Disclaimer: Still don't own a hair on their pretty little heads!
Significant Progress, Other Than…
Chapter 2: And Wisdom Comes Quietly
Kate sinks back against her own front door, dropping her purse on the table and leaving her case in the entryway.
Her apartment smells funny: stale, but with an added whiff of something vaguely chemical. It reminds her of the morgue, and so she wanders over to the kitchen to open a window.
There's a card propped up on the kitchen counter from the pest control guys – Bug Busters Inc. (No bug to big! No job too small!) - and then she spots a lone, dead cockroach lying under the corner of her couch, and immediately goes to sweep it up, wondering just what other little horrors might be lurking, dead, in corners and closets and underneath her furniture, desiccating.
Maybe she was a little hasty coming home so soon?
But, no. She knows deep down that she wasn't. Not after that little chat with Meredith this morning, and the stream of questions it set off bubbling inside her head, like a whistling kettle: nagging, irritating, and requiring her immediate attention.
She kicks off her boots and sinks onto the couch, letting her head loll back against the grey wool fabric, forcing out a long, slow breath, hugging a throw pillow to her chest.
When she opens her eyes and looks around, everything seems the same, but everything feels different. Her furnishings, art, knick-knacks and collectibles, photographs, books and utensils – they're all still here, just as they were before she left. But something is missing.
It's too quiet she realizes, after a beat or two of heavy, uninterrupted silence. Too quiet, too empty, too lifeless, too…Castle-less.
She looks at her phone. Considers calling him, apologizing for her…was it even an outburst? Sweeping everything back under the rug. But this is serious. They are serious, even Meredith said so, and therefore she needs to take a little time to work this through.
Doesn't mean she needs to do it alone though, right?
"Hey, Lanie," she sings into the phone, biting her lip, and then cringing a little at how faux-upbeat she sounds even to her own ears.
"What's up, Kate Beckett?" asks her friend, skewering her immediately.
"Why does something have to be up for me to call you?" asks Kate, playing offended, while her head is in her hands hiding her pinking cheeks.
"Maybe because you never call me on the weekend anymore. Not since you and writer boy have been doin' your thang. So I'm guessing his ex is still in town. Am I right? Is that crazy bitch driving you mad?"
"Actually, you're wrong. Meredith left for Paris this morning…alone. And I am sorry I haven't called, but I could really use a friend right now. Can we meet for coffee?"
"Sure. Let me just kick this lazy-ass detective out of my shower, and I'll be with you in an hour."
"Lanie," whines Kate, while her friend laughs at her down the phone.
"What? You the only one who's supposed to be having sex these days, is that it?"
"No!" replies Kate indignantly. "But I didn't need to know that Esposito is in your shower."
"Who says it's Javier?" asks Lanie saucily.
"How many other detectives do you know? And Ryan is married."
"I know plenty. Probably as many as you do."
"Yeah, but not in the biblical sense," argues Kate.
"Know more than you in that sense too. Castle's a writer, so he doesn't count."
"Gah!" groans Kate, grinning at her boundary-less friend and her determination to over-share. "Just meet me…meet me at Bryant Park, will you?"
"Fine, honey. See you there in an hour."
Kate is sitting at one of the little green metal tables beside a stone balustrade on the Sixth Avenue side of the park, flicking through an app Castle must have installed on her phone, trying to figure out the point of the stupidly addicting, childishly colorful game.
"So, what's this all about?" asks Lanie, appearing from nowhere and leaning down to give her friend a hug.
"Let's…can we take a walk?" asks Kate, feeling a little antsy from sitting in one spot for too long with too many thoughts whirling through her head.
"Oh, a walk. That bad, huh?" asks Lanie, making a tortured face.
"Just…shut up and I'll buy you coffee," says Kate, shaking her head at her friend, and then linking arms, steering her over to one of the park's little coffee kiosks.
"'wichcraft," says Lanie, pointing to the green and white sign above the coffee concession. "How appropriate. So, how was the first ex-Mrs Castle when she left for Paris this morning?"
"Actually, Meredith isn't the problem. Castle is," says Kate, flatly. "Or at least I think he is."
They get their coffees and start to walk a circuit of the park, strolling under the trees on the West 42nd Street side, shafts of winter sunlight filtering between the bare branches above them, casting long dark shadows on the gravel pathways below.
"So, Castle's your problem? What did he do? I thought he'd be out of the dog house by now, if Meredith has finally gone."
