Some of you may have noticed my recent absence from FF. This is due to the fact that I've been working on my own book (this is where you all go, "Yay!", even though you've never heard of said book). I know, exciting stuff. I'll go back to it after this, but I couldn't leave this alone.
Disclaimer: I do not own Castle, ABC, or any of it's affiliates.
Enjoy.
Richard Castle returned home, absolutely exhausted.
He shut his door heavily behind him, and hung up his jacket on the coat tree. It may have been spring, but it was still chilly in Manhattan. He rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily.
It had been a long day.
Of course, they had all been long days as of late. He may not have looked like it, but Castle was a man with a lot on his mind. He tried his best to be upbeat and silly, but, in his opinion, it was starting to show.
He could see it all over his face when he looked in the mirror. It looked as if his life had walked all over him, leaving a map of his trials on his skin and in his eyes. There were certain telltale signs he couldn't ignore; he had large bags and shadows under his eyes, deep lines around his mouth, creases between his eyebrows, and – if he was honest with himself – his Atlantic blue eyes didn't hold the same spark they once did.
Castle looked old.
The almost eternal youth he had possessed four years ago seemed to be completely gone now. As was the man he was then. He supposed a certain amount of fame, parties, and your best friend being a teenager would keep one young.
He also supposed dealing with death, tragedy, and unrequited love would also age one.
Castle meandered into the kitchen and pulled out a beer. He popped it open, took a sip, and then wandered into his office to his window. There were other windows in the loft, of course, but this one was distinctly his. It was his thinking window, and he had a lot to think about.
Surely he hadn't been this old four years ago.
He didn't feel like he had aged four years, but ten. Twenty, on a bad day. It didn't make very much sense to him. He had followed people for research purposes before. He had written book series before. He had fallen in love before. He shouldn't have felt as ancient as he did. As worn.
It was her, he supposed.
Castle shook his head and sighed audibly, scolding himself internally as he took a swig of his beer. He hated himself when he blamed Kate for how he was feeling. It wasn't her fault. It couldn't be her fault. She wasn't doing it on purpose. She would never, ever do this to him on purpose. Kate was a good person. Wonderful, actually. Just…troubled. He couldn't blame her for this feeling.
Besides, she was the one who felt bad, not him. Kate had been through hell and back. Her mother had been murdered, then several other people – some of which were close friends of hers, and then she had been shot herself. She had so much on her plate. It was his job to comfort her, be her light, and take care of her. In fact, he thought he did a pretty good job, if he did say so himself. She opened up to him more now, trusted him.
Who was he to add his own problems to her already heavy mind? Kate had enough to deal with.
That didn't make his own problems go away, however. Lately, Castle had been wondering about his father, having to deal with both Paula and Gina whenever book sales dropped even slightly, worrying about Alexis going off to college in the fall, trying to win over Captain Gates, and, of course, trying to keep Kate alive and happy.
Admittedly, it was starting to weigh him down. It was a heavy burden to bear alone, but he was managing. It all came with the role of caretaker. He was the shoulder to cry on, the ear to listen, the hand to hold, the advice when someone needed it most, the kind eye, and the warm embrace. He went above and beyond to care for those he loved, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
However, that did mean that Castle had made a vow to himself to keep his personal problems away from those people. The only problems Kate and he discussed were her own, as was the case with Alexis and his mother. He spent his days navigating Alexis through the perils of signing up and getting ready for college, fixing things and the acting school and funding it when necessary, and making Kate laugh at least once every hour.
But now, he was tired.
"Dad?"
Castle turned around; fixing his face into one that was pleasant. "Oh, hey there kiddo." He smiled at her and took a seat at his desk. Smiling took extra effort at the moment. "What are you up to?"
"Nothing really," Alexis said with a bored shrug. She hopped up on the corner of his desk. "Just wandering around."
Castle nodded. "Yeah, I guess I'm doing the same thing," he agreed easily. "Any of your friends in town?"
"Ugh, no," Alexis rolled her eyes. "Everyone is on vacation."
"Well," Castle pretended to think for a moment. "You know, you could always have a super cool weekend bash at the Hamptons house…no adults, of course."
Alexis eyed her father as if he'd come from another planet. "That's insane."
"It'd be fun!"
"Well, yes, but…" Alexis shook her head. "But no supervision? In the Hamptons?"
Castle smirked. "You're eighteen."
"I…" Alexis opened and closed her mouth a few times. "I'll call Casey," she whispered, and then darted out of the room. A few seconds later, however, she poked her head back in.
"That was fast," Castle quipped.
"I haven't called her yet," Alexis said. "I was just…"
Castle's eyebrows rose. "Just…?"
Alexis shifted her weight and analyzed him for a moment. "Are you okay?"
"Of course," Castle forced his tone to be light, and gave her a smile. "I'm great."
Alexis smiled back at him. "Good. I'd hate to think that something was wrong."
"Not a thing," Castle waved a hand at her. "Now go call your friend before she goes to bed."
"Okay, thanks Dad!" she said excitedly, and darted off again.
The smile slid off of Castle's face, and he sighed for the third time since arriving home. Everyone else was going to sleep tonight happy, and that was the important thing. Being the caretaker was tough, but it was worth it. Or at least he really hoped it would be twenty or thirty years from now. Seeing them smile kept him going in the mean time.
He got up, went into his bedroom, and began to get ready for bed. He didn't turn on the light – he didn't need it to know where everything was. He climbed into bed, and stared up at the ceiling. It was late, and he knew he had to get up early in the morning. He would have to sleep soon.
Perhaps this was as good as it got.
Review, if you please.