23Heel to pavement, a beautiful brunette poured into a small lavender number made her way over broken concrete and chipped paint to the back entrance of one of New York City's finest restaurants, Eleven Madison Park. The cool evening air was just a few degrees shy of pleasant and the thin silk did little in the way of providing heat. Her heel caught but her rather inelegant stumbling was cut short by warm arms and a tittering laugh down the back of her neck.
Helena looked absurdly attractive in her employee uniform, her sharp elegant features on display via a tight bun and rendered utterly devastating in dark slacks, a stiff white dress shirt and a black double-breasted waistcoat. The only deviation from convention came in the form of a small pocket watch poking out of the side pocket, a thin silver chain running along the length of the waistcoat to tie at the second to top button. All together the look was enticing to the point of distraction. Something Myka couldn't afford right now.
She pulled away from the grasp once she was steady, sending a small smile in Helena's direction but decidedly not lingering, it was long enough to catch the knowing smirk on Helena's face. She wished she could be annoyed, but she was pretty sure instead she was blushing; she tossed another look to the woman at her side, yes, she was blushing… she could always tell by the look in Helena's eyes:
It was the mischievous twinkle that Helena got whenever she managed to fluster her
Sometimes that gleam was the first thing she saw in the morning
Those eyes and a wet tongue teasing her until she trembled, raven locks tickling the inside of her thighs.
She shook her head, pulling open the door and heading into the building. There were employees bustling all around but they managed to avoid attention. Well almost. A number of the male employees were concentrated a good few inches below her eye line.
"Why is it, I'm the one in the heels and plunging neckline?" Helena grinned but she her gaze was intent on the most recent of Myka's admirers. Myka smiled internally as she watched the twenty-something waiter squirm and scurry away.
"Because darling, you look divine. You know how much I love when you dress up, and I know how much you love me in a tailored waistcoat. It is as Pete might say, a Win-win."
Myka snorted but didn't bother denying it. She ran her eyes appreciatively up the slender frame one last time before turning to take the main room of the restaurant. To say extravagant was an understatement. Rich cream walls shot up to a lofted ceiling that threatened to put a crick in her neck. Scattered about the room, round tables were draped in traditional white and adorned with orchids and intricately shaped napkins.
She hesitated by the entrance to the kitchens, turning to give Helena her full attention for the first time since they'd arrived. She tucked back a hair that had escaped Helena's bun, and bit down on her lower lip, gnawing it slightly as she troubled over her thoughts,
"Do you really think it could be this simple?" She let out a sigh before checking her watch. 15 minutes, "It might be a trap."
"Usually is." Helena grinned cheekily at her and Myka couldn't help but smile in return as her own words were thrown back at her.
That first case in California they worked together.
Back when the woman's motives were questionable,
Back when this coiling heat- this rush- that came from being with Helena was something she feared
She closed her eyes to relish the feeling a moment longer, their closeness, the excitement of a mission. Relishing was something she'd been doing a lot more of since Helena had died, gone, and returned to her, returned for her.
She made her way to the centre table and sat down, despite it being the dinner hour in an otherwise packed restaurant, the tables immediately surrounding her were cleared. It simultaneously made her feel secluded and on display. Helena had begun making her rounds, pouring drinks and taking orders with grace incongruent with someone who'd never waited tables. Myka had done it all through college and never managed even close to the ease with which Helena moved about the large restaurant.
Their target arrived a few minutes late for their designated meet: tall, broad shoulders, purposefully ruffled brown hair. She took in the stylish but understated tux before her eyes fell to the purple dress shirt just a shade darker than Myka's dress, even without that pre-agreed signal the tight knuckled grip on the briefcase at his side was a dead giveaway. She eyed him as he made his way over to her table, a nervous jerk in his gait as if he was telling himself to walk a certain way.
"Nicholas Seafort." Myka held back a smirk as she took his offered hand. It was a fake name-she recognized the reference- but she found herself liking the man a little more for it. She did have a weakness for science fiction.
"Joanne Murray." Myka didn't hold back the smile this time as 'Nicholas' raised her hand to his lips, but she her amusement was from the dark piercing gaze she could feel aimed in their direction.
Myka studied the man as he busied himself unraveling the elaborately wrapped cloth napkin in front of him- a goose if Myka had to guess- before turning his attention to her. He met her eyes but just barely. She allowed him to engage her in small talk for a few moments, if only to put him at ease. He was nervous, but seemed relatively harmless, a bit of a flirt but to his credit he admirably avoided lingering on the rather impressive cleavage revealed by the halter of her gown.
