A/N: Based on the film Just Like Heaven. Season 1 & 2 AU.
"Yes, Mother. I know it's my launch party," he says into his phone with a frustrated sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, agitated.
"Are you on your way, at least?" she asks.
"The car service picked me up a couple minutes ago. I got held back."
"What did she want now?" his mother asks knowingly.
"The loft," he says, looking out the car window at the passing scenery. The city lights made everything twinkle. It was one of the things he loved about the city; its sparkling beauty.
"But she's moving to L.A.!"
"She's doing it just to annoy me. I offered her the Hamptons house, instead."
"Richard."
He presses his lips together at his mother's tone. "I just want it to be over, Mother. We've been going at this for practically a year."
"I never liked her," she huffs.
"What can I say? She's the mother of my child."
"Good riddance, I say."
"We're signing the papers tomorrow and she granted me full custody," he says, moving the cell to his other ear.
"Oh, that's wonderful, Richard!"
"Can you put Alexis on?" he asks. He hears a rustle as his mother passes the phone to his daughter.
"Daddy?"
"Hi, Lex! How's my little girl?"
"I'm like a princess!"
"I take it you like your dress," he chuckles.
"Yes, daddy!"
"Are you having fun, pumpkin?"
"Gram-Gram gave me apple juice and cookies and—"
He hears another rustle as his mother steals the phone back before Alexis incriminates her further.
"I think that's enough time with Daddy."
"Sounds like someone's going to be bouncing off the walls very soon."
"She's behaving most splendidly for a three-year-old."
"Thank you, Mother. Really," he says tenderly. He didn't thank her often enough. She's probably going through hell, too. Watching him get hurt by Meredith and dealing with Alexis and her nightmares.
"You're welcome, kiddo," she says softly.
"We can finally have a fresh start—something new."
"Does that mean I can set you up with someone?"
He laughs. "Maybe after tomorrow."
"A lovely policewoman just walked through the door. How about her?"
"Police? Guess I'm missing all the fun." He glances out the window again. "It looks like we're a couple blocks away. I'll see you—"
He squints as a bright light flashes through his window. It blinds him for a moment and suddenly, he feels his body being catapulted from his seat as another vehicle slams into the side of the car with a loud crunch.
The phone flies out of his hand, landing next to his unconscious figure.
"Richard? Richard!"
11 months later
Beckett wipes away the writing on the murder board, thinking about the case they'd closed, one teeming with mummies and tales of legendary curses. It was like something out of a mystery novel full of twists and turns. Her favorite type of case. Esposito and Ryan had really gotten a kick out of it, even pretending they had fallen victim to the mummy's curse. They had been pranking each other all week, unscrewing bolts from chairs and supergluing items to desks.
Now, they were tossing balled-up pieces of newspaper at each other. She didn't mind, but it was a puzzle to her how they were able to act so upbeat with a case. It was like she had forgotten how to have fun; like it was becoming harder and harder to shed the workaholic persona she so carefully crafted over the years where she was more often than not, as Ryan and Esposito put it—a total buzzkill.
A newspaper ball sails over her head and Beckett pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath.
"Hey, Beckett! How's the apartment search going?" Ryan asks as he catches a ball of paper Esposito launches at him. She crosses her arms, watching them imperiously.
"It's going."
She doesn't mention the ten different places she visited in the past week when she could spare a moment from work, all small and cramped and way overpriced. She doesn't mention having to stay in a grungy motel because Lanie's family is visiting for the week. And she definitely doesn't want to mention finding a place to live is the only thing she has going on in her life right now and even that isn't going well.
"Must suck having serial killers blowing up your home, huh?" Esposito says, balling up another newspaper article. Beckett cracks a ghost of a smile.
"I really needed a new wardrobe anyway. He did me a favor," she says, erasing the timeline on the board.
