Technically, I'm posting this on Sunday, but it's really late where I live, so I'm not sure it counts. It's not the final chapter. I tried but just couldn't manage that without rushing things like crazy. This chapter is also a bit more introspective, and I want to finish with some action. So time-permitting, I will post the final chapter tomorrow.
Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed. I really appreciate the feedback.
Kissing Castle isn't a magic cure-all. Beckett still doesn't sleep well that night.
At two in the morning, she's still awake, vowing to try sleeping pills or at least Nyquil the next night. She's never been into misusing medication, even if it's only Nyquil, but she figures there's a limit to how messed up a person can get and that more than three hours of sleep each night might start the un-messing-up process.
Or something like that. It's a little difficult to focus on anything at two in the morning.
With a sign, she rolls over onto her side, eyes wide open, staring into the utter blackness around her. Then rolls back onto her other side, then onto her back, then curls up, then straightens out.
Ugh.
She closes her eyes, determined to fool her body into thinking it's asleep. However, her mind is too awake, darting about and remembering.
His smirk. Even now the memory of it is enough to make white-hot rage flood her system. The mirror, shattering. A million pieces cracking and floating to the ground, a hundred dancing shards of ice reflecting the fluorescent bulbs above. How easy it had been to lift him up, to throw him back into the glass. A victory, of sorts.
But a minor one. He could get away with murder, and she might face police brutality. At the very least, an official reprimand. At the most… Well, most cops didn't lose their job the first time. Usually, they got a warning the first time they went beyond propriety. Usually.
Why didn't he attack her in return? She returns to the thought that has plagued her for hours. He had simply stood up, had given her a little shove to make his point. With his size and skill, he could have beaten her to a bloody pulp by the time that the others had arrived in there.
And why did he give himself up? Hinting that he knew her mother and had lied when she asked him about it the first time gave them reasonable cause to hold him and get a warrant. He'd toyed with her, only to give in at the very end.
Why?
Was it only to take sadistic pleasure in her grief? Overwhelming arrogance and pride that led him to confess? Or, did she, somehow, earn a little bit of respect from Atkins by attacking him? Most people, herself included, would see the whole spectacle as a miserable lapse in judgment. But maybe, just maybe, it transformed her from a plaything to an actual human being.
She shakes her head abruptly, as if to shake the thoughts from her mind. It was probably the arrogance and pride and sadistic pleasure theory. She'll never really know.
Enough. She needs to think of something else now, anything, but nothing can keep her attention long enough to distract her from the memory of his exultant, sneering face.
She feels kind of bad for Castle, though. He must have been shocked when she'd stood up and thrown a man that size into the wall.
Castle.
With a start, she remembers the scene in the garage. Dwarfed at the moment by the other events of the day, she'd pushed it into the back of her mind. His arms around her, at first comforting, later pulling her in closer to him. And that kiss… like nothing else she'd ever felt.
Josh.
The realization is a metaphoric blast of cold water, a door slammed in the face. She hadn't thought about him, not once. She remembers Castle asking her to call Josh, him swallowing harshly as his eyes implored her to do as he asked. However, as a trained detective, his actions spoke louder than words to her. He absolutely can't stand Josh, which she well knows.
She knows just how acute the displeasure is, because she feels—felt—it with Gina. Now that Gina isn't dating Castle, she can feel indifferent towards the woman, maybe even feel a little sorry for her.
But not too sorry. Because Gina, for however brief a time, had Castle to herself. She'd had the courage to love him.
Beckett isn't stupid. She's many things: impatient, a rule-follower, someone who becomes stressed easily, stubborn, and a little too sarcastic at times, but she is certainly no fool. She doesn't need Esposito to tell her that Castle has a thing for her. Or Lanie, for that matter. She doesn't need anyone to tell her that she just might be happier with Castle than with anyone else.
But she had tried, once before, to admit to it. He had left for the Hamptons, dangling from Gina's arm like an overpriced hand bag. She can't go down that road again.
Josh is a good man. A surgeon, a biker, handsome, clever, funny, caring and protective. She needs to quit this thing with Castle before they've even started it.
All that she can think about, however, is her abrupt refusal to call Josh after she read the look in Castle's eyes. The self-sacrificing expression that he unsuccessfully attempted to mask. The look that begged her not to call him, even as his lips said something different.
The same lips that she'd flung herself towards a few seconds later.
Is it still called cheating if you don't realize that you're cheating until afterward?
Probably.
She could brush it off as her exhaustion, stress, and frustration. She could back out before she gets in too deep. The thought is annoyingly tempting. It wouldn't be right, of course, messing him around like that, but Castle's just a friend right now; a relationship would mean double or nothing. She's the type of person who bets conservatively. She doesn't risk it all. She can't risk it all…
Beckett slips into an uneasy sleep as the worries of the day twist and spin into dreams.
The next morning when she wakes up, things are clearer. Castle is still a big risk, and she's undecided about that. Josh, however, is an easier matter. She has a choice: either she can tell Josh what happened and ask him to forgive her, or she can break up with him.
There's no middle ground.
It takes only a second for her to decide. There's no way she can bring herself to explain the truth, because she doesn't know it herself. She can't make herself explain things to him, and doesn't even want to try.
She's no expert on relationships, but she figures that probably isn't a good sign.
She quietly dials Josh's telephone number.
Beckett stares at the murder board. Just stares at it, as if a clue, hidden for years, will come to the surface, as if she can physically will a shred of hope to appear. But there's nothing, just as before.
Suddenly, she feels his presence behind her. His silence is as loud as most people's shout. Personality, charisma... Whatever it is, it's impossible for her to ignore. He's very early this morning, and she almost wishes that he hadn't yet come. She hasn't figured out to act around him.
He makes it easy.
"Here," he says softly, placing the coffee beside her left hand which is splayed upon the table she's leaning against. Then he takes a step back, putting a comfortable distance between them. "Anything?"
She shakes her head, "No," she says, her voice cracking slightly.
He sighs and joins her in staring desperately at the board.
She barely speaks that day. Doesn't protest when Castle makes her take a break for lunch. Doesn't argue when he suggests she visit Lanie to see if she's found anything new or just to talk. She looks from the murder board to her computer and back, an endless tennis match with no victor.
She blinks when she hears that Atkins has been released, that a team of CSIs working through the night and morning had found nothing whatsoever to tie him to any crime, but shows no other emotion.
She's drained, mentally and physically. There's nothing more she can say or do. It's all she can handle to stick around until the end of the day. She's mechanical, an automaton completing Kate Beckett's tasks for her.
By five o'clock she feels like she's about to lose it again. Quickly excusing herself, she bids everyone good night and heads toward the elevator. Castle hesitates, follows.
It's the first time they've been completely alone since last night.
It's awkward as heck.
She had thought she was beyond emotion until now, as she tries to ignore the tension in the air. As the doors close, she sneaks a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He's staring forward.
"You alright?" he asks finally, not taking his eyes off the doors in front of him.
No. Of course not. "Yes," she says, not looking at him either.
It's a silly question and a silly answer. They've been playing the friendly concern game for so long now that it has become habit. Yesterday's honesty is fading fast.
"We'll get him," Castle says softly.
The elevator opens into the main lobby, and she turns to face him. People are moving in a dozen different directions in the room before them, but all he sees is her. The faintest trace of unshed tears shimmer in her eyes and lashes.
"No," she whispers, her closed, guarded expression fading and showing the emotion that she's been hiding all day. She closes her eyes briefly, "I don't think we will."