Back

It's been a month.

A month of lazy days where they didn't move much further than the couch.

Four weeks of shared clothing and stealing food from one another's plate.

Thirty days of movie nights interrupted with quick make-out sessions or his family dropping by to visit.

Seven hundred and twenty hours of laughter to distract each other from the reality pressing down on them.

So it's been a month.

And now she needs something other than cuddling or sneaking yet another shirt from his closet or sci-fi marathons. Not a replacement. Just something more.

"I just need to call up to Captain Gates to clear you," says Peters. He looks sympathetic, trying to smile reassuringly but failing horribly. He picks up the phone, cradling it against his shoulder, dialing.

She paces away, heels clicking on the old tiles. Peters is talking behind her, voice low and whispered. As if he's sharing secrets. But she's not paying real attention anymore. The wall in front of her is covered with names paired with numbers. She reaches out, fingertips dipping into the engraving on one, swallowing the bubble of grief and memory that pushes its way to the surface.

"Dete… Miss Beckett?"

His slip-up hurts a little but she doesn't bring it up as she turns, smiling at the desk sergeant. "Yes?"

"She says you can head right up."

"Thanks, Peters," she says, heading past the desk toward the elevator.

"Uh, Miss Beckett?" He's not grinning anymore. Not even trying. And he's holding up a visitor's pass. "You need this. Sorry."

She clips it to the pocket of her dress pants, shaking her head. "Not a problem, Sergeant. Have a good day."

The elevator is just as slow, still smelling of stale sweat and coffee. It's a comfort knowing some things didn't change even as everything else shifted and swirled. She circles the button for the fourth floor until the doors open with the ring of the bell.

And even though it's June, not September, she has to stop once she steps off. Everything in her body clenches and she has to lean against the wall to stop the place from tilting.

"You're back."

That tightness loosens as Ryan moves out of the break room, coffee in one hand, file in the other. She smiles easily, shrugging one shoulder. "We'll see for how long."

"Beckett?" calls Gates from her office door, eyeglasses hanging from two fingers.

She shuts the door behind her, hands clasped behind her back. "Sir."

"You want your position back," the woman states. No question in her voice.

"Yes, sir."

"Normally you would have to go through official channels to get re-hired," Gates says, shifting files on her desk. "Fortunately for you, I know who my best investigators are. You may have resigned, but I used your vacation days instead of taking you out of the system completely. You're free to return after a psych eval and re-evaluation at the shooting range."

Beckett feels nods once. "Thank you, sir." She turns to leave, already feeling lighter.

"Detective?" Gates is sitting, glasses balanced on her nose, pen between her fingers. "How's Mr. Castle doing?"

She would say the older woman's voice softens but she can't be sure. "He's good. Publicity tours starting up for this next book so he's busy. But, sir? Before I return, I know regulations say I need to disclose personal relationships. Castle and I are -"

"Good partners. I'm sure he'll be happy to be back here." Gates is looking down at the report on her desk. "Disrupting precinct life and closing cases like always." She glances up over the rim of her glasses as Beckett hovers in the doorway. "I hope you two are happy together."

Beckett sighs, unable to hold in the almost overwhelming love. "We're taking it a day at a time."

"It works. It's how my husband and I got our start. His book is out in a month." A small smile works its way onto her face. "Put up with the annoyances, the quirks and it's worth it."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll see you sometime next week, then," Gates responds. Without a word, she nudges the badge across the table. "You forgot this."

Beckett picks up the badge, leather warmed from the captain's desk. Her thumb traces the five numbers, over the blue enamel around the seal. But she doesn't clip it on yet, leaving the visitor's badge in its spot as she drops her badge into her pocket.

"You back for good?" asks Esposito from his desk.

She smiles, nodding. "Next week."

"Good. It's quiet around here without you and Castle."

She turns in the visitor's badge to Peters at the sergeant's desk, gaze lingering again on that one name on the memorial wall before walking down the street to the subway entrance.

He's in the middle of a phone call when she gets to his place but he hangs up mid-sentence. He doesn't have to ask as he stands in his study, the only light the late afternoon sun.

And she doesn't have to speak to respond. Her quiet smile says everything.

His hand dives into her pocket, snagging her badge. "Feel good about this?" he asks, fingers mapping the same trail over the numbers as she did.

"Yeah."

"Can we have celebratory sex?" he asks, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, already moving toward the bedroom.

She rolls her eyes but follows him. "Yes. But I'm not wearing that while we do it."

"Party pooper," he groans a moment before he tugs her up against his chest. "Welcome back, Detective Beckett."