here?” Methos asked, keeping the polite annoyance in his tone. “I told the other detectives all that I knew.”
“We just wanted to clarify a few things,” Beckett answered swiftly, offering a smile that looked genuine until you caught her eyes. They were flat and assessing, taking in every detail of his movements and expressions. Methos would have smiled wryly if he hadn’t known it would be suspicious.
“Alright... What can I help you with?”
“You came to New York when?”
Sighing heavily, he answered the questions he knew were coming all at once. “In August. I was offered a position at NYU so that I could pursue a second doctorate while working on my research. The university helped me find suitable lodgings which is how I ended up living next to Mr Donald.”
“And you never spoke to your neighbor? Not even to offer a cup of sugar or maybe some alcohol?” Castle chimed in, eyebrow raised theatrically.
Methos chuckled as he answered, “You Americans are so obsessed with your neighbors. I introduced myself when I saw him in the hall, and greeted him as I saw him. I didn’t go out of my way to get to know the man. And he wasn’t particularly interested in me either.”
“Did you notice anything strange lately? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“He was receiving quite a few packages by delivery, but other than that, no.” Methos shrugged, hoping to appear every bit the mild mannered doctorate student. He just considered himself lucky that they caught him when he’d already disarmed himself at home. Hopefully, he wouldn’t run into any head hunters on the way home.
“Do you know what the packages were for?” Castle asked, leaning forward. “Did you happen to see anything on them that would help us?”
“As I said to the other detectives, I didn’t notice. They were plain brown boxes and I didn’t stop to snoop about addresses. Sorry that I’m not more help.” He was firm in his tone, letting his own irritation show through as he asked, “May I go now?”
“C’mon, you don’t have any idea why the man would be beheaded?” the author wheedled.
“I’m sure it was some kind of roving band of pirates, Mr Castle,” Methos answered drily, surprised enough that he didn’t hold back the bite in his tone. His neighbor had been killed - beheaded. That was alarming. Perhaps he should retreat out of the country for a while, disappear again.
“Huh.” Castle tilted his head in consideration.
Beckett was barely able to contain her exasperation at her partner. “Are you sure that’s all?” She waited, cataloging what expressions she could from the other man, but he was surprisingly contained and oddly correct in his mannerisms. Something didn’t smell right - he wasn’t at all surprised or shocked by anything they told him. It was disconcerting. When he shrugged in answer, she ordered him to stay put as she hauled Castle into the hall.
Of course it took less than five seconds for the author to turn on her with words that made her roll her eyes. “Well, you know, Beckett, I know this bar...”
“No.”
“It’s a pirate bar! They’d know things, I swear. If someone is running around with swords they’d be the ones to ask. Especially if it’s a roving band of pirates!”
“A pirate bar, huh?” Ryan asked from behind Beckett. “There’s really such a place?”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t be yanking our chain, Castle, would you?” Esposito chimed in.
“Nah, never - would I mislead the team?”
Beckett snorted and shook her head as she strode back to the murder board.
“Of course not - I mean, roving bands of pirates in New York. That’s totally normal.”
“I don’t know, man, that’s a little thin,” Esposito stated, his mouth quirked up in amusement.
“Well, maybe Mr Donald was currying favor with gifts in those mysterious packages to join the band of pirates, but one of them didn’t take kindly to the idea and decided to go old school on his ass,” Richard posited, smirking as he saw his partner’s irritation rise. “Or maybe he failed a test to get in, and his head was the price of repayment. You never know. Oooooh, maybe he tried to steal the head pirate’s girl - there’s a motive for you.”
“Castle. Enough. There’s no way a band of pirates did this.”
“Then how do you explain a sword being used to behead him?”
“Maybe it’s a fencer.”
“Fencing doesn’t teach you how to behead someone, Beckett.”
“Even so, Ryan, Esposito - check out the fencing clubs near the victim. See if they have any ideas or if they knew our victim. Castle and I will run down the weapon.”
“I know where I can get information about swords!” The author practically bounced up from his customary seat.
“We’re not going to a pirate bar,” Kate stated firmly, shaking her head.
