Castle fanfiction chapter 1

Castle sat alone, deeply absorbed in his characteristic morbidity that he had adopted over the past few years. The room was dark and gloomy, lacking its original bounce, messy with whiskey bottles, Kleenex, old clothes torn sheets of paper lying strewn all anyhow….. Walter hated to see his father in this harem of morbidity. It was not that he did not feel sorry for him, but yet somehow his father had the great capacity of bringing out the worst in him. He was not always like this, Walt mused, and in fact he was rather different, wasn't he? He would take him out to fly kites in the park in summer, and build snowmen every Christmas, while his mom sat and laughed at them. His beautiful, beautiful mom. The benevolent angel who soothed every cry, cured every scraped knee, made every nightmare vanish. How he loved her and hated her for going away so far. LA was so far from his city, from all his daily emotions and pining and love and hatred. LA was so far away from his morbid life with his dad wallowing in self pity.

Walt stood at the door for 5 more minutes, not being able to decide whether to talk to his father or not, half wishing that Richard Castle would look up to find him there and ask him why he stood there. And then, having reached some kind of a muddled decision (that can only be reached by a 10 or 12 year old) Walt entered the room and stood in front of his dad. "Dad, I want to go to mum this Christmas."

"Hmm?"

"I want to go to L.A."

Castle looked up at his son. "Yeah, I heard you. But I do not know whether your mom would allow that or not."

"Why won't she allow that? She loves me. And she loves it when I go to her. She loved it when I went to her last to last summer."

"Of course she loves you, Squirrel, but you know she remains extremely busy in Christmas."

"no." said Walt indignantly. "She never worked for Christmas when I was small. We would go to the park and play in the snow."

"Things were different then, dear."

"Stop those mushy nicknames dad, it is irritating. And when I was small, it was you who changed everything and made everything different."

"Walt, I know the divorce hasn't been too easy on you, but…"

"But what Father?" Walt yelled. "I am big enough to know that all that 'we both love you two but since we cannot stay together because we hate each other so your mom will move to L.A with li'l Jo and you'll stay with me even though we both love you so much' was just crap, and you really do not give a damn about it. Yes, don't give me that vandalized look. When every child in school has a family I stay with my drunken don't-care father, who always tries to poke into my private matters."

"I ..."

"I know 'twas you who read my diary every night, the notes that I write to her… and who told my friends to look after me last Tuesday, because I had skipped breakfast, even though normally, you do not even know what I eat..."

"Walt, that is because I care about you. That day I saw you crying over that notebook and I do know what you have for breakfast…"

"How? You come home at 2'o clock at night, sleep till eleven and go out at 1 in the afternoon. I do not get to catch a glimpse of you throughout the day. And then you bring the women home…"

"Walt, that was Lindsey, my publisher, you know her."

"…..and whenever you are home you are always on the phone talking."

"But that was your tutor Walt…"

"Mom always taught me herself. You know I hate Mr. Rigor. And I am smart enough I do not need a tutor."

"I know I am not your mother Walt, but I do try despite all my work. And I promise you I'll try harder."

"Like always…"

"You are normally not this rude to me, though you always are a bit distant, so what is the matter with you?"

"Ahh! Finally you notice something is wrong. Fine, I'll tell you today, as it is that you have a very busy schedule and despite that try to find time for me. Finally as you have found some, I'll tell you today. How would you feel if you class mates tell you that you father was off fucking whores?"

"SHUT UP WALT! Enough of this!"

"WHY?" Walt yelled back. "The truth hurts, does it?

He felt a sharp pang of hot pain glaze his face, his cheek stung, and tears sprang to his eyes. Castle looked at his palm, shocked at himself. "Mum would never hit me." He spoke though quivering lips. "I hate you dad, I hate you." Castle tried to grab his hand but he wrenched it away and ran up the stairs, and Castle heard his door bang shut. He slouched and sank into his chair. This was what his life was ever since Kate left to L.A. A mere meaningless existence. He looked at the pictures on the table of Kate, himself and a baby Walt... And some more with Walt and Johanna playing in the park…a baby Walt tucked up in Kate's arms.