Author's Note: Starting to fix things…

Because You Were Gone

Chapter 3

Castle stared after Beckett for a split second before he turned sharply and stalked off.

He caught someone's eye and forced a smile, belatedly realizing that since it was his launch party, he was going to be the cynosure of attention.

Which meant he couldn't just sneak out and punch a few walls or something. He'd need to stick around and make nice. And possibly make it up to Paula and accept the Bond offer and forget he'd ever so much as created a character named Nikki Heat, let alone met anyone named Kate Beckett.

And he didn't love her. He couldn't love her. He flat out refused to love someone so… so… infuriating. Even now, he felt like his head might explode from frustration and anger.

Thank god Steve had interrupted when he had, even though Castle had been hard-pressed not to tell Steve to shove off at the time. Now, he might need to send Steve a case of Chateauneuf du Pape or something. No damn way he wanted to humiliate himself by apologizing to a woman who hated him, hated the character she'd inspired, and didn't care that he thought her extraordinary.

Well, fine. He'd never forced his company on a woman who despised him and he wasn't about to start now. He didn't need Kate Beckett or any woman. He was just fine on his own.

He caught another fan's eyes only to have hers skitter away and he belatedly realized he was scowling, again. Damn it.

He needed to stop feeling so furious so he could go back to his real job of making nice with his fans. Since some people actually thought he was a good writer and valued his company.

He glanced around, looking for a familiar head of red hair. Alexis. She was always the one person whose company he sought out when his spirit had been abraded by, well, just about anything, bad reviews, boredom, Gina, his mother. Beckett. Yes, he needed Alexis. The one person who never made him feel lacking, the one person whose love and trust he'd never doubted. A few minutes with her and he'd be fine again, could play nice for this party.

His eyes found the flash of red hair and he turned in that direction, only to have his steps hitch for a moment as he took in who she was talking to. Oh.

Not perfect timing. Alexis was sitting at one of the small tables scattered around at the sides of the room talking to Esposito and Ryan. As nice as it was to see that Alexis was smiling and chatting with men he trusted as opposed to, say, talking to a teenage boy, he'd wanted to be distracted so he wouldn't think about Beckett anymore. Which was obviously not happening.

Well, this was going to be a little awkward.

But he decided that his wish to be in his daughter's presence outweighed any awkwardness at having to talk to Beckett's partners now and so he went on.

Besides, Esposito and Ryan were his friends too, never mind Beckett.

Alexis turned to smile at him as he slid into a chair beside her, slinging his arm around her and tugging her into his side. "Taking a break from the adoring masses?"

"It's tiring to be so popular," he quipped, feeling the tight knot of anger and frustration in his chest ease just from her smile. He turned his smile, a real one this time, to Esposito and Ryan. "Hey, guys."

"Castle."

"Nice party, Castle," Ryan grinned, lifting his glass in a mock toast.

"Thanks. I see you're taking advantage of the open bar."

"No other reason to come here," Esposito retorted.

"Yeah, 'cause Esposito's illiterate," Ryan chimed in.

Castle laughed as Espo elbowed Ryan. Yeah, he'd missed this, the good-natured ribbing and snark that masked the real strength of the partnership.

"Just for that, bro, you're getting the first round next time we go to a bar."

"Why wait? I'll just get the next round here," Ryan offered.

Espo narrowed his eyes. "It's an open bar so it doesn't count."

"It counts to me. Still alcohol, right?"

"Doesn't count unless you pay for it. Right, Castle?"

"Unless you cops have different rules," he responded.

Alexis interrupted this exchange by laughing and then ducking out from under his arm. "Okay, I think I'll leave you guys to debate this. Dad, I see Taylor so I'm going to go talk to her. Have fun. Bye, Detectives."

"Bye, Alexis."

"Later, little Castle," was Espo's contribution.

Alexis flitted off, weaving her way through the crowd.