“Fine, but I happen to know New York’s premier expert on swords and sword making...” Richard trailed off as he followed the detective to the elevators.
“Let me guess.”
“She works at the bar!” His smile was dazzling and as irritating as ever. She stabbed at the elevator button in lieu of smiling.
~*~
“Are you kidding me?” Beckett asked, knowing she wouldn’t be heard over the pounding music. It wasn’t even seven and this pirate bar was already packed and the amount of people wandering around in corsets and doublets astounded her.
“Isn’t it great?” Castle asked with glee, eyes bouncing from figure to figure. “Grace should be here... somewhere. We should check with the bartender.” And before the detective could say anything, Castle had bounded into the fray of bodies, leaving his partner to catch up.
She followed, as she normally did, irritation gathering as he detoured toward one of the ladies in corsets. “Castle, I thought we were going to find your friend.”
“I already did, Beckett. Dr Grace Stanley, meet Detective Kate Beckett, my escort for the evening.” Castle’s benevolent gestures were ignored as Kate offered her hand to the supposed expert.
“Lovely to meet you. Richard says that you need a sword expert - I’m your girl.” Grace grinned wryly, tilting her head at the detective’s assessment. “How can I help you?”
“Is there someplace quieter we can talk?”
“Of course, follow me.”
The back room was slightly disturbing - the number of weapons mounted on the wall made Beckett a bit twitchy. Although it did reassure her that at the very least, Dr Stanley was a collector. She allowed Castle to start, listening to him ramble about details of the case, pulling out photos of the body to show the tool marks. The detective watched how the expert absorbed all of this, nodding and asking relevant questions, eyes curious and searching over the photographs.
“Well, it wasn’t a sword. I’m sure your ME could probably confirm with some comparison wounds. It was done with an axe. A very sharp axe, thankfully. But I’m not really sure what else I can offer you. Given the metal trace your lab picked up, you know it was antique. Really - not many people collect these things. They’re too expensive. I can give you a list of dealers who might know what exactly you’re looking for. But a fifteenth century weapon in good enough condition to do this is hard to come by. They’ll be able to narrow it down.”
The information lightened Beckett’s step as they left, names and numbers in their pockets for tomorrow. Of course, this meant they needed to let Pierson out for the night. They hadn’t found anything to implicate him and they’d failed to get the search warrant for his apartment. It didn’t sit right, but she called Esposito and Ryan and told them to cut the doctor loose. They had other leads to track down.
~*~
Methos sighed in relief as he gathered his coat and headed back to his apartment. The two detectives had eyed him suspiciously, but he knew they had no choice - there was no evidence against him. And as long as they didn’t see his weapons collection in the house he had bought under another name in New York, they wouldn’t have any reason to really suspect him. Good cops just had too good a nose for pieces that don’t quite fit, and unfortunately it appeared that his neighbor’s case had been pulled by very good cops. And a talented writer, which he still didn’t quite understand.
Thankfully, there weren’t any incidents on his way back to his apartment. His shoulders finally relaxed when his guns and sword were finally within reach. He felt naked without his weapons - unprepared and vulnerable. Snagging a beer, he collapsed onto his couch with his phone, dialing a familiar number.
“Yeah?”
“Joe! How’s it going following MacLeod around?” Methos felt a genuine smile on his face as his friend grumbled about the trials of trying to keep up with the interminable boyscout.
The Watcher paused for a moment before asking, “Not that I don’t appreciate the sympathetic ear, old man, but... why are you calling?”
“Joe, I’m hurt - I have to have a reason now other than checking up on my friends?”
Joe’s familiar snort of disbelief almost made Methos homesick. “Umm. Ok, I’ll just let that one go. But really, why did you call?”
“Just wanted to let you know that the fine men and women in blue have allowed me to go home to my apartment. I’m no longer a suspect in a murder!” The sound of whiskey being sputtered forcefully caused the ancient Immortal to bite his lip to hold back his amusement.
“What?! Why were you a suspect in the first place?”
“Oh, well... I guess I can tell you. If you think you have time...” Methos laughed softly at his friend’s expletives and thoroughly enjoyed an evening of exasperating his fellow Watcher.
~*~
“Uh. Is that a sword?”
