December 24th, 2011
When she came to and before even opening her eyes, Kate gladly noticed that she was waking up on a much more comfortable surface than a public bench.
She carefully and slowly opened her eyes in case of a bright light ready to assault her, but instead she found she was in a room with subdued lighting coming from two lamps hanging on the wall opposite her.
She looked down and realized she was lying on burgundy sheets made of silk judging by the way they felt. She also noted that she was back in her adult body.
She frowned at the thought of being on a bed that clearly was not hers.
"It's true that we are not in a place you have come to very often," commented the woman by her side.
Kate sat up and saw her mother sitting on the edge of the bed, opposite her.
"So, where are we now?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"I'll let you guess this one," replied Johanna with a smile.
Kate looked around and inspected the room meticulously.
She was in a bedroom – as the bed she was sitting on made quite obvious. The walls were painted in a dark color and a whole façade made it look like a well-furnished library.
She looked at the nightstand by the bed and found a phone charger, a pen and a handkerchief. Clues that did not help her much…
But then, something struck her and she looked back up at the library in front of her.
Between a copy of "Aliens are among us and their leader is a CNN anchor" and "How to build your own Tardis" she saw the complete collection of…
"We're at Castle's!" she exclaimed as she quickly jumped off the bed.
"Wow, you look like those sheets are going to set you on fire," joked Johanna, amused by her daughter's reaction. "Technically we're not really here. Or at least he can't see us."
"I… err—Why Castle? And when are we exactly? Because I'm clearly not six anymore."
Her mother chose not to answer her question and, smile still firmly set on her face, she got off the bed and headed towards the door. A ray of light filtered under it, indicating there was life on the other side.
"Follow me, watch and analyze. You ask too many questions."
With that sentence the young woman flashed back to when she was ten, following her mother inside the courtrooms where she worked with an irresistible attraction to unsolved cases.
Obeying her mother, just like then, she followed her through the door and out of the writer's bedroom.
The delicious smell of food cooking reached their nostrils as they stepped into the living area of the loft.
When they reached the kitchen area, Kate realized that Castle was standing there, his back to her. He was wearing an apron over a white shirt and was swinging his hips and singing over the sink.
She bit her lip to refrain from laughing. Johanna motioned for her to come to the living room where they settled on one of the couches to observe the scene.
In front of them, completely unaware of their presence, the writer continued his little song and dance. He spun around, wooden spoon in hand and used it as a microphone as he hummed "Falalalala, lalalala."
The brunette smiled tenderly at the sight of the man who had shared her eventful life for the past three years singing Christmas songs. She was torn between the desire to laugh out loud– his apron did read, "I did everything! Except dinner"– and the desire to join in.
"Pumpkiiiiiiiin!" Castle suddenly shouted, putting an end to his show.
Alexis answered something from the upper floor.
"I'm waiting for you to put the presents under the tree!"
Kate looked over to the imposing Christmas tree that stood next to the writer's office door. She had not even paid attention to it yet. It was huge and beautifully decorated with white and golden balls as well as some colorful tinsels.
Behind her the teenager walked down the stairs, holding two carefully wrapped presents in her hands.
Castle quickly turned his back on her, putting a hand over his eyes.
"I don't wanna see the shape of mine," he told his daughter. "Hide it behind the tree so I'm not tempted to open it before midnight!"
Alexis rolled her eyes, amused.
"Dad, you say that every year. And every year you spend the whole dinner ogling your present! Two years ago you even broke the crystal penholder I had brought back from Vancouver by shaking the box too much."
"That's because I had asked for a Canucks scarf that year, pumpkin. A scarf doesn't break when you shake it."
Alexis shook her head with a smile. Her father would never stop being a child, that was a fact.
She walked over to the tree and set down her two presents as much against the wall as possible so they would not be too visible.
"There," she said, "your turn to put your gifts under the tree."
"Right. But come here and watch my gravy. I don't want it to burn, it would be a monumental waste!"
He gave his daughter the spatula and placed her right in front of the stove. He kissed her forehead and headed to his bedroom.
"Don't look!" he warned from the other side of the room.
Alexis bit her lip, quite entertained by her father.
"I promise!" she replied. "But I already know what it is."
The writer had just reappeared in the room and he looked suddenly thoroughly disappointed.
"What do you mean you know?" he asked, anxious.
Alexis took a moment to think, tapping the spatula over her chin before giving her father a large, wicked grin.
