He got the call a little after midnight. He must have fallen asleep not long before and it took a few missed rings of his cell to realize it was not part of his dream. Pulled back into reality he reached for it and noticed the caller ID was from the Old Haunt.
"Hello?" he said still fuzzy with sleep.
"Mr. Castle, so sorry to wake you but, your friend is here. Kate, and she, well, she's drunk," Brian the bartender said, "I think I should cut her off. I thought you'd want to know."
Confusion wrinkling his brow as he replied, "Thanks Brian, I'll be right over," and disconnected the call.
What was Beckett doing at his bar drunk and apparently alone? This was not like her, not at all. He was momentarily conflicted. He'd been trying to keep his distance, trying to keep things as professional as possible. Most recently he wasn't even on a case with her, hadn't seen her for days, purposely. He'd been following Detective Slaughter, attempting to stay away and distract himself from his broken heart.
Ever since he learned she'd been lying to him, for months, he had been working diligently to try and turn off the switch of his feelings. Being around her made it a thousand times harder. It wasn't easy to not love her. Why was she at his bar tonight?
Rick had been contemplating leaving the precinct, leaving her. He thought about telling her that he was too busy with writing and needed to do another book tour, anything, just to get some space from her. His heart ached each time he saw her knowing she didn't want him. He thought he had been waiting for her to be ready, but she never would be.
Each time he thought about leaving though, he couldn't go through with it. It seemed so final. He wasn't sure he was ready to walk away from her completely, even knowing she didn't feel the same about him. The heart wants what the heart wants, kept running through his head.
Should he call Lanie to go get her? Would she even want him to see her drunk? No, he could do it, he would get her. If Brian was calling she must be in a bad state. He dressed quickly and made his way to the bar.
Cold air rushed in from behind him as he opened the heavy wood door and stepped into his bar. Music from the piano mingled with voices chatting, filled his ears as he searched through the sea of people looking for her. It was Friday night and the place was full. Good for business, but made finding her that much harder.
He finally spotted her sitting towards the end of the wooden bar, almost missed her, as a man in the stool next to her had his hand resting on the back of her stool. He was leaning in as if to whisper something to her. At the sight, a rush of anger and jealousy flooded him. He had no claim to her, not officially any way, no right to feel this way but damn if it didn't hurt. Drunk with another man at my bar, he thought fuming inside. He's not even her type. She had several empty shot glasses in front of her and discarded limes sat near by. Really, tequila shots Beckett? Was she trying to hurt him?
Brian caught his eye from behind the counter and he overheard her asking for another round. He was failing to convince her to have some coffee instead of more liquor. It seemed the man beside her was pushing for more alcohol.
"Beckett," he said walking up and glancing at her before staring down the man beside her. "What are you doing?"
He took in the sight before him as he waited for her response. She had taken off her blazer and it had migrated its way onto the floor beside her stool. She was left wearing the sleeveless deep v-neck shirt she must have had under her blazer. Enough cleavage was exposed that he had to force his eyes to look back up to her face. Her cheeks were flushed, more evidence to her drunken state, or from flirting with this guy. Her hair a little more tousled than usual. But, she was still so beautiful. Dammit it Beckett. What are you doing?
"Oh, hey Castle," she managed, slight confusion on her face. "I'm just having a drink with my new buddy… wait, what was your name again?" She asked addressing the man next to her.
"Dan, it's Dan," said the tall blond man. Castle glared at him as he spoke.
He could barely believe what he was seeing. He knew she occasionally had a drink with the boys or with Lanie but this was different. She was here alone, well had been alone, and was wasted. Something wasn't right but he didn't have the emotional strength to try and dive in and figure out what it was. He just wanted to get her home, make sure she was safe and then continue to try and get over her.
"What are you doing here? Oh…. wait, yeah, this is your bar…" she said with a self-deprecating laugh. "That's right…"
"Beckett. You're drunk, it's time to go home," his volume soft but stern as he tried to take her elbow and help her off her seat.
"Hey we're having a nice time here. Leave the lady be," Dan challenged him.
"No, Castle I don't-I don't wanna go home. There's nothing for me there," she managed to get out. Shaking her elbow away from his grasp. "I'm fine, I'm a big girl Castle."
"Yeah, she wants to be with me. Were having fun aren't we…" Dan said, standing and bringing his hand to her thigh as he continued to flirt with her. At his move, Castle could see the obvious discomfort on Kate's face and decided he'd had enough.