Was it possible? That for once everything would go to plan?
As the small talk puttered out-she wasn't working hard to keep it alive- she dared a glance to H.G; the woman was filling the wine glasses of a young couple a few tables down. Myka caught her throwing a rather withering look to their target before moving on to the next table. She could tell that her table companion was sizing her up, so she allowed it for a few seconds more, engaging in a more thorough sweep of the crowd. Everyone was well dressed and seemingly out to enjoy a pleasant Sunday night.
"Do you have it?" Her voice was steady even as the hairs rose on her arm. This was too easy.
'Nicholas' leaned back in his chair, smiling as a waiter approached and began pouring their waters, "I have a great many things Ms. Murray." His tone was light, but there was a strange edge to it.
Myka's brow furrowed, unsure whether he was trying to be coy or avoidant, "Do you have what we agreed upon?"
'Nicholas' leaned forward and placed his elbows on either side of his large plate, lacing his fingers together and regarding her coolly over his knuckles. The leather binding of his seat creaked in protest of the movement, but it seemed as if all other noises in the restaurant had faded away.
"Do you?" There was that tone again. Myka shook her head slightly, he was hiding something but she didn't sense any malicious intent. It was…disconcerting. She spotted Helena out of the corner of her eye, but the woman was engaged in a staring contest with a beautiful woman with brown hair streaked with gold (from the sun if the tan was anything to go by) in a striking blue gown. She was standing by the door, Myka would have thought her waiting for someone if not for the intent way she was eying Helena. That and the way she was holding the small clutch in her hand.
Myka frowned, looking back to the man to find him eying the two other women as well. She groaned,
"Of course it couldn't be simple. In, pay, acquire artifact, enjoy some nice cuisine…" it was under her breath but from the way the man was staring at her, not unheard. Not that she was trying to hide it, she'd already removed the glock from her thigh holster and had it cocked and waiting under the tablecloth. She had no intention of pulling it out here in a crowded restaurant unless she was given a reason to, but she no longer had any doubts of how this meeting was going.
This man didn't have the artifact and his partner had already made Helena. The question was whether he was the owner of the artifact but wanted to take their money and keep the artifact, if he had figured out she was government, or if he was someone else entirely.
"Who are you?" 'Nicholas' smiled but it seemed forced and cracked under Myka's expectant gaze,
"Nicholas Seafort-" Myka waved her free hand to halt what she expected would be a charming but misleading response. Myka knew how to handle someone with a silver tongue. She shared a bed with one.
"No. Nicholas Seafort is the protagonist in David Feintuch's futuristic novels." She didn't allow herself to enjoy the stunned expression on his face- the satisfaction of exceeding someone's expectations of her-instead she leaned closer, and lowered her voice to a deadly intensity that she'd used on Pete after he fed cotton candy to her ferret that resulted in him darting about the B&B like a furry bullet of chaos.
"Now, I just wanted to come out for a nice meal and simple business transaction. Either you have the artifact and are for some reason hesitating to meet our agreement, or you don't…in which case I'd like to no longer waste my time." He flinched at her tone and expression before calling out loudly,
"Goose is cooked! Goose is mightily cooked!" During their heated exchange both Helena and the other woman had been inching their way closer to the centre of the restaurant and at that utterly bizarre exclamation they both spun into motion. Well rather the other woman at his words, and Helena in reaction to now having a gun aimed at her.
There were some screams and shuffling as people got out of the way. Helena had her tesla aimed at the other woman, and Myka had removed her gun from its hiding place to level it more firmly at the man in front of her.
"Who are you and where's the artifact?" Her voice was calm and quiet and the sun-kissed brunette cocked an eyebrow as she studied her, and then Helena, and then back again. Some sort of debate clearly going on behind her eyes.
"Richard Castle. That's Detective Beckett. NYPD. And we have no idea what artifact you're talking about but if you killed Penelope Gonzales you'll have far bigger issues than a missing antique."
"Castle." Myka saw Helena's lip twitch in amusement at the other woman's exasperated tone.
Myka frowned, she recognized his name but was unsure why. Wait. Castle.
"What!? She's got a gun on me! And…" his eyes darted over to Helena a few feet away, "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?! Are you pointing a laser gun at us? Are you MIB? Because there was this one time where we got abducted-"
"CASTLE!"
"Right. Shutting up."
Helena kept her tesla trained on the tall brunette. The restaurant was mostly cleared, there were a few people cowering in various locations. Myka sighed. Just great, an entanglement with local law enforcement. Artie hated getting them out of these situations.