"Meredith turned out to be fine. The night we went out to dinner together, we had a good time, just the two of us, compared notes. It was fun. I actually liked Castle more after spending time with her, hearing some of her stories about what he was like fifteen years ago. This…less confident, way less erudite, charmer, who suddenly became a dad and grabbed on with both hands while it turned his life upside down."
Kate looks a little dreamy as she tells Lanie this, and so her friend wonders just what the problem is exactly.
"Well, when you're finished polishing that pedestal you've just put your boyfriend on, you might want to tell me why you dragged me out of a warm bed on a Saturday afternoon to freeze my bootie off in the park."
"You said Javi was in the shower, Lanie. If I was interrupting something why did you even answer the phone?" asks Kate, mortified.
"First of all, because it was you. And second of all, what makes you so sure I wasn't in the shower with him?"
"Because you just said 'bed', Lanie. B.E.D."
"Oh, someone obviously didn't get any last night," Lanie whistles, ignoring Kate's correction, as she laughs at her friend.
"Actually, you are wrong again. And who says I didn't get a little this morning too?" smirks Kate, bumping Lanie's shoulder.
"Did no one ever tell you that boasting about your sex life is vulgar, Kate Beckett?" asks Lanie dryly.
"You missed that memo too, I see?" Kate throws back at her.
"Damn, girl, you are feisty today. Where is Castle anyway? Hiding from you if he has any sense."
"Oh, Lanie," laments Kate. "I left him back at his place looking like a kicked little puppy," she sighs, dragging a hand through her hair.
"What happened?" asks Lanie, stopping her with a hand to her arm.
"Just before Meredith left, I asked her why she and Castle split up."
"Oh god, you didn't," groans Lanie.
"Yes. Why is that a problem?"
"Like I told you before, sweetie. The woman has an agenda. She was marking her territory by insisting on staying at the loft. Didn't she cause you and Castle enough trouble? Then you have to go and ask her for relationship advice?" asks Lanie, sounding incredulous.
"She was fun when we went out. Didn't seem like she had any agenda then. And anyway, she was leaving. She said she was happy for us, that she could see we were serious. Good together."
"And you believed her? My oh my," whistles Lanie. "For such a smart, savvy detective, you can be so incredibly dumb, Kate Beckett."
"Lanie!" exclaims Kate.
"I'm sorry, honey. But you and Castle are like babes in the wood where that schemer is concerned. If you wanted to know why his marriage failed, why didn't you just ask him?"
"Uh…I…because…I don't know," sighs Kate, staring at the ground.
"Better to hear it from the horse's mouth than that asses behind, is all I'm sayin'."
They reach the steps below the rear entrance to the New York Public Library, and eventually make a right, turning back towards Sixth Avenue, the air chillier on this shadier side of the park.
"So, what did she say that's got you all hot and bothered?"
"She said that being with him was like…like a deliciously sweet soufflé. That her life was full of romance and excitement. But that she eventually realized that Rick knew all of her secrets, all of her pain, enough to write a million books, and she knew next to nothing about him."
Kate raises her eyebrow at Lanie, and then points to herself, as if this should have some particular personal relevance.
"Ever think she was maybe just too self-involved to even ask?"
"Well, yes…I know that's how she seems. But she gave me a for instance. She said that when she'd ask him about not knowing who his father is, for example, he'd just make a joke and change the subject. He's been doing that as long as I've known him, Lanie. Avoiding."
"Maybe he doesn't like talking about it. Especially with an airhead like Meredith. Did you ever ask him about his dad?"
"N-no," stammers Kate.
"Well," says Lanie. "He isn't going to tell you stuff like that if you don't ask him. He's been living without a father for over forty years, Kate. I'm sure it isn't something he thinks about all of the time. Plus, he knows you lost your mom. The last thing the two of you need are more parent issues to complicate matters. You've just spent time living under the same roof as his mother. Isn't that enough?"
"That…that's not the point, Lanie. What else don't I know about him? All I can think is that he knows so much about me. About my dad and my past and my work. He's with me almost every day, for goodness sake."
"Did he ever tell you anything about his childhood?"
"Yes," Kate smiles, remembering a few stories he's shared with her, most recently about his early Christmases with Martha, when money was tight and his mom still managed to put on the Nutcracker in their tiny apartment, about the hope that instilled in him.
"And you've met some of his friends?"
"His poker buddies, the mayor, some people he knows when we stayed out in the Hamptons. Yes."
