Disclaimer and Introduction: The characters aren't mine, and I claim no rights or interest in them. For those parts of what follows that are original to me, they're mine.
The pun used as a title came first, but quickly attached itself to a story difficulty I have with "Always," the S4 finale.
Again, thanks to my beta reader for her time, feedback, and encouragement. Her name has been withheld to protect the innocent. All errors are mine.
Late yesterday Castle had left Beckett's apartment and her life, after she claimed it as only hers, to do with it as she decided. Now, he was waiting.
Alexis' graduation, complete with a speech she had barely finished writing, was less than two hours from starting and traffic wouldn't be light. Castle was ready to go, at the bottom of the stairs, calling up in an attempt to hurry along his mother's entrance. She was typically late, part of the long-running production that was Martha Rodgers.
The delay gave Castle unwelcomed time to again rehash the events of the last 24 hours. He was hoping that Alexis' graduation would provide a respite from the replays that had been looping in his head. The sooner he got to the ceremony, the better, so standing around was frustrating and increasingly irritating.
But Castle had to admit to himself that the hours of replays had provided clarity, allowing him to see overlooked truths and symmetries within their story. Above all, he realized that he should have foreseen how it was going to end.
Castle's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by his cellphone running. As he reached to pull his phone from his pocket, he said a quick prayer that it wasn't the call he didn't want. Maybe a political pollster was calling. It was an election year, after all. A telemarketer would also be good, or a wrong number. Anything but the call he knew he'd eventually get, because that would require him to make a decision he didn't want to have to make.
But sometimes the answer to a prayer is 'no.' His phone screen showed the 12th Precinct's number.
A year ago Beckett had kicked him out of her apartment and her life, saying whatever they were was over. He'd left then, like he had yesterday, without any intention of coming back. But then Montgomery had pulled him back in to ensure Beckett survived when Roy decided to make his stand. That time he'd been able to physically restrain her, literally carrying her out of harm's way, for the few minutes needed until the shooting was over. Because no one had survived the gunfight, there was no one left to hunt, no remaining clues to lead to a new one and then the next, and - hopefully - eventually to her mother's killer. So Kate had momentarily paused her investigation to bury her captain. And though the Dragon had almost killed her in that moment, a "truce" had since kept her safe and alive.
But this time, Beckett had clues and she was hunting the man who had not only killed the gang member hired to B&E into Evelynn Montgomery's house, but also had shot Kate at Roy's funeral. As much as Castle had tried to convince Beckett of alternate possibilities, it was obvious to Castle from what had been stolen, that the whole thing was connected to her mother's case. That meant Beckett had to stop or, as Mr. Smith had reminded, he couldn't control the situation and the truce keeping Beckett alive would be over and Beckett a target again.
So Castle had gone to Beckett's to play his role in the truce, planning to do whatever it took to get her to stop. Even if that meant Castle had to confess that role to Beckett. He had long ago come to peace with what he had been doing over the year since he'd watched Beckett bleed out and nearly die. He hadn't really wrestled with the degree of his own complicity in the ongoing cover-up of Johanna Beckett's murder, or the betrayal that Beckett was sure to feel when she discovered his involvement. He hadn't because, in truth, none of that mattered to him. He loved her, had loved her for years, and that meant he would do whatever he had to, to keep her safe. Still, a part of Castle knew it wouldn't end well. At some point, in some way, Beckett was bound to find out about his role, and even Castle's writer's imagination employed at full power couldn't come up with a believable happy ending to that discovery. Castle had lived in the hope that real life would again prove stranger than fiction.
In the last 24 hours, Castle realized how self-deluded he had been.
Yesterday, at her loft, Castle had confessed his involvement to Beckett hoping that she would understand the danger that she was in and would stop her investigation. Instead, she had the reaction he should have known that she would – hurt, angry, accusing Castle of being part of the cover-up, if not her mother's murder, dismissive of his utter loyalty to her.
But Castle hadn't seen that degree of hostility coming, and hadn't been prepared for it. Castle had already been on an emotional edge - from the fear and the guilt over the danger she was in, the difficulty in having to confess his involvement – and Beckett's attacks against him, against their relationship, had pushed him over. Her betrayal accusation, her denial of his trustworthiness, and the failure to give him the benefit of the doubt, that he might had played his part for the purest of motives, the love that she knew he felt for her, it was all as if she didn't value him at all.