"If you two really are Police then I'm sure we can get this all sorted."
As if on cue, all hell broke loose.
The first bullet missed Myka only by a few centimeters, she could feel it's phantom brush against her side as it passed; she barely overturned the table before she felt the next one collide with the wood. Castle was crouching with her. She assessed his state- she could use an ally right now. His eyes were clear- alarmed but not panicking. For a mystery writer it appeared he'd seen his share of action working with the NYPD.
She was putting her small backup gun in his palm before she could think better of it. He looked at her with wide eyes,
"How did you manage to fit two guns in that dress?!" He was yelling against the roar of shattering wood and plaster and the ringing of falling shells on tile.
She shot him her best 'Really, now?' look (she'd perfected it with Pete over the years). He shrugged before glancing up at the rim of the overturned table. The shots were still too close together, either there were a lot of them or someone had a semi-automatic. It would be suicide to try and return fire. She didn't know where Helena was, and she could see Castle's fear for his own partner painted in every line of his face.
After a minute there was a pause in fire. Castle's grip on his gun spoke of someone who'd fired before but it still looked awkward in his hands, "Stay here. Stay down." Her tone was demanding, but she had no idea whether he would listen to her. He thought she might be a murderer after all.
She darted away, bent and head down until she could duck behind a thick marble column. From her new position she could see Detective Beckett hidden behind another overturned table; she was engaged in a steel volley with a bulky man in a ski mask. The bulk of the fire was aimed at where she and Castle had sat, originating from somewhere outside of Myka's line of sight. And on top of everything, she couldn't find Helena.
The man in the ski mask seemed to go down in slow motion, Beckett was already on her feet making a dash for Castle who was about two feet from being confronted with another man in a ski mask that had come out of nowhere. And then they were on the ground and Myka stopped mid step in her attempt to help because, well, the detective clearly didn't need it from the way the guy was squealing.
Myka never enjoys taking a life, always looks for an alternative, but seeking another way is not the same as hesitating. Myka doesn't flinch. She took the shot. The third man fell to his knees, gun still raised at detective Beckett before Myka finished him off with a headshot. Her free hand twitched at the sight, but her face didn't betray her.
A bullet had splintered one of the tables and a sliver had cut into Castle's forehead. It didn't look deep enough to scar, but was bleeding profusely. Beckett held his face in one palm and a napkin to the wound with the other. It was a decidedly tender moment, and Myka felt she was intruding. They weren't trying to arrest her, but from the sound of the approaching sirens she wouldn't get far and they knew that. She sighed and looked around, where was Helena? They couldn't have got her could they?
She ran from one end of the restaurant to the other, turning over tables and looking under booths, there weren't any bodies… thank god their standoff with NYPD had already cleared most of the place. As she neared the bar she heard a low but unmistakable moan. Myka vaulted over the counter, landing by H.G's side. She had nasty red lines along her neck, pale blue finger indents already blossoming along the hollow of her throat.
Helena opened her eyes slowly to look up at the brunette, her voice so scratchy it took Myka a moment to understand the words, "Used the tesla but I don't believe it was meant for nethanderals, the giant brute of a man just kept coming and next thing I know…" one hand weakly waved at her own prone body amongst the various broken liquor bottles.
Myka pulled Helena's upper body into her lap and began inspecting the raven-haired woman's head for other signs of injury. Helena sighed against the gentle but persistent touch before continuing, "I rather got the impression that he wasn't after me. I was the one in his way…he was very keen on reaching you and Richard Castle though."
Myka frowned, Helena's observations only further supported what she was already thinking, "This was about the artifact. I have a feeling we've jumped into a game where we don't know all the players."
"So what's our next step?"
"How about being taken in for questioning about what the hell just happened?"
Helena and Myka both jumped –well Myka jumped and Helena bobbled in her arms- and turned to face detective Beckett staring down at them over the bar counter. Castle was at her side, holding a half crimson napkin to his head. Beckett looked angry, but it was a kind of anger Myka knew well, the kind that demanded answers. Myka found herself wishing she were allowed to give them to her.
Beckett was clearly uncomfortable when cuffing them, Myka wondered if it was because she sensed they were the good guys or just unease as a result of Myka having saved her life.
When it was Helena's turn she looked at Myka over Beckett's shoulder, "I much prefer it when you're the one cuffing me darling." Myka willed herself not to flush, and managed a deceptively easy smile. She knew what Helena was doing, throwing them off balance- and if it embarrassed Myka in the process, all the better.
