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Enough for now
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For Nic, a very belated Christmas present, but right on time for your birthday ;-) you nuisance prompt xoxo
Happy Birthday
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An alternative ending to Sucker Punch (2x13)
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The counter stood clean, sparkling almost. Every item that had cluttered the surface was now away in its correct place, and with it, order had been restored to her world.
With a tidy kitchen she could at least pretend that the wrongs were now right.
They weren't, though; nothing about this was okay.
Her mind raced a million miles a minute as she moved the dishcloth around the sink. Back and forth over the already polished area, her free hand reaching for the faucet; wiping it did nothing to wipe away the look in Coonan's eyes as he bled to death, and running her hands again under the chill of the water did nothing to remove the warmth of his blood as it bubbled up from underneath her hands.
The red stain had dried on her fingers, the crimson flakes cracking on her palms until she'd scrubbed and scrubbed, leaving her skin raw. The desperate attempt to save his life, to get answers was for nothing and now...
She was left with no way forward.
For a moment, she'd come so close to having answers, to hearing the truth, yet, it had all washed away.
The water out of the tap gushed with a ferocity that sprayed droplets up and onto her shirt and with a curse, she flipped it off, her elbows resting on the edge, her head falling into her open palms.
This day could not go more wrong if it tried...
The knock at her front door, of course, suggested otherwise, and dropping further onto the counter, her fingers raked through her hair, resting against the bare skin of her nape. Any attempt to hold it together - her head on her shoulders, her sanity in her mind - slipped a little further out of reach as the sound started all over again.
A little more timid this time. A little quieter. And with a body far too weary for her years, she shuffled across the room, curiosity winning.
Whoever was there didn't appear to be going anywhere, anytime soon, and, lifting her hand to the lock, she opened the door wide enough to peer through the gap.
"Castle?"
It had never occurred to her that he would come and seek her out after she'd fled from work without a word, that he'd show up here uninvited. She should have been... but she wasn't.
"Hi."
"What are you doing here?"
She closed her eyes, the harsh edge to her tone unintended, and, opening them to gaze at him, she tried again.
"Sorry. I just... I didn't expect you. To be here"
"I brought dinner. I didn't know what you felt like so I got sushi, I got some Italian, got some Thai, even grabbed some hot dogs."
The plastic bags crinkled as he lifted them higher, offered proof that what he said was indeed true and her lips turned up in a smile, even though her head ducked, the loose strands of hair falling to shield her face.
Only he would spend one hundred thousand dollars on a chance and a prayer and then show up with dinner. And not just one dinner, but an array of food, anything her heart could possibly want.
"You didn't have to do this, Castle." The space created by pushing the door wide allowed him access and as he walked into the room, she closed it behind them, her back resting against it for a second.
"I know. I just…"
Whatever else was going to exit his mouth remained unsaid, as he turned on the spot, studying every detail of her apartment, and her breath hitched, the scrutiny almost too much.
The exposed fragments, the little pieces that she still concealed are on display here, in her home, and her eyes followed the same path of his gaze.
It was useless though - he saw her in ways that she wouldn't ever understand.
"Where do you want me to put these?" The question in his words mimicked the lift of his eyebrow and the placement of his hands as he held them in front of his body, and she stepped forward, taking one from him.
"We could…" the table seemed too formal for a dinner between friends, "… sit on the couch?"
Were they friends? Colleagues? Was there a definition to what was happening, to the concern that had seeped from every part of him as he'd pulled her back from Coonan's body?
Was there an answer to such speculation?
"I'd like that." A smile blossomed on his face, silencing the torment of her mind, and while it was probably only a temporary hush, she was willing to take it.
The walk to the couch was over before it had really begun though, and, placing the bag in her hand on the coffee table, she perched herself on the edge, both hands gripping her knees.
How was this suddenly so awkward?
The cushions dipped as he settled in beside her, a noticeable gap between them. This wasn't awkward - this was stilted, this was them at the start of… whatever it was that they were.
They'd moved past this.
He'd forgotten how to breathe. Hell, as he sat on the couch next to Beckett, he'd forgotten the simple task of forming words. The dinner he'd brought over was his way in the door, a way to check in on her, without actually checking in on her, and now that he was here, now that he'd accomplished that, there was only one thing he could do.
He had to tell her the truth, the real reason he'd shown up at her door.
"Beckett… I-"
"Castle?"
The soft whisper that escaped her lips halted his sentence, his mouth closing, and twisting on the cushion, he lifted his head inch by inch until his gaze finally met hers. Clear green eyes saw straight through him, appeared to see what he was fighting to conceal, her stare penetrating through the cloud that he'd been hiding behind, and even as he dropped his head, she chased after him, her hand reaching across the gap between them.