"Hear, hear!" chants Ryan, throwing several newspaper balls into the air. Beckett shakes her head at him fondly. Her boys aren't so bad. They know when to cheer her up despite their somewhat annoying methods. A newspaper ball hits her in the back of her head and she turns to face Esposito, narrowing her eyes at him. He shrugs. She spots another ball coming at her from Ryan's direction and spins to catch it in her hand expertly.
"Damn, boss! You've been holding out on us," Esposito says as he and Ryan applaud her loudly.
"Alright, alright. Settle down," she shouts, waving them away. "And clean this up. I don't want to be on the outs with the cleaning crew again."
"Right away, boss," Ryan says, mock-saluting her. Beckett raises her arm as if to throw her newspaper ball at him and he instinctively shields himself from the attack. When he realizes she's only pretending, he lowers his arm with a small chuckle and he bends over to start picking up the carnage littering the bullpen floor.
"You embarrass me, bro," Esposito says, tossing his newspapers into the trash. "Do you want to grab a drink, Beckett?"
"I'm good. You guys get out of here. I'll finish up here," she says, gesturing to the photos still tacked to the murder board.
"Don't stay too long," Esposito says earnestly, slipping his jacket over his shoulders. "You comin, bro?"
Ryan nods, quickly dumping the rest of the newspaper pieces in a bin next to his desk. He mock-salutes Beckett again as he passes by her on his way out and she punches him lightly in the shoulder. He grabs his arm as if wounded. She suppresses a half-smile.
"Go get 'em tiger," Beckett shouts after them and they flip her off from the elevator. She mock-salutes them and hears laughing as the doors close. She sighs, tipping her head back to the ceiling, feeling exhausted. She isn't used to playing light-hearted and it's draining to keep up the facade. Her fingers smooth over the newspaper ball still secured in her hand. Glancing at the article, she pauses when an advertisement pops out at her.
SOHO LOFT SEEKING OCCUPANT
FULLY FURNISHED AND AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY. MONTH-TO-MONTH SUBLET. CONTACT REALTOR FOR PRICE LISTING.
Beckett unfurls the rest of the paper. Underneath the advertisement is an email and number for a realtor. She checks the time on her computer. 8:42 P.M. Too late for a call but maybe an email. With purposeful taps on her keyboard, Beckett drafts an informative and concise email with her contact information and a brief background of her job. When she clicks send, there's a flutter of hope in her chest. Maybe this was it.
"Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Detective," the realtor says, opening the door to the loft apartment.
"It's no problem. I appreciate you getting back to me so soon," Beckett replies. She takes in the space as she enters, light pouring in from the windows and bathing everything. The place had a masculine palette with its strong earth browns and woody blacks, but it isn't overbearing. Instead, it feels balanced and homey by the splashes of color and eclectic items accenting the side tables and bookshelves.
"So what do you think?" the realtor asks.
"I wish it wasn't over my budget," Beckett sighs, trailing a finger over the back of a leather chair.
"I can probably get the tenant to lower the price. They've been trying to get it off their hands for a while."
"Really?"Beckett quirks an eyebrow. "This place is gorgeous. I can't believe it hasn't been snatched up already," she says as she admires the bookshelf that separates the office and the living space, running her hand across the spines of several novels. The previous tenant has a healthy collection of weighty tomes and classics. Impressive.
"This place doesn't have a one year lease contract like most places. Not a lot of people are interested in a month-to-month sublet."
"Why is it month-to-month?" Beckett scans the rest of the bookshelf. She spots a familiar name and her heart trips in her chest.
"The family is pretty close-mouthed about it."
Beckett hovers her fingers over the name.
"You a fan?" the realtor asks politely.
Beckett turns to face her. "Hmm?"
The realtor gestures at the ream of twenty-six novels emblazoned with Richard Castle on the side lining the bookshelf.
"My mom always liked him."
"So terrible about what happened."
"Yes, it must be hard on the family," Beckett says.
11 months earlier
Beckett walks into Richard Castle's book launch party with the explicit purpose to bring him in for questioning but she can't help the thrill that surges through her at the thought of meeting her favorite author. She sobers when she remembers she's running a murder investigation.
