Irises
by softydog88
Chapter One
A Murder
Note: This is my second go at posting this story. The first time, it received some harsh notices from people who didn't like the fact that the story revolves around my own characters, not Castle and Beckett. Rick and Kate are definitely in the story, though, and Kate eventually has a big role to play. If you don't like that fact, please do not waste your time on this story. It is 38 chapters long and I am posting five chapters a day until it's finished.
The Castle/Beckett items are not chronological - they pop up as needed, and there is no timeline there. The timeline for Marilyn and Jason is chronological, and the dates are meant to show this.
This story is very much a tragedy.
PART ONE
"Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity or ruin." —Mary Shelly
This is a story about forgiveness.
August 3, 2015
She sat on her bed and surveyed the room. It was just the way she liked it—as dark as she could manage. The windows were covered with black sheets, the electronics were unplugged, the phone's battery was removed. The only illumination was the phosphorescent glow of her laptop, which cast an eerie shadow of plush animals against the wall to her right. She threw the animals one at a time on the floor and again cast a critical eye around her room. This time, all was well. She had gone through this routine a few hundred times since she was a little girl and there were never any surprises, but she needed the routine and, especially, the isolation, the dumbing of her senses, the feeling that the ugly reality of her life was fleeting or even illusory. It was her coping mechanism; a way to shut out the world that still tormented her daily. In darkness was anonymity, solitude―safety. It had worked, too, over and over, until that night. But that night was long ago and though the pain of it had greatly diminished, it hadn't disappeared, and she still retreated to this, her childhood refuge, when things were bad. And now, they were worse than they had ever been. Even on that night. That awful night.
She sent one last email and tore open a bag of popcorn, scattering kernels without a care. She sipped her tea and put on her headphones. A few mouse clicks later, Airplane! appeared on her laptop. She watched and laughed and ate and drank as she had done so many times before.
The movie ended and she turned on the light. She read for a few minutes, made another cup of tea and settled down to sleep.
Something stirred her, a noise just beyond the edge of her perception. She lay still and held her breath.
Silence.
The omnipresent sounds of New York, audible even in the dead of night, had settled down to nothingness. She shook her head and blamed recent events for her skittishness, closing her eyes after a minute's contemplation.
She was nearly asleep when she heard it again; once, twice—a swooshing sound, like shoes sliding slowly across a carpet, and now her heart was pounding and her eyes were wide open, pupils rapidly dilating as they tried, fruitlessly, to adjust to the dark.
Something went click.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of light, and for an infinitesimally brief moment, she knew it was all over.
And then it was.
August 4, 2015
Beckett put down her phone and sighed. She rolled over and shook Castle.
"Skablabrgh," he said without opening his eyes.
"Castle, wake up!" She shook him again, harder this time.
"Really, Beckett?" he said with a sigh. "I know we're trying to get you pregnant, but honestly, I'm wiped out." He yawned and pulled the blanket over his shoulder.
"We've got a homicide. Time to go to work."
Castle's eyes snapped open and he leaped out of bed. "Great!" he said. Beckett glared at him and he stood there trying to sense her mood while the smile slowly left his face, taking his healthy glow along with it.
"Glad to see that investigating a murder is so much sweeter for you than making love to me," she said.
It took Castle thirty of the longest seconds of his life to think of something to say. "It's not that, Beckett," he finally muttered. "It's just that...well, I really am bushed, and the way I look at it, at least we'll be able to spend the day together, even if that day includes trips to crime scenes, the morgue and...Gates' office." He shuddered at the last two words and Beckett laughed.
"That might change entirely if I make Captain, you know."
He plopped back down on the bed. "If that happens―and I hope it does―then I'm going back to writing full time, because there's no way I want to do any of that grisly murder stuff without you."
She laughed and kissed him. "Yes," she said, patting his cheek playfully, "and while that's undeniably sweet, someone has to be there to save you from yourself."
Beckett pulled up in front of a typical brownstone apartment on Tenth Street. Espo and Ryan greeted her and Castle immediately.
"What have we got, boys?" Beckett asked.
"Marilyn Singletary, 29," Ryan said. "Single slug to the head. Looks like a .38. Perp got in though the open window in the living room."
"OK," Beckett said, putting on a pair of gloves, "let's get started."
Before they entered, she took another look at the apartment.
"We've been here before, haven't we?" she said.