Name: Fool me once…
Fandom: Castle
Characters: Castle/Beckett, Esposito, Ryan
Genre: Romance, Angst, POV
Rating: R, I guess, for exactly one curse word
Word count: approx. 3 400 words
Spoiler alert: All up the aired episodes. Contains promo spoilers and speculations for the upcoming episode 4x19 – 47 Seconds!
Summary: This is a companion piece to my previous story Fooled that had Castle's POV. This one is in Kate's POV and her thoughts on the whole (non)relationship disaster in season 4.
A/N: Okay, I didn't directly plan on writing up a sequel to the first part, but you guys were all so amazing, so I couldn't 'not-to' write a sequel. Hope you enjoy and still like the story. To say the truth, getting into Beckett's head was far far more difficult than Castle's. Also, I've had this wrote up before the sneak peeks appeared, so in my story, Kate knew Castle to be behind the glass.
Again, this chapter hasn't been betaed, sorry. The reason – I don't have a Castle beta yet. Since I am not a native speaker, please, bear with me, but I tried to catch all the flaws and typos best I could, though not as carefully as the first time, cause I am too busy, SORRY.
Thank you all for those wonderful reviews, you have NO idea how all warmy, tingly and fuzzy they've made me. A special thanks to Dalfron, cause you nailed it in your review, and 1477166, because you gave me what I asked for, yumm!
Fool me once…
She exits the interrogation room, still fuming. She's got nothing, all for nothing and they are running out of time. It's not that they are worried about a second bombing, it looks like it's been an isolated incident targeting a single person while taking dozens with it as well, but the violence and public uproar about the act causes the DA along with Gates to breathe down their necks to find the bomber, ASAP.
She takes the case file she's just been holding in her hand and slams it against her table once again for good measure, then takes a deep breath, finally realizing where exactly she is to loose her temper this carelessly. Looking around the bullpen, she takes a couple steadying breaths.
Where the hell is Castle when you need him?
Just at that very moment, her eyes spot him, standing only a couple feet away from her, giving her this odd look. It has her confused and irritated at the same time. So what if she snapped? Happens to all of them from time to time, doesn't it?
"What?" she snarls at him, squares her shoulders defiantly. She really shouldn't be picking a fight with him right now, but she is angry and frustrated with this investigation and instead of doing his … well, usual stuff, Castle is just standing there like a goddamn statue, speechlessly giving her this strange look.
Only then does she notice that he's having his coat draped around his forearm as if he's about to leave, which has her even more confused. They've just been in a interrogation together, so where the hell he's thinking of going?
Come think of it, he really looks odd. Her shoulders drop as they keep staring at each other in silence, the busy commotion of the bullpen suddenly fading out around them. He's obviously waiting for something from her, but for the love of God, Beckett cannot think what's wrong. They've just been together in an interrogation, well technically, she's handled the interrogation while he was waiting behind the glass but still, nothing could have happened that would make him stare at her like he is now. He looks awfully serious and a knot settles in the pit of her stomach, though she can't find any reason why.
"Nice interrogation tactic," he says at least, his voice unnaturally deep and grave.
She is momentarily confused, going back to the 15 minute long grilling of their latest suspect going over her words.
"Can't remember?" he asks and there is something cold and challenging, mean even, in his voice all of a sudden, despite his tone and look being carefully measured. Calculated. She tries but has a hard time remembering the interrogation, of course she is when he is being strange like that. She is momentarily captivated by the coldness of his look, she is not used to that and then she breaks the eye contact in order to think. There is obviously something he wants her to remember…So remember Beckett, humor him only to take him apart later. She challenges her own mind.
And then it hits her, full force. I was shot in the chest and I remember every second of it! Her eyes snap up in horror and lock with his. She surely didn't…and he was just behind that glass …making the connection…
She suddenly can't breathe.
"Ah," he notes most quietly. "Now she remembers." He lets the last word dance out of his mouth graciously, but the grimace he makes speaks of a foul aftertaste. "Was about damn time."