Before she can survey the crowd for him, she hears someone cry out and immediately finds the source—an older woman with flaming red hair. The woman rushes towards her, her face ashen. A little girl with equally flaming hair trails behind her.
"You have to help me! I think there's been an accident. My son, he—"
Beckett goes into police mode. "Ma'am, slow down. Can you tell me your name?"
"Martha Rodgers. My son—he was—and I was on the phone and—"
Beckett puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder as Martha takes a deep breath. "Now, what happened?"
"I was on the phone with my son. He said he was a couple blocks away, and then I heard a horrible noise. Like metal crunching." Martha puts a hand on her forehead. "I don't feel well."
"When did this happen?"
"Just now," Martha says, holding out her phone which is still connected to a call. Beckett nods, her mind organizing the information and thinking of an action plan.
"Don't worry. I'll see what I can find out. Take a seat while I check in with my colleague."
Martha nods at her, sitting down on a barstool. The little girl hides in Martha's skirts as if she realizes something serious is happening. Beckett slips a walkie from her hip holster and radios to Esposito who's standing outside by the cruiser.
"Hey, Espo. I have a woman up here telling me of a possible crash a couple blocks from this location. Can you confirm if calls have been made to dispatch?"
"Right away, boss."
Beckett keeps the walkie in her hand as she approaches Martha again. "Ms. Rodgers, I appreciate you staying calm. You're doing extraordinarily well."
"I can't believe this happening," Martha says, burying her face in her hands.
"You did the right thing, Ms. Rodgers. You got help as soon as possible," Beckett soothes. Martha looks at her and grasps her hand in a vise-like grip.
"Thank you."
Beckett nods, turning up the corner of her mouth. The little girl pops her head out from behind Martha's dress and Beckett crouches down to her level. "Hi, I'm Kate. Are you doing ok?"
The little girl glances up at Martha who murmurs, "It's ok, Alexis. Kate's helping us."
"Daddy?" Alexis asks, her voice warbling and her clear blue eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. She must be exhausted and frightened.
"We're going to find your daddy, Alexis," Beckett says warmly, "You look beautiful in that dress, you know—just like a princess."
Alexis lights up. "Daddy bought it for me."
"He has very good taste," Beckett whispers, winking conspiratorially at her. Alexis giggles.
"Beckett?" Esposito's voice crackles through the walkie. She brings it up to her mouth.
"Copy."
"There were several 911 calls for 72nd and Park Ave, two blocks down from here. We have confirmation of a casualty and two wounded."
Martha gasps, "No!" and Alexis starts to cry. Beckett stands up and steps away from them. "Do you have an idea of who the casualty is?" she asks quietly.
"One moment."
Martha looks beseechingly at her as she picks Alexis up, smoothing her hand up and down her back. Beckett purses her lips into a somewhat comforting smile.
"Ms. Rodgers, what's your son's name?"
"Richard—Richard Castle," Martha says, tears squeezing out of the corner of her eye. She swipes at them angrily. "This is his party, you know?" Beckett's eyes widen imperceptibly and her pulse quickens. Not him.
"Espo, any word?"
"One of the drivers," he says. "The other two have been loaded onto an ambulance. They're headed to Lenox Hill."
"Oh, thank god!" Martha shouts, hugging Alexis to her. "It's alright, kiddo. Daddy's going to be alright." She puts a hand on Beckett's shoulder. "Thank you, Kate. I don't know what I'd do if—"
"Anytime, Ms. Rodgers," Beckett interjects,.
"Martha," she presses.
Beckett nods. "Anytime, Martha. Would you like a ride to the hospital?"
"Oh, that's too much. I couldn't—"
"I insist," Beckett says in a no-nonsense tone. A faint smile spreads across Martha's face.
"Richard would like you."
"So I'll contact the family and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Sound good, Detective?" the realtor asks.
