Title: When I Was Drowning
Rating: T
Pairing: Caskett
Category: AU, Angst, Humor, Sweetness, A little of everything!
Summary: A chance meeting between two people has the potential to change their lives forever. Written in response to a prompt sent to castlefanficprompts (prompt at the end of this chapter).
Notes: I try to say thank you to everyone each time I write a story, but I don't always manage to do so. So I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for taking the time and the chance on my stories, including this one.
The complaint comes in exactly twenty-two and a half minutes before her birthday (and the second half of the double she's pulling) starts. Dispatch confirms her unit is closest, and her ride-along partner assures her it'll be a quick and easy thing.
"We'll get you back to the station in time for cake and ice cream, Beckett," he teases. It's good-natured, and she can't help but want to know who stole the glance at her file to find out about the day.
She hasn't said a word about it to anyone but the captain, and that was only to ask to take the overnight shift so she can see her dad later in the afternoon. Her father's doing better and that's all the birthday gift she really needs right now. But the chance to actually see him and spend real time with him is great.
Maybe this call will be a blessing in disguise. Or at least a way of delaying her inevitable embarrassment; there's no doubt that something's waiting for her at the station courtesy of her fellow uniforms.
It sounds simple, the call. Trendy loft building in SoHo needs them to escort someone off the property. Probably homeless, as insensitive as it is to think. She's gone on hundreds of these types of calls since joining the force. More after the missteps she made last year, when things were at a low with her dad and Mike – Royce, just Royce – stopped answering her calls for good. Letting herself get lost in her mom's case was a mistake, but she's better now. She is. And she knows that even though she hasn't had a call like this in months, it's not a punishment. It's just being on the beat at the right time.
So they'll go, they'll load the guy into the squad car and see if he has somewhere to go for the night. More often than not, the accommodations at the Twelfth Precinct work just fine, but sometimes the person gives them an address instead. Sometimes it's a shelter, sometimes it's a home and it becomes another issue entirely. Beckett's hoping not to get into any domestic issues tonight.
Her partner wants to throw the gumball to "liven" things up as they navigate through a crowd of tourists spilling out of some pizza place that claims to be "the best in town for all eternity," but since she's driving, her rules go. There's no reason for it. The lights and the siren stay off unless necessary; asking a homeless man to leave a building isn't a necessary moment.
She spots their guy slumped against the wall, head bent, as soon as she double parks. Against her better judgment, she says she'll approach alone. Sparky can back her up instead of using his superb tact and people skills to make this more uncomfortable than it needs to be.
"Sir," she calls, drawing near with measured steps. The last thing she wants to do is startle someone who's easily violent. "I'm with the NYPD. Do you have any weapons? Any knives? Any guns or bottles?"
Some of the other officers don't ask, but she makes sure to do so every time. As the fading scar on her forearm can attest, being sliced with a broken wine bottle sucks.
After a few seconds, the man's head shakes. Good, he's responsive. That always makes it easier.
"That's good, sir. I'm going to come closer."
She steps around his foot, watching it jitter against the concrete.
"Do you know where you are?"
A nod this time.
"I'm sorry I have to do this, but building security has asked me to make you leave."
He snorts, drawing shaking hands over his face. The movement startles her enough to touch her hip, but her gun stays where it is. His hands lower, flopping limply into his lap.
"I live here. Or I guess I used to." His voice is hoarse. Whether it's from overuse or a lack of, she has no idea, but she wants to hear what he has to say.
"Is that so?" She squats at his side, ready to ease him up, only to stop short.
Holy shit. It can't be.
"Had a fight with my mother, big fight. She moved in to take care of my daughter, told me to go get my shit together. I just… I came back, and she wouldn't let me in. Hasn't let me in since." His story's disjointed, but she gets the general idea.
It really can't be. But the eyes… the nose… the cadence of the voice.
"How'd you lose your shit in the first place?" she asks, waving Sparks back. The man in front of her isn't drunk; it looks like he's in the early stages of withdrawal.
"Writing's hard. Writing's ridiculously hard, 'specially with a kid. An' I knew that, I was handling that, but then it all started coming down. The ideas stopped, the words stopped. My ex started asking for more, even though she doesn't deserve anything. Everybody started asking for more. Wanting a piece of me."
Oh, God. It is him. It's –
"So I figured take the pills, stay awake, write faster at night. Then I could be Dad during the day. But it didn't work. The ideas still weren't there, and I thought maybe… I needed something else. Stupid move, but… here I am."
