I don't own Castle.

Title: Elektra

Rating: T+

Description: When he walked in to the 12th Precinct, he expected dead bodies, trash cans, and paperwork. But what young Detective Richard Rodgers was not expecting, however, was his new partner, Detective Kate Beckett. Caskett/AU.


He woke up to the smell of cherries.

Richard Rodgers blinked heavily and shifted, trying to see in the blackness. A pounding like a bass of a pop song wracked his head. He scrunched up his nose, willing the pain to stop. He had never had a hangover this bad before. He had always been a strong drinker. At least, he had never drunk so much that he didn't remember anything the next day. Or night? What time was it?

That was when he felt silky hair against his bare chest. He looked down to see a face, usually so stern, completely serene in sleep. The curve of her lip, pouting slightly was adorable. Her eyeliner was smudged at the corner of her eyes. Her straight nose sprinkled with the lightest of freckles he hadn't noticed because he had never been this close to her before. It was Detective Beckett. How had he gotten in bed with Detective Beckett?

What the hell happened last night?

That was when he felt her naked body pressed up against his naked body.

His eyes widened.

Rick took a deep breath and willed his heart to calm down. He had always had a knack with words and he tried everything he could to come up with a scenario where Kate ended up in bed with him for any other reason other than sex. There was no way he had sex with Kate Beckett. What was she going to do when she woke up? Oh, God. She was going to kill him. The least she was going to do was castrate him.

Why the hell couldn't he remember anything?

Had he really gotten so drunk that he couldn't remember anything?

Kate stirred in her sleep. His arm that was nestled around her back stiffened. He stopped breathing, his eyes impossibly wide in the darkness. She smacked her lips together before returning to sleep, snuggling closer to him. Oh, God, he could feel her breasts up against his side. Now, how was he supposed to go back to sleep?

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force himself to go back to sleep.

Just thirty seconds later, he huffed and opened his eyes. That was when he noticed that this bed was not familiar. This wasn't his top-of-the-line comfort, king-sized bed from his loft a few blocks from the Precinct. No, this felt smaller but comfortable complete with silky sheets and fluffy pillows. God, where was the blanket, feeling a draft coming in some direction.

Richard Rodgers lay awake for what felt like a good two hours. He couldn't see a clock anywhere in the darkness so he had no idea what the time was. He tried to come up with a plan to escape. But he couldn't leave – he had no idea where his clothes were, he had no idea where he was, and he didn't know if he should leave Beckett alone.

What if she didn't remember anything? He knew her well enough that she would think the worst. He already knew about her mother's murder – what if she thought she had been raped? Her life was tragic enough. He didn't want her to think that something awful had happened last night.

Well, something more awful than what already had.

God, what happened?

He rubbed his free hand down his face.

Yawning, he felt exhaustion take its course over him. He didn't want to go back to sleep because he didn't want to be asleep when she woke up. She was going to be so pissed. He had no idea what to tell her because he couldn't remember anything about the night before.

"Oh, I don't need to drink him."

"Let's make it interesting, then."

The shrill sound of ringing woke him up a second time.

Just a split second later, a deeper tone of a similar ringer went off. He felt Kate shift beside. Who the hell was calling? He felt her sit up, the blanket falling to reveal her bare chest. She looked disheveled. Her long hair that was usually put in a bun was loose and falling every which way. She ran a hand through her hair, taking in her surroundings. All the while, Rick lay there, not moving, staring at her, bile resting nicely in his throat.

It felt like minutes but in reality only a few seconds when she finally looked at him – his bedhead, his lipstick covered cheeks, his bare chest. She then looked down at herself. Then, her eyes widened. "Oh, my God!" she yelled grabbing a sheet, pulling it up around herself, blocking his view of her naked body.

He sat up as she scrambled off the bed, taking the only thing that was covering him. "Oh, my God!" she shrieked again. "Put it away, put it away!" she whirled around so her bare back was facing him. He fell off the bed, searching desperately for at least his boxers. She dropped to the floor as well, trying to find her own clothes. He finally found them and he pressed his back up against the carpet, tugging them up faster than they were disposed of the night before.

He swallowed and peered over the top of the bed.

"Beckett?" he asked when he didn't see her.

He felt his ear being tugged. He shrieked as he was sharply turned around by his ear. Kate was standing in front of him, her clothes hastily put on. He could see her red bra peeking from her mismatched buttons on her white top. Her shoulders tensed and she squeezed his ear. "Castle!" she screamed. "What the hell are you doing? What are you doing here? Why are you naked!" Her eyes were wide with confusion, anger, and also … fear?

He had never seen Detective Katherine Beckett so much as bat an eyelash in front of a serial killer. Men with knives, guns, hell, bombs did not faze her. However, now, in front of him, after a night neither of them could remember, she looked like she was going to throw up all over him. He didn't know what to say to make her feel better. Hell, he didn't know what to say period. These relationships were only accepted on television. In real life, one of them would at least be transferred. At the worst, they could both lose their badges if anyone found out.

"I – I … um," he looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. They weren't in his apartment, like he expected. It was too girly – too clean. It looked like … was he her bedroom? "Uh, I don't know. Beckett, you have to believe me. I have no idea what's going on."

She shook her head and then let go of his ear.

The ringing filled up the quiet room again. They both jumped, each reaching for their respective phones.

"Beckett," Kate said harshly into the receiver.

"Rodgers," Rick said a second after.

"Yo, bro," came the sound of Javier Esposito's voice in Rick's ear. "I've called you, like, four times. Why aren't you answering?" Rick sputtered for a total of ten seconds before Esposito replied, "Whatever. Look, we have a body at 110th and 2nd Avenue. You need to get here before Detective Beckett does. If you're not here picking through garbage cans with me by the time she gets here, she'll have your head."

He glanced up at the woman in question as she paced the room, most likely getting similar information.

"That's not all she have," he replied, terrified for his life, before hanging up.


So, obviously, this is COMPLETELY not in the realm of our wonderful TV-Castle. AT ALL. Haha, I really enjoyed writing this and I hope everyone enjoyed reading as well. We're going back a ways in the next chapter. ;) Thank you SO much for reading! And please, give this a chance! It might start out confusing, but, it'll be explained in time.

Until next Wednesday,