/ note: Hi all! Parts of this chapter might seem familiar because some dialogue from "Flowers for Your Grave" felt too perfect to change for the purpose of Rick and Kate's first interactions. The Tisdale murder case basically happens the same as in canon minus some changes that will be stated. This happens the day after the last chapter. Reiterating, Aimee is three years old. /
Brick by Brick
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Chapter Three
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Calm down, Kate. Calm down. Calm. Calm. Cal-fuck.
Kate slapped her palm down on the sink. The following smack mingled with her harsh breaths in a melody of frustration. Her skin stretched thin over her clenched knuckles. She flexed them slightly, not enough to dislodge them from their death grip, but enough to send the tingling sting out a bit further. It wasn't enough. She needed more. Needed to feel something. Anything other than the backlogged guilt and hurt scorching through her veins.
Kate forced her eyes away from her hands. The mirror in front of her grabbed her attention. It needed to be cleaned. Little spots were everywhere on the mirror. It almost made Kate look like she was… sad. Oh, who was she kidding? She could hardly breathe let alone convince herself that she wasn't completely losing her composure.
Why was it that every time she genuinely felt fine something had to happen? Whatever happened was never what she expected it to be either. This was Kate's luck, really. She met her favorite author so of course he had to turn around and ruin her whole damn day. He may have had a way with characters, but he sucked when it came to real people. Absolutely sucked!
Only… he was right. About everything.
…
Kate was used to having eyes on her. She was an attractive woman who chased down criminals in high heels taller than some women could even stand up in. She worked in a male dominated profession. The majority of her coworkers still did double takes on any day when she put effort into her appearance. She wasn't normally affected by it. Those guys, however, were not Richard Castle.
He couldn't seem to take his gaze off of her. His very interest had her adrenal glands working in overdrive. Any other time, she would have loved the attention. Rick was highly attractive himself. The light scruff on his cheeks gave him that rugged image that probably had women dropping their tops for him on a regular basis. His body wasn't the model chiseled body that Kate normally went for. It was better than average still, a little leaner and more clean-cut. He had to work out some. That body did not just appear while spending hours writing behind a desk. If only his rap sheet had had a picture-whoa, there. It did. Of his face, which was so much more captivating in person. Those baby blue eyes of his swallowed her every thought and emotion until she felt nothing but weightless, boundless, hopelessly in… him.
But she was working. There was a criminal out there, masquerading his crime as one of Rick's creations. There was a woman in the morgue, waiting for justice. There was – he was still looking at her.
"What?" she asked sharply. She hoped the tone would deter him. She didn't hold her breath for it. Their earlier interactions had definitely resembled the typical behavior of men in her interrogation room. He seemed to thrive on her aggressiveness. He was probably masochistic or a submissive. W-what was she thinking? Bad Kate. Bad.
"Nothing," Rick answered. She put the latest fan letter down with a huff. Reading them was the problem. All of the marriage proposals and requests to be put in his novels were messing with her brain. His answer wasn't helpful either. He was still staring! He went on to say, "I was just, uh, the way your brow furrows when you're thinking…" His voice trailed as his lips turned upwards devilishly. She fought to retain eye contact. She didn't need to look away. That showed weakness. Nervousness. Interest. "It's cute." Oh good lord. "I mean, not if you're playing poker, then it would be deadly, but otherwise-"
"Can I ask you a question?" blurted Kate. His face swelled at that. Gosh, what did he think she was going to ask him? To marry her like all of those rest of these fans? Yeah, fat chance. She had better things to do. Just like she told him the day before, she worked for a living. Not only that but she had a daughter. She wasn't going to fall at his feet or into his bed. If that was why he was flipping through fan mail with her, well, he needed a reality check. He couldn't just sit around and call her cute. She was working.
"Shoot," he said.