She's heard stories like it before, but knowing it's him rips through her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. Swiping quickly at her eyes, she nods.
He notices anyway. "Hey, hey don't cry. M'getting better now, I am. No more pills, nothing. None."
Well, that explains the shakes.
"Beckett, come on, is he riding or walking?"
Whirling, she glares at Sparks. As far as partners go, he's not a bad guy, he's just impatient.
"Gimme a second, Sparky, jeez."
That makes the man in front of her laugh. She has to try not to smile, too.
"Is there anywhere you can go tonight? If not… we'll have to take you down to the station."
He shakes his head. "I've been camping out on a friend's – well my agent's – couch, but she had a date. I just wanted to come see 'Lexis. I buzzed, but… I think they're not home, or Mother just won't let me in."
The last thing she should be doing is getting invested and involved; the training says to keep it friendly but impersonal. Don't get attached. But it's him and her gut is in a knot.
"I'm sorry."
His head falls back, defeated. "Me, too. Am I under arrest?" He lifts his hands for the cuffs.
She shakes her head. "Just want to give you somewhere warm to sleep tonight. A safe place to detox, too. That's what you're trying to do, right?"
Jeez, she's too damn good at this. Between the job and her dad, she knows all the lingo, knows how to have patience.
"Trying to, yeah. It was just supposed to help me write."
"I know, Mr. Castle. I know. I'm going to help you up, okay? Do you have any needles on you?"
His eyes train on hers, shame swirling in along with the discomfort. "You know me."
Biting her lip, she nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I know you. Needles?"
His head shakes rapidly. "No needles. I don't – never needles."
"Okay. Come on, up and at 'em, Mr. Castle." There, now she's found the gruff Beckett again.
Sparky's at her back as soon as she takes Richard Castle's elbow and helps him stand, but she ignores her partner. Avery doesn't need to see what this is doing to her emotions.
This is her favorite author and he looks like hell. He'd been thin when she met him at the signing a year or so ago, but he's thinner now – sick thin, not workout thin. The scruff on his face makes his cheeks hollow and the dark circles under his eyes darker. She can feel the ridges of his spine through his coat as they walk to the squad car. Jesus, he's really done a number on himself.
"Hey, Sparky, you hungry?" It sounds callous at first, asking about food in front of someone who could obviously use a cheeseburger or ten, but she can't just come right out and buy the man dinner.
"Eh, I could eat."
"Yeah, well, I want to. Remy's on the way back to the precinct?"
She helps their charge into the backseat, watching as his limbs unfurl when he hits the heat. The bag in his hand slides down to his feet.
"What about you, Castle? You think some fries will sit okay on your stomach?"
He looks up, almost surprised she's talking to him. "Wha? I… sure. That sounds good."
Nodding, she looks at her partner. "Alright, it's settled then. Sparky'll run in and get us a late, late dinner when we get there."
Avery looks confused. "I will?"
"Uh huh. My birthday, you buy."
She pastes a cheeky grin on her face before sliding behind the wheel. Sparks grumbles, but there's no bite to it.
He even seems to have caught on that the extra double cheeseburger she insists on quietly is for Mr. Castle, and he gets out with their orders without argument when she stops at the diner a few blocks later.
"It's your birthday?"
Castle's eyes are closed when she looks back, but he's obviously awake.
"As of… twelve minutes ago, yeah."
He smiles softly, reminding her how starstruck she'd been when she met him before. He'd smiled just like that.
"Happy Birthday, Officer…"
"Beckett. Kate," she adds quickly, twisting in the driver's seat. There's no way he'll remember her from before, but maybe her first name will spark something.
"Happy Birthday, Officer Beckett Kate," he murmurs.
"Thanks," she bites her lip. "For um, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Sorry? About this?" He gestures around the backseat.
She nods. "I've um, I've read your books. I'd been wondering where you'd gone. You've been off the grid for a while."
He looks away. "Yeah, I know."
She swallows, looking away, too. "That wasn't a nag, by the way."
"Thanks."
She'd once had a dream about spending her birthday with Richard Castle, but this isn't exactly how it went down.
"You're good at this. Have to do it often?" He breaks the silence again.
"Well, it is kind of my job…"
"Yeah, but uh, you're softer about it than I imagine Sparky would be. You've got experience. A friend? Family member?"