Beckett blinks, breaking out of her reverie. "Yes, sounds great. I hope to hear from you," she says, holding out her hand.
The realtor grasps her hand, shaking it firmly. "And who knows? Maybe I can get you in here as soon as tomorrow."
"Is that the last of the boxes?" Esposito asks, setting down a carton in the living room.
Beckett walks through the door with another box. "That should be about it. I didn't accumulate a lot since, you know, that thing with my apartment exploding."
"Right. I almost forgot about that," he says jokingly and crosses his arms as he surveys the place. "Wow. You really hit the jackpot, boss."
"Did we miss the party?" Ryan and Lanie peer their heads around the door holding a pack of beers and a box of pizza.
"Only if you count missing out on all the heavy-lifting," Esposito says. Ryan sticks his tongue out at him.
"You guys didn't have to help me with all of this. Especially on your days off," Beckett says.
"What else are we good for?" Ryan asks, lifting a slice out of the pizza box and taking a large bite.
"I'm just glad you found a place. This view is amazing! And I can't believe you were able to get them to lower their offer," Lanie adds.
"Apparently they really appreciate the work that I do," Beckett says, shrugging and taking a sip from a beer.
"There's a second floor?!" Esposito exclaims, craning his neck to look up the staircase.
"The realtor says the family is using the rooms up there as storage for their personal items for the time being. It's another reason why a lot of other people turned down the sublet offer. But I don't need all that extra space, anyway," Beckett says.
"Did you ever figure out who the previous tenants were?" Lanie asks.
Beckett shakes her head. "The realtor who I worked with was new to the real estate company that handled the ad and didn't even know their names or anything."
"This place has good vibes, though," Ryan declares.
"Good vibes?" Espo repeats, scrunching his eyebrows together. "Really, bro?"
"I agree, Ryan," says Lanie. Ryan throws a smirk at Esposito. "Definitely good vibes."
"I'm glad we've all reached a consensus," Beckett deadpans.
Esposito chuckles and scans the bookshelf. "Hey, boss, looks like the previous tenants were also hard-core Richard Castle groupies."
"I'm not a Richard Castle groupie," Beckett protests.
"Tell that to your signed copy of his book!" Lanie teases.
"Wasn't he in that car crash about a year ago?" Ryan asks and Esposito snaps his fingers, remembering.
"Yeah, we were supposed to bring him in for questioning. I was at the crash site. And you were with the family, right, boss? Didn't you take them to the hospital?" Esposito asks.
"Can you tell me where Richard Castle is? Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD." Beckett flashes her badge at the nurse in the emergency room. Martha stands behind her, Alexis slumped with sleep on her shoulder. "We're his family," Martha adds. Beckett opens her mouth as if to correct her, but Martha stops her with a look.
"He was just brought in. It looks like they're prepping him for surgery," the nurse says, reading a computer screen.
"Surgery!" Martha exclaims.
"If I can have you wait over there, I can get a doctor to speak with you as soon as one's available."
Beckett throws the nurse a grateful smile and steers Martha towards the waiting room chairs.
"Let me take, Alexis. Your arms must be tired," Beckett says gently. Martha relents without protest and Beckett lightly maneuvers Alexis into her own arms so she doesn't wake her up. Her head falls naturally on Beckett's shoulder and Beckett feels a fierce need to protect her from any harm.
"I can't even begin to thank you, Kate."
"Really, it's no trouble."
"Goodness, you're an angel. And I forgot to ask you why you were at the party. Did you say you were a detective?"
Beckett feels like laughing. She did not expect the evening to go like this at all. Meeting Richard Castle's family and seeing how much they care about him has convinced her that he's not involved with their case. At least, not intentionally.
"I am," she says, "Homicide."
"Dear lord! Who died?"
"It's actually still an open case. I can't really discuss it."
"Oh, of course. I understand," Martha says. After a moment, she asks, "Was someone at the party a suspect?"
"Actually—"
Martha eyes widen. "Not Richard."
Beckett nods meekly. Martha covers her mouth with her hand and makes a strangled sound.