She merely keeps looking at him, shocked, numb with terror and guilt and fright she cannot explain even to herself. The only thing she knows is the string of curse words galloping through her mind before the voice in her head settles on a single chant: Not like this, not like this.
He's still giving her that look and it's even more intense now than it was before. She has a hard time keeping it, the blue of his irises unnaturally chilly. She cannot hold his eyes any longer, breaks their eye contact, resting her eyes on the floor. He is still waiting, probably for her to say something, justify herself, but her mind is completely and utterly blank.
"Well," he says at last, a tint of that nonchalant cocky arrogance she hasn't heard in ages now in his voice, "I remember I promised my mother lunch, so have a nice day detective." And he leaves. Just like that.
That's it? Have a nice day, detective?
No shouting, no whining, no pompous gestures or a 'scene grande' in front of the whole damn bullpen? No lecture on partners and trust and betrayal? She wouldn't mind, you know. Because she totally deserves it all.
A hand goes to rest against her forehead and she literally swoons in her spot, her bottom hitting the side of her table and holding her weight. She wants to take a deep breath, because obviously, she's forgotten how to breathe in the past couple of minutes, but her lungs are constricted and she can barely draw air.
Her fingers are unnaturally cold against her forehead so she rests her hands against her hips instead, head lowered and hiding behind the curtain of curly hair. She dares one last look in the direction he's left and just about catches a glimpse of him as the precinct's lift doors close shut.
It's a picture that will stay with her for a long time. Gone is his measured posture, or the arrogant lilt of his voice, the cold spark in his eye. What's in the lift is a man that obviously needs all the support he can get as he heavily leans his whole body against the wall, head thrown back and eyes closed shut. His hands are squeezing his coat in tight balls as if handing on it for dear life.
The moment's gone and she is left standing in the bullpen, wondering what the hell just happened. She replays the conversation with her suspect one more time, then groans, slumping into her chair and hiding her face into her hands. She just didn't, did she? Had she just really offered her ten month old secret for a bunch a magic beans she hoped to extract from their suspect? And Castle…*God* Castle…
It comes to her only now, the full extend. This is not how it was supposed to happen, not like this, not now. Not-like-this.
Her whole body hums with nervous energy and she feels like she's just had the fight of her life or been shot at with no Kevlar on…She feels like weeping and damn, she is in the middle of the bullpen with Rick gone and she doesn't know what to do.
"Yo, where did Castle go?" asks Esposito, closing in on her desk, Ryan at his heels. They weren't there for the interrogation, thank God, but she honestly doesn't know how she is supposed to deal right now, how to continue on like nothing just happened.
She wishes she could stay hidden in the embrace of her cold hands on her face, the world outside this tiny piece of existence fading away. Seven months of therapy and carefully laid out plans wasted in one single moment of stupidity and recklessness.
"Hey Beckett, are you okay?" asks the softer voice of Ryan and she feels even worse, because now there really are tears squeezing under her eyelids and she can't do anything to stop them, unable to will them away.
She thinks back to her therapy sessions, thinks of Dr. Burke's soft deep voice telling her to calm down, relax and simply breathe. She takes a moment and it works, at least to some extent, so she is able to raise her head to look at the boys. She can see them notice her state of being, the glistering quality of her eyes, but they don't comment and she is eternally grateful. At least until Espo attempts to lighten the mood.
"Did mommy and daddy fight? Cause he kinda promised to take us out for drinks later," he says with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and Kate's whole insides swell. And not with that warm feeling, not with that supposed happiness, no, it's something different altogether, and she doesn't know what it is but it's not a nice feeling. It's like a bubble that grows from inside of her chest, pushing stuff around and Kate has to squeeze her hands into tight fists to stop herself from rising to her feet and smash something against the nearest wall because well, she's royally fucked up and she has no idea how to make it right again and here they stand and make fun of it like this wasn't the most stupidest thing she's ever done in regards to Castle, and God knows there were plenty.