"She's a good kid," Ryan commented.

"Yeah, amazing she's related to you," Espo jibed.

Castle only grinned, restored to himself by the banter and the compliment to Alexis. "I often think so." He paused. "So what's new? You guys have a case right now?"

"What, Beckett didn't tell you?"

Damn. Of course Espo would have to mention Beckett. "No." He tried not to frown.

"You might like this one, Castle," Ryan interjected. "Czech illegal, found down a manhole."

"Yeah?"

"Mm. And so far, just dead ends really. The guy who was seen arguing with the vic the day of her murder just alibied out," Espo grumbled.

Hmm. "Really…"

"Yeah. We could use a crazy theory, Castle," Ryan quipped. "I think even Beckett was thinking that earlier."

He perked up even though he told himself he shouldn't and shouldn't care. "Really? Did she say something?" He tried—but knew he failed—to sound only mildly interested.

"Not so's you'd notice."

"Yeah, Beckett's not exactly what you'd call a sharer," Ryan agreed. "But I think she might miss having you around."

His heart—stupid organ that it was (was it so eager to be broken?)—leaped in spite of himself. "Really?"

Espo made a disgusted sort of sound. "He might've been reading too many girly magazines."

"Shut up. There's the coffee and the thing with the chair."

Castle sat forward, his heart starting to pound with almost painful hope in his chest. (Yeah, he was not doing a stellar job of pretending he didn't care anymore. Clearly, he sucked at not caring about Beckett.) "The thing with the chair?"

Espo shrugged. "Okay, so she might have noticed you weren't around. Don't know if I'd go so far as to say she missed you."

He deflated a little. Espo knew Beckett the best, had been working with her longest. "Beckett notices everyone and everything. It's sort of her job, after all, detecting." And if Beckett had missed him, she'd sure done a damn fine job of hiding it earlier.

But then, as Ryan had said, Beckett was not exactly a sharer. She didn't let people in, didn't show emotions easily. And she had pride enough to dwarf the Rocky Mountains.

Hmm. He couldn't say he didn't know what that was like. Hiding emotions and vulnerability out of pride…

It was Ryan's turn to elbow Esposito. "Explain the chair, then, hot shot."

"We don't know Beckett did anything about that."

"It's called deduction, you might try it once in awhile," Ryan retorted.

Castle cut in before this could devolve into one of their usual little squabbles. "Since I still have no clue what you're talking about, care to enlighten me? What about the coffee and the chair? Just tell me the facts, that's all. Not asking you to guess what Beckett's thinking," he added, more for Espo's benefit. "I just want the evidence."

Espo sat back, gesturing at Ryan. "Let him tell you about the coffee. He's the one that mentioned it. I don't think it's a thing."

Ryan shrugged a little. "Not much to tell except that for the first couple weeks after you left, Beckett refused to use your coffee machine. Went back to drinking the sludge out of the old machine."

Castle gave an involuntary grimace and shudder at the memory. The only benefit to that so-called beverage was that it was so toxic that just the after-taste in your mouth would be enough to keep anyone awake and if you survived it, you might be immune from other poisonous substances too. And Beckett, the one who mainlined coffee and bought her own from a specialty coffee shop every morning, had gone back to using that old machine? When she had a choice? That didn't bode well for him at all. God, she really might hate him.

"Except a couple weeks ago, she went back to using your machine again."

"That don't mean nothing," Espo denied. "It's just coffee and you know how Beckett is about that."

Ryan shot a look at Espo. "She drank the old sludge for a few weeks after Castle left so you think, what, she decided she liked the sludge better just for those weeks and then realized it was gross? Come on."

Castle tried—and failed—to suppress the hope kindling inside him. It was just coffee. It was silly to be making such a thing out of it. And yet… He had brought her coffee in the mornings. And he was the one that had bought that machine and Beckett had, at first, made an (adorable) pretense at not wanting to try it. And if he knew anything about Beckett at all, her starting to use his coffee machine again was a sign of softening towards him.

