There's something about mass-producing story chapters that just gets me. I love it. But still, only a few more in this brief span of time before I need to hold off for review's sake.
Disclaimer: Oh, in the course of two minutes, I have had a massive take-over of ABC, and now Castle is mine! Not.
Chapter Two: Is Castle Traumatized?
It was a slow day at the precinct and there hadn't been a call for a murder. That left Ryan at his desk, slowly chipping away at the never-ending pile of paperwork. He was honestly starting to believe that Esposito was getting everyone in the precinct to sneakily add a folder of paperwork to his pile each time he finishes one write-up, simply to watch him go crazy. Well, he had to hand it to his partner, it was working splendidly.
Then again, if his partner was up to his old tricks, that wouldn't be such a bad thing. When the dramatic twist involving Esposito's old partner arose in a case about a retired thief, emotional turbulence and confusions in loyalty swept the precinct. Ryan knew from the first mention of the name "Fred Cana" that this case was going to be different. Unlike the rest of his colleagues, Ryan wasn't surprised by Esposito's reaction. He had known for over two years about the reasons behind Esposito's sudden transfer to homicide.
When Thornton suddenly became implicated in the murder, he knew that the case was going to carry serious repercussions for at least Esposito. By the end, he had walked away shaken too. Ryan still remembered the terror in his voice when he shouted at Holliwell where his partner was. Ryan never shouted; the last time he raised his voice was well over five years ago, because he tried not to let any sort of anger or fear get the better of him, and cause him to lash out at the people he cared about.
But he had been so terrified that he'd failed at doing his job and protecting his partner. He was supposed to have Esposito's back no matter what. And he'd almost screwed up again. For all he knew, the person he saw as his brother could've been bleeding to death somewhere in the building, and he had been too late to stop it. Luckily, nothing too damaging did happen, but for all he knew, it could've. That night he never went back to his apartment. He just wandered the streets of New York with no destination whatsoever until he had to return to the precinct the next morning; thoughts repeated themselves endlessly in his head. I did it again. I screwed up. Just like last time, I screwed up. Almost let my partner die. Half an inch to the left is all it would take. I should've been there. I screwed up.
But no matter how much residual guilt Ryan had been left with after the case, Esposito walked away with far worse scars than he did. His partner's guilt, and confusion, and betrayal far outweighed his own, and he never forgot that. Even though over a week had passed, he was still in a fog from the experience. Since that night Esposito had been pulling hours that would put Beckett to shame, and kept himself even more stoically removed from the cases than he normally was. Things were finally starting to fade back into normalcy, but it was a slow process.
Ryan had just opened up a new folder of paperwork from the huge pile that he needed to chip away at, when Esposito turned around suddenly to face him. It was clearly a serious matter judging by his partner's face, so he quickly dropped the write-ups he had left to do, and turned around as well.
"Think Timmy will become a cop?" It was seemingly out of nowhere. But by now, he knew to address the question at hand, because Esposito was straight-to-the-point, and liked answers.
"Maybe. Things like this tend to stay with you. Especially at a young age." The answer was the best he could give, and Esposito seemed lost in thought about that for a minute.
"Like Beckett," he finally answered, his voice and expression remained carefully neutral. It wasn't a thoughtful answer drawn from several hours of pondering. It was simply stating a well known fact.
"Yeah man, like Beckett."
When no one said anything for a minute, Ryan assumed the conversation was over between them, but just as he was about to turn back around to continue on the evil case notes in the ever-multiplying folders, another question caught his attention.
"What about Castle?"
"What about him?" Esposito sighed at Ryan's counter-question, as if he didn't know how to explain something to him.
"Remember all those months ago… Castle's comparison between becoming a vampire, and joining the force?"
"Yeah…" The details of the conversation had eluded him, but Ryan remembered the gist of it. Basically just attributing the first step of a journey to some sort of traumatizing event in a person's early life.
"And remember how when Beckett asked what started him on writing about murder, he fed her a load of bull that sounded like it was right outta one of his books?"Ryan nodded again, starting to have an idea as to where this was going. "Think something actually did happen to the guy, or he's just acting it up like usual?"
As much as he had begun to anticipate something of the sort, he was still stumped at how to answer without sounding too much like a smart ass. Eventually he just decided to screw it and be straightforward. It was the only way Esposito would accept it.
"Honestly?" Esposito's slight nod prompted him to continue. "'Course something happened. Nothing too bad, but something happened. My guess is high school, but the age is dicey. It didn't happen to him, or anyone close to him, otherwise it'd still show up sometimes. It was probably just an acquaintance or a classmate, and the situation might've been narrowly avoided too. Sometimes near misses are just as scary as the actual thing." Ryan paused to watch Esposito trying, and failing to absorb all of what he was saying for a moment before he continued again.
"Probably some statistic related to kids that every kid assumes they'll never be part of: drunk driving accident, drug overdose, Columbine threat, death of a distant relative, depression, maybe even suicide attempt." Ryan curiously watched his partner tense for a moment when he spoke the words. Worried that he'd struck an unknown nerve, he quickly backpedalled."Of course, I could easily be wrong, but that's my interpretation. My guess is, he saw something happen to someone he recognized by face around early high school, wondered what the odds were, and then set out to give himself closure by giving the kid a story to explain what happened."