From Castle's sputtering and cartoonish eyes, Helena had succeeded.
"While my mind went to a deliciously dirty place just now, I sense a story there… I have a nose for these things." He grinned at them both preening in a manner both charming and irritating, he reminded Myka oddly of an amalgamation of both Pete and Helena's personalities. She bit her cheek to prevent the laugh that bubbled up at the thought.
Helena inclined her head in concession to his insight but she didn't answer until a few minutes later. Not until they'd passed the yellow tape and two detectives that seemed to know Beckett and Castle. Not until they both were in the back of the police car and Beckett was putting the car into drive,
"Our first meeting, Joanne and I, it was a rather tense affair, but I won her over eventually." Myka chuckled at the smugness of her tone, but her heart clenched at the weight layered into the words- denied the context it went unnoticed by their company-a hidden frequency for Myka's ears only.
"Are you two like some criminal couple? Lawless Lesbians. Sounds like the set up for an adult film…" He trailed off.
"I'm afraid we can't tell you what you want to know." Helena's voice was soft but left no room for misinterpretation.
"Oh you'll tell us what we need to know. I've now got 3 new bodies on my hands on top of Penelope Gonzales and whatever is going on you two are in the thick of it." Myka couldn't help but respect the other woman, perhaps after they found their artifact they could steer the police in the direction of the guilty parties.
The rest of the car ride passed in silence.
~.~.~
Castle allowed Lanie to check him out in order to appease Beckett, but it seemed to do little good. The worry just gave way to agitation, and it wasn't just the case.
"You aren't jealous about that woman are you?" Castle had dealt with Beckett's jealous side numerous times over the years, and actually admitting their feelings and engaging in a relationship only made the woman more possessive…. not that Castle was going to deny the appeal, it was hot, but it was also frustrating when he unwittingly ended up on the end of Beckett's wrath.
"No!" Her objection was quick, he looked for her tell-they'd been playing lots of strip poker at her apartment lately-but saw only honest exasperation.
"Good. Because that would be silly. Beautiful as she may be I have an even more gorgeous girlfriend," his voice lowered as he drifted as close as he dared in the precinct, "not to mention I'm pretty sure she's got a hot girlfriend of her own."
Beckett shook her head, her expression torn between reacting to his sweet sentiment or the crass words that followed, "Speaking of. It's been an hour. I think we've let them stew for long enough."
Castle opened his mouth to ask why she hadn't separated them, but thought better of it. It bothered him a little to see them both still cuffed when they entered the interrogation room, the woman in lavender had saved Beckett's life after all.
"The police detective and the writer." The curly haired woman looked amused, not the common reaction to the harsh glare of florescent lights and Beckett. Castle couldn't help but be intrigued, his mind returned to how she'd easily easily seen through his literary inspired cover,
"So you've heard of my work? What do you think of my books?" He sat down and laced his fingers together, Beckett bristled at his side for a moment before sitting in the remaining chair.
The woman opened her mouth but was interrupted by her companion before she could answer (the marks on her neck looked ugly but the woman had denied medical attention),
"Oh. A writer? Anything I know?"
"Yes, Derek Storm, Nikki Heat, I lent you a few of his books." He watched recognition dawn on her face,
"So?" He was trying hard not to sound eager. He was a best selling novelist whose work had turned into comic books and now a feature film, he did not need validation from some badass ladies with strange weaponry in search of antiques. And didn't that sound like the plot of one of those B movies that are always on at 3am.
The raven-haired woman shrugged, before pulling out a pocket watch of all things from her pocket and checking the time, "I found it a bit…plebian."
"Plebian!" He knew slack jawed was not an attractive look on him but he couldn't help it. Plebian. The woman smirked slightly and Castle couldn't tell if she was enjoying his annoyance or if his chain was being yanked.
Beckett clearly had listened to enough, "Who are you? Because you aren't Joanne Murray. Her paper trail stops 4 years ago. And you," she turned to the woman in the suit, "you haven't even bothered to give me a fake name to run. Now I need to know what you know about Penelope Gonzales and about what happened tonight." She turned to look at them both evenly, her patience thin, "Now I don't think you two killed her, but you are involved and I am your ticket out of it."
There was silence for a moment. Neither woman's expressions gave anything away; they didn't even look at each other.
Finally the woman in lavender leaned forward and rested her bound hands on the table, they clanked awkwardly and Castle cleared his throat.
She made him nervous, they both did, but the way she'd talked to him in the restaurant had been positively frightening. And living with his mother and working with Beckett every day…that was saying something.
