Rick Castle woke up and lifted his head to look at the bedside clock. The red numerals said 3:17, and he had no reason to doubt them. Less than an hour since he'd looked before.
He rolled onto his back and tossed his arm above him, his sigh almost making the headboard vibrate.
This was ridiculous. Since he'd finally fallen into bed some time after midnight he'd managed about eighty minutes in total, and he knew it wasn't going to get any better until he was so exhausted his body took over and he would have no say in the matter. So no point in just lying there.
Swinging his legs off the bed and sitting up he stayed still for a moment, thinking back as he had every moment since he'd asked Kate Beckett to marry him.
"This isn't what you want! It's what you think I want. It's what you think you have to do to keep me here."
He got up, barely glancing at her … at the empty side of the bed, before grabbing his dressing gown and shrugging into it. It was automatic to push his feet into his slippers as he walked into the living room, but once he was there he stopped, unsure what to do next. He felt … lost.
"It isn't that. I love you, Kate. I want us to be together. Always."
"And you wait 'til now to ask?"
The apartment felt empty and cold. Which was ridiculous because it was May, the temperature was kept at a steady 70, and his mother was asleep upstairs. At least he assumed she was. She'd been waiting for him when he finally got home, but he'd done little except kiss her on the cheek before heading to bed. And look how that turned out.
"Does it matter what the timing is?"
"Yes! Of course it does!"
"So if I'd asked you this time last week your answer would be different?"
"Except you didn't. You've asked me after you know I'm going to DC."
He wandered into the kitchen, automatically feeling the coffee jug. Still hot. His mother must have brewed it for him before she retired for the night. He smiled slightly – in some respects she knew him far too well for comfort, and in others … he made a mental note to thank her in the morning as he poured some into the mug that proclaimed he was a WRITER.
Only it was morning, at least technically, and the first day of the rest of his life.
God, how he hated that phrase.
"You're going? Still?"
"Yes."
"Even after I –"
"Castle, stop. This isn't about you. This is about me. What I need to do. What I have to do."
"And us? You really think we're going to survive long distance?"
"I …"
He wandered into his study and sat down at his desk, the coffee untouched in front of him, and woke up his computer. A year ago he'd deleted all the files about Johanna Beckett's murder, thinking he'd never see Kate again. Then she'd turned up on his doorstep, all wet and bedraggled and stunningly beautiful, and his life had changed. Now he wanted to keep that change, keep the frustrating, amazing, maddening, incredible … infuriating woman in his life.
"So you're saying no."
"I'm saying I don't know."
"Kate, there's only two answers to the question."
"I need time. And you don't really want to marry me, Rick. Twice bitten, third time shy, isn't that what you said?"
"I was wrong."
"So we've gone from not talking about the future to you wanting to marry me."
"It's how this works."
"I've been offered a tremendous opportunity. And if I don't take it I'd end up resenting the reasons I didn't."
"You mean resenting me."
"I didn't say that."
"Kate, I'm a writer. I know all about subtext."
"The point is, I don't want that to happen."
"Why does you taking this job have to preclude us getting married?"
"Because that's not just a ring. It's handcuffs, and we both know it."
They'd talked for a long while, going back to her place because it was closer, and it was at that point that he realised she had never really been his. If she had she'd have moved in with him when he suggested it. Although he tried his best to talk her out of leaving, of coming to some sort of compromise, even saying he'd come with her, the heavy weight growing in the pit of his belly told him he'd only had loan of her, and he should have made the most of it while he could.
"I'll be busy. There are a lot of courses, training, and not just in Washington. Then when I'm doing the job I could go anywhere at a moment's notice. You'd just be sitting at home waiting for me, and that's not fair. All your friends are here, your family … but it's not so far. You can come visit, I can come back here … we can still see each other."
"A long distance relationship."
"I have to do this, Rick. Please. Support me."
"Richard?"
He looked up from the glow of the blank screen. His mother stood in the doorway, gazing at him. "Oh. Hi. Did I wake you?"
"No. I couldn't sleep. Are you okay?"
"Sure." He tried to smile, but his face didn't seem to be working properly. Instead his eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, honey." She hurried around to his side of the desk and he clung to her, crying silently into her robe as she held him, comforting him as she used to when the nightmares woke him as a child.
