DISCLAIMER: "Castle" and all its wonderful characters are the property of ABC and Andrew Marlowe. Much as I enjoy playing with them, I unfortunately do not own them. Please don't sue me.
He pours himself a drink – scotch on the rocks – and sits in the dark.
He doesn't want to brood because brooding is conceding the point to her. He won't brood on her account. No, he's not brooding. He's raging.
"There are some things that are better not being remembered." That's what she said wasn't it? It wasn't that she didn't remember. She just didn't want to remember his love. Fine. So be it. He can forget her just as easily.
He can play that game. But this time his own game. He's done playing hers.
She told him she needed time. He gave it. She told him she needed space. He gave it. She told him she had a wall. He pledged a sledge hammer.
And what did she give in return? Silence. Lies.
She lied.
She looked him in the eye and lied.
And maybe he's a hypocrite because he's been lying to her as well. So be it. He'll be the hypocrite. The hypocrite who lied to protect another, while she lied to protect herself.
Better a hypocrite than a coward.
Better a hypocrite than a heartless, manipulative, misleading bitch.
Does Lanie know? He wonders. Do they get together over drinks and laugh about poor lovesick Rick following her around like a puppy while she dangles a treat she has no intention of giving just out of reach?
Can she really be that callous? Can she really be that cruel?
He'd thought no, but now...now what can he know for sure about her? What can he trust when she's proven him so wrong?
All that talk of "next time" and the teasing and the nudging and the smiles over coffee. What were they? All a joke to her? Some funny story she could tell her friends about all the ways she brought a famous author to his knees before her?
He wants to do something reckless. He wants to show her that the joke is on her, to prove that her rejection doesn't cut him to the bone. He wants to pretend that she didn't rip out his heart.
Instead he opens his laptop and pulls up a blank document. And he writes something. Anything. He writes incoherently and without sense, anger and pain poured out onto the page. He curses her. He curses himself, his foolishness. And he says his goodbye. A black and white goodbye note to her. To them. To partners. To a pair of fools.
A/N - Well, 47 Seconds happened...and this is what you get. Angsty, angry Castle. Big big big thanks to dave-ck who once again motivated me to get this finished and edited my stupid mistakes.
As I always say, reviews are very much appreciated. Even a simple "like" or "dislike" warms my heart, and we all could use some heart warming this week.
Fight On and You'll Never Walk Alone
