Miscommunication
Disclaimer: Disney owns ABC, which owns the Castle rights. And if I don't own Disney, I don't own ABC. Kapeesh?
Inspiration: The song below and Headhunters promo.
Author's Note: Why, hello new fandom! And how are you doing tonight? Now, if you're from one of the other fandoms I write for, and doing a facepalm because I'm switching fandoms too much, I'm sorry. I felt bad not posting anything on here for a month, and things like these are they only pieces I've written. Anyways, Happy Castle Monday! This story takes place at the beginning of Headhunters. Ignore the sneak peaks/episode as a whole for now.
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Oh, a simple complication, miscommunications lead to fallout.
So many things that I wish you knew,
So many walls up, I can't break through.
Oh, I'm scared to see the ending,
Why are we pretending this is nothing?
So many things that I wish you knew,
But the story of us might be ending soon.
-Taylor Swift, "The Story of Us"
"Hey," A familiar voice says softly, taking a seat in his normal chair.
Beckett turns to him, hoping to see a familiar smile in the writer's eyes. But it's still just as dull as it had been weeks ago, after the bomb case, and it's killing her. Metaphorically. She's been through many more physical near-death situations. So the brunette sits and looks at him, just looks at him, hoping for some breaking point. He quickly looks away, focusing on one of the elephants on her desk. This isn't them. It isn't the them that she knows or wants.
Glancing at the paperwork on the desk suddenly, he clears his throat and nods his head towards the scattered pieces. "Still doing paperwork?" He asks, trying not to meet her eyes.
"Yup," She mutters, brushing hair out of her eyes. "Stay?"
She wants him to say yes, she really does. There's a spark of something in his blue eyes. She fills with hope, which bubbles and swells into a hopeful smile.
Yet when he stands, she knows that she's stepped into a losing battle. Again. "Sorry, I have to go. Meeting."
Beckett wants to pull him back and tell him that she won't let him leave. She wants to yell at him, glare, pick a fight. But she just frowns and looks down at her work, watching out of the corner of her eye as he walked down the hall.
Why couldn't she just say something?
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"What about him?" Dr. Burke asks from his chair, watching the pacing brunette.
She looks down at the coffee cup in her hand. She had to buy her own today, which pretty much sucked. That expresso machine he had bought for the precinct didn't seem to want to work today, and she can't use it without thinking about him. That bothers her. "He's cutting off from me, and I can't figure out why," Beckett mumbles, stopping to glance out the windows. It's a nice day out, with children running down the street, smiling and laughing, without their jackets. It doesn't match her mood at all.
"Why?"
Well, if she knew that, would she be mentioning it to him? "I don't know why."
The therapist nods, as if understanding. "That bothers you, right?"
She takes a seat, running her fingers through her hair. It has too many knots in it for her liking. She decides then that she'll brush it more. Maybe it'll look nicer. "Of course it does. If someone you cared about who you were pretty sure loved you started to act like you weren't even friends, how would you feel?"
"Worried, scared, and confused, no?" God, this guy is good at his job.
Nodding weakly, she begins to mutter to herself. It's how she solves a mystery like him. "I know that he started to back away after the bomb. So something must have happened during that case. I don't think it had anything to do with the situation itself, so what else could it have been? He visited and brought me coffee, then said he had to leave during that interrogation with Bobby. So maybe something happened when he left? But what would that have to do with me?"
The therapist sits there, confused, but interested as well. He has never seen her do her work before, and while it isn't really work it's probably the closest he would get. And given the nature of her work, it's the closest he wants to get.
"So it had to have happened during the time of the-" She trails off, shock and concern flooding her veins. Beckett puts her hands on her palms so she can support her drooping head. No. He couldn't have been there. She was so sure. But, it was entirely possible. Calm down, she tells herself. Why can't just be a worst case scenario? But it's then that she realizes all of his reactions fit perfectly with the scene she's pictured in her head. He hears her, thinks she meant for him to hear, and backs off. God, why did she always seem to do this stuff to him?
Besides the whole keeping-a-huge-secret-having-to-do-with-someone-you-may-or-may-not-have-feelings-for-and-telling-someone-that's-not-them-you-know-when-they-can-hear-you-and-you-don't-realize-it thing. That wasn't going to count right now.
"I assume you figured it out." The man says calmly, showing no sign of discomfort.
She glances up at him and scowls. "No, I just discovered that he knows I know, that's all. No biggie," She growls sarcastically, begging for tears not to come. Why should she cry at such a stupid, worthless thing like him?
Because, maybe he's not stupid to her. Maybe it's because he made her believe in romance again. Maybe it's because he made him believe that not everything is out to get her. Maybe it's because when they're together, she feels happy. Maybe it's because she doesn't think she's felt this way before, all sappy and depressed and somewhat stupid. Angrily, she takes a throw pillow and chucks it across the room.
Only he could do that to her. Like he did that morning.
Castle was walking out again to one of his stupid dates, so what? He was definitely not worth being upset over. They we never together in the first place, so there was no reason to feel so sad, so... heartbroken. But there he was, walking out that door with his arm around some girl that wasn't her and he was smiling in a way he wasn't smiling with her and... god.
Get yourself together.
