[ forced decompression ]

[fanofthegenre]

Combing the parking garage for any sign of the third victim's body proves fruitless. The killer - whoever he is - isn't sticking to his normal M.O. of leaving the body where he's killed them, either. Forensics bags the lone pump, the clumps of blonde hair, swabs the places where her blood had spilled, but Beckett isn't hopeful yet. Changing his tactic means he's becoming more unpredictable, getting harder to pin down, but the fact that she's being sent home after feeling like she and her team can actually be a help is weighing heavy on her shoulders. Her protests fall on Agent Shaw's ignoring ears, and she leaves feeling more helpless than before - a feeling she doesn't appreciate having at the moment. It's not until she's climbed into her car and left that she realizes Castle's still there, but something tells her he doesn't mind being left with another brilliant mind to build theory with.

The unit, a small trio of suits wearing earpieces, are waiting in various places throughout her apartment building by the time Beckett gets there, a bag of takeout Chinese in one hand. The sight of them only re-emphasizes her frustration over the situation, and her other hand tightens around her keys when she lets herself into her apartment. She makes a point of checking all the windows, combing rooms, and then pokes her head out into the hallway and tells the guys to head on home. There's no point in keeping them around when everything's perfectly secured and she's got a gun in her bedside drawer - and one in the living room, too.

Beckett changes into a loose-fitting shirt and a pair of jeans and cracks open the Chinese, mixing rice and veggies together with her disposable chopsticks. Fifteen minutes in and the casefile is spread out on the couch in front of her, and Beckett settles in Indian-style, combing over the information: crime scene photos, eyewitness accounts, victims' backgrounds - searching for anything she might be missing, anything Agent Shaw and her team (and her "smart board") haven't pinned down yet.

Comments

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

Castle flops onto his back and pillows his hands beneath his head. He nudges her with the side of his foot. "Hey, you're missing the afterglow."

[fanofthegenre]

Beckett senses it. Barely.

"Uh huh," she murmurs.

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

He angles a look toward her. A single eyebrow cranes upward.

"You wanna' use my back as a white board?"

She's back on the scent, he can tell.

[fanofthegenre]

She rolls over; on her back, she can let her head loll to one side and respond with a smile, a brief upturn of her mouth.

"That's okay. I'm - I should probably just try to sleep."

She draws the bedsheets up over herself.

"Shaw's right - I won't be of use to anyone if I'm burned out."

[bestsellingego.livejournal.com]

"Worn out, yes." He slides down the mattress and angles his half of the sheet over himself. "Complete physical exhaustion --" he stretches his face comically "-- will do that to a body. But burned out? Well, that we have to worry about."

His hand slides over her hip, staying at the small of her back.

"Don't worry. I'll protect you."

[fanofthegenre]

She settles in against him, hiding her yawn between his shoulder and the pillows. Her eyelids feel as if they have tiny weights holding them closed. The jellylike quality of her limbs isn't helping matters - though, in the way of decompression, maybe it is.

"You do that, Castle," she sleepily mumbles.