Summary: A secret garden looking out over New York City shields Castle and Beckett from the world. Who knew that the mystical air of Mother Nature would be the thing that would finally draw them together in a world of their own?
Authors Notes: I read somewhere that there is actually a garden at the top of Beckett's awesome stairs and then this arose from the depths of my nature loving imagination. I hope you like it and would love to know what you think.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own very little in this gigantic world. Not to worry. Who really owns anything in this infinite cycle?
Kate Beckett was pissed. Summer's sun had not long risen above the roof tops of New York and the detective was already at home. It wasn't a work day, but she had gone in anyway. Gates had sent her home as soon as her heels had clacked out of the elevator, despite the fact that they had a homicide to solve. The Captain had justified her decision with a statement about not wanting to see Beckett in her precinct until she was actually suppose to be there. She had said that there were other detectives who could work the case, but Beckett hadn't been listening. The women had argued and yet the younger of the two had still ended up back in her apartment a mere forty minutes later.
Cold grains of soil became one solid mass as the detective scrunched her hand into a fist, slowly letting her heated anger leak into the dirt. Although she knew it was a hopeless act, Kate sometimes wished that Montgomery was still around. Today was a prime example. He wouldn't have wanted her working excessive overtime either, but he knew her. Montgomery knew when to stop pushing, stop restraining. Gates was locked and sealed behind reinforced steel doors. Beckett wasn't sure she'd ever make it inside.
Not having a case to keep her busy only brought the issues she had tried to work through with the psychologist bubbling to the surface. They would sit simmering when she was otherwise occupied but eventually they would show their burdening faces to haunt her. If she was honest, it wasn't just the cases that usually kept the troubles away. It was him. It was the man she had spent three years freefalling in love with. He kept her sane.
When she took in the unkempt garden around her, Kate let the grains wash through the gaps between her fingers to fall back into the flowerbed. It wasn't fair of her to take the frustration out on Mother Nature; she had neglected this peaceful place at the top of her stairs for far too long. The long since sealed door had required a substantial amount of prodding to pry it open. With a loss as to what to do at 10am on a weekday, if not working, she had found herself fighting with the solid barrier that had kept her locked inside for far too long.
A sigh escaped her lips as an audible breath that had the woman frowning at herself. Kate Beckett was stronger than this. She didn't need a psychologist. She didn't need a man to make her happy.
Life would be a lot simpler, Kate thought, if she were like the caterpillar moving at a steady pace across the wooden beam edging her garden. What would it be like to just know what you were supposed to do in life? What would it be like to not have to worry about things as complicated as bullets and feelings and love? Instinct would be all she'd need.
The erratic buzz of the doorbell pulled Beckett from her wandering thoughts and she offered the caterpillar a small melancholy smile before rocking back on her heels, rising to her feet. The jeans she had thrown on in haste before coming out into the garden were smudged across the thighs as she wiped her dirty palms clean on them. Before even reaching the front door she knew it would be him. It was always him. He was all she had some days, it seemed.
Out of habit the detective looked through the peep hole anyway. Sure enough, Richard Castle stood in the hallway of her apartment building looking innocently around the small space like a child in awe of the world. A smile pulled at her lips in reflex as she swung the door open.
"Castle." God, she sounded like a fool in love, didn't she?
His left eyebrow shot up in amusement at a joke she did not remember telling. "Detective."
Stepping aside to let him inside, Kate questioned, "What are you doing here?" She tried to steel her voice; he was amused by her, wasn't he?
"Thought you might like some company seeing as you've been banned from the precinct."
Castle let her stew on that as he stepped inside. They were already in her kitchen by the time she responded.
"Who told you?"
She picked up a paper cup off the counter and sipped the coffee within as she waited for the answer which she already knew. Screwing her face up at the stone cold liquid that hit her tongue, Beckett shuffled past him to throw the treacherous product into the trash can. She had bought it on her way home from the 12th whilst wandering the streets of New York City aimlessly. Perhaps she had been lost in thought out in the garden for longer than she realised.
"Esposito."
Amused by her reaction to the drink, Castle placed a cup tray containing two fresh coffees in front of her. He knew she would need coffee by this time of the morning. She always did, he always knew.
Kate hadn't even noticed him carrying them; he was wearing that blue button down again. Even she had to admit it was far more captivating than coffee. Although, the scolding hot liquid he came bearing was almost as good as she devoured it.
She simply nodded and offered him a smile that had him smiling back in a way which always warmed her stomach more than coffee ever could. "Thanks."
Rick's smile morphed from genuine to genuinely teasing as he took in her appearance. The clingy black v-neck and dirt tarnished denims she wore only mustered one thought out of him. "Don't tell me I interrupted a mud wrestling match?"
His blue eyes raked her figure, drinking her in, and the woman felt her cheeks warming at the sensation. He had a knack for always making her feel attractive, no matter what she wore. Beckett snorted out a strangled laugh and rolled her eyes at him, because that is what she did. She played everything down; a defence mechanism.
"You wish."
Castle shrugged innocently, leaning a hip against her kitchen sink. He couldn't deny the fact that he would be intrigued by such things.
She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and briefly considered him. Technically, the garden wasn't a secret. Sure, he had not seen it before and it didn't really matter if he saw it now but her hesitation stemmed from the reluctance to open up to people. Richard Castle didn't know that she gardened.
Rick watched a battle play out behind her eyes until she abruptly came to a silent decision. Still cradling the coffee in her hand, she nudged him gently in the shoulder with her own as she passed him. His feet instantly followed towards the old brick stairs that nestled at the edge of her kitchen. It had not escaped him on entry that the mysterious door at the top had been wide open; an unusual occurrence.