She knows it's not their fault, knows they don't know, still. She has a hard time controlling her despaired rage. Because she stuck, stuck here, with them, when she feels like chasing behind him, wherever he's gone, grab him by the lapels of his jacket and telling him that the only stupid and cowardly person in the relationship is her. Because she's seen his look, you know, seen that devastation in his eyes as the realization hit, seen that disgust over letting himself been leaded on for so damn long, that "I'm such a fool!" look behind his false bravado. It twist her chest that he feels like he has to put a show on like that in front of her, hates that she's made him believe he has to be that happy careless person without a care in the world in front of her.
Not just one thing flashes in front of her eyes, it's like having an epiphany. Like only now she can see paste the farce, past the mask he's been putting on for so long for her sake. She knows, she is not completely clueless, that he's been putting everything on hold in his life for her, putting her needs in front of his own, for so long now. She could see it that day in front of the bank in his daughter's face, her words "They better!" spiked with anger and something more darker she couldn't afford to analyze back at that time. She cannot believe how she could have been so selfish to leave things go this far.
Her phone rings and the phrase 'saved by the bell' never applied more accurately to Kate. She breaks out of her thoughts immediately, because no matter what she still has a job to be done and picks up the phone. She listens for a while before giving a few affirmative sounds and then wraps up the call with a brusque "Be right there." She can walk of a sudden, thank God, and she quickly jumps to her feet before her legs choose to give out on her again. Grabbing her coat and already half-way out the bullpen, she turns to Ryan and Esposito, "We've got ourselves a new lead." When the stay in place however, she stomps her foot down impatiently. "So you two coming or what?"
They hesitate and she hates it because she knows what they're about to ask. "What about Castle?" asks Ryan tentatively but Beckett has already braced herself for the answer. "He's sitting this one out. Let's go."
For the next two hours, her mind's blissfully occupied with cracking this goddamn case. They bring the son-of-a-bitch down to the precinct, they interrogate him and he confesses. Gates comes in and claps them on their backs, a tight smile playing on her lips. Kate knows she should feel good, or at least accomplished. But all she feels is misery and she really, really would like some company. Company of a person, who's probably feeling just as miserable as she is right now and for who's misery she's the main reason for.
With her mind off the case, all that remains in the sinking feeling that today, she managed to break something very special that she might not be able to get back. But she has to at least try, has to plead her case, try to explain what she herself still has a hard time understanding.
She picks up her phone then lays it back down. Picks it up again, lays it down again, then sighs. For a brief moment, she wonders if she can just leave it alone, leave it all be. Leave him be, leave them be, until the worst of the storm is over and he'll waltz through those doors again in the morning like nothing had happened, a huge albeit fake smile playing on his lips and the smell of delicious coffee in his wake. Because it's always like this, isn't it? They fight and he always comes back. Always. The question is, does she really want to be that person? To push without regret, to shove him in the chest over and over again until he falls, expecting him to stand back up and come closer only to be shoved again? What kind of person does it even make her?
And what if this one time she's pushed too hard for him to even want to get up and come back? And God does she know how much she's pushed – she not just shoved him to the ground, he stomped on him as well.
She goes back to those words she'd let slip in the interrogation room for the millionth time that day and wonders how she could have been that stupid like that, in front a freaking suspect and Castle of all the possible scenarios listening behind the glass. He wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place, he was supposed to get them coffee, but then he insisted he wanted to be there for the interrogation and she let him.
Dr. Burke might call it a Freudian slip, Beckett thinks darkly, but she knows it wasn't, because she knows Castle deserves so much better than that. So damn much better.
She picks up her phone and dials the familiar number, hesitant yet assured at the same time. If she's gonna do this right, she'll need his help. A pleasant female voice picks up at the other end of the line. "Hello, Dr. Burke's office, how can I help you?"
"Hello Cindy, this is Kate Beckett," she starts taking lungful of breath, "I know I don't have an appointment but I was wondering if Dr. Burke might find some time to squeeze me in for just a couple of minutes today." She hears the woman at the other end of the line hesitate, but something in Kate's voice must tip her off, because she asks her to hold on line while she shuffles away in search of her boss. Kate holds her breath and waits. Once she hears the secretary pick up the phone again after a couple of minutes she squeezes her eyes shut and crosses her fingers.