"I'm sorry, I realize now—"
The strangled sound Martha's making turns into a loud, gasping laugh. Beckett bites her lip nervously and then, a strange feeling builds in her chest and bubbles up her throat. Before she knows it, she's laughing along with Martha. Maybe it's the adrenaline messing with her hormones or the ridiculousness of everything in the moment, but she suddenly feels lighter than she has in years despite the circumstances.
"Oh, you don't have to apologize, darling. I know Richard is innocent of whatever you think he did."
Alexis snuffles and Beckett stills as the little girl rubs her eye in her sleep. She instinctively starts stroking her long red locks, and Alexis snuggles closer into her.
"She likes you," Martha says quietly.
"It's the exhaustion," Beckett responds.
"Whatever you say," Martha says, "She already trusts you more than her own mother." Martha gasps suddenly, "Meredith. She doesn't know."
"Here, take my phone," Beckett says, holding her cell out to Martha.
"I don't know what I would do without you, Detective," Martha says sincerely, giving Kate a kiss on the cheek. She takes the phone and moves into a hallway to make calls. Beckett watches Martha and is overcome with the strange urge to cry. It's definitely the exhaustion, but talking with Martha and holding Alexis remind her what it was like when her mom was alive. What it felt like to be a part of a caring and loving family. She hopes Alexis doesn't have to suffer the same tragedy as her—the loss of a parent. She rests her cheek on the girl's head and closes her eyes for a moment.
Later, she feels someone nudging her shoulder and opens her eyes, looking around blearily.
"What's goin' on?"
"The doctor's here, Detective. They're done with Richard's surgery."
Beckett blinks a few more times, and sits up, realizing she's no longer holding Alexis.
"Where's Alexis?"
"One of the nurses put her down in an on-call room. She's alright," Martha assures her. "I didn't want to wake you, but I thought you might want to hear what the doctor had to stay since you've been so nice to wait with us."
"Of course. How long was I out?" Beckett asks, rubbing at her temple.
"A couple hours. I made you some coffee. Here," Martha pushes a warm cup of coffee into her palm, and she accepts it, taking a long sip.
"This is good. What's in this?"
"A lot of creamer and some spices I scrounged from the hospital cafeteria. Richard taught me how to make coffee properly. Said he didn't want me poisoning the masses with my strange concoctions."
Beckett lifts the corners of her mouth into a small smile. She can tell Martha is barely holding it together. The poor woman probably hadn't gotten any sleep all night. "Well, he's a great teacher."
"You're kind."
"Shall we see what the doctor has to say?" Beckett asks gamely.
"We shall," Martha responds, adopting Beckett's tone.
They approach the nurse's desk where the doctor's waiting and shake his hand in greeting.
"What's the word?" Martha asks, her hands twisting together nervously.
"He's stable."
Martha shoulders sag with relief and she gives Kate a hopeful look.
"He lost oxygen for quite a bit, but we were able to resuscitate him. However, with the extent of his other injuries, it's difficult to say when he might wake up," the doctor adds.
"What does that mean?" Beckett asks, crossing her arms.
The doctor pauses, and he shifts his gaze between them slowly. "Well, it means we had to open his skull and perform brain surgery to reduce his cranial swelling."
"Brain surgery?" Martha squeaks, her face turning a light shade of green. Beckett uncrosses her arms and reaches for Martha's hand and squeezes it comfortingly.
"It could be a couple days. Or a couple weeks," the doctor says.
"Weeks!" Martha shouts. She grabs Beckett's hand so hard, she loses circulation for a moment.
"Are you saying he's in a coma?" Beckett clarifies.
"We won't know for sure until we get a CAT scan, but in my professional opinion, it might be a while," the doctor says.
"When can we see him?" Martha asks.
"I want to keep him in observation for the rest of the night in case anything changes. I suggest going home for the night and getting some rest. You can see him in the morning."
