There was no clicking of keys coming from the front room of a large house which sat mere feet away from the ocean, and had a view some might kill for. It wasn't that view that was causing the lack of work being done, nor was it the insanely gorgeous July day. No, it was a more internal battle that was keeping Richard Castle from his work.
He stared at his computer screen, slack jawed and tired. There was a pit in his stomach that he just couldn't get rid of and the sun that was shining through the large rounded windows to his left was almost painful and seemed to be without color. He was alone at the moment, meaning to actually get some work done but it had been almost three weeks and what he had written in that time could probably fit on a bar napkin. This wasn't right. Nothing had worked out like it should have and what could he do exactly? It was too late; too goddam late. A sharp sigh escaped him and he had to work at making his hands move enough to close his laptop.
It closed with a click, the painful white glare of the blank page disappearing, and he finally looked out into the room he had been sitting in for the last three hours. It was filled with bookshelves, all full of hundreds upon hundreds of books; his own personal library. He had dreamed of having such a thing when he was little, but now it didn't matter at all. He didn't want to read any of them, in fact he really felt like tearing them apart, especially the romance books that he picked up from time to time for his Mother. For some reason he could see those books the most clearly out of all of them.
This shouldn't have happened. None of this should be going the way it is, and he wished to God that he could shut off his brain. His thoughts were killing him, slowly and in excruciating pain. He was torturing himself better than anyone ever could and he wasn't sure how much more he could take of it. He felt ill, his stomach grumbling and his body tingling.
He took a glance to the hall which lead to the kitchen but didn't move. He wasn't hungry, he hadn't been hungry the past two days and the only thing he had managed to eat were a few pieces of toast. The shrimp and lobster he had brought for the trip were probably already going bad. Did it matter? Not one damn bit.
He reached over and sat his laptop on the table beside the chair he was in and sunk into the heavy padding. He'd just stay here, just sleep here all summer. Yeah, he had a book due soon but that was just one more thing to worry about, and he was sick and tired of worrying and of thinking and writing. He mumbled a curse and brought a hand to his forehead.
She had called. A week ago, early morning and he answered without looking at his cellphone, expecting it to be Alexis. It wasn't, it was her. She was… he wasn't sure exactly what she was doing other than she seemed to just want to talk, to see how he was doing. He didn't really want to talk to her though because he was positive Demming was with her, probably at his beach house. Maybe not in the room, but he was there. It was confirmed with how quickly she got off the phone after talking his ear off for a few minutes. Well, not confirmed, but he had a pretty good guess.
He turned his cellphone off after the call. He didn't want another one of those, because it killed him a little inside listening to her, listening to how happy she seemed. He didn't want to deny her the happiness she had, he loved it when she was happy, when she was smiling. At him. That wasn't happening anymore, but at least she was happy. That was good.
He felt his eyelids droop and didn't fight them like he had been the past couple of days. This wasn't like him, he should not be feeling like this over some damn girl. He wasn't even this depressed when he was divorced, perhaps because it was a bit of a relief but he hadn't even dated this girl. Why was it hurting so much?
"Rick?" He looked up and turned toward the hall, his neck aching as he did so and he rolled his head slightly trying to relieve the pinch.
Standing in the hall was Gina, his ex-wife that was suppose to be keeping an eye on him and make sure that his book got done. She wasn't doing to much of that. For the most part she just yelled at him to stop moping around before going out shopping or to go nail some guy down by the beach. He really wished he had said no to her coming with him, and been firm. He couldn't though, he was still too thrown by what she had said even though he was trying to not the show it. God, it took a lot not the show it and he was sure he failed once or twice. She didn't even notice.
"What, Gina?" He asked, his voice not sounding like his own. It was tired, old, and a bit sickly. He placed a hand to his forehead for a moment again. It didn't feel like he had a temperature which was a plus.
"Are you all right? You look pale and you're not writing."
"Don't worry about me," He said and waved her off. "I'm fine, just a little tired."
"How's the book coming?" She asked in that boss like voice she liked to use sometimes… well actually she liked to use it all the time. He hated that voice.
"Fine, it'd be going better if you would stop asking me every fifteen minutes when you're in the house."
"Why the hell are you so snippy?" She said, and leaned against the doorframe. "I know you haven't been writing much."
"How could you? You're not even here ninety percent of the time." He said, his voice finding some of its strength again. He was not going to listen to her; he was not in the mood to deal with her hyperbolic bullshit that she liked to spout sometimes. Especially when she tried to make it seem like she gave a damn.
"Because I checked your laptop." She said matter-of-factly and gave him a smirk. Of course she did, the sneaky… he didn't finish the thought because it didn't matter. None of this did right now and he shook his head.
"Okay, whatever. Don't worry I'll have it done. Going out?" He asked hoping beyond hope that she was.