Lace shadows created by unexpected trees drew Castle's eyes from the threshold and out across the balcony. The trees were in pots, stretched along the length of the railing as a type of makeshift wall from the world. A net of tiny fairy lights hung across each and every one with more of the same hanging angelically from the roof. There was a chest of old draws placed randomly in the small space and each of its draws was pulled out to a staggered stair-like position. Each was inhabited by a rich array of flourishing flowers. Everywhere he looked there were plants and an exquisite variety of colour.
A gentle breeze made its way through the wall of trees and the low squeak of a swinging chair to Rick's left refocused his attention. The sight was better than any crazy theory he had imagined would be behind that door. He had expected Narnia, Neverland or a Bat-cave. He had not expected a fairy garden. It was colourful and alive and extraordinary. It was so very Kate.
"You have a fairy garden?"
Kate turned at the excitement and sheer awe that the grown man could barely contain. "It's just a garden, Castle." She didn't even try to hide the sweet upturn of her mouth.
He squinted briefly at her reluctance to believe in the supernatural but let it slide. "It's so cool!"
Pleased with his reaction, Kate returned to the task which he had interrupted. She knelt in front of her flowerbed and picked up a potted impatiens that had been waiting to be planted for months. Castle stood awkwardly in her peripheral vision, shoving his hands in his pockets and sporadically bending his knees without purpose. He glanced at the swinging chair and then back to her, deciding that going to sit on the opposite side of the garden would be a bit far away.
Solving the problem for him, she shuffled a few things out of the way, wiped the wooden beam edging the garden clean and patted the spot for him to sit down beside her. She moved to sit on the edge as well and found herself once again grinning at him. With legs hugged up to his chest he really did look like the man-child she accused him of. It was cute, she dare admit to herself.
The man simply grinned back and shrugged his shoulders innocently, playing up to the look. It only ignited her smile more; a contagious wave of joy he couldn't refuse. She gave him her profile and he watched as she rolled the sides of a flower pot between both hands before tipping it gracefully upside down and letting the plant come free into her palms. Author Richard Castle wasn't much of a gardener, but Rick was willing to learn from his partner. He didn't ask, but presumed she was kneading the soil free from the pot, setting it free from its confinements.
He watched in fascination as she shifted to the side so that her knee pushed into his thigh as she reached into the bed behind them. Tiny blemishes had been made in the petals of the magenta flowers she worked with. Probably snails, he thought. The writer inside couldn't help but draw comparisons to the woman beside him; strong and beautiful, even when damaged.
Some time passed in which he was simply content to just sit there and watch her. Few words passed between. Instead they bathed in companionable silence. She knew he loved to talk but was grateful for his ability to sit back and give her mental space when she needed it. Something had been bothering her before his arrival, but she couldn't remember what it was now.
It were days like this that Beckett particularly wished they were something more than partners. She longed to curl up on the couch beside him and waste the day away doing nothing and everything all at once. Of course, Castle would try to take her to elaborate lunches and to extravagant functions, but he would soon learn that she was not like his ex-wives in that sense. Relaxing in the comfort of her apartment, or his, was enough. Kate didn't need elaborate or extravagant; she would settle for simply having him.
During their non-existent conversation he had stretched out so that both legs were elongated with ankles hooked over one another and either hand was placed in support on the beam beside him. Occasionally she would glance up from her task to find him smiling at her or watching with such intensity that his proximity made her nervous. They were being incredibly open today, here in this secluded little world which she had allowed him into. Sure, they were not having deep and meaningful conversation but they were being. Just being.
If she didn't know any better, Kate would have thought that the butterfly that landed on his hand was the caterpillar from earlier. It was almost as though it were drawing her attention to him in unbalanced monotony; it's blue scaled wings matching his shirt and eyes so perfectly that she almost believed it could have evolved from the man himself. She used the back of her hand to brush a stray piece of hair away from her face to get a better look at the beautiful creature.
Together they observed this thing which had evolved from the tiniest of coincidences. It had struggled at times but had eventually flourished to be here, strong and beautiful in this moment.
The concept of the subject was the same, but Rick was no longer watching the butterfly that sat paper-light on his knuckles. He was watching her. She was beautiful and extraordinary and he couldn't imagine ever not having her in his life. He could barely remember a time before he met her; it didn't exist, it was all a dream, a figment of his imagination. She was real, even if he found it so hard to believe at times.
A troubled smudge of dirt sat just below her cheek bone. It was a fault created by her own hand but he reached out with his free hand to brush it away because that is what he does. He fixes her; makes her whole.
The butterfly took flight and as her head rose to watch it fly, her cheek filled his palm. Their eyes cascaded into one another. Their hearts beat together like the mechanics of the butterfly's wings. Not another soul was there to judge them or restrain them. The world was simple. But it wasn't.
He wrote mystery novels. She wrote excuses. She told herself for the hundredth time that it wouldn't work. He was her opposite and although people say that opposites attract, she had never let herself be naïve enough to believe it.
But she was giving in to instinct. She kissed him.
Author's notes: I hope you liked this thing that sprouted from my head (which should be studying for exams). Feedback is love.
Fun Fact: There is a brothel in my town called The Stairway to Heaven. It's probably wildly inappropriate to call this story the same name considering, but a better name escaped me lol.
Also, just a random thought I had whilst writing this – is anyone else amused by the new captain being named 'Gates'? As in, season 4...Beckett's walls are coming down. And now there is a 'gate'...