And after Castle again told Kate that he loved her and implored her to stop if she cared for him at all, she hardly acknowledged his plea, much less the question of whether she felt anything for him. Worse, she'd only used his begging as a rhetorical springboard for declaring again that her life was her own, the decision to risk it hers alone. She had loudly affirmed her decision to continue with her crusade, even if it meant a war that Castle had again told her she could not win.
Devastated, having progressed from barely holding it together, to not, and onto numb, Castle did the only thing he could think to do. With Kate's spurning of his love in favor of her quest leaving him raw, he declared it all over. After four years, Castle quit pushing the rubber tree plant that was their relationship and the hope for something more, and walked out.
The clarity provided by his memory reliving the scene over and over during the last 24 hours had led him to one, inescapable conclusion. One that kept repeating, as he waited for his mother to appear.
He had left Beckett to die.
Maybe that was his writer's brain being a bit metaphorically over-dramatic. But he didn't think by much. There was a possibility that Beckett would solve her mom's case and arrest the Dragon. But time was short, and he could feel it rapidly running out. The Dragon was already in motion, in a clean-up operation. Was Beckett one of the operation's objectives? Castle couldn't tell but if she was, time was really short. If she wasn't, if the operation had a different objective, finding and arresting her shooter would still be very dangerous business, especially since Beckett refused to go outside her team for help. Plus, even an unsuccessful hunt could come to the Dragon's attention in any number of ways. If she did succeed in arresting her shooter, it wouldn't get her closer to the Dragon. The shooter wouldn't talk, wouldn't identify the Dragon even presuming the shooter knew who the Dragon was. They'd already been there before with Lockwood. But arresting Beckett's shooter would certainly tell the Dragon that she was back to actively hunting.
Since leaving Beckett's apartment, Castle had concluded that the truce, the only thing that had kept the Dragon at bay, wouldn't last much longer if it were still intact. Without that agreement to honor, the Dragon would be free to finish the job that had been started at the cemetery. Everything they knew about the Dragon indicated that he had money and resources, had access to former Special Ops soldiers to hire as killers, and had extensive knowledge of how work to around and through the police, prisons and the legal system. Even if Beckett somehow survived her shooter again, he'd be replaced by some other hired killer, likely quickly, and maybe a team of them (real life wasn't a choreographed fight scene, where the bad guys politely took their individual turns). That would continue until the Dragon had extinguished the danger that was Kate Beckett, or Beckett had solved her mom's case and arrested the Dragon. Castle had the utmost respect for Beckett and her abilities, but had little doubt who would win because Kate was also at an overwhelming disadvantage – she had no idea who the Dragon was, while the Dragon couldn't be more familiar with his target. And for the Dragon, a win meant Beckett would die.
With those stakes in play, Castle had left her.
Just like last year, he was outside, looking in. Then Beckett kicked him out, this year he'd walked out, but both times he was out and she was in mortal danger. But this time, there was no Roy to pull him back in, no rushing in to save her from herself. He was out, and he wasn't going back.
So he was waiting for the call. And now the 12th Precinct was calling.
As the ringing continued, the possibilities ran through his mind. He dismissed the idea that the call was from Beckett. She'd call using her own phone (though he conceded it was possible that she might use the department phone to emphasize the impersonal nature of the call). It could be one of the boys, asking where he was, or maybe seeking help behind Beckett's back. By answering, he might learn that Beckett was still on the hunt, perhaps even successful this time and for the moment. Or maybe, Castle thought, maybe he was on the verge of answering the terrible call from Gates that he expected to get eventually.
The only thing Castle really knew as he stood there waiting for his mother, waiting to go hear Alexis speak at her graduation, was that tonight was to be Alexis' night. Answering the call wouldn't change a thing about Beckett, one way or the other. But answering the phone would make the unknown, known. And that knowledge might irrevocably change Alexis' night, eliminating what was going to be a happy memory for his daughter and family, and replacing it with an awful one. He believed that he would have to answer that terrible call someday. But not now. Today, he needed to think of Beckett as alive.
Castle silenced his phone as he put it back in his pocket, and continued waiting.