"Yes, I met a nice young man at a cafe the other day and we're going out."
"So is this one above eighteen?"
"Possibly. I expect at least two pages to be ready for review when I get back."
"Good, then if I'm lucky I'll have all summer." He said and she gave a mock laugh before leaving. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor for a moment before the front door opened, the alarm beeped, and the door slammed closed.
He was alone again.
He was always alone because writing was a lonely job, his life was a lonely life, except for his daughter and mother. He could only trust them to actually be with him. They actually loved him and he loved them with all his heart. He knew love very well, and he hadn't felt it with Meredith or Gina. But he was feeling the heartache ramifications of what he thought was real love right now.
It was the second time that he had this happen to him. Kyra had left and he didn't go after her. It was always him, always his fault for being late. God why was he such an idiot?
He never truly got over Kyra and here it was happening again. What could be done though? There were just so many questions running through his head that he couldn't quite get a grasp on any of them. Except for one: would he go back?
The very idea made his chest hurt. He couldn't do it—he couldn't sit there helping her and then see her run off with her boyfriend. Hearing about it was painful enough, watching it? How could anyone deal with that in their face everyday? If he could just kind of like her this wouldn't be such a problem, but no, every time he tried to focus on something else Demming and her seemed to find their way back into his thoughts. He should be having fun, he should be out at the clubs finding some woman to spend some time with. He should be writing.
He looked over to his laptop, the light on the side looked almost to be breathing. He couldn't write now, especially with where he was in the book. Schlemming and Nikki were together in the chapter and he didn't want to write another damn word. If he could he'd bring gunmen in, crashing through the windows and shooting him dead. That wouldn't work; it was all wrong. He couldn't kill him, he couldn't hurt Nikki like that right now. He frowned at the thought, a year ago he would of done and not cared. Hell he killed off Derek just because he was bored.
He knew he had changed in a lot of ways, and that was partly why he liked working with her. She made him change and he made her change. Both were changed for the better, but what more could he do? There was only so much change in him that he could make. It wasn't enough—she wasn't with him and he lost in a game that he started late in. It was his fault.
He stood, wobbling slightly as his legs found their strength again and walked out of the room, making his way to the kitchen. He still wasn't hungry but his cellphone was there, sitting on the butcher block counter, charging. He picked it up, looking at the green battery before unplugging it.
It was still off and he kind of wanted to keep it off but he was sure Alexis had called at least once and he really would like to talk to her. He wasn't worried about an emergency with her as the school had the house phone. That was the only reason he didn't have a problem turing his cell off.
He held down the button, the familiar apple logo appearing for a second before the main screen showed up. Twenty-six messages? Wow, he had expected three, maybe four at the most. He hit the button and placed the phone to his ear, looking out the window.
The first one, was to his great surprise, from Beckett. She was calling to see how things were and wanted him to call her back. That wouldn't happen, they were friends, but he couldn't deal with hearing from her, or how happy she was while he was still trying to figure out where to go from here. He deleted the message.
The next one was from her… as was the one the after. Almost half the messages were from her over the course of the past few days. The last one struck him, making him narrow his eyes in confusion.
"Castle, look I'm getting worried, could you please just give me a call back? Please?"
He repeated the message, listening to the timestamp, it was from yesterday at seven p.m. What was she worried about? He wasn't her concern anymore, all she needed to worry about was Demming, he could take care of himself. Yet, he let a bit of hope creep in as the next message began to play. Maybe she cared for him slightly more than a friend… or not. She was with Demming, it was over and hoping for something more was only going to make the pain worse.
"Dad, it's me. Is everything okay? Detective Beckett called to see if I knew anything about why you weren't answering your phone. Why aren't you picking up your phone? Give me a call, Dad, I'm worried." He backed out of the messages and went to his speed dial. Kate had called Alexis? For what?
"Hey sweetie," He said when he heard a tired hello echo through the phone. "You haven't seen that boy again have you?"
"Dad, what's going on?" Her voice sounded worried, almost distraught and that took him a bit by surprise. "You don't sound like yourself."
"I'm fine, honey, just been working hard." He said forcing a smile as he let his eyes gaze out over the wavering beach grass that seemed to stretch on for miles in some directions. The horizon beyond was filled with clouds that were starting to take on the hues of purple, red and orange.
"Really?" She sounded a bit doubtful and he smiled a real smile for once. She could read him like a book when he lied.
"Well, I'm trying to. Having a tough time with Nikki Heat and the chapter I'm on."
"Why was your phone off?"
He sighed, telling her a story about trying to work and that he wanted no distractions wasn't going to work. She knew how he loved being connected, and he hadn't even Twittered since he got to the house. Telling her the truth was almost as bad. He knew he was being childish about it, but he couldn't help it. He just didn't want to hear from anyone, especially Beckett who seemed to be calling a lot, which really wasn't like her. He opted for the truth in the end. She'd be able to tell if he was lying so he might as well explain it only once.
