Two by Two: A One is One Sequel (Episode insert for Tick, Tick, Tick, 2 x 17, AU from there)
Title: Two by Two: A One is One Sequel
WC: ~2700
Rating: T
Summary: "It's more anyway. More than just a guy thing. She's Beckett. She's family, and there's nowhere for this to go. There's nothing for how bad this all is. So they joke. They laugh, because what else can they do?" A follow-up to One is One, my episode insert for Tick, Tick, Tick (2 x 17). AUish from there.
A/N: This is actually where One is One started. This will be at least two chapters, possibly three.
It's bad.
The first few minutes are really bad. Right after Castle calls, there are casualties. Esposito's mug doesn't make it. He slams it down on the desk hard enough to break off at the handle. Hard enough to send a crack zig-zagging all along the bottom.
And the Captain. That's bad, too.
They're already throwing on their jackets. They're halfway to the elevator when he tears his door open. The blinds rattle and worse. Casualties there, too. Something topples and smashes into a thousand pieces, but Montgomery ignores it. He sticks his head out the door and the three of them stare at each other for a silent moment. It's bad.
Montgomery barks at them. "Go!"
They go.
The siren screams and Javier pushes the cruiser hard. He jerks the wheel and cuts in and out of lanes like it might help. Maybe it does help him. Maybe it's how he copes. Ryan just feels coffee and cold cereal creeping back up his throat.
They joke all the way over to Beckett's. In between Grand Theft Auto driving maneuvers, they joke. About the strange habits of Beckett groupies. About what happens when you don't tip the paper boy. About why, exactly, Castle is calling from Beckett's place at the crack of dawn.
They keep it up until Esposito's pulling in at the curb. It's what they do. It's how they cope when it's bad.
And this is bad.
There's a body on her doorstep, and that's anything but funny. Some psycho made it all the way to Beckett's doorstep, and that's not supposed to happen. Not to any of them. The bad guys aren't supposed to get that close.
Plus . . . it's Beckett.
She's a cop. Probably the best of the three of them. Definitely the best cop he's ever known, and posturing aside, he knows Esposito would say the same. Montgomery would, too.
She's a damned good cop and she's their boss, but she's Beckett, and yeah, there's a little bit of a guy thing that neither of them knows what to do with, other than stuff it down. Because she will kill them if anything like that makes it out of their mouths. She will kill them without breaking stride if she catches a whiff of anything like that.
It's more anyway. More than just a guy thing. She's Beckett. She's family, and there's nowhere for this to go. There's nothing for how bad this all is.
So they joke. They laugh, because what else can they do?
They stop on either side of the body. The place is already crawling with FBI and CSU and uniforms are crowded into the narrow hallway, keeping the neighbors at bay.
They're in the way, but they stop. The vic is young. It doesn't matter, but it does. She's sprawled on her back in bright, pretty clothes, and it matters. It matters, and all of a sudden it's bad again. As bad as it was in those first few minutes.
Ryan nudges Esposito's elbow. It takes a second. It takes more than a second, but he snaps out of it. His fists clench once and his jaw twitches, but he's rolling his neck then. He's jerking his head to the left and giving Ryan the nod.
Castle's there. They knew that. He's the one who called in the first place. The one who lobbed the first joke and let them know she was ok. They knew he was there, but still.
It's good to know. It's good to see him there, trying to follow everyone at once. It's normal. The way he's underfoot. The wayhis head swivels around after the CSU guys and he's peering over FBI shoulders in case there are any cool new toys he should know about.
He was there. He's the one who opened the door, and thank God for that. It's Ryan's first thought and he sees the same on his partner's face. Thank God. At least she wasn't alone.
Whatever the guy had planned. Even if he never had anything more in mind than dumping the body. Even if she's the cop and Castle . . . isn't. Even if he'd have been one more thing to think about if the guy had gone after Beckett . . . Whether it's a guy thing or a cop thing or a family thing, it's good to know she wasn't alone.
Plus, Castle's there.
That's sinking in now. He's been there. At her apartment. He's been at Beckett's apartment all night and he's not bleeding from anywhere obvious.
That's funny.
Esposito gives Ryan a sidelong glance. He runs a hand over the top of his head and shifts his eyes in Castle's direction. Ryan stifles a laugh.
Castle's been there, all right. His hair is plastered over his forehead and shooting up in back. His shirt is untucked and his jaw is dark with stubble in patches. It's appalling. It's funny.