Martha releases Beckett's hand and throws her arms around the doctor's neck. "Thank you for keeping him alive," she says fiercely.
"Just doing my job, Ma'am."
"And thank you, Detective." She embraces Beckett, hugging her tightly. "You've done more than you know." Martha lets her go and wipes at her eyes. "Now, please go home. I've kept you far too long."
"Here's my card if you need anything else."
Martha pulls her in for another hug. "I can't wait to tell Richard he was saved by a gorgeous homicide detective."
"Martha, I didn't—"
"Oh, shush. You helped."
"Right," Beckett says, blinking away some miscreant tears. "Please don't hesitate to call."
"Go home!" Martha says, emphatically pushing her towards the exit.
"Say bye to Alexis for me," Beckett says and waves as she leaves the hospital, leaving Martha alone.
"Yeah, I took them to the hospital. But that it was a while ago."
"Did he survive the crash?" Ryan asks.
"He did, but last I heard, he was still in a coma," Beckett replies.
"You don't think he died, do you?" Lanie says with a slight gasp in her voice.
"It would've been in the news," Beckett says, glancing around the room. "Right?"
Kate boots up her laptop after they all leave, and swiftly types his name into a search engine. She doesn't know why she cares so much. Maybe it was because she grew close to his family in the weeks after his accident and felt an attachment to them. Martha called her number, updating her on his condition on a weekly basis. She, herself, had never stopped by the hospital because of her increasing case load, but Martha told her stories about him raising Alexis or from when he was younger. It was soothing for her to forget about the tragedies of her own life and lose herself in the world Martha was building for her, one filled with a mischievous little boy and a young, nervous father. It was nice to hear about the soft and playful side of him since she was used to his glamorous image of the roguish and arrogant millionaire with the young and beautiful actress.
Beckett scrolls through the search results. The earliest news article is from nine months ago detailing that Castle's wife, Meredith Harper, moved him into a long-term care facility. The date is from around the same time Martha had stopped calling her. She closes the laptop and grabs a new beer from the pack Ryan had brought over. Taking a sip, she surveys the apartment again and settles into the couch while kicking her feet onto the coffee table. She sighs, content. She could get used to this.
The next few days are a blur as they catch a new case and Esposito deals with his old partner betraying him. A robbery detective they collaborate with asks her out for drinks after the case is finished. She reluctantly turns him down. She isn't used to dating anymore, and she's not ready to start up again. He's cute and charming, and maybe in another time, she would've said yes.
She drops her bag when she walks into the door that night. She shakes out her hair and shucks off her shoes on the way to the kitchen where she starts up the coffee maker. Opening the fridge, she wrinkles her nose at the old takeout cluttering the shelves. She decides to call in a new order from her favorite Thai place and pours herself a cup of coffee.
In her new office, she opens the shutters on the window and leans back on the edge of her desk to look at web of photos and facts she had put up in the past few days. Her mother's case. Everything is already burned into her brain, the names and dates, but having the visuals and a makeshift murder board allows her to organize her thoughts. She looks at the new name she added a few weeks ago—Dick Coonan, the assassin hired to kill her mother. It didn't make sense. Why hire an assassin? What did her mother know?
Beckett pulls out a box of her mother's old files from underneath the desk and starts spreading them out on the floor. Her mother must've written something down somewhere.
She yawns hours later and she checks the watch on her wrist. It's nearing 2:00 A.M. She pokes at her empty carton of Thai and takes a sip from her coffee cup only to find it has grown cold. She unfolds her legs and stretches as she stands up, her muscles cracking.
In the kitchen, the coffee maker beeps and she nudges the fresh pot out of the machine. She's about to pour some in her mug when she hears a shout. Looking up, she sees someone standing in her kitchen. With a gasp, she drops the coffee pot and it shatters as it hits the floor.
She bends to pick up the pieces of glass, her mind reeling. Glancing up again at the man in her kitchen, she blinks a couple of times. This isn't happening.
Richard Castle couldn't possibly be standing in front of her right now.