Her father's face springs to mind and her jaw tightens. "Just my job, Mr. Castle. Nothing else," she snaps, far more defensively than she means for it to be. His face falls.
"Sorry." He seems to curl tighter into himself in front of her, drawing the bag into his lap. His fingers shake against the leather.
"I'm… sorry, that wasn't fair."
"No, I over – "
"I mean, you meant it as a compliment, right? That I treat people nicely 'cause it's how I'd treat my own family?"
She swallows hard, remembering one too many shouting matches with her dad. She hadn't treated him very well for a while.
"Yeah," Castle breathes, coughing into his hand. "That's all I meant by it."
"Then… thanks. And I'm sorry I snapped at you."
Sweat's beading on his forehead and she turns the heat down for him.
"Are you…" she trails off. Now she's going to be the one overstepping. "Have you talked to anyone? Looked into a program or meetings or something?"
He grimaces. "Trying not to let the mystery writer world know their literary golden boy let himself go like this, Beckett."
"They can be confidential…"
He shakes his head. "Better to fix it myself. It's my mistake, right?"
That's exactly what her father said for so long.
Her mouth opens, but she foregoes saying what she's thinking as Sparks yanks the door handle and practically dives back into the car. It must be cooling down out there.
"Alright, three strawberry shakes, two double cheeseburgers, one regular burger – no onions – and three large fries. Happy Birthday, Beckett."
"Thanks, Sparky."
She passes Castle's food back to him through the tiny opening in the cage, ignoring the grateful look he gives her in favor of watching their fingers slide over each other.
Shit, she still has a crush on him, doesn't she?
"Okay, back to the station. I can't eat in the car."
She pops a fry into her mouth anyway, wiping the grease on the side of the bag before throwing the car into drive.
Sparky's look mocks her a little when they park at the precinct and she says she'll escort Mr. Castle down to holding, but he holds his tongue for some reason. Whatever, let him think she's an idiot for helping the man like this. That said, she's glad her partner's not following her when she changes her mind and shifts directions abruptly.
"Where are we going?" Castle stumbles behind her.
"Do you have anything illegal on you?" She looks at him seriously, daring him to lie to her. "Any pills? Any drugs at all. Even prescriptions that aren't yours?"
He shakes his head quickly.
"No, no, I threw everything… out. I'm trying to get it all out of my system… like I said."
"Good. Then come with me. You can clean up in the locker room and crash on a cot in the uniform bunkroom. There are a couple beds, so you're not taking one from anyone."
"I… really? But don't you have to- ?"
"You aren't in custody and you aren't being processed for anything. Do you really want to sleep in holding?"
Castle's head shakes again.
"No, no, but… is that gonna get you in trouble?"
"Not if you don't make a big deal about it. Sparky sneaked his girlfriend in last month." She wiggles her eyebrows for comic effect. "I made him wash the sheets, don't worry."
He laughs tightly. "Then… thanks."
She waits just inside the locker room door, listening to the splatter of the water on the tile as he showers.
Maybe she's a sucker, maybe she's letting affection for someone she doesn't even know cloud her judgment. Maybe he should be treated the way every other guy they bring in here is treated.
But she can't do that to him.
She wouldn't be here if not for him. Not in this job, possibly not on this earth. She owes Richard Castle in more ways than letting him use the uniform's break room can repay.
And if he's playing her, then that's on him. Not her.
The water stops and he emerges from the showers a few minutes later wearing clean clothes. The t-shirt hangs on his chest in a way she knows it didn't months before, he's that thin. Involuntarily, her eyes rake up and down his arms. They're clean.
He told her the truth about that. At least as far as she can see. She can't see the rest of him, but if he was truthful about this, then there's hope that she's not being played for a fool.
Their eyes meet, causing her cheeks to flush. He knows why she's looking.
He smiles self-deprecatingly. "I'll drop my pants if you want to see the rest, Beckett."
"I – excuse me?"
"You're checking for track marks. Unless you're just checking me out in general…"
Her eyes roll, but her cheeks still flame at the idea. Well… she could be…
"It's okay," he interrupts quietly, the self-deprecating smile back on his face. "I get it." He folds his clothes, tucking them into the leather bag. "Thank you for this."
"You're welcome. Come on. How um, how're you feeling?"
"Better, I think," he exhales. "I'm… hopefully it's almost done."
