Hey, Castle fandom. Welcome back. Before I get to any disclaimers, I just have one thing to say.
HOLY COW, YOU GUYS. I asked you to let me know if you wanted me to continue, but I was NOT expecting this kind of massive response. 31 reviews and 85 Story Alerts? I'm not used to getting that kind of response. Ever. I can't even wrap my head around it. I can't even begin to express my gratitude for the kind reviews. Is this what being FanficwriterGHC feels like?
That being said, I decided to continue this venture. Rather, I was compelled by all of your loveliness. And thankfully, inspiration followed. I apologize that this chapter didn't come sooner, but I couldn't really find the time to write, given that last week was midterm's week and all. Have we already established that I'm a crazy person? The fact that I started a new fanfic in the middle of midterms is mildly horrifying to me. My procrastination has finally reached a new level of atrocity. But I digress.
Just a couple more not-so-important things for those who are still reading this author's note: First, have italics always been excluded from the mobile site? Don't feel obligated to answer that. It's more of a rhetorical question. I never noticed it before, but now that I have, I've made some adjustments regarding the spacing of flashbacks. Hopefully, it still makes as much sense for those of you who use the mobile Fanfiction browser to read. I know I do.
Also, what has been going on with the site lately? I've noticed that many users have had to update several times or repost stories recently. I was a little hesitant to post this right now because of the problems I've seen others have in the past two days, but I'm just going to go for it and hope for the best.
As always, enjoy.
Disclaimer: If only.
So calling Lanie first might not have been her best idea. But her friend was understanding, albeit a little pushy. Really, the ME didn't see the problem in her current situation, even after she tried to explain it time and time again. Why she couldn't jump in yet. Why she didn't understand what her partner was trying to do. Why she didn't know how anybody could possibly be any more infuriating.
Lanie just nodded, let herself be dragged to the crumbling detective's apartment, willingly shared a tub of New York Super Fudge Chunk while half-watching a cheesy, Hallmark channel movie. Kate let her stay the night after a stressful evening of binging and wallowing.
Mistake number one.
She wakes up in bed. She's not alone. Which is odd, you know, considering that she doesn't typically have anyone in her bed to wake up next to. She hasn't even been with anyone since Josh, and even when Josh was around, he never usually stuck around until morning. Never had the time, and neither did she.
In her disoriented state, she squints at the form under her covers. Dark skin, darker hair. Oh, thank God, it's just Lanie. Wait, Lanie? What is she doing…? Oh, right. Last night. Ice cream and talking and Castle…God, Lanie's going to want to talk about this, isn't she?
She sneaks out now, while she has the chance. If she gets ready fast enough, maybe she can get out before her friend even wakes up. She'll leave a note on the counter of course. Maybe pour a bowl of cereal too. Does she even have cereal that isn't as old as her new apartment? Minor details, no big deal.
She can skip the shower. Just a little freshening up will do just fine. She has a fresh pair of slacks and maybe even a good blazer in the dryer. A little ironing will take care of any lingering wrinkles. No need to try to make as little noise as possible re-entering her bedroom so as not to wake the ME, thus opening herself to a line of rapid fire advice. She was stupid and vulnerable last night, telling Lanie all of her petty sorrows. But it's a new day. Now, she's back to being Kate Beckett, the kick-ass homicide detective. The girl with the gun. No, scratch that. The woman.
The ring of her doorbell interrupts the getaway musings. Who would possibly be here this early? She creeps over to the door, looks in the peephole, swings open the door…
"Delivery for Kate Beckett."
"Yes, this is she. But you must be mistaken. I didn't order anything."
The man takes a look at his clipboard. "Nope, it says right here: sent from Mr. Richard Castle to a Detective Kate Beckett. No mistake."
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But curiosity gets the best of her, and she concedes. "Well, is there anything I have to pay for or, um, sign?"
"No, ma'am. Everything's been taken care of." He hands her the long, white box and smiles. "You have a nice day then."
She shuts the door, pausing a moment before running over to her couch and dropping down onto the cushions, tearing the lid off and folding back the paper. She lets out a little gasp. Lying inside are a dozen neatly cut, yellow daffodils sheathed in green tissue. She was expecting…what was she expecting? Roses or some kind of extravagant outfit attached to some sort of invitation. But these…these are perfect. Or rather, they would be perfect if she hadn't spent the entire night previous cursing the man that they were sent from.
They're too pretty to just throw away like a Styrofoam cup of coffee. She stands to find them a vase to find she has an audience.
"Kaaate."
"Shut up, Lanie."
The curvy woman raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "You gonna come over here and make me?"
Kate huffs past her friend with flowers in her grasp, walks into the kitchen and pulls out a large, crystal pitcher from the cabinet. She holds it over the sinks, running the tap, and unwraps the flowers, dipping their delicate stems into the water. Do daffodils have a specific temperature requirement?