"And what was that about the chair?" he asked.

"The chair you always sat in by Beckett's desk," Espo supplied.

Oh, that chair. The uncomfortable one with no cushion left to speak of, that seemed designed to make his every muscle stiffen up after only minutes of sitting in it. The chair he'd ridiculously started to miss sitting in (crazy as it sounded). The chair in which he'd sat watching Beckett, the play of expression across her face, the way her eyes lit up when she had an idea, the graceful dance of her slim fingers across the keyboard. (Shit. He was in so much trouble.)

"Yeah, that one," Ryan continued. "It just stayed by her desk, as usual, but then one day a couple weeks ago, Stegner moved it when she had to talk to a witness and the conference room was busy. Beckett was out running down a lead at the time but when she came back and saw the chair had moved, she didn't look happy about it."

"Really?" Castle sternly tamped down the urge to smile. He seemed to remember Beckett making a few snipes about his chair getting into her work space at first.

"Beckett doesn't like it when people touch her stuff, period," Espo broke in. "Remember the look she gave that rookie McPherson when he tried to fiddle with those elephants on her desk?"

The face Ryan made was eloquent. "Yeah. Poor guy. Bit of an idiot, admittedly, Montgomery kicked him down to traffic later but that look, I'm pretty sure he probably still sees Beckett's look in nightmares."

Castle spared this unknown rookie a sympathetic grimace. He was well aware of some of Beckett's looks that could have seared the paint off the walls.

"Anyway," Ryan went on, "Beckett wasn't happy about the chair being moved but she didn't say anything."

"She wouldn't, though," Espo interjected. "Not her way."

No, that was true enough.

"But next morning when we came in, the chair had been moved back to beside Beckett's desk as if it had never left. And Beckett was sitting at her desk as if she hadn't noticed a thing. But," Ryan paused and allowed himself a small smile, "I checked and Stegner said she didn't move it and Paderewski downstairs said Beckett was the first one in that morning, like usual, so…"

"Circumstantial evidence," Espo retorted.

"I didn't know you knew any words longer than two syllables," Ryan shot back.

"An-noy-ing ass," Espo enunciated the words with deliberate care.

Ryan only grinned and turned back to Castle. "Anyway, so I say she misses you. 'Sides, I'm pretty sure there've been times in the last weeks where she's paused sort of like she's waiting for a response or a comment but you haven't been there to say anything."

Espo snorted. "Irish here is imagining things."

"And how do you explain the chair, Super-cop? Did it move by itself?"

"It's a piece of furniture. For all I know, the janitors could have moved it back."

"Yeah, like the janitors ever move stuff around like that."

Ryan had a point.

The story that made the evidence make sense, he thought. Espo might not acknowledge or think much of symbolism but Castle was a writer and he knew Beckett understood it too.

The coffee machine he had bought for the precinct. The chair he had always sat in.

And what had he really been expecting? That Kate Beckett would admit in so many words that she might have missed him? When pigs sprouted wings and flew.

Espo pointed a finger at Ryan. "You, go get us more drinks." And then at Castle. "You, I want a word with."

Ryan made a face but stood up anyway while Espo also stood up and none too gently grabbed Castle by the arm to yank him up as well.

Castle didn't like this but mostly to avoid a scene (and okay, out of curiosity too), he followed Espo over to an empty corner of the ballroom.

He tried for a smirk. "What's up, Espo?"

Espo did not look amused. "What the hell were you thinking, man? I should never have let you look at that file."

Castle's forced smile dropped off his face. "Yeah, well, too late for that," he retorted, suddenly annoyed. Esposito did not get to act all righteous when he was the one that had gotten Castle into Archives to look at the Johanna Beckett case file in the first place. If he hadn't, none of this mess could have happened. (Okay, so Castle had been the one to call up Clark Murray but still.)