The elevator dinged, and she pretended that if she blinked, all of her work would disapear. But, when she opened her eyes, all that sat there was paperwork and a lack of her writer. Angrily, she placed her head on the desk, carefully checking to see that her boss wasn't around to see her slacking off. Gates would never forget about it. Ryan and Esposito looked over at her, concerned. However, they left her alone, which she liked. Finish your work, she told herself. It'll take your mind off of him.
It didn't.
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She ended up at the same place as him the next night, but it was not because she was creepily following him. No, the two of them were both invited to a publicity thing for Madison's restaurant, Castle as a famous writer and Beckett as just a friend. However, it was a big deal for her friend, and even though she didn't want to, she decided she needed to go.
And she wanted to see Castle again.
What she hadn't expected was that it would be so hard to be in a room with him, knowing that he was having a jolly old time with another one of his blonde bimbos. So she stood in the corner of the room, drinking some concoction one of the bartenders had given her. Actually, it tasted decent.
"Hey, Becks!" A voice exclaims. She looks up, somewhat relieved that she's hearing a familiar voice wanting to talk.
She tries to smile, but she can tell it's not strong enough to fool the blonde in front of her. "Hi, Maddie. This is a nice place you've got here."
Maddie beams, running a hand through her hair. "It's a ton of work, though," She responds, laughing.
"The drinks are really good. What is this?" The brunette asks, pointing at the drink she has.
Her friend looks at it, bewildered for a minute. "I can't tell what all the drinks are by the sight of them. But I know it's some sort of specialty drink, made only by Napoleon. I can tell by the sugar on the rim. He always does that."
"Oh," she mutters, swishing the drink in the glass. It's probably expensive.
"So, I'm assuming something happened between you and your friend over there," The blonde says casually, pointing across the room where Castle is and she isn't.
It takes all of her willpower not to frantically deny it. She'd look guilty for sure. "No, why'd you say that?"
The blonde laughs, rolling her eyes. "It's obvious something is going on. He's here with someone that's not you, and you're here by yourself. And neither of you are talking to each other."
"There's nothing wrong between us. You want us to talk to each other? I'll go over and talk to him right now." Face plastered with a scowl, she stomps over to the man. Turning around and seeing her friend shaking her head at her, somewhat entertained and concerned, she forces the angry expression into a smile.
Castle sees her first. His date for the evening is walking off to the bathroom, smiling in a way that makes her all the more upset. "Umm, hi," He says, looking around the room.
"Can we talk?" She asks. Dammit. The first thing out of her mouth had to be that?
However, he gives a small smile. "Sure. I actually wanted to talk to you too."
Really? He does? Hoping things are going back to normal, she gives a small smile. "Okay, maybe you should go first because-" There's no real reason for her to hesitate, but she doesn't want to go first. Yes, it is procrastination, and she knows it's bad. She just can't go first. The concept is too terrifying, especially if her suspicion about him knowing is wrong. "Yeah." She mumbles, realizing he's been looking at her expectantly.
Taking a deep breath, he begins to speak. The brunette notices he doesn't have the normally easy-going aura he had before she walked over to him. So what is he going to say...? "I've decided I need to shadow someone else for a little bit," He tries to say calmly, but it sounds garbled, as if he can't believe what he's speaking. It isn't registering to her either. "I need some basis for other characters besides... you for villains and stuff like that," He adds quickly, as if it'll make everything better. Yeah. As if.
The back of her throat tightens, and her eyes itch and ache. She can vaguely tell that she is swishing the liquid around in her glass nervously, but she doesn't care. She knows she's standing there like an idiot, mouth gaping and forehead furrowed, not being able to comprehend the situation. What should she say now? Is there anything to say? "For how long?" She mumbles, eyes fixed on his.
"As long as I need it to be. Not very long, I guess." Through her confusion, she can tell he doesn't sound sure. Her breathing feels ragged.
"You'll come back?" But it's not a question. For her, it's a hope. She needs him to come back to her. Pleading with her eyes, she attempts to convince him.
For a second, his jaw softens and the grip on his own drink relaxes. She hadn't noticed it before, but his knuckles are white. "If you want me back. If I'm allowed back," He tells her coldly.
He needs to be there. She needs him to be there. She needs the stupid conversations back, like the one about why he shouldn't have gotten an iPad because he had a picture that would look great on the background screen. She wanted him sitting next to her in his chair and bringing her food and coffee and smiling at her during a tough case. She hoped to have a real relationship with him, get married, have kids. (She'd never ever admit that to him now, though. It's only been a week since she accepted it herself. And it still sounds stupid.)
"I need you to come back." It's out before she can realize what she's said, and she looks down at the floor with the tint of a blush blooming on her cheeks. "I- um- you-you're really helpful sometimes and, well, you know that. Don't leave." Cursing under her breath for the weak answer and her lack of self control, she looks back up at him. But he doesn't seem completely bothered by this. He almost looks... glad.
"Yoo-hoo!" A voice yells, approaching the man across from her. Stupid bimbo. "Are we going to dance?"
He nods, giving the woman a smile. "I'll be going now," He tells Beckett, being pulled to the dance floor. "I'll call you."
Yeah, right. She wants to stop him. She wants to grab him and kiss him senseless. But she can't. So with the little bit of strength and hope she has left, she whispers, "I love you."