"Kate," Lanie tries again. "He got you flowers." She stoops to pick something off the floor as if it were just another day and she were just bending to collect evidence from the crime scene for the detective. "And a note. Oh Kate, baby, I don't understand what your deal is! If you don't get it on with the writer man soon, I'm gonna have to smack you."
The detective reaches for the card in the ME's hand, snatches it up, and flips it over. She lets out a groan.
Good morning, Detective. I love you.
"Girl, what are you moaning and groaning about? Your man's like something out of a John Hughes movie."
She sighs. "Lanie, I'm not a teenager anymore. It's not that easy."
"And why the hell not?"
Great. Last night, at least Lanie was sympathetic, but since her partner decided to make a grand gesture this morning, she's completely lost her best friend's support. "Whose side are you on?"
The woman's too good to fall for that one. She doesn't have to utter a word. Her look of disappointment speaks volumes.
After Lanie went home to change for work, Kate changed her plans and spent the next hour submerged in a bathtub filled to the brim with bubbles and scented with lavender. No reading was necessary, just a good, long soak. Her muscles slowly uncurled from their tense state.
If only soapy water worked on emotional tension as much as it did physical.
Once she was out of the lukewarm suds, she dressed at a leisurely pace, took a little extra time to dry and curl her hair, and actually made herself breakfast for a change; it might have only been a slice of toast with the remaining swirls of peanut butter at the bottom of the jar, but it was breakfast nonetheless. So, needless to say, she ended up coming into to work a little later than usual.
Mistake number two.
If her heart leapt into her throat yesterday, it's now past her throat, out of her mouth, and skidding across the precinct floor, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
She doesn't see Castle yet, but it's obvious that he's already here. Her tardiness has given him ample time to accomplish an obviously well-thought-out plan. She opens every drawer of her desk in a frenzy. Her bowl of Skittles has been swapped for a jar of Hershey's kisses. Her yellow sticky notes are stripped from the pad, replaced with pink, heart-shaped post-its. But the old papers aren't gone; instead, they're distributed throughout the filing cabinets, stuck to random objects. Every one of them has a little tidbit scrawled across.
I love the way you chew on the lid of your Expo marker when you get caught up in thought.
I love it when you secretly read new case notes to our suspects off your clipboard like you already have them memorized.
I love your collection of elephants, even though it is a little borderline OCD.
He's scaring her. Shouldn't he know by now that overwhelming Kate Beckett just results in her bolting away, shutting down, and closing off? A part of her, a part deep inside that sounds suspiciously like Lanie, tries to tell her that this is a good kind of fear, that it's a healthy dose. But she doesn't have time to sit here and listen to that nagging little voice. Fight or flight responses are kicking in. She's not sure which one is dominating until she's at the break room doorframe, interrupting a conversation amongst Ryan, Esposito, and the man who she's tempted to kill at this point and make it look like an accident.
"Out."
All three of them move at once, scuttling through the doorway in terror. First Esposito, followed by Ryan. She stops Castle with a hand to his chest.
"Not you."
The other boys look back to see their friend trapped. Ryan grants him a cheeky little wave, and Esposito clenches his fist as if to say 'stay strong, bro.' Kate nearly rolls her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. Her emotions are tumbling so fast, she doesn't have time for the embarrassment that should have accompanied seeing her boys again after yesterday afternoon's fiasco.
Castle gives her a look. He's waiting for her to start. Isn't he always waiting for her?
"Why?"
It's a loaded question, but he's prepared to answer. He's probably been preparing himself for the last few days.
"Okay, the desk thing was a little creepy, I admit, but you already know that I'm creepy with the staring thing. Why try to hide it?" It's accompanied with a little grin that has her boiling inside.
"I'm not just talking about my desk, and you know it. But if creepy was what you were going for, then congratulations. You've far surpassed my expectations in that department."
His grin only expands. "Well then, Detective, what are you talking about?"
She runs a hand through her hair in frustration, fingers tangling through messy curls. "You're going to make me spell it out for you? Everything, Castle. Why, everything? Why all of this? You should be angry at me, ignoring my apologetic phone calls, running off to the Hamptons with your ex-wives; I don't know what else, but it isn't this, so, why?"
"You want me to be angry at you?" His grin is gone, traded for an expression weighted with the seriousness in his voice. When she can't find her own to respond, he continues, "You want me to ignore your phone calls? Clearly, you seem to have been able to block out all that we've gone through in the past four years; all the progress we've made individually, together. Beckett, listen to me when I say this: I'm not running anymore. Not now and not ever again."
She takes a deep breath to steady herself. "Right. Running is my job. I forgot."
Castle softens at that. "Kate, that's not what I meant. Kate."