Esposito was deathly quiet again, seemingly lost in thought over Ryan's thorough, yet believable analysis.
"How d'you figure that?" He finally asked.
"Dunno, just the way he is man. It's in the way he acts, and the way he sees things. Everyone in the precinct is shaped by the influences of their past. Each of them has a story. It makes them who they are. Just go backwards and it's usually pretty easy to figure out the general of what happened. Odds are he gave a bluff story to Beckett because he didn't remember the event, or didn't deem it important enough next to Beckett's story with her mother."
Esposito went completely silent again, and Ryan patiently waited for another question, some explanation of why he asked, or some sort of transition into more light-hearted topics. After more than a minute, his partner managed to nod distantly before turning back to his desk. Ryan slowly did the same, curious as to where the question had come from, but knew to drop it. He couldn't tell if his partner was thinking over his guesses, worrying about Timmy, or was unsatisfied with the answer Ryan gave him. Part of it definitely seemed that way.
Ryan wasn't used to not knowing what was going on in his partner's head, and why Castle came into the conversation. He understood his fears about Timmy's future, but the famous writer came out of the blue.
But here wasn't the time or place for him to ask. The crowded precinct where cops were moving around constantly was no place for a real conversation. Today was Monday anyway. He could confront Esposito about it later, when he came over for their weekly football and beers.
•••
Esposito really shouldn't have even started that conversation. He was supposed to have put the entire case behind him, or at least be able to pretend that it was all behind him. He was supposed to be uplifted by the end result of the case, and find closure in Racine's arrest, and Ike's freedom. But all he seemed to be able to focus on was the people whose lives had been uprooted by all of this.
Ike had missed three years of his son's life. No matter how many stories Esposito told of watching the boy grow up, nothing to fix that or bring those years back. And as much as he had tried to fill in for Ike, he knew that he was no substitute for Timmy's father. If Timmy fell into the wrong crowds or made the wrong choices because of this, Esposito would never forgive himself.
And if Timmy became a cop…? It was clearly the better situation, but it still didn't sit well with him. Esposito knew that being part of the NYPD was one of the most rewarding and character-building experiences in his life, but the thought of Timmy, the young boy who called him "Uncle Javi" carrying a badge and a gun scared him. Bile rose in his throat at the very concept, the distinct taste of blame combined with it.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, annoyed at how pathetic he sounded to himself. Right now he was headed to Ryan's apartment for Monday night football, and there was still no telling whether or not his partner would mention the awkward conversation from this afternoon. The last thing he needed was the swarm of questions, doubts, and fears.
Angrily, he kicked at an empty abandoned water bottle on the ground, and muttered numerous curses under his breath in both English and Spanish. Even though he and Ryan were as close as two heterosexual non-related guys could be, there was still no way he could possibly communicate everything that weighed on his mind to his partner. Ryan had put up with him enough this past week, and Esposito refused to burden him any longer with ghosts that he had yet to bury, especially not on Monday night football.
•••
"Hey man," Esposito greeted Ryan as he unlocked the apartment door. "Way to warn me about the new lobby receptionist."
The sarcastic comment completely eluded Ryan for a moment before he remembered. "Oh! That's right."
"Yeah, and it was hell trying to explain to the kid why some random guy who's clearly not family has a set of your keys. I have to do that again, and I promise I will make you hurt." Esposito said in a stony voice, but Ryan could detect a shred of normalcy that had been missing for the past week.
"Man, what'd you say to…"
"No power on this earth Bro," his partner cut him off, and Ryan made a mental note to ask the new kid about it the next chance he got. "No power on this earth."
Esposito seemed almost normal enough, as he started to raid Ryan's fridge in search of beer and leftover take-out; all the mandatory components of a cop's kitchen. After sorting through at least three boxes of Thai food that had long since expired, Esposito managed to find an acceptable looking tupperware of what used to be chicken lo mein.
"Chinese tonight?" he asked his partner. Ryan, who was lost in thought for a moment, snapped out of the trance long enough to answer back.
"Don't bother. Pizza's on its way right now. Should be here in ten minutes." Esposito nodded and replaced the Chinese in the fridge before heading back to the couch with the beers. He felt completely at home here, and had no qualms taking control of the remote and flipping to the right channel.
Ryan however, couldn't pay attention to the game at all. Every few minutes he would glance at his partner in confusion. He wasn't sure whether or not now to confront his partner about the conversation earlier today. On the one hand, he had been a detective long enough to know that whatever it was that made Esposito start that discussion today, it was important. On the other hand, this was the first normal, relaxed conversation they'd had since they arrested Racine. Finally, Esposito was beginning to move on from the entire experience, and he didn't want to mention it, and open up fresh wounds.
"I'm telling you bro, there's no way this team's ever gonna get their acts together and ever win a game. I don't know why you still root for them."
"Oh now come on, that's an exaggeration!" Ryan whined back, starting up an argument about the two teams on the screen in front of them.
He decided to let the subject go for now. As long as things got better, what was the need to know? It was over. And hopefully, they wouldn't run into any more personal cases from here on out.
I still am not sure if I like it. You have to tell me.