Methos sighed, eyes closing as he asked for patience, hoping that the voice didn’t belong to who he knew it would belong to. Turning, he stared at the man who had been following him. “Mr Castle. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, I was just in the neighborhood, scouting for a good English pub for a novel,” the author blustered, waving for another refill from the waitress as he sat down across from the Immortal. “And then I saw you. And... is that a sword?”
“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Methos prevaricated, shifting so that his trenchcoat naturally fell more comfortably on top of his short sword. He didn’t really think that any part of it had been visible from the sheath inside his coat, but he wanted to be safe.
“What? I mean, no... I mean, I saw it!”
“No, I don’t think you did, Mr Castle.”
“Yes, I did!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Did too!”
“Were you following me?”
“Yes! No! I mean...” Richard looked up from beneath his lashes. “I’m doing research.”
“On pubs,” Methos provided flatly, smirking inwardly.
“Yes! On pubs - and this pub is just the type of...establishment. It’s not my fault you flashed your sword as you sat down!”
Methos’ eyebrow rose at the choice of words, his lip twitching as the mystery author sputtered and slowly turned pink with embarrassment.
“Let me buy you a drink, Mr Castle. And maybe I can help you with that research.”
“But -”
“Did you, or did you not catch the perpetrator of Mr Donald’s murder?”
“Of course we did!”
“Well, then, you have nothing to worry about, do you?” Methos held those bright, inquisitive eyes steadily as he took another pull on his beer.
“We’ll see, Dr Pierson.”
The guessing post for this fic is here.
Written for: idontlikegravy
Author: The Detective Watcher
Fandom: Highlander/Castle
Pairing/Characters: Methos, Castle, Beckett, Esposito, Ryan
Rating: PG
Notes: So, this is actually my first attempt at trying to capture Castle in fic... Thanks to kristories for holding my hand through my first attempt at ever writing in the Castle fandom. And thanks to csi_chic_jayme and nufaciel for the ultra quick betas and sly_fuck for being awesome :) I hope you enjoy it! Happy Holidays :D
Summary: Methos probably should have gone back to Paris...
~*~
Methos inwardly rolled his eyes as he fidgeted as naturally as possible, knowing that someone could be watching through the mirror. Maybe New York wasn’t the best place to get another degree and set up another life. Sighing softly, he considered the logistics of heading back to Paris. Or maybe London.
The door opened to allow a woman and man to enter. “Mr Pierson, I’m Detective Beckett and this is Richard Castle.” The tall man waved from behind her back and offered a charming smile.
“Yes, nice to meet you both. Why was I brought down here?” Methos asked, keeping the polite annoyance in his tone. “I told the other detectives all that I knew.”
“We just wanted to clarify a few things,” Beckett answered swiftly, offering a smile that looked genuine until you caught her eyes. They were flat and assessing, taking in every detail of his movements and expressions. Methos would have smiled wryly if he hadn’t known it would be suspicious.
“Alright... What can I help you with?”
“You came to New York when?”
Sighing heavily, he answered the questions he knew were coming all at once. “In August. I was offered a position at NYU so that I could pursue a second doctorate while working on my research. The university helped me find suitable lodgings which is how I ended up living next to Mr Donald.”
“And you never spoke to your neighbor? Not even to offer a cup of sugar or maybe some alcohol?” Castle chimed in, eyebrow raised theatrically.
Methos chuckled as he answered, “You Americans are so obsessed with your neighbors. I introduced myself when I saw him in the hall, and greeted him as I saw him. I didn’t go out of my way to get to know the man. And he wasn’t particularly interested in me either.”
“Did you notice anything strange lately? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“He was receiving quite a few packages by delivery, but other than that, no.” Methos shrugged, hoping to appear every bit the mild mannered doctorate student. He just considered himself lucky that they caught him when he’d already disarmed himself at home. Hopefully, he wouldn’t run into any head hunters on the way home.
“Do you know what the packages were for?” Castle asked, leaning forward. “Did you happen to see anything on them that would help us?”