"Detective Beckett, you still there?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Dr. Burke has a full calendar, but he says he can squeeze you in for some twenty minutes if you are able to be here within an hour. Is that possible?"
"Yeah," she says, letting out a huge puff of air, "that would be really great. I'll be there in thirty."
Kate put down the phone and throws a look at the huge clock on the wall. Technically, she's still at work, but with the case wrapped up so quickly and Gates satisfaction with their work, it shouldn't be too hard to ask the woman for an early leave, the paperwork can wait. Still it makes Kate internally cringe at the thought of having to actually go and ask for permission. Her relationship with the new captain's still a rather tangible one. She knows she herself is partly to blame, she never got over what happened to Roy and she still has a hard time accepting the new authority figure in her life. The fact they hadn't seen eye to eye from the first moment on doesn't help either. Plus, Gates still dislikes Castle, despite how much he's tried to prove herself to her.
She doesn't even know where that thought came from, but the reminder of why she actually needs the time off today makes her reel. Guilt comes racking inside of her once again, that broken look on his face when those lift doors closed behind him. It's like an allegory of them, but she doesn't want to go that far, because they are still repairable, aren't they? She never meant to hurt him, not like this. She knew she would one day, but she hoped for a more controlled environment. And a situation, a time, where she might actually offer the words back to him.
'*Now* she remembers…'
His words echo in her head and she feels completely lost. She doesn't know how to fix this, she doesn't even know where to start and what to say to him, but she certainly cannot let it hang in the air between them like it never happened. Because so many things have already happened that they haven't talked about and it's slowly killing them.
Because what if he doesn't walk through those doors tomorrow like she always expects him to? Maybe she's taken too much for granted. Because Richard Castle is a generous man, even more with her than anybody else, but certainly even he must have his limits. She knows he is one of those people who will do anything for the ones they care about, anything at all, but that there is still a limit somewhere that when once breached won't be forgiven anymore and she's just reached hers.
She knows she a wicked woman sometimes, likes to push men's buttons, and especially with Castle, she's pushed them often only for the sake of pushing and seeing how far he would let her to go with it. Truth be said, be allowed her to go pretty far, certainly further than she would have ever expected of him. Now, as she sits in the busy bullpen, feeling strangely lonely, she knows with a pang of sadness and self-spite that if she asked him a couple of weeks ago, he would let her push all the way without hesitation. Because he is such a good man.
But it shouldn't be like that, should it? He certainly doesn't deserve it. She's made the past year about her, all about her. She was shot and then recuperating in silence and seclusion of them all, despite her knowing he must have hurt too. She's got diagnosed with PTSD and was the one to snap at him while she got it all under control. They'd got to meet his former muse and she was the one who had a problem with it instead of offering support when Sofia ended up being a double agent. And when he's got possible news on his long lost father she was the one to mule over the truth behind Sofia's words.
To be honest, Beckett wonders how it is that the rubber band she's been yanking Castle on hasn't snapped yet, coming back to slap her in the face. Because quite frankly, she'd deserve a good old slap. What she did today, that slip there in the interrogation room, was inexcusable. She should have known better, be more careful, mind her own words, because words could hurt more than anything else.
She glances at her watch, noticing she's already wasted five minutes on her useless thoughts of misery. Even now, she's still making it about herself, and it's time she stopped and let someone else take to lead for a little while. Just before going in to see Gates, Kate takes out her phone and quickly types a text;
Hey Castle, can we talk?
Then she thinks back to the way he left, to the crumpled posture in the lift when he thought nobody else was looking and something inside of her cracks and softens. If she wants to do at least this single thing in their relationship right, she might just as well be nice about it. She retypes the message, considering it for a moment before she hits send with a shaky finger.
"Can we talk, Rick? Please," she writes, and she means it. For the first time since she can remember, she really wants to talk to him.
xxx
A/N: Reviews, especially caffeinated ones, make my inspiration spike and write faster. So it's all in your hands.