"I'm joking dad! You put so much effort in keeping our presents a secret each year that it's like you're protecting vital, highly classified information. You should work for the CIA with those skills, not for a run-of-the-mill New-York precinct."
The writer let out a relieved sigh and happily sashayed over to the Christmas tree, hiding the presents behind his back.
Although vaguely disinterested, Alexis could not help but notice that there were not two but three presents in his hands and the third one looked bigger and heavier than the rest.
"Is one of us getting a second present? If it's for grandma, I'm telling you now, I'm moving out to live with Lauren tomorrow," warned the young girl with feigned offense.
"You said you wouldn't look!" retorted her father with a pout.
He set down his presents and joined his daughter in the kitchen.
"There is a third present, yes. I actually meant to give it to Beckett, but since she turned down my offer the other day…"
Castle took his spatula back, lifted the lid off the pot and stirred his gravy.
Alexis put a hand on his shoulder.
"You're disappointed she said no, right?"
"Mmm, taste this!" replied the writer as he brought the spatula to her lips.
"Don't change the subject," continued Alexis. "You should have insisted. Does she know you got her something?"
The writer shook his head no. From her couch, Kate observed them attentively.
"No. I think after the last few months we've had she needed to be alone. I didn't want to hold her hostage. Contrary to her, I suck at setting people free, so…"
"You honestly think that after the rough times she's had these past few months being alone at Christmas is the best remedy?"
Castle stopped his stirring. His daughter was not so wrong.
"I didn't want to insist… Even if she did seem a little hesitant at first…"
"Well, you should have!" chastised Alexis. "She would probably have a much better time here with us than alone in her apartment. Maybe all she needed was to see that you really wanted her to come over."
Castle knit his eyebrows.
"Aren't you the one who recently told me you didn't approve of my partnership with Beckett because it lead me to a life of constant danger?"
Kate also frowned at those words. She now had confirmation. She had not just made up the fact that the young girl seemed more distant with her.
"It's not her I was fed up with, it was you. Although it's true that if it weren't for her you wouldn't be risking your life three or four times a week…"
"So you are a bit mad at her…"
Alexis shook her head.
"No, dad. Before Beckett came into your life, you were always either taciturn or completely disconnected from reality. And there were more women coming through that door than daily visits at the Empire State!"
"Hey! Not that much…"
The writer cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed as Alexis nodded in confirmation.
"I'm barely exaggerating. You may not see it dad, but since you've been working with her, you've changed. You've grown up. Well, you still want to draw straws to determine who will get the present in the cereal box… and that's great. I love you for it! But because of her you've also become more mature, wiser… and, more importantly, a lot less gloomy. She made you a happier man and a better writer. So no, I'm not mad at her. I'd rather see you risk your life every day and come home with a silly grin on your face than see you locked up in your office, throwing paper balls out the window over the neighbors' plants."
The words had come out unbridled and she took a moment to take a breath.
"Okay, well, first of all," started the writer after his daughter's monologue, "I do not have a silly grin when I come back from the precinct."
Alexis gave him an unconvinced stare. He continued, unfazed.
"Secondly, the neighbor deserved it. She has hideous… hair curlers."
His daughter shook her head, although this time she smiled, sharing the same opinion about those curlers.
"Thirdly… At times I really wonder how old you are," he added, putting a hand on her forehead. "You talk like a seasoned shrink sometimes."
"Well I do have eighteen years of 'Richard Castle' experience under my belt. It's pretty much the same thing," she replied teasingly.
He smiled.
"Fourthly, thank you."
Alexis nodded in reply.
"Fifthly," she continued with a serious tone.
"Fifthly?" inquired the writer.
The teenager left her father's side and walked over to the counter where the phone lay.
"Fifthly, call her."
She handed the phone to him. He hesitated a moment, spatula in hand, thoughtful. Then he took the device.
"Best of luck, captain!" encouraged his daughter.
"Aye, mate," thanked Castle as he started dialing Beckett's number.
For the next few minutes, Kate heard the whole phone conversation she had had earlier with the writer. Except this time, she found herself wishing her alter ego would say yes to his request.
But, just like the first time, the Kate on the other end of the line gently turned down his offer.
When Castle put the phone down and turned around to face his daughter, giving her a rather sad look, she felt terribly bad for refusing to join them.
Alexis walked over to her father and hugged him tightly.
"You can give her your present on Monday, at the precinct."
Castle nodded, threading a hand in his daughter's hair.
"Right. How about you turn on the TV, pumpkin. Apparently they're showing 'A Christmas Carol' on cable tonight."