“As I said to the other detectives, I didn’t notice. They were plain brown boxes and I didn’t stop to snoop about addresses. Sorry that I’m not more help.” He was firm in his tone, letting his own irritation show through as he asked, “May I go now?”
“C’mon, you don’t have any idea why the man would be beheaded?” the author wheedled.
“I’m sure it was some kind of roving band of pirates, Mr Castle,” Methos answered drily, surprised enough that he didn’t hold back the bite in his tone. His neighbor had been killed - beheaded. That was alarming. Perhaps he should retreat out of the country for a while, disappear again.
“Huh.” Castle tilted his head in consideration.
Beckett was barely able to contain her exasperation at her partner. “Are you sure that’s all?” She waited, cataloging what expressions she could from the other man, but he was surprisingly contained and oddly correct in his mannerisms. Something didn’t smell right - he wasn’t at all surprised or shocked by anything they told him. It was disconcerting. When he shrugged in answer, she ordered him to stay put as she hauled Castle into the hall.
Of course it took less than five seconds for the author to turn on her with words that made her roll her eyes. “Well, you know, Beckett, I know this bar...”
“No.”
“It’s a pirate bar! They’d know things, I swear. If someone is running around with swords they’d be the ones to ask. Especially if it’s a roving band of pirates!”
“A pirate bar, huh?” Ryan asked from behind Beckett. “There’s really such a place?”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t be yanking our chain, Castle, would you?” Esposito chimed in.
“Nah, never - would I mislead the team?”
Beckett snorted and shook her head as she strode back to the murder board.
“Of course not - I mean, roving bands of pirates in New York. That’s totally normal.”
“I don’t know, man, that’s a little thin,” Esposito stated, his mouth quirked up in amusement.
“Well, maybe Mr Donald was currying favor with gifts in those mysterious packages to join the band of pirates, but one of them didn’t take kindly to the idea and decided to go old school on his ass,” Richard posited, smirking as he saw his partner’s irritation rise. “Or maybe he failed a test to get in, and his head was the price of repayment. You never know. Oooooh, maybe he tried to steal the head pirate’s girl - there’s a motive for you.”
“Castle. Enough. There’s no way a band of pirates did this.”
“Then how do you explain a sword being used to behead him?”
“Maybe it’s a fencer.”
“Fencing doesn’t teach you how to behead someone, Beckett.”
“Even so, Ryan, Esposito - check out the fencing clubs near the victim. See if they have any ideas or if they knew our victim. Castle and I will run down the weapon.”
“I know where I can get information about swords!” The author practically bounced up from his customary seat.
“We’re not going to a pirate bar,” Kate stated firmly, shaking her head.
“Fine, but I happen to know New York’s premier expert on swords and sword making...” Richard trailed off as he followed the detective to the elevators.
“Let me guess.”
“She works at the bar!” His smile was dazzling and as irritating as ever. She stabbed at the elevator button in lieu of smiling.
~*~
“Are you kidding me?” Beckett asked, knowing she wouldn’t be heard over the pounding music. It wasn’t even seven and this pirate bar was already packed and the amount of people wandering around in corsets and doublets astounded her.
“Isn’t it great?” Castle asked with glee, eyes bouncing from figure to figure. “Grace should be here... somewhere. We should check with the bartender.” And before the detective could say anything, Castle had bounded into the fray of bodies, leaving his partner to catch up.
She followed, as she normally did, irritation gathering as he detoured toward one of the ladies in corsets. “Castle, I thought we were going to find your friend.”
“I already did, Beckett. Dr Grace Stanley, meet Detective Kate Beckett, my escort for the evening.” Castle’s benevolent gestures were ignored as Kate offered her hand to the supposed expert.
“Lovely to meet you. Richard says that you need a sword expert - I’m your girl.” Grace grinned wryly, tilting her head at the detective’s assessment. “How can I help you?”
“Is there someplace quieter we can talk?”
“Of course, follow me.”
The back room was slightly disturbing - the number of weapons mounted on the wall made Beckett a bit twitchy. Although it did reassure her that at the very least, Dr Stanley was a collector. She allowed Castle to start, listening to him ramble about details of the case, pulling out photos of the body to show the tool marks. The detective watched how the expert absorbed all of this, nodding and asking relevant questions, eyes curious and searching over the photographs.