"It wasn't your fault, you know." The way she squeezed her fingers around his increased the thump of his heart, the anxiety that was traveling through his veins picked up its pace, morphed into a lightning fast race, but she had to hear the truth.
He had to step up and face the consequences that his actions had caused.
"I overstepped. I came here to say that I was sorry, and that I'm through. I can't shadow you anymore. If it wasn't for me…"
If it wasn't for him Coonan would be alive and she'd finally have a lead to go on, a way forward in her mother's case.
"If it wasn't for you I would have never found my mom's killer." Her fingers shifted, moving in between his until she'd curled their hands into a fist on top of his knee. "And someday soon I'm going to find the sons of bitches who had Coonan kill her, and I'd like you around when I do."
His head snapped up, his breath lodged in his throat because, of all the responses he'd imagined, this was never it. Locking his eyes with hers, his lips rose, a hesitant smile appearing on his face just for her.
"And if you tell anyone what I'm about to say there's going to be another shooting but… I've gotten used to you pulling my pigtails. I've got a hard job, Castle, and having you around makes it a little more fun."
He leaned forward, his free hand ghosting across her cheekbone before he snatched it back. There were boundaries that he couldn't cross, and his urge to place his mouth against hers, to pull her into his arms, had to be ignored.
"Your secret's safe with me."
It wasn't what he wanted to say, wasn't what he wanted to do. She'd given him so much tonight - a grace that he didn't believe he deserved, considering what had occurred in the precinct - but he'd take it. As she released his hand to reach for their dinner, he relaxed.
It was more than enough, for now.
Her body collapsed against the back of the couch, the Thai and the Italian, and the hot dog that they'd shared, settled gloriously in her stomach. The satisfaction that accomplished a wonderful meal was lulling her to sleep; her muscles were becoming heavy, her bones sagging as the comfortable lull between them descended onto her apartment.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed a night at home with good food and even better company, and the longer the night went on the more she realized she didn't want it to end.
Not that way, of course.
Her eyes closed, her mind shutting down on the thought immediately, because that, that was impossible, or at least improbable. Castle was entertaining and childish, and, yes, he was an asset to their team, but he wasn't more than that. He couldn't be more than that.
She turned her head to see his profile highlighted by the lamps glowing softly, and her teeth tugged her bottom lip into her mouth.
Why was the idea of getting off the couch and walking him to the front door so hard to visualize? They'd say their goodbyes and he'd go home, and tomorrow it would be back to normal…
The way their hands had brushed as they passed the food between them, the way his body had leaned into hers, his thigh warm against her own, as he joked about Martha, the way his tone melted as he spoke of Alexis' achievements. All of this lightness between them would go back in the box, and they'd pretend that none of this had happened.
But today, with a gun tight against his kidney, Castle had come close to losing his life, she'd come close to losing him, and what would she have done then?
"It's getting late. I should be heading home." His head turned towards hers, their eyes connecting as they both rested against the couch, and the image of him lying in the precinct's corridor instead of Coonan left her inhaling sharply.
"Beckett?"
"Yeah. It's late."
She pushed the flash of how wrong it could have gone aside, her body jerking as she stood, her hands gathering the empty containers from the table as her eyes did their best to avoid his.
He grabbed the other cartons, and they moved around each other silently until the mess was cleaned, and he drifted toward the door leaving her with no other option but to follow. This wasn't them, and it was time to get what they were back on track.
He was just the guy who pulled her pig tails…
"Thanks, Beckett. For what you said earlier. For- I know I've had to say it before in relation to your mother's case, but I'm sorry. Again. I'm-"
"Castle."
His name darted out of her mouth before she'd given any thought as to what exactly she could say next, but he couldn't carry the weight of this, it wasn't for him to bear.
With eyes that looked straight down at the ground, he leaned forward, his lips brushing her cheek. It was only the slightest of touches, but the heat of his mouth seared her skin, and her fingers curled into her palm, as she remained frozen on the spot.
"I'm sorry for what you lost."
She'd lost answers, lost leads, lost the chance to find out who was behind her mother's murder, but she could have lost him. It could have been his blood that had coated her hands. It could have been his chest that she'd desperately pumped without result.
It could have been him who she lost as well…
And she turned her head toward his.
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The second part of this two shot will be out in a couple of days xoxo
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Thank you to Jo (for the challenge to write my first past tense story and for cleaning up all the mistakes) and Jamie for the beta and the pompoms xoxo
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Thank you for reading xoxo