"Oh, your favorite Christmas movie!"
Castle smiled and nodded half-heartedly before going back to tending to his gravy.
There would be no more singing.
Kate felt a hand on her arm and was reminded of her mother's presence. For a moment, the world had disappeared around her as she had listened to the teenager's words about her and watched the writer's disappointment.
Johanna motioned for her to get up and follow her.
Kate nodded and silently followed her mother back to the bedroom.
Her mother closed the door behind them as Kate sat on the bed – it seemed the sheets did not burn after all.
Leaning against the doorframe, Johanna observed her daughter, waiting for her reaction.
"I see now what you meant earlier…" whispered Kate after a long moment of silence.
"About what?"
"About missed opportunities… you were talking about tonight, right?"
Her mother nodded.
"Among other things."
"I should have said yes, shouldn't I?"
Johanna walked over to the bed and sat by her daughter's side.
"I'm not here to tell you what you should or shouldn't do, Katie. I'm only here to show you things, to help you understand why you made the choices you made…"
"I don't even know why I turned him down…" whispered the young brunette.
"Are you sure about that?"
She observed her daughter, with the ever-present kindness that had been in her eyes since their first reunion.
Kate thought about a coherent answer to her mother's prodding.
"It's possible that maybe, lately, I haven't had the easiest time letting people into my life…" she conceded.
Johanna arched an eyebrow, not fully convinced.
"Letting Castle into my life," corrected Kate.
She was having a hard time with this but she was probably on to something.
"Six months ago, he told me he loved me as I was losing consciousness… And since then I've pretended I never heard him say the words."
"And you don't know why?" asked Johanna, encouraging her daughter to go further in her reasoning.
"Because I was afraid of the consequences…"
"What consequences?"
"Well…" Kate took a deep breath. "Letting people into one's life is accepting to lose them at some point."
"So, if I follow your reasoning you'd rather have no one in your life so you never lose anyone."
The young brunette nodded slowly.
"And my disappearance has absolutely nothing to do with this reasoning of yours, right? The fact that I was taken away from you prematurely and so abruptly has not in any way influenced the way you deal with relationships today…"
Kate bit her bottom lip. Her mother laid a hand on hers.
"Katie, you can't let the scars from your past influence your life forever."
The young woman remained silent as that cursed knot in her throat was making a comeback. Johanna went on:
"I remember when you were about twelve years old, you loved going ice skating on the frozen lake behind your grandparents' house. One afternoon though, you took a nasty fall. You opened your forearm and broke your elbow. For weeks, months even, you swore you'd never go ice skating again."
Kate smiled at this 'painful' memory.
"I remember."
"And yet, two years later," continued Johanna, "we were back at my parents' for the holidays and you saw that lake that was calling out to you… You resisted what? Two days, before putting on your skates and going on the ice."
"That's right. I couldn't help it."
"And why's that?"
"Because I loved the way I felt when I was ice skating too much to give it up… The wind on my face, the sensation of flying as I glided over the translucent surface…"
"Because what you felt on the ice was so beautiful that you couldn't imagine not feeling that way ever again," rephrased her mother.
Kate nodded. She was slowly beginning to understand where her mother was getting at.
"The fall didn't put an end to your ice skating forever, it simply postponed your return on the ice. Deep down, you were just dying to feel that way again. So you went back. You went back on the ice, you took that risk; the risk of falling, of getting hurt again, because you knew it would be worth it."
"What you're trying to say is that it's worth letting people into my life because the feeling of 'being' with someone is much too beautiful to pass up on because of my irrational fears, right?"
"You said it, not me," replied Johanna with a smile.
Kate smiled in turn and sighed.
"Anybody ever tell you you're really good at this?"
"Yes—you, every day when you were five," said Johanna softly with some emotion in her voice.
She squeezed her daughter's hand a little harder.
"Come on, our journey is not over yet. I think you have a pretty good idea as to where we're going next."
Kate frowned, pretending to be thinking very hard, because indeed, she had a hunch.
"Ten years into the future to grab the winning lottery numbers and come back to control the universe?"
"We're not going that far… And I knew I should have monitored what you watched on TV more closely," commented Johanna with a smile.
"It was for the 'general public,'" countered Kate.
Johanna shook her head tenderly.
"Ready?"
"Ready Doc!" replied Kate with a satisfied grin.
The seconds that followed were now routine— the warmth, the electricity, the emptiness and in her hand, the lingering sensation of the writer's silk sheets.