"I know." She lets go of the sigh that was building in her ribcage. "I know you didn't mean that. I'm just…I'm trying to understand, Castle. I mean, you should at least be upset with me. I'm giving you permission, here. I'd completely understand anger right now or hurt. I would never fault you for it. I deserve it." And then, "Is that what you're trying to do then? You're trying to punish me?"
He's back to teasing her. "I wouldn't put it like that, per se…"
"You're trying to drive me absolutely insane."
His eyes twinkle with mirth. "Is it working?"
She scoffs, moves toward the door which probably should have been shut at the beginning of their conversation that half the homicide department probably just caught wind of. This time, it's his arm in the doorway that's blocking her escape. She goes to duck it.
"Hey, now, that was just a joke. Kate, I was just kidding."
She turns back around to face him, eyebrow raised in question. "You still haven't answered. You're using avoidance tactics."
"You would know."
"Excuse me?"
He chokes on air, spluttering, "S-since you're, you're a cop. You would know about avoidance techniques because you interrogate people who use them. God, Kate, are you going to turn around everything I say?"
It's her turn to smirk now. "Still avoiding."
"You really want to know?" At this, she tilts her head forward, waiting for a response. His brow furrows in concentration, trying to pick out the best words to explain; she knows because she's seen the expression so many times before. "I was hurt, Kate. Very hurt and a little angry too."
Okay, then. That still doesn't explain…"Then what is all of this, Castle?"
He offers her a sad, little smile. "Silver lining?"
"Silver lining," she repeats dumbly.
He expands, "My way of coping, maybe. Finding the best in a bleak situation."
"A silver lining." Again? What is wrong with her? Is her voice box stuck or something? Is her brain on the fritz, skipping like a broken record?
"You said you could use one, you know, before. Remember?"
She remembers.
There was no body that day. He left to go home early without much more than a wave. She felt something curling inside of her. Disappointment? Is that what it was? No, couldn't be. Could it?
She finished the paperwork for the Walborn case and packed up her bag. The sticky notes on her various office supplies remained mostly untouched, unmoved. For now.
Kate debated taking a little detour to see Lanie in the morgue, but decided against it. She hadn't exactly been too amiable with her best friend this morning. Maybe they just needed some mutual space to regroup, laugh it off, act like nothing ever happened. Her friend didn't have a great track record when it came to easy forgiveness, but maybe this time she'd make a pitiful exception.
Instead, the detective hopped in her car and drove home in silence. Well, moderate silence. It was the city after all. She rode the elevator up to her apartment and unlocked the door.
It turns out that her third mistake is one she made a while ago.
She has her coat in the closet, and her shoes are off, sprawled in the entryway, before she notices. Her daffodils are sitting in the middle of her counter space, definitely not where she left them. Oh God, she never took back that key she lent him when they were in joint custody of Royal, did she? He's been in her apartment. The nerve of that man.
Perched next to the vase is a green packet of some kind of flower preservative with instructions on the back. Stuck to the crystal is another one of her sticky notes. Ridiculous.
Daffodils symbolize rebirth, new beginnings, and unrequited love. Some say they symbolize vigilance because they always come back the following year. Others think daffodils say "you're the only one." I thought they were appropriate, regardless of which symbol you choose to believe.
Of course. He would have an extensive knowledge of flowers and symbolism. She shudders. (You're the only one).
She suddenly gets a whiff of something, and it smells delicious. Is that coming from her oven? She opens the doors and is assaulted with the aroma. A cardboard pizza box is sitting on the rack, still warm from the insulated oven. She lifts the lid. Golden brown cheese littered with green peppers and black olives. The detective has to stifle a moan. When's the last time she even saw a pizza, fresh from the oven? The fact the label boasts neither 'authentic' nor 'terrific' is just a bonus.
She should be more furious that he entered the apartment without her explicit permission, but the fact that he's providing dinner for her and beautiful flowers is clouding her judgment. She should be calling him up right now, informing him that she 'can remember to feed myself, thank you very much,' but something's stopping her. He's wearing her down already. That should bother her more as well. She can't let him know. He can't think he's winning this battle just yet. She's stubborn. She still needs time, time to sort through her feelings and time to talk with Dr. Burke.
That Castle is doing all of this crazy stuff is maddening, but…sweet too? "Who are you and what have you done with Kate Beckett?" she mumbles to herself, sliding the box out of the oven, setting it on her dining table, procuring a plate and a jar of hot seeds from the cabinet.
How can she go from utterly disgusted to compliant in such a short time? It's seriously grating on her pride. He's just so thoughtful and that's what she l-
The revelation stops her, mid-bite. Oh shit.
She loves him back.
That's all for now, but I still have another chapter or two up my sleeve. I think it's about time to see what's happening on Castle's side of the spectrum, don't you?
Click the little button below to let me know what you thought of the second installment of Turning Lemons into Lemonade, and stay tuned for more. :)