Ryan takes in what feels like his first deep breath all morning and Esposito's shoulders loosen. Morning-after Castle is definitely funny. The two of them spending the night together? That's hilarious.
This is bad. It's still bad, but they might just make it through this.
He takes Beckett, Esposito takes Castle. It makes sense. Beckett's less likely to be looking for the big brother routine from Ryan, and Esposito makes Castle a little jumpy at the best of times. That's always funny.
So they'll joke. All of them. They'll get statements and play it for laughs. They won't say a thing about how bad this is.
He and Esposito nod to a pair of stone-faced FBI drones. They head in opposite directions. To the far ends of the apartment. Something nags at Ryan. He stops halfway to the kitchen.
Beckett's leaning on the corner of the kitchen table. She has one fist planted at her hip and her other arm drawn over her middle. She's alert. She's taking in the scene and staying out of the way. She's being a good cop. A good witness, though it has to be killing her. To be waiting, not doing.
She's hanging back, but she's holding on, too. Her knuckles are white over the edge of the table and he has the sudden sense that she'd like to hide. That she's having trouble staying put.
That stops him. It's bad. This whole scene is bad, but he's not ready for her to realize it. It never occurred to either of them that Beckett would know how bad this is.
They're three bodies into this case, and of course she knows it's bad, but a body on her doorstep? The fact that this psycho made it that close to her? There's no way that even registers with her.
That's what makes it worse. The fact that she won't even get what that does to them. Because it's a guy thing, and she's family, and they all know that she'll just take this in stride. Like of course someone's dedicating murders to her. Of course some psycho thinks it's a big game and of course he'd leave a body on her doorstep and what's the big deal?
But the way she's clinging to the table-the way she's holding herself up-it looks like she thinks it's a big deal. It looks like she's ready to run. Like maybe she knows how bad it is, and Ryan isn't ready for that at all.
He steps into the kitchen anyway. He has to be ready, whether he feels like he is or not.
He plasters a smile on his face. He licks his finger and makes a production out of turning to a fresh page in his notebook.
"So, you'd just gotten up, right?"
There's a little bit of a leer underneath. A jibe that rings a little hollow, because he's not ready for the white knuckles and the way she looks like she might fold in half any second.
"Yeah," she says absently. She glances over her shoulder to the stack of pancakes growing cold on the stove and swallows hard. "Castle just finished making breakfast and he went to the door -"
"What kind of breakfast?"
He cuts in sharply. It pulls her attention away from the door. Away from the body and the far end of the apartment. It pulls her attention back to him and his notebook, but the worry is still there. She blinks and apologizes before she can think better of it.
"Uh . . . I'm sorry?"
She apologizes. She's missing the joke. The way he's needling her. It's like she knows it's bad and she's forgotten that this is how they do this.
"What kind of breakfast was he making?"
He tries again. He pushes harder than he usually would. A little more Esposito than him, but she's weirding him out.
"Pancakes."
"Well." He smirks. "Isn't that domestic." He smirks, but he thinks about flinching, too. He thinks about diving under the table, because there's no way she can miss that.
She doesn't miss it. Her eyes narrow and she snaps back into herself.
"Anyway . . . " She leans heavy on the word. She gets what they're doing here. What he's doing and what she's supposed to be doing. "The paper usually arrives at 4:00, and we were up at 7:00. So that means the killer had a 3-hour window where he could have left the body there unnoticed."
It's a relief. The way she's laying out the timeline. The way the worry fades out from underneath her words. Most of it does, anyway. She's cool and brisk and it's a relief. She's Beckett again and this is what he was expecting.
He's giddy with it. Because this is how they do this. He pushes one more time because it's normal. He's a big fan of normal.
"And exactly what time did you and Mr. Castle go to bed last night?"
It's a second. It's not even a second. It's less than an heartbeat, but her eyes dilate and there's a flush of pink on each cheek bone. The worry is back. Just in that instant she knows it's bad, but it's not about her. Castle was here. Castle.
It's not even a second, but it's all there. More than he understands.
"I think we're done here," she says and it's one hundred percent Beckett.
It's normal. It's what he would have expected. But he can't forget that second.
Not even a second, but he can't forget.
Esposito's having an easier time of it. Ryan thinks so at first, anyway, and it's a relief. It makes sense.
Castle's an easier target. Esposito stalks around behind him and Castle twists in place. He flinches as Esposito's radio antenna chimes against the wine glass. He squirms and it's funny. Like it's supposed to be.
It's kind of funny, but there's something not quite right.
