Roses, Apples, and Cherries
Summary: Sometimes when we're lost, all we need to do is ask for help. Rated for suicidal thought. Takes place mid-season 4.
Disclaimer: I am a human. Andrew Marlowe is soulless evil robot. Therefore, I am not Andrew Marlowe and I do not own Castle or any of its characters.
There were thirteen flowers this year.
Thirteen blue lilies: one for each year since Johanna Beckett was taken from the woman standing before her grave. Once again, Kate stood on the marker of the most horrible day of her life. Once again, she took a car service to the cemetery because her eyes were too blurred to drive herself. Once again, she was alone.
Kate wasn't sure why she and her father still made a point of visiting at different times. The first few years after her mother's murder, they mourned separately because her father's drinking became violent on the anniversary, but that was long past. Jim Beckett had been sober for years, Kate was a grown woman, and…things hadn't changed. Kate shook away the regret as soon as it came. She didn't want to talk about the past any more than her dad did, so why bother wishing things were different.
The walk up the hill was much harder this year. Between her own loss of physique and the paranoid feeling of being exposed in a cemetery, Kate found herself struggling. She made it though. She knew she would. She always would.
Twenty rows down, fifteen stones across. Slightly worn, Johanna Beckett's grave marker stood proud in its place on the morbid grass grid.
Thirteen neatly placed white roses signified her dad's earlier visit. Despite the somberness of the day, her dad's flowers always managed to make her smile. Her mother hated white roses, (something about them being unjust to the natural red ones), and they had always been a running gag between Kate's parents. After a fight, her father would inevitably come knock at the door holding a single, hated white rose. He claimed that as long as there was something in the world that Johanna hated more than whatever he'd done, then there wasn't anything they couldn't work through.
There was only one time it hadn't worked: after Johanna received her first death threat for starting the "Take back the neighborhood" program. The screaming match that night was so bad that Kate snuck out to stay at a friend's house. She never saw her dad bring home white roses again. Months after her mother's murder, Kate's father told her about the promise he'd made the night of the death threat. After hours of yelling and blaming, Johanna finally admitted that she was terrified of what was to come, but nothing was going to make her back down. She made Jim promise that they wouldn't let anything come between them until the ordeal was over. She made him promise that the next time he brought her a white rose, it wouldn't mean "I'm sorry.", it would be a celebration of her victory. He promised. Four weeks later, Johanna Beckett was dead.
Kate felt tears brimming for the fifth time that day. She wondered if her mom knew that her dad would never stop bringing her white roses to beg her forgiveness for not being with her that night.
She wondered if her mom knew anything at all.
"Hi, mom." Kate whispered. Even if her mom couldn't hear her, it brought Kate comfort to update Johanna on what was going on her life.
"I'm still here…but I guess you know that…because I'm not with you…" She trailed off. This year was hard.
"We have a new captain. You'd like her. She's all procedure, just like you, and not at all like Mont – " she stopped. Somehow, it felt like forbidden ground; talking about the conspiracy when her mother was supposed to be at rest.
"Ryan got married. Jenny's perfect for him…a carbon copy of everything you ever teased dad about wanting."
A sudden gust of wind blew harshly against her face and cleared the leaves around the gravestone. Johanna's epitaph glared up at Kate, telling her to get to what she really wanted to talk about. Life is too short to let your battles define you.
"Mom." Kate took a breath and tried to shake the ridiculous notion that her mom would punish her for what she was about to say.
"Mom, I'm scared. I though I was doing everything right. I though I was doing what you would've wanted, but I just don't know… I don't know what to do."
"I made a promise. I promised myself that I wouldn't rest until I solved everything. I promised myself I wouldn't let anything stop me. But…"
"…I made that promise when I didn't think anyone would care if I didn't come back…"
Tears had long since escaped her control.
"He told me, mom. He told me he loved me…I lied…I told him I didn't remember anything about that day, but it's not true, I remember every second of it."
"I never thought anyone would care. Everyone else ran. Everyone is still running away, and he's staying…he's always stayed…and now I'm the one running…and I can't…dammit! Why won't you talk to me?"
Kate fell to her knees and sobbed, all the grief of the past year and the past 24 hours hitting her like a freight train.
"Mom, please!" she felt the words strangling her, "Please, I need you to talk to me! I need you to…" she cut herself off as her cries became more violent.
