A/N: The first part of this was written after the 47 Seconds sneak peek and the second half was written after the episode itself and the promo for The Limey. It was as much catharsis for me as it was for Castle as a character. It was posted on my Tumblr a while ago so some of you might have read it there. All mistakes are my own.
Thanks for reading, Marie x
Catharsis
His heart breaks a little once his mind catches up with the words she has spoken. She remembers everything. Every last second of his confession. Every single moment of him giving her his heart. Every one of his pleas for her to stay with him. She lied about all of it. She remembers.
The playboy image has crumbled to ruins in the years he's spent with the precinct but he wraps the persona around himself now to shield from the hurt. Rick Castle the playboy can't be made vulnerable by a woman; he uses them and tosses them aside. The playboy doesn't know pain or heartbreak.
A blank mask greets anyone in the bullpen as he exits the observation room. He makes a beeline for the elevator; making sure to keep his pace sedate. In a room full of trained detectives a single misstep will be his undoing. Rick detours past Beckett's desk and pauses only long enough to sweep both coffee cups, still full and the cardboard warm to the touch, into the trashcan on the floor. What was once his coffee begins to seep out of side of the cup- the writer in him appreciates the imagery. The rich dark coffee is bleeding out of the cup.
He turns away and boards the elevator without looking back. The playboy exits the 12th for the last time with a sad gleam lingering in his eyes. His phone is in his hand before he can raise his hand to hail a cab to the loft. He needs a date that will guarantee him a place on page 6 tomorrow morning.
Three hours later and Rick Castle is fixing his hair before leaving for a night on the town. He has a date to hang on his arm; she's blonde, busty and has enough of a sordid past to interest even the most bored reporter, and enough of the old Castle charm to get him a hundred more dates like her.
Alexis is refusing to speak to him- he told her that he knows he has no future with Detective Beckett and that he was going on a date tonight- and just shakes her head every time he is in the same room. Her and Martha have taken to having loud conversations about how Kate clearly has some explaining to do but how there is no chance that she doesn't feel anything for Castle. He just wants to forget her.
Deep down Rick knows that even attempting to forget her is futile; she's burned herself into his heart and, as dramatic as it sounds, into his soul. His psyche won't rest until he at least tries though. He'll continue to consult with the 12th precinct but in a professional capacity- the work he does there gives him a purpose along with first hand research. He'll move on.
He sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair one last time, before slipping into his jacket and grabbing the keys to the Ferrari in one swift move. It may have been a few years but The Playboy having a night out is as familiar as anything else. He calls an absent goodbye to the redheads conspiring in the kitchen as he exits the loft. Tonight he's just Rick Castle, bachelor. He's not a responsible father, or a bestselling author or even a loyal partner tonight.
He must have zoned out on the way down because the ding of the elevator reaching the garage level draws him out of his revere. With his millionaire grin and his rich boy ego, Richard Castle steps out of the elevator and slides into his Ferrari- tonight is going to be a good night. And if he's lucky thoughts of a certain brunette who once drove this car won't even cross his mind.
Who is he kidding?
"I love you, Kate. Kate, I love you."