"Kyra, Gina, Meredith," offers Lanie. "He's never hidden anything from you, Kate. And you know what he does for a living. Hell, I'll bet you guys have even had sex in his office by now."
"Lanie!" scolds Kate, shushing her friend and blushing when an old lady stares at them after overhearing Lanie's outburst.
"You moved in with his mother and his daughter while your place was being fumigated. He's hardly holding you at arms length. He already told you that he loves you...twice. Have you even reciprocated yet? And I bet he didn't want you to go home today."
Kate gives her a look, choosing to ignore the most incendiary thing her friend has just pointed out.
"What?"
"He only wanted me to stay to protect him from the redhead invasion."
"Yeah, and if you believe that, you're crazier than I thought. What do you two talk about in bed?"
"Nothing you're ever going to hear."
"I mean pillow talk, Kate. After. You know, when you're guard is down and you're snuggling with your guy…" she sing-songs.
"Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously."
"We…uh…I guess we talk about his writing, new story ideas, scenes he's working on. Sometimes whatever case we're working might come up too."
"That's your idea of snuggle time?"
"What? I'm not like you…all mushy and sentimental."
"Yeah, but Castle is," she points out.
Kate bites her lip. Lanie is right. Castle is the more emotional of the two of them, but he edits his act for her sake now. Trying to be the man, her rock, her entertainer and partner. Working so hard all the time just to keep her happy. Just to keep her.
"I…I..sometimes I just worry that he's seen me at my absolute worst and…"
"Stop right there. Doesn't that tell you something?"
Kate shakes her head at her friend, and then shrugs.
"What?"
"That he loves you, Kate. No matter what. The good and the bad. This is going to hurt, honey, but you put that man through hell after you were shot. He was like a shadow for months. Now I'm not sayin' you weren't suffering too. But still he took you back, on the thinnest of promises."
"I know that I hurt him, Lanie. I just…I guess I want him to trust me enough to open up to me."
"He trusts you with his life, Kate. With his daughter's life. Has it ever struck you that you might just be the tiniest bit insecure?"
"What? No!" declares Kate. "Meredith's gone. I'm over that."
"I don't mean Meredith, honey. I mean with Castle. You never asked me for boyfriend advice when you were with Will or Demming or Josh."
"So?" asks Kate, defensively.
"Ever wonder why you and I have had several discussions about Writer Boy?"
Lanie pauses to let Kate figure out the answer for herself. But when she doesn't, she adds, "Because he matters to you, Kate. Because you're in love with him too and you don't want to lose this one."
"So, what should I do?" Kate asks, her voice small and curious.
Lanie feels such compassion for her friend, with no mother to guide her and a fiercely independent streak to do battle with even to share this much.
"Talk to him, sweetie," she says, with a new softness in her voice and in her eyes. "Go see him, and ask him everything you want to know. Show an interest in him, like you do so well for the victims and their families that you work so hard for. And if he doesn't want to talk about it, respect his privacy."
"I…I guess I'm just worried what will happen when he knows everything there is to know about me. That...maybe he'll get bored, like he did with Meredith."
"Do you know for a fact that he got bored with Meredith?"
"She said he knew enough about her to write a million books, Lanie. And look what he's done since meeting me…he wrote a bunch of books."
"Yeah. You said that already. And tell me, just how many books did he write about Meredith? Hmm?"
"Well…none that I know of…directly."
"And how many books did he dedicate to her?" asks Lanie, her hands on her hips, eyebrow raised.
"None," admits Kate, with a weak smile.
"Then there you have it, Kate. Or should I say 'the extraordinary KB'," she grins, nudging her friend.
"Okay, okay. You made your point," concedes Kate. "I'm an idiot."
"You're a lovesick fool is what you are. Now, come here," she says, pulling her friend into a hug.
Kate squeezes her tight and then lets go.
"So, you think I should just…go see him and explain?" she asks, breathless already at the mere prospect.
"I think that might be best. And if I hurry back, Javier Esposito's hot little ass might still be warming my bed."
Kate groans and covers her face with her hands, before looking back up at her friend and laughing.
"Thanks, Lanie. I really mean it. You're a life-saver."
"He loves you, Kate. And you love him. Stop looking for reasons for this to end, and start finding ways for it never to stop."
A/N: Big response to this. I know there are probably a lot of post-5x10 stories out there. (I'm avoiding them until this is done.) So thanks for taking time to read and review this one. Liv