Castle's an easy target, but it's weird. He's being weird. He knows how bad this is. It right there. Hardly beneath the surface at all. How much it freaks him out that there's a body on Beckett's doorstep. That there was a body-toting psycho on her doorstep in the middle of the night.
Castle knows it's bad. It was there on the phone. Tight, brisk phrases. All nervous facts-every single thing he could remember-and then one stupid joke, because that's how they do this.
Ryan hangs back and waits for that now. He waits for the joke, even though Castle's freaking out, because they all are, and that's how they do this.
But it doesn't come. Castle's not joking. Not at all. He's not leering about Beckett in her jammies. Esposito says the word and his head twitches toward the kitchen. He's looking for her. He has to look for her, and that's weird, too.
Castle hovers. Freaked out Castle definitely hovers. Especially around Beckett.
But he's not now.
He's not joking and he's not hovering. He's not sidling up to her and getting underfoot. He's not swaggering or telling anyone who'll listen that he's the one who found the body. He's not puffing up his chest to say it's a good thing he was there.
He plants his feet and denies everything.
Almost everything.
"There's nothing going on between Beckett and me." There's a pause. Not even a second. His voice rises and his shoulders climb, but it's not even a second. "No more than there was yesterday."
"Dude, you made her pancakes?" Ryan barely recognizes his own voice. He hardly understands his own words.
"It's just breakfast," Castle says flatly, and that's not him. This is not how they do this at all.
Realization crowds in on Ryan's mind. It's a lie. Not the pancakes. Although the pancakes, too, because they're not just breakfast.
But the pause is a lie. Two pauses. Not even a second when he adds them together, but enough. Too much and he can't un-know it. He can't un-realize.
Esposito doesn't know. He doesn't realize anything at all. He didn't hear the pause or see Beckett's white knuckles and Ryan can't fault him for that. But how can he not notice? How can it not strike him as the strangest thing in the world that Castle isn't playing this whole thing for laughs?
But Ryan is alone. Esposito doesn't notice. He just goes on.
"Pancakes is not just breakfast. It's an edible way of saying, 'Thank you so much for last night'."
"Castle, come on." Ryan hears himself say it. He hears himself playing along. Following Esposito's lead and trying to get this whole thing back on track, because it was supposed to be a joke. "We're your friends. Details."
Castle's face goes hard then. There's another second-another not even a second-and Ryan suddenly wonders what it's like to be him. What it's really like to live life in public like he does. He wonders what it's going to be like for Beckett and he can't un-wonder.
Ryan looks away. He wants to look away.
"All right, come here," Castle says, and it's over.
The hardness is gone, just like that. Castle's looping one arm around each of them. He's looking around. Swaggering and playing at normal. Playing at how it's supposed to go.
"There are no details." He shouts in their ears and pushes away.
Esposito shakes his head in disgust. He makes some crack that Ryan doesn't really hear. He doesn't hear, but says something, anyway, because he has to. Because he's supposed to.
Castle is hovering now. Beckett and Agent Shaw are crouched over the body and he inserts himself behind them. Ryan can't hear what Shaw is saying, but Beckett's face falls and Castle is there in an instant.
He holds up the paper and Beckett snatches it away. There's a flare of anger. Castle answers with a strange smile. Brief. Not even a second, but like it's what he was going for, and maybe he was.
Beckett takes something away from it. Gains something. She's standing taller. She's rapping out questions while Castle looks down at the body again.
It's normal. It's that thing they do, and it's not. He's standing a shade closer than he should. Her fingers worry at the plastic evidence bag around the newspaper, and it's the two of them against the world.
Shaw gives them their orders. Beckett bristles, then nods. Castle follows suit.
"Once you're . . . dressed, of course," Shaw says. It's a parting shot and everyone hears it.
Esposito bumps Ryan's shoulder. He grins and Ryan gives him a tight smile. It's a little green, but Espo doesn't seem to notice.
No one but him seems to notice, and he wishes he didn't. He wants to look away.
Castle steps in front of her. Between Beckett and the rest of the world as best he can. Her eyes close and there's a faint burn to her cheeks. Ryan only knows because he's looking for it. Because he can't not look for it now. He can't not see it.
Castle's head dips toward hers. A fraction of an inch and no more.
There's nothing to it, really. No words between them and just a handful of seconds. They're far enough away from each other that a nun at a school dance would pass them right by.
But Ryan can't look away. He can't forget. He can't un-know and he can't un-realize.
Mom and Dad are kissing.