Title: A love story in reverse
Characters: Castle, Beckett, Ryan, Esposito, Demming, Alexis (but really only Castle)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Spoilers: for "A Deadly Game"
Disclaimer: If I owned the wonder that is "Castle" I would have Nathan Fillion be naked all the time. And Ryan and Esposito's epic love would be half the story every episode.
Summary: Introspective of Castle's thoughts during the "beach house" reveal scene...
Word count: a whopping 530. Impressive, right?
It starts before Demming, before Rathborne. He'd needed a change, a muse, and she'd appeared miraculously in front of him. It had been a revelation, something novel, a clichéd moment of clarity. And for a while, it had been about fun and coffee. Not so much the murder part, but the scenes that would spin out in his head were colourful and vibrant, and he enjoyed sharing them.
He'd made friends in Ryan and Esposito, and even Lanie.
But then one scene happens like this, and it changes everything.
Demming arrives, like the villain in the story (though he's not), and whispers plans into her ear. Plans that he just happens to overhear. Beach house. Friday. Reservation. Words that blacken his mood and twist the sharp implement that's already shoved deep into his chest.
Demming leaves and Beckett turns. He forces himself to look her in the eye when all he wants to do is... He can't even really say. It's not like he didn't know that this moment was coming. He could see it clearly from miles off, a flaming red sign screaming 'crossroads ahead,' warning of dangerously difficult decisions to be made. He just never thought that it would hurt quite so much.
The boy looks at the girl, calling her on her bullshit (silently pleading with her to tell the truth, to tell a lie, to make this all better or disappear from his memory). She spouts a line about avoiding awkwardness and words form on his tongue, bitter and hateful. He swallows them down and looks away.
Yes, of course.
He needs a break. So he tells her.
In reality he needs more than a break, he needs to learn how to not feel for her. He's her friend and to be honest, he would do almost anything for her (minus the almost). But he can't do this anymore. It's soul-crushingly melodramatic and he doesn't have the excuse of teen angst.
Besides, it's not as if he's lying to her. He does have a book to finish and it will be easier to complete without distraction in the Hamptons. Alexis is away, Martha will be busy with the play, and Beckett has Demming and a beach house vacation that she lied about.
She doesn't need him anyway.
So this is the end, their grand finale together.
He sits down, choosing to disregard the shock on her face, and starts to think about things he'll have to pack, and how to say goodbye to Ryan and Esposito (who are both looking at him right now like they know exactly what's going on and why).
And somehow, the case gets pushed to the forefront and everything falls back into place for at least a few more hours.
(And for a few hours, he can pretend that there's nothing wrong.)
He doesn't buy her coffee the next morning. He wonders why it feels so significant at the kiosk, and then again in the elevator.
He wonders why her face is distraught, it's only coffee.
He takes a sip and tells her that he had an epiphany about the case.
(He wonders when coffee became a metaphor for something else.)