"This is a marvellous opportunity." Captain Gates regarded the woman standing in front of her desk. "From what I understand, the Federal Task Force has a remit to cover all areas."
"Yes, sir." Kate nodded.
"They even get to oversee some of the Homeland Security operations, which is quite a feat."
"Yes, sir. It's a challenge."
"And one I'm sure you'll live up to." Gates put down her glasses. "I'll be sorry to see you go, of course. The closure rate of the department is probably going to suffer."
Kate managed a smile. "I'm sure Detectives Ryan and Esposito will be able to manage."
"I'll have to bring someone in. To take your place."
Kate was surprised, and shocked at finding she was. She'd known they couldn't keep a senior detective post vacant, but the reality of someone taking her place made it seem more real somehow. "You didn't while I was recovering, sir."
"No. But this is permanent. Isn't it?"
"Yes. Yes, sir, it is."
"Then I think new blood will be best. It would be difficult to make up either of your colleagues into lead detective, since they work so well together."
"I'll let them know."
Gates smiled. "No. I think I can manage that. But what about your … relationship with Mr Castle?"
"It's fine, sir."
"Really?"
"We're going to see how things go."
"I take it he's not happy."
"Not particularly."
"But you don't want to talk about it."
"We're fine, sir."
"You should, you know. Talk about it. To someone."
"Yes, sir."
Gates studied her, but only saw the stoicism she'd come to recognise. "They've requested your immediate transfer."
"Yes, sir. But if you need me to stay –"
"No, no. You've no outstanding cases at the moment, so this is perfect timing."
"The Garabaldi murder is still open."
"He's in holding, and I think Detective Esposito is more than capable of breaking him."
Kate glanced out into the bullpen where her colleagues were watching intently while trying to appear busy doing other things. "He is."
"Then you'd better clean out your desk."
"Yes."
Gates came around stand next to Kate, and unexpectedly held out her hand. "We'll miss you."
"I'll miss everyone here," Kate said, taking it and shaking.
"Then I wish you the best of luck."
"Thank you." Kate started to leave the office but turned back when Gates spoke again.
"And Detective Beckett? Just to let you know, long distance relationships can work. Mine did with my husband."
"I don't believe this." Javier Esposito was angry. "You're going."
"Yes." Kate placed her row of elephants carefully into the box.
"And you didn't bother to tell us."
"It was … I didn't know they were going to offer me the job, not until I got the phone call. And I'm telling you now."
"It is very sudden," Kevin Ryan put in. "Don't you have to give notice?"
"When the government calls, it seems not." Her mug went in next, and she tried hard not to glance at the empty chair next to the desk.
"So when do you leave?"
"I fly tomorrow evening. There's an induction session starting on Monday, but I have to find somewhere to live."
"I don't believe this." Esposito ran both hands through his short hair.
"What about Castle?" Ryan wanted to know.
"Why does everyone want to know about him?" Kate shook her head in faint exasperation. "This isn't about him."
"Of course it is." Ryan gestured towards the chair. "You're a couple. Is he going with you?"
"No."
"Why not? He can work anywhere. Have laptop, will travel, right?"
"Alexis is at Columbia, Martha has her acting school … his life's here." She wondered if she'd ever stop feeling like she was trying to justify making him stay.
"So's yours. What about your Dad?"
She gave a half-smile. "Washington isn't that far."
"And when you're the other side of the country?" Esposito blurted out.
She looked from one to the other. They were honestly concerned for her, and she felt touched. "Guys, it's … complicated."
"I can't believe you actually said that." Ryan shook his head.
"Did he do something?" Esposito wanted to know. "Because if he did –"
"No. He didn't." Except ask me to marry him.
Ryan signalled his partner to calm down then turned back. "Then why are you going?"
"I can't be a homicide detective all my life."
"Why not?"
"Don't you have any ambition?" Kate asked in turn. "Anything you're aiming for?"
"Jenny wants me to be Commissioner. But that's a long way off. And all this … the Task Force, leaving … it's all happened very quickly."
Esposito was nodding. "Have you actually thought this through?"
"I haven't stopped thinking this through, but if I don't take this opportunity –"
"You'll still keep putting the bad guys behind bars," Ryan finished for her.
A memory of her saying something very similar a long time ago to Castle assaulted her, and she had to swallow before responding. "I'll still be hunting bad guys. Just maybe bigger."
