Cold Comfort

Right, so I was going to include Gina in my other story, Realizations, but realized she doesn't fit there anymore, so I thought I'd have a bash at writing her here. Don't worry, I don't intend to abandon the other one. This one might be a bit more angsty, though.

Spoiler for the finale, though again, anyone who's read any articles about it, or seen the promo photos will already be aware of it.

The ringing sound just wasn't going to go away. It seemed to be getting louder now, penetrating even the fuzzy, muddled mess that was currently Rick Castle's mind.

He flailed his arm around on the hard, flat surface he was currently slumped across, and struck something. The crash of the object hitting the floor roused him completely from the stupor he'd been wallowing in. He glanced around, blearily, and looked for the source of the noise. His desktop lamp was lying on the floor, bulb shattered. Must have hit it, he registered, but that piercing ringing was still sounding.

Blinking rapidly to adjust to the daylight shining in through the uncovered windows, he saw his phone perched precariously on his desk, the vibration function inching it closer and closer to the edge. He reached out, grabbing it before it could fall, and peered at the display. A chess piece against a red background. Gina. Great. He sighed heavily and realized he'd have to answer. She never bothered him now unless it was important.

Taking a deep breath, he hit the button and raised the phone to his ear. "Gina, hi." His voice was rusty, his throat dry. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you leave something here when you took the rest of my stuff?"

"Rick, I'm not in the mood for your jokes right now," came the impatient voice of his ex-wife, distorted slightly by the phone speaker. "You've not given us an update on the book in weeks, and I have to say, people are getting a little bit nervous. Now tell me you don't have writer's block again."

"Writer's block? Me? Don't be ridiculous," he sputtered, trying to avoid looking at the almost blank word document that had flashed up when his movement had taken his laptop off standby. That was supposed to be chapter 6 of Naked Heat, his follow up to the best selling novel, Heat Wave. Things were not going well.

"Don't give me that tone, Richard. I know you well enough to know when you're full of it." He winced as he realized she really wasn't playing around. "Listen, I'm coming round now to take a look at your progress, so you'd better have something to show for Black Pawn's money, or at least a damn good excuse." She hung up, without allowing him to get another word in.

Damn, he thought, morosely, I really don't have either of those things for her. And I'm not up for a fight, right now. He'd had yet another seriously crappy day, yesterday. He was feeling more and more out of the loop at the precinct, as Beckett chose to spend time with her new boyfriend. Ryan and Esposito tried to include him as much as possible, but it just wasn't the same, and he still felt like a third wheel of sorts. Those two had such a close working relationship that he felt like he was intruding, even as they assured him he wasn't.

Beckett didn't seem to care too much what he did, at the moment. The case they'd just solved had been related to an investigation ongoing in Robbery, so of course, Beckett decided they needed input from a Robbery Detective, and guess who she picked? He groaned, and tried to focus on the problem at hand. Gina was on her way here. Now. Rick glanced down at himself and wrinkled his nose. Yes, he looked like he'd slept in his clothes, mainly because he had. He'd tried to sit down and write something when he got in, but no words had come. None at all. It had been the same way for a couple of weeks now, and he was starting to get concerned.

Well, I reckon I've got enough time for a quick change of clothes before my dressing down. He smiled slightly at the pun, and headed for his bedroom. Luckily, Alexis was staying with her friend Lacey's family in the Hamptons for the week. She wouldn't enjoy having to talk to Gina any more than Castle would.

Rick was just coming back down the stairs again, freshly attired, when the buzzer went at the door. She'd obviously called from the cab on the way over. It was just like her to try and catch him off guard like this. He went to the door, and opened it, stepping back quickly as his ex-wife barreled in without preamble, looking around the loft, before fixing her implacable gaze on him. "Looking to see if you interrupted anything?" Rick asked, acidly.

"No." She said, shortly. "It's entirely up to you what bimbos you choose to screw. I'm here to talk about business." Without further ado, he led her to his office.

"I think I have to confess," he started, hesitantly, "It's not going well. I'm not… not writing well." He looked around, expecting to see fury on her face, but what he did see unnerved him even more. Concern.

"Rick, what's going on?" Gina asked, her voice softer now, but no less demanding. "You look dreadful. Have you been sleeping? Eating enough?" She took a step towards him, but he held up a hand, warding her off.

"I'm fine." She looked at him skeptically. "Really, I am. OK, so I am having a little trouble sleeping, but nothing major."

"Except that you're not writing." She added, still with that look of worry etched on her face. "I thought you had your new muse. What's her name? Baxter?"

"Beckett." Rick corrected, testily. "And she's not my muse, she just… gave me the idea."

"But you're still researching her, though, right? Still spending time the police precinct?" She waited for his nod, before continuing, "How much time? Once a week? Twice?" Her eyes had narrowed slightly, her suspicions clearly growing. When, instead of answering, he looked sheepishly at his desk top, she clearly guessed the answer. "Oh, Rick. Every day? No wonder you're struggling to write! You've given yourself a full time job, which they don't pay you for, by the way. What are you thinking?"

He tried to defend himself. "I enjoy it. Investigating real cases, catching bad guys. And it's doing some good too."

"Yeah, except it's sabotaging your real job."

"It's helping my real job. I get new stuff to work with all the time. Watching how Beckett deals with victims' families, suspects, watching how investigations are really carried out, from the ground up. I've learned so much." He was being honest now, though he barely considered any more how to incorporate the things he saw into his writing.

"Really." Gina said, as if coming to some sort of conclusion. He nodded, and she kept her eyes on his face as she said, "Well, in that case, I think that Black Pawn needs to take an interest in this, too. You are, after all, a major investment for the company. I want to see just what it is you spend all day doing with your Detective Beckett." She looked more than a little pleased with herself, now. "Are you going down there today? Of course you are." Her smile was as self satisfied as he'd ever seen it as she added, "I'm coming with you."

Rick gulped, dreading the day now more than he possibly could have before, when Tom Demming was the only thing he had to worry about. "OK, then" He sounded just as nervous as he felt, "Let's go, I'm sure everyone will be delighted to meet you."

"Good." Gina's predatory smile widened. "Maybe we can also see whether this Detective Beckett is actually part of the problem, rather than part of the solution."

TBC

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