[ a missing scene ]

[fanofthegenre]

Coonan dies on the floor of the precinct, his blood pooling out around him.

Beckett doesn't stay long after the body's taken away - just long enough to answer the necessary questions, fill in the details for the official report herself, give the information that proves a discharging of her weapon was necessary. She doesn't look at Castle for the rest of the night, and somewhere in the cluster of policemen and EMTs, he disappears, leaving the chaos behind him.

She heads back to her apartment - late, much later than she'd even anticipated, but she's far from tired and her hands are still stinging from the amount of time she'd spent rinsing them in the women's restroom hours before. She pours herself a drink and starts running the water in the bathtub, ready to soak and hopefully drink enough to pass out eventually.

Because otherwise, she's going to have an impossible time sleeping tonight.

Comments

[fanofthegenre]

"No, I can't do that," she wavers, in a tone that almost sounds as if she's going to tack you silly on the end.

"There's files to, you know, file and papers to write stuff on, and that's what I have to do, so I'm going to do it. I've made up my mind." Beckett punctuates her announcement with a decisive nod.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, well, you've gotta' be able to say the alphabet backward before you go in to work," he says, sliding his arm underneath her shoulders to take her weight onto himself. "I'm putting you to bed."

[fanofthegenre]

"What about you? It's important the writer stays in one piece, too."

She doesn't fight the implied suggestion of sleep - or, at the very least, passing out - leaning forward to rest her head against his shoulder and nestling in.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

He starts to haul her across her kitchen toward the hallway. He's only been in her apartment a handful of times -- it was all right, Beckett needed her own territory, away from the bullpen and Castle could respect that -- so he bumps open the doors to a linen closet and a bathroom before he finds the right place.

"The writer," he says, easing her over to the bed, "will get a cab." He lowers her to the edge of the mattress and slips his arm beneath her knees. "Come on, up --" he lifts her feet and tilts her off balance, back into bed.

[fanofthegenre]

This answer seems to satisfy Beckett - though, it might also have something to do with the fact that she's starting to drift the moment her head hits the pillows.

"Castle?" she murmurs sleepily, reaching up to cup his cheek while he's still leaning over her. "I don't think I ever told you how sweet you are, and I'm not just saying that 'cause you've got the ice cream on your face."

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Her hand was very recently pressed beneath his woolen arm and when she touches his cheek he feels the residual heat in her fingertips. He reaches up to squeeze her small palm.

"Don't tell Ryan and Esposito. I'll never live it down."

He draws the covers around her shoulders, tucking her in.

[fanofthegenre]

"What happens in this apartment," she warns, still awake and alert enough to give him a barely threatening glare.

She hides a small yawn behind the back of her hand, then exhales in a soft sigh.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

He pinches two copper flyaways from her brow, sliding them back into the messy mop of hair she's let fan out on all sides of her face. His fingers linger for perhaps one or two seconds longer than it would ordinarily take to complete the task. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says, reaching over to click off the tableside lamp.

[fanofthegenre]

"Bright'n early," she mumbles, her words barely audible as she rolls over onto her side, resting her hand under her cheek.

Any whiskey-induced dreaming she has that may or may not involve Castle, Beckett will decidedly neglect to tell him about.