"And who speaks for the victims? The little people? What about them?"
Now it was Montgomery in ear, but the Captain had been dead two years. "You do. You're good."
"You're better."
She went back to packing her box. "This is what I want to do." She pretended not to see the look that passed between her two friends.
"You wanted to force the issue, you did it." Lanie Parish poured the last of the bottle of red wine into their glasses.
"I just didn't expect … that." Kate swallowed a mouthful without tasting it.
"You wanted to know where the relationship was going."
"I know, but a marriage proposal?"
"To which you said no."
"Of course I did."
"Why?"
Kate was about to give the same answer she'd given Rick, but stopped herself. Lanie wouldn't accept anything less than the truth, any more than he'd done, and she'd know a lie. "I don't know," she admitted.
"Well, that's honest, at least." Lanie sat back on her couch. "And if he'd asked before? Before that case, before the job offer?"
"He didn't."
"Humour me. Play what if. What would have been your answer?"
"I …"
"Tell the truth."
Kate licked lips. "I'd probably have said yes."
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why would you have said yes?"
"Because I love him."
"So has something changed? Have you stopped?"
"No. Of course not."
"And he still loves you."
"Obviously."
"Then all we're talking about is timing?"
"No. Yes. Lanie, it's –"
"You say it's complicated and I'm gonna smack you, girl."
"But it is. He didn't ask before. He only asked when he thought he was going to lose me."
"And that's not a good enough reason?"
"No. It's not."
Lanie sighed. "You two are your own worst enemies, you know that?"
Kate did the same. "I know."
"So you think he doesn't love you enough to really want to marry you, just to keep you."
"I … no … that's not …"
"Because if you think that you're a fool. You didn't see the way he was when you got shot, or the wonder on his face when he watches you, when you're not looking. That man loves you so bad."
"I know, but –"
"Why does there have to be a but? Kate, why can't you just accept it?"
Because I'm not worthy of it. It's what she hadn't said to her dad when he'd asked her why she always broke off her relationships when they showed signs of getting serious. It was why she woke up sweating sometimes in the night, her heart pounding. She knew she'd never be worthy of the kind of love her father had had for her mother. Or the love she suspected Rick had for her.
"Because –" What she might have said was lost as someone knocked at the door, loudly enough to rattle the hinges.
"You stay there," Lanie said pointedly, getting to her feet. "I'll send whoever it is off with a flea in his ear, then we're going to get down to the nitty gritty."
"Oh, good."
Lanie smiled and walked into the small hallway to open her front door. "Do you have any idea what … oh, it's you."
"Yes." Rick licked suddenly dry lips. "Is she here?"
"Why would you think she is?"
"Because her phone's turned off and she's not at home."
Lanie narrowed her eyes at him. "You've been spending too long playing detective."
"Lanie, please."
Her glare should have wilted him on the spot, but he didn't move.
"Yes, she's here. I'm not sure she wants to talk to you, though."
"Lanie, who …" Kate had come into the hall. "Oh."
"Hi." Rick gave an uncertain smile.
"Hi."
"Can we talk?"
"I thought we had."
"Kate, I've spent the last twenty odd hours doing nothing but think about us. Please."
Lanie lifted an eyebrow at her friend, then shrugged as Kate nodded briefly. "Well, it's your funeral." She turned back to Rick. "Come on in. But wipe your feet and take off your coat – I don't want my apartment getting dirty."
"It's raining," Rick said inconsequentially, doing as he was told and hanging his overcoat on the stand. He ran his hands through his hair to take out the worst.
"And there I was thinking you'd taken a shower with all your clothes on," Lanie said drily.
Kate dropped her head to hide her smile, then walked back into the living room. Rick followed, Lanie a pace behind.
"Kate …" Now he was here, facing her, he was suddenly tongue-tied.
Kate looked at Lanie. "Can you give us a few minutes?"
"You sure you don't want me to hang around?"
Kate shook her head, not taking her eyes off Rick. "No. We're good."
"Well, I'm not going far. You want me, I'm in the kitchen. And I know a dozen ways to kill a man without leaving a trace." Lanie gave Rick another of her patented glares and stalked out of the room.
Kate and Rick faced each other, close enough to touch but with what seemed like a huge gulf between them.