"I thought you'd just—" Espo broke off abruptly and then went on, "I didn't think you'd do anything with it without checking with Beckett first. Come on, dude, it's her mom's case."

Castle sighed. Espo had a point there. He should have asked first. But he'd always been a 'Better to ask forgiveness than permission' person and now it had blown up in his face. Of course, he realized, with a sinking heart, he hadn't exactly asked forgiveness. Yet. "Look, Espo, seriously, do you think Beckett will let me back if I ask?" he blurted out.

Espo eyed him. "You want to come back?"

"I didn't want to leave in the first place. I only left 'cause Beckett insisted and I figured I'd done enough damage."

Espo made a small face. "I hate to say it but Ryan might not be wrong."

Quite the concession. Castle felt a wan flicker of amusement.

"Look, this is between you and Beckett. If she lets you back, I ain't gonna stand in the way. But," Espo paused and fixed Castle with a look, not quite Beckett-level but intimidating enough. "If she lets you back and you hurt her again, no one will ever find your body. Got it?"

Castle tried not to visibly gulp as he nodded. "Got it." He knew Espo's loyalty to Beckett and he had a bad feeling that Espo wasn't joking. But well, he'd never wanted to hurt Beckett, would never have wanted that. And he had the lowering feeling that he'd happily spend the rest of his life ensuring Beckett was never hurt like that again. (Which didn't bode well for his vulnerable heart.)

Espo nodded. "Good."

With that, Espo turned and walked away.

"Hey, Espo, thanks." Espo nodded and Castle looked back at the table and gave Ryan a wave and then set out to find Beckett. Or not find Beckett so much as just head in her direction because he seemed to have developed a sixth sense of awareness for Beckett so he always knew where she was and his eyes found her immediately.

She was standing at the bar on the other side of the ballroom and just the sight of her even at that distance made his chest feel tight, as if something had reached in to squeeze his heart. (And he didn't need a cardiologist to tell him that his physical reaction to the sight of her didn't exactly support his not-in-love-with-Beckett thesis. He was doomed.)

His poor defenseless heart was too vulnerable where she was concerned. Which was the problem. Now that his anger had faded, he could acknowledge that, why he'd said and done what he had earlier in talking to Beckett. He'd just been so terrifyingly conscious of his own vulnerability to her that he'd wanted to prod her into making an admission first, to spare his own pride. But this was Beckett and to his knowledge, she'd likely never conceded anything without a fight in her life. So his ploy hadn't worked and he… hadn't reacted well, to say the least.

Pride and a temper did not a good combination make, especially when mixed in with the need to defend his own vulnerable emotions, making him lash out, offense being the best defense and all that.

It didn't help that Beckett got under his skin so easily, in a way almost no one else did. And he'd already started out by feeling naked and exposed after she'd read the dedication (and it wasn't as if the book itself was a subtle tribute to her.) Plus he'd been hurt and disappointed that she apparently couldn't even be bothered to finish the book that was based on her when he'd sent it to her almost a month ago (and after he'd gone to the trouble of wheedling Black Pawn into allowing him to send her an advance copy in the first place.)

So maybe there was blame to go around on both their parts in their fight tonight but he had been the one in the wrong first, had never apologized for looking into her mom's case. And he'd promised Alexis he would. To show that he cared more about Beckett's hurt than he did about his own pride.

He squared his shoulders, got a firm grip on his self-control and his temper, and headed towards Beckett. Time to man up, Rick, and take responsibility for your own actions.

And if Beckett gave him a second chance, he would do better, he promised himself. Less of the jackass playboy act and more the real him, Alexis's dad, the version of himself he was at home.

He had to do better—because the alternative was giving up on Beckett entirely and possibly never seeing her again and that wasn't an option he was willing to accept. Not now, not yet. (Not ever.)

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, for reading. I hope everyone who celebrates it has a very happy Thanksgiving.