"I.. I didn't want to talk to anyone for bit." He said, holding his voice steady.
"Okay, now I'm worried." Alexis said and she sounded it. "Have you talked to Beckett yet? She sounded a little worried too when she called, saying she hadn't heard from you in a while, even after calling you a number of times."
"No, and I don't really want to right now. Like I said I'm just trying to work."
"Are you? How much have you written so far, Dad?"
"Quite a lot," He said knowing she'd see right through. He wished she would believe him.
"Mhm, maybe I should come home early."
"What? No, you are staying put, missy and there is no discussion on that."
"But Da—"
"Alexis, I'm fine, really. I am just having some trouble with writing at the moment. You don't have to worry about me, okay? It's my job to worry about you and that little friend of yours." He said trying to get back the humor in his voice.
"There isn't anything going on with me and him," She said and from there the conversation changed from subject to subject, almost as if they hadn't talked in years. It was Alexis who finally had to say goodbye and he felt a bit more pain well up inside of him. He missed her terribly.
"Sorry, I have to get to bed, it's going to be insanely busy tomorrow. Will you keep your phone on? I'll be able to talk again tomorrow."
"Of course, I'll be looking forward to it. Goodnight sweetie."
"G'Night dad," She said and the call dropped. He brought the phone down from his ear and stared at it. He'd leave it on, even if Beckett did call. He might even pick up when she did, just to see what she wanted.
Dropping the phone into his pocket he walked out the french doors and onto the deck. The setting sun felt warm on his skin and he already could feel the stickiness of sweat as it began to build along his forehead and back. It was going to be a hot, humid night. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes.
Things couldn't always be all right all the time. If he went back and worked with Beckett again there would be good times still. They'd just be mixed with the bad times as well. Her love life wasn't any of his business, just as his wasn't any of hers but both had it thrusted in their faces.
He let out the breath he was holding and rested his arms on the wooden rail. He had to change even more, he thought, he needed to settle down some. He never realized how painful it may have been for her when he brought up his dates, and she hadn't realized how much it hurt for him to see her.
She got the better part of a bad deal, she didn't have to watch it but that didn't make it better. He had lost her. That didn't mean he couldn't be her friend and friends supported each other didn't they? He could hate Demming all he wanted, she was with him and that probably wouldn't change, but he didn't hate her. If the Demming stuff was kept out of sight he might be able to deal with working with her again. Might be able to.
His phone vibrated in his back pocket which made him jump slightly. He reached back, bringing the iPhone around to the front and looked at the name. Beckett. He felt that pit in his stomach come back and he felt ill again as his mind wandered to what her and Demming were doing.
"Castle," He said keeping his voice as steady as he could. There was no answer for a moment until an unsure voice came back over.
"Hey, it's Kate."
"I saw," He said smiling at the sound of her voice. "So, what's up Detective? Things going well in your life?" Well, that was a loaded question and he already wished he hadn't asked it.
"Okay, I guess, all things considered. How's the Hamptons?"
"Eh, wouldn't know, been working too hard."
"Oh, right, your book. How's that going?"
"Pretty well so fair, at a tough chapter at the moment but I'll get through it."
"Oh," She said and there was a long pause, a long awkward pause that he wished would end. "So you're a hard guy to get a hold of, you know that?"
He chuckled into the phone. "Yeah, sorry, like I said, been working pretty hard.
"Yeah."
"So, any new and exciting cases since I left?"
"Some," She said with a small laugh. "A girl was hanged off a rooftop by a piece of telephone wire."
"Oh, gruesome, were you able to solve it?"
"Yeah, turned out it was her best friend. They were fighting over the same guy and our vic won." He smirked, he wouldn't mind killing Demming… he shook the thought from his head.
"Well, I'm glad to hear you're doing so well without me there." He said, meaning it as a joke, but he wasn't sure how she would take it.
"I've always have done well, you just made it a little easier." He was pretty sure she was smiling. "I was lucky with this case, Demming pointed me in the righ—Sorry."
"For what?" He said, trying his best not to sound hurt. That pit in his stomach turned into a black hole.
"For, uh… I didn't mean to bring that up."
"Why not? He helped on the case. Nothing wrong with giving credit where credit is due."
"Yeah."
"Yup, hey sorry but I gotta run, I have something on the grill."
"Oh yeah, sorry to keep you." She paused as if there was something more she wanted to say and so he waited. "Castle, do you think we could meet and talk sometime soon?"
Talk? He was pretty sure it would have something to do with Demming. He did want to see her though and if Demming wasn't there he would love to see her again.
"About what?"
"Us."