He spoke first. "I couldn't leave it the way we did."
"What, you walking out saying you needed to think?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you?"
"Honestly?"
"Please."
"I felt betrayed."
"Betrayed? You thought I was going to say yes to your proposal, fall into your arms and give up all my ambitions."
"I wouldn't put it quite like that."
"Then how would you put it?"
He took half a step closer. "Kate, I don't want to do this again. Go over and over it, like last night."
"Neither do I. But you should be happy for me. I've found something I want to do, something that's going to fulfil me. If you love me –"
"If?"
"Okay, I'm sorry. But you should be supportive."
"I know." He heaved such a sigh that it seemed to come from the roots of his soul.
"Then why aren't you?"
"Because I'm afraid."
"Of what?"
"Losing you. You're right. Maybe the ring was metaphorical handcuffs. But I … This year has been amazing. Apart from the broken kneecap." He saw her smile slightly." "But I'm scared you'll find working for the Federal Task Force enough."
Looking into his blue eyes she could see the worry etched in them. "It doesn't change how we feel about each other."
"Doesn't it?"
"Not unless you let it." She reached up and touched his face. "I wouldn't ask you to give up being a writer, because that's who you are. And this is who I am."
"The law. If you're dissatisfied, why don't you go back to becoming a lawyer? You could end up an Appellate Judge."
"That's still an option. But right now, this is what I want to do."
He gazed at her, studying the planes of her face, trying to see into her, to read the truth. Finally he sighed again. "You're right. Of course you're right. And what I said before goes. Whatever you want. However you want it." He fingered the box in his pocket. "The proposal still stands, by the way."
"I wouldn't want it otherwise."
"Then let me come with you."
"No. No, that's … I have to concentrate on this. At least for a while. And you'd be a distraction."
"A good distraction or a bad distraction?" He ran his fingertips up and down the open front of her blouse.
"One that I would enjoy too much at the moment." She put her hand on his, pressing it to her. "You know me. I have to put everything into it, and I'm afraid there wouldn't be anything left for you at the end of the day."
"I could make you dinner each night."
"And watch it go cold because I'd been sent halfway across the country." Kate shook her head. "Be here. Work on your book, spend time with Martha and Alexis. And we'll see."
It was a compromise, and they both knew it, but they also knew neither wanted the relationship to end.
"I'll be grouchy."
"So what else is new?"
"I'll have you know I have a lovely temper."
She laughed, pulling him closer. "You're also stubborn, pig-headed, annoying –"
"And ruggedly handsome. Don't forget ruggedly handsome."
"As if I would."
They kissed, softly at first, then with more passion.
"My place?" he suggested as they came up for air.
"Mine. I still have to pack."
He nodded, the small lines of tension reappearing at the corners of his eyes, but he smiled over them. "I'll help."
She was about to say something along the lines of she'd end up in DC with all her Nebula 9 costumes and no underwear, but stopped. He needed this. "Okay." She smiled. "After."
His grin was natural, unforced, as he pulled her to him again.
In the dark, empty warehouse the man in the grey sweatshirt was peering into a crate, moving stuff around.
"You might wanna be a bit more careful," his companion said, arms crossed, looking relaxed. "I don't fancy ending up a smear on the landscape." He chuckled.
"You sure this is good stuff?"
"Newest formulation. Half a kilo'd take out this building."
"And the detonators?"
"Timer, motion sensitive, cellphone activated … whatever you want."
"And nobody's going to notice it's gone?"
"Well, that's not your problem, is it?" His slow drawl made it sound like he was discussing the latest country and western hit, not methods of mass destruction.
"Fine." The man in the sweatshirt handed over a small case.
"Do I have to count it?"
"Do you want to leave here alive?"
"If you want to keep the line of supply open. Oh, and my pal'd take your head off with one shot if you tried."
Sweatshirt-guy tried to peer out into the sunshine, but there was no movement, nothing to indicate a sniper had him in crosshairs. Nothing except the certainty crawling up his spine. "And if I need more?"
"You know the number to call." He touched his cap in a sort of salute then sauntered out into the sunshine, his fatigues standing out only until he climbed into the cab of the truck. In a moment he'd started the engine and driven out of sight.
Only then did the man in the sweatshirt take a breath, and a cold smile filtered across his face.