“Well, it wasn’t a sword. I’m sure your ME could probably confirm with some comparison wounds. It was done with an axe. A very sharp axe, thankfully. But I’m not really sure what else I can offer you. Given the metal trace your lab picked up, you know it was antique. Really - not many people collect these things. They’re too expensive. I can give you a list of dealers who might know what exactly you’re looking for. But a fifteenth century weapon in good enough condition to do this is hard to come by. They’ll be able to narrow it down.”
The information lightened Beckett’s step as they left, names and numbers in their pockets for tomorrow. Of course, this meant they needed to let Pierson out for the night. They hadn’t found anything to implicate him and they’d failed to get the search warrant for his apartment. It didn’t sit right, but she called Esposito and Ryan and told them to cut the doctor loose. They had other leads to track down.
~*~
Methos sighed in relief as he gathered his coat and headed back to his apartment. The two detectives had eyed him suspiciously, but he knew they had no choice - there was no evidence against him. And as long as they didn’t see his weapons collection in the house he had bought under another name in New York, they wouldn’t have any reason to really suspect him. Good cops just had too good a nose for pieces that don’t quite fit, and unfortunately it appeared that his neighbor’s case had been pulled by very good cops. And a talented writer, which he still didn’t quite understand.
Thankfully, there weren’t any incidents on his way back to his apartment. His shoulders finally relaxed when his guns and sword were finally within reach. He felt naked without his weapons - unprepared and vulnerable. Snagging a beer, he collapsed onto his couch with his phone, dialing a familiar number.
“Yeah?”
“Joe! How’s it going following MacLeod around?” Methos felt a genuine smile on his face as his friend grumbled about the trials of trying to keep up with the interminable boyscout.
The Watcher paused for a moment before asking, “Not that I don’t appreciate the sympathetic ear, old man, but... why are you calling?”
“Joe, I’m hurt - I have to have a reason now other than checking up on my friends?”
Joe’s familiar snort of disbelief almost made Methos homesick. “Umm. Ok, I’ll just let that one go. But really, why did you call?”
“Just wanted to let you know that the fine men and women in blue have allowed me to go home to my apartment. I’m no longer a suspect in a murder!” The sound of whiskey being sputtered forcefully caused the ancient Immortal to bite his lip to hold back his amusement.
“What?! Why were you a suspect in the first place?”
“Oh, well... I guess I can tell you. If you think you have time...” Methos laughed softly at his friend’s expletives and thoroughly enjoyed an evening of exasperating his fellow Watcher.
~*~
“Uh. Is that a sword?”
Methos sighed, eyes closing as he asked for patience, hoping that the voice didn’t belong to who he knew it would belong to. Turning, he stared at the man who had been following him. “Mr Castle. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, I was just in the neighborhood, scouting for a good English pub for a novel,” the author blustered, waving for another refill from the waitress as he sat down across from the Immortal. “And then I saw you. And... is that a sword?”
“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Methos prevaricated, shifting so that his trenchcoat naturally fell more comfortably on top of his short sword. He didn’t really think that any part of it had been visible from the sheath inside his coat, but he wanted to be safe.
“What? I mean, no... I mean, I saw it!”
“No, I don’t think you did, Mr Castle.”
“Yes, I did!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Did too!”
“Were you following me?”
“Yes! No! I mean...” Richard looked up from beneath his lashes. “I’m doing research.”
“On pubs,” Methos provided flatly, smirking inwardly.
“Yes! On pubs - and this pub is just the type of...establishment. It’s not my fault you flashed your sword as you sat down!”
Methos’ eyebrow rose at the choice of words, his lip twitching as the mystery author sputtered and slowly turned pink with embarrassment.
“Let me buy you a drink, Mr Castle. And maybe I can help you with that research.”
“But -”
“Did you, or did you not catch the perpetrator of Mr Donald’s murder?”
“Of course we did!”
“Well, then, you have nothing to worry about, do you?” Methos held those bright, inquisitive eyes steadily as he took another pull on his beer.
“We’ll see, Dr Pierson.”
The guessing post for this fic is here.