"Listen I'd love to help you, but we have our own investigation and have nothing to do with that murder or what happened tonight." She seemed honestly apologetic; the word 'investigation' rang loudly in his ears. Was she government? Secret agent? There was that laser gun to contend with. "Now let me tell you how this is going to go, you'll receive a call soon, your captain will receive an order from farther up the chain of command than you can reach and we'll walk out of here."
Castle's brow raised, he was impressed, the secret agent thing sounding more likely by the minute. He didn't have to look at Beckett to tell she was fuming. The woman in the tux was regarding her companion intently, looking if Castle had to put a name to it, aroused.
He popped the button on his collar. He looked again. Scary lady of lavender was meeting the eyes of the sexy British critic with the same intensity. Alexis had taught him a new word the other day when he accused him and Beckett of engaging in eyesex. He hadn't understood what she meant…until now. He popped another button.
There was a pounding on the glass.
~.~.~
The room they'd chosen was empty, but Myka's eyes darted around anyway. Helena was looking out of the break room window to where Beckett and Castle were arguing in front of a large white board covered in pictures and papers.
Her eyes returned to Artie's face in the Farnsworth, trying to understand what he was telling her,
"I assumed we'd keep our cover and continue investigating."
"Well the murder is connected to the artifact… you and the police may very well be looking for the same person or persons." His words made sense, but it broke protecal and it wasn't like they hadn't worked around local law enforcement before. There was an odd edge to his voice- a silent pleading not to question him, so of course, she did.
"Artie, what's going on?"
"Nothing." His hasty response brought Helena's eyes to the Farnsworth. Both of them uncomfortable with Artie holding anything back ever since the Astrolabe, ever since Leena.
"Artie…"
"Richard Castle's a good man." Myka quirked an eyebrow, that was hardly an explanation. He only fidgeted for a few more moments before explaining,
"I know his father, the man saved my life," there was a long pause, heavy under the weight of everything left unsaid, "Be as open with them as you can without breaking the rules. Help them find their killer, get the artifact, and get back here. Claudia's redoing the security systems again and Pete keeps setting them off by accident…" the rest of his grumbling was cut off as he hung up.
…
"I'm Agent Myka Bering and this is Agent Helena Wells. We're with the secret service. And we'd like to assist with your case."
Going from a confrontation at gunpoint to interrogation to helping on the case was not an easy transition. All parties were a little uncomfortable as Castle and Beckett filled them in on the case. They were clearly wondering how the Secret Service was involved in their murder investigation along, Myka and Helena were busy trying to figure out the same thing, and everyone was very much aware that they were only working together because their respective bosses had said to play nice.
Myka began to hit it off with Beckett after a while. She was clearly tough, intelligent, guarded but warm, Myka couldn't help but feel a certain kinship. She pointed out something else on the white board in front of them and watched Beckett absorb her words and formulate her counterpoint.
She used the pause to turn and look at H.G. The woman was perched on a desk a few feet away, she met Myka's gaze warmly. Castle was beside her, his gaze flickering between the three women periodically.
Castle eyed the raven-haired woman at his side.
"Can I ask you something?" The woman didn't look his way, but her lip twitched slightly as she responded,
"Clearly you've just proven yourself able." Castle shook his head, wondering if this was how Beckett felt sometimes,
"You said earlier that when you two first met…it was tense?" She laughed at his question, shaking her head slightly as she ran her fingers through her hair- mussing it up only to fall perfectly back in place (it was a display he had grown used to from being around Beckett),
"An understatement to be sure. She held me at gunpoint." Castle let out a low whistle,
"Ooo harsh. I only got taken in for questioning." Wells finally turned to look at him appraisingly, slowly eyes of cold onyx turned to the warm hue of his favourite Columbian dark roast. Castle hoped this meant he was starting to gain the trust of the somewhat prickly Brit. He'd been trying to strike her up in conversation since Agent Bering and Beckett had broken off to discuss Lanie's findings on the bodies from the restaurant.
"That's nothing, the second time…." Castle's eyes widened at her words,
"Oh tell me! Please? Was it sexy?" The question came out teasing and slightly childish, but he found it was an approach that worked for most people.
Her grin turned into something positively lecherous and he felt himself lean in closer in excitement.
"Well, I've never been much for erotic asphyxiation play, but after that day I admit I see the allure."
Castle gulped. His eyes shot between Agent Bering and Agent Wells. He cursed the vividness of his imagination. Wells simply grinned.