He looks a little green, but she doesn't comment. Maybe his dinner was too rich for his stomach. Her own food's been forgotten on a desk somewhere, probably claimed by someone else already anyway.
She nods, holding out her hand to him. She'll make sure there's a bucket by the bunk.
"When'd you last…?"
"Yesterday? Day before yesterday? It didn't hit me at first."
He settles heavily on the mattress she points him to, watching her with wary eyes. She perches across from him, wringing her hands.
"You should sleep."
"What about you?" he asks, lifting his eyes to hers again.
"I have to go back out in a bit. I'm on shift all night."
He 'oh's softly.
"I should… probably make sure everything's good out there. But I'll check on you before I leave."
Castle nods again, licking his lips. "Thank you for this."
"Returning the favor, Mr. Castle."
His head tilts quizzically.
She bites her lip quickly, the decision springing from her lips. "I'll make you a deal. Get yourself clean – really clean – and get home to your daughter, and I'll tell you what I mean by that."
She offers her hand, hoping the added incentive will be enough to make him think about what he's doing. If the withdrawal and the knowledge of what he's missing with his family isn't enough, maybe she's intrigued him the way he boasts about loving in his interviews on the society pages. She might not be blonde, or busty, or begging to be on his arm, but maybe she can entice him into sobriety with a mystery.
And if not, she still tried. For him, for his daughter. For herself and her mother, too.
"You have a deal, Officer Beckett Kate."
His fingers shake when he slides his hand into hers, but she holds on tightly.
"Good. And I'll warn you, Mr. Castle, I get pissed when people break their deals with me."
This time when he smiles, it spreads across his cheeks and reaches his eyes. He looks so much like the man she met a year ago, she can't help but blush.
"I'll keep that in mi –" he stops, swallowing hard. "Oh, shit. I'm gonna – "
Not for the first time, she's grateful for her quick reflexes; the trashcan she grabbed makes it under his chin as he loses his dinner. Strong stomachs make detective, but she still tries not to breathe too deeply.
"Sorry, I'm sorry." His eyes are squeezed shut, hands trembling as he struggles to hold onto the trashcan instead of relying on her to do it for him. "Shittiest first date ever."
Surprise has her laughing softly, and she frees a hand to rub his back.
"Pick up a lot of women this way, Mr. Castle? I didn't even know this was a date. But hey, at least you made it to the trash can first. I went out with this guy once who was so nervous, he puked on me before we even started the date. I said hi and he said rawrlph."
Castle smiles faintly. "Don't – don't blame him."
"Yeah?" Her hand stills on his back. "Well, I'll sweeten the deal. I'll let you make this first date up to me when you get back."
"Back? Back from where?"
"My dad just… he just came back from a place that can help. He's so much better than he was before, and he said they treated him well there. I can take you or give you the address, but I think a place like that's… the way to go."
"I can't. I can't go anywhere. The press… I don't want to do that to Alexis. I can do it on my own."
"So you'd rather just couch surf until you get picked up by the cops outside your home? Castle, you think I didn't hear 'I can do it on my own' for years? My dad drank for over four years. I held a bucket for him for more than two of those years before I just had to let him figure it out for himself. Don't make your daughter have to make that choice, too. Swallow your pride, forget about the press, and get yourself clean."
She straightens once she's sure he's not going to hurl anymore. "I'll get you some water to rinse your mouth and I'll clean up the can, then I need to go back to work."
He won't meet her eyes, but he nods.
He's asleep by the time she returns with a clean trashcan, curled up in the bunk, facing away. He looks small, diminished; if they hadn't walked in together she would have no idea that he's as tall as he really is.
She checks her watch, her dad's watch, trying to avoid watching him sleep. It's time for her next patrol, anyway. Guess she won't be saying goodbye or good luck.
She leaves him a note instead. It's short, scribbled on the back of a flyer she finds, but she thanks him for helping get her birthday off to an interesting start. It's a gamble, but she also gives him all the information about the place she mentioned earlier, plus her number. She asks him to call once he gets himself together; they have a deal and she won't be the one to break it.
Folding the paper, she slides it into his bag, casting one last glance at him before she goes.
And that's that.
Prompt: Meeting; castle is a drug addict on the street and Beckett helps him though it and gets him the help he needs.
This fic was not supposed to be as long as it is, but the inspiration hit me and I just had a story to tell. I hope you'll stick with me for the next 3 chapters.