The visits were always hard, but this was unbearable. She didn't just want her mother this time; she needed her. She'd never admitted that to anyone, not even Johanna herself. She'd always forced herself to be strong, to be independent, to have no fear. Now she was terrified and there was no one there to pull her off the cliff.
"Please help me…" she whispered to Johanna as she cried herself to sleep on the pillow of flowers and grass.
When Kate awoke, she was lying on a thick downy comforter, it was dark, and her jacket and shoes were missing.
"What…?" she murmured to herself as she tried to gather her bearings. She reached over and blindly fumbled around until she managed to turn a lamp on.
"Where am I?" She thought. Now she was worried. The last place she remembered being was at the cemetery and now she was in a strange bed, in a strange house, and some of her clothes were missing. "My gun!"
Kate sprang out of the bed when she realized the holster was no longer around her waist.
"Shit." She was in for it now.
Trying to gain the upper hand in the situation, she took in her surroundings. One door, one window (not that it would do much good; from the sound of the traffic, she knew she wasn't on a ground floor). There were pictures on the shelves on the other side of the room. Maybe she knew her kidnapper?
Kate cautiously crept towards the frames, trying her best not to make the hardwood floors squeak beneath her. The whole thing still didn't feel right…the space was far too homey for a kidnapping, so what the hell was going on?
The frames came into view and she could've slapped herself.
"Castle." She sighed. Of course. Where on earth was she, though? She'd never been in this room and she was pretty sure there was only one guest room which meant…
"Oh, no, he didn't!"
"CASTLE!" she hollered.
It took about three seconds of frantic footsteps before Rick Castle burst into his own bedroom, wildly waving a greasy spatula and sporting a stunningly messy apron with frilled coffee cups around the edges.
"Kate! Are you okay? You're awake!" he spouted off before taking an actual look at his guest. "And…you're going to kill me…"
"Why am I in your room, Castle?" her no nonsense tone was formidable and had him slowly backing towards the doorway.
"Well, mother's passed out on the guest bed, and Alexis was doing homework in her room, and –"
"And the couch?" Kate asked with a smirk, her fury giving way to teasing at his clearly honorable nervousness.
"I wanted you to be comfortable." He paused, "You deserved it after today."
Kate's gaze dropped at the sincerity in his voice.
"You went to the cemetery?" she asked, already knowing his answer.
"Not to follow you, I swear." He hastily answered, "I knew you had gone, but after it got dark and no one had seen you, I got worried…"
"Damn your heart, writer-boy." Kate thought to herself.
"When I got there, you were…" his smile dropped completely and killed her, "…you were passed out on her grave. I couldn't see straight, I thought maybe…"
He didn't have to finish. It wasn't the first time someone thought she'd kill herself, and after the events of the shooting and her recent bout with PTSD, could she blame him for assuming the worst?
"I carried you to the car and brought you back here. I didn't want to wake you up. You looked so sad…" he trailed off again.
"I'll just leave you alone." He mumbled as he turned to leave.
"Rick, wait." Kate said.
The writer whipped around at her use of his given name.
"Thank you. Really. I know I've spent three years pushing you away from this side of me…but I'm glad you came." She spoke softly.
"Always." He replied with a smile.
The two gazed at each other fondly before Castle broke the spell.
"Can I count you in for pancakes when they're done?" he asked, waving the spatula again.
"Castle, it's almost midnight." Kate replied. Beckett was back.
"Let she who orders Chinese at 4am throw the first stick."
Kate smiled.
"Alright, writer-monkey, I'm in."
"Yes!" Rick shouted with unanticipated enthusiasm. "Would you like anything with them?" he asked.
"Hmmm. What do you usually have?" Kate asked.
Rick grinned for moment before he answered her.
"Apples and cherries, my dear detective."
Kate's smile could have melted the world.
"Would you like the same?" he ventured.
"Yeah, I think I will." Said Kate.
Castle bounded out of the room and back towards the kitchen. Kate sat back down on the bed and sighed. He really was there…always. He found her. He took care of her. Her wish before she'd fallen asleep on her mother's grave came back to her. "Please help me…"
Her eyes sparkled before she closed them and whispered "Thanks, mom." before she headed out to grab plates.
I don't know if I cried more or squeed more when I wrote this. =P Please review! I'd love to know if you enjoyed!