"Listen Dan, I'd back away now if I were you. She's a cop and I own this bar. She's drunk, and if you were thinking of trying something with her, I'd think again," Castle spewed back at the man taking a step closer to him and standing to his full height, looking down at him.
Beckett, sensing the tension rising between the two, and not wanting anything with the man anyway, pushed Dan's hand away. "He's right, you should probably go," she said.
Castle stared him down, both of them unmoving for a long minute before Dan turned and walked to a booth in the back where a few other men were nursing beers.
Finally just the two of them alone, he snapped, "Dammit Beckett, what the hell are you doing?" His heart was pounding, anger and adrenaline pumping through his veins. It pained him to see her with someone else. That she even let someone get close to her pulled at his heart.
"What am I doing?! What are you doing? Why-why do you even care who I'm with?" her speech still slurred. Looking him up and down, "How did you know I was even here?" her volume raising with each question.
"Don't you need to get home to Jacinda?" she said, sarcasm dripping from her words. She glared at him, anger filling her eyes.
Well that was unexpected. Why would she care about Jacinda? She doesn't want me, but doesn't want me with anyone else either? He never knew her to be selfish, but then again he's been surprised by her actions several times in the last few weeks, and not in a good way. How long was he going to play this game with her?
Shaking the thought he challenged her, suddenly losing his self-control, "What's it to you Beckett? Why would you care about Jacinda?"
A few patrons had turned to watch their interaction. The situation was getting out of hand. They didn't do this, yell, even talk about things, they never did. It was probably a big factor in their problems. Tonight she was drunk and he was hurting, emotions were running high.
Feeling bold, the alcohol loosening her tongue she shot back, "Well, she's so uncomplicated and easy to be with right? So why aren't you with her now? Or with Slaughter for that matter? I see I'm not needed anymore," she spat out at him.
So that's what it was, she was jealous he replaced her with another detective? Wait, uncomplicated? That's what he had told her at the precinct after rejecting her wish to talk. He had no time to talk, he had a date. Did he miss something? Was she really hurt at what he'd said?
A million thoughts crossed his mind at the revelation that he might have misinterpreted something. They always spoke in subtext and innuendos. He suddenly wanted to tell her that he knew. That he'd heard her confession, to confront her about it. But she was in no state to do so now. She probably wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning and he wanted her to, he needed her to.
Now more than ever he wanted the truth, whatever it was. No more lies, no more confusion. If this partnership, this friendship, whatever they were, was going to end, he wanted to be certain why. As soon as she was sober, tomorrow, he would make sure they talked about everything. This situation was torturing him and he couldn't do it any longer.
"Just leave. You don't have to worry about me, I'm fine." She tried to get up to move away from him, but her legs gave out from under her. He was still standing close and he grabbed her, arms around her waist, pulling her into him avoiding her fall. He felt the warmth of her seep into his chest. His arms tight around her waist, electricity jolted inside of him even as anger was still apparent on his face. He shouldn't be touching her; he never wanted to let go.
"I'm fine," she failed to assure him as she struggled to find her footing. Looking into her eyes for a moment, they seemed so sad, she seemed so downcast and he wondered if it was from the alcohol or something else.
"Yeah, you seem fine," he said under his breath but she heard it and shot him a cold stare and escaped his grasp.
They needed to leave, now before they both embarrassed themselves any further.
"Beckett," he sighed softer this time. "Please, let's call a truce. Let me take you home. You can't drive like this," he paused and added, "you can continue being mad at me later."
She stumbled again, attempting to pick up her blazer and finally surrendered to his plea. He reached down for the jacket and handed it to her.
She glared at him as she gritted out, "Fine."
He managed to hail a cab quickly and walk her to her door without speaking to each other. They were both lost in their own worlds. Beckett looking sleepy and more affected by her last round of shots. He stood by her as she unlocked her apartment door and opened it.
"You going to be ok?" He was truly concerned about her but his face lacked its usual warmth.
"Yeah, I'll be fine now. Thanks," she said looking sheepish for the first time tonight.
"Ok, good night," he said waiting for her to walk inside.
"Night," she replied, closing the door and leaning against it. She paused there, suddenly no more strength to keep walking; physically and emotionally drained.
"I wish you still loved me," she confessed into the vacant space of her entryway.
He stood astonished in her hallway, unsure he had heard her private words correctly.
I wish you still loved me.
Hope you enjoyed. I am planning on at least one more chapter.