"Why are you here?" she asked. His brow scrunched. Now that was cute. Damnit, Kate! He was not cute. "You don't care about the victims, so you aren't here for justice. You don't care that the guy is aping your books, so you aren't here 'cause you're outraged. So, what is it… Rick?" She just called him by his first name. Was it reasonable for her to have a fangirl moment at twenty-eight? "Are you here to annoy me?"
He had to be. That satisfied grin on his face, the way his tongue peeked out slightly to wet his lips as he answered – he had an ulterior motive. There was no way he was just-
"I'm here for the story."
Bullshit. Unless the story was how Rick Castle got into Kate Beckett's pants – which she had to admit would definitely be one of her favorites – he was not there for a story. Not with the way he was eyeing her.
"The story?" she repeated.
He asked, "Why those people? Why those murders?" The same things plagued her normally. At least he seemed to care on some level. She just hoped he didn't get his hopes up for some twisted angle like in his books.
"Sometimes, there is no story. Sometimes, a guy is just a psychopath," she told him.
He waved her off her answer by grabbing yet another letter. "There's always a story. Always a chain of events that makes everything make sense."
Right. She turned her own focus back to the letters. Apparently, some girl from Oakland wanted him to attend her wedding. The theme of it was At Dusk We Die, something her husband was less than thrilled about. Rick's voice cut through the ridiculousness.
He said, "Take you for example. Underneath normal circumstances you should not be here. Most smart, good-looking women become lawyers, not cops. Yet, here you are." His smugness wavered into genuine curiosity. "Why?"
Her mother was murdered. She needed answers. Derrick Storm. She couldn't answer with those. He would only take it in as another tragic little girl out to save the world. Nothing more than the average superhero story. Call her crazy, but she didn't want to be written off like that. So she baited him.
"I don't know, Rick. You're the novelist. You tell me."
His blue eyes surged forward to find her. Her throat constricted. She kept her challenging smirk anyway. This was a game. Nothing but a game. He placed down the letter carelessly and leaned forward on his elbows.
"Well, you're not bridge and tunnel, no trace of the boroughs when you talk, so that means Manhattan. That means money. You went to college. Probably a pretty good one. You had options." He gave her a short once over. She wondered how close to the surface he would stick. "Yeah, you had lots of options. Better options. More socially acceptable options. And you still chose this. That tells me something happened. Not to you, you're wounded, but you're not that wounded. It was someone you cared about. It was someone you loved."
Kate's breath caught in her throat. She was on an exhale making it slightly less obvious. Still, she felt too open, too obvious. She forced her gaze to stay on him. She asked for this. She asked for him to tell her. And, damnit, it looked like he was going to. She stifled a frown, putting her negative energy into her right pinky finger. Slowly, it moved against her ring finger, forcing her mother's ring to swivel lightly. The movement made inhaling difficult, something Castle actually did pick up on.
"That ring," he began. She halted her motions. Shit. She shouldn't have done that. She didn't need him to start talking about the ring or her mother. He was already there. He was already in her head. Why was he in her head? Why did he seem to know? He shouldn't know. No one should know.
"It means a lot to you. You wear it to remember what you lost. You can't let go. You won't let yourself."
Great, he sounded like her therapist. Soon he would be telling her that she was not responsible. He would say the detectives did everything they could. Raglan did everything he could for her mother. It was a mugging gone wrong. It was one bad day. It wasn't her whole life.
To hell it wasn't.
"You wear it on your right hand because wearing it on your left would be dishonest. The fact that it's on your right hand makes it more intriguing. Men ask you about it. Men get deterred by it. But you don't care. You pretend to be impervious. Strong, independent women don't want the attention. You've got a nice apartment to go home to. Men only muck it up. They cause problems. You've got enough. Not that anyone would know. The lock to all of your thoughts is the size of that ring. Behind it there's anxiety. Self-doubt. Maybe some resentment. Why?"
Was he genuinely asking because she definitely was not in the condition to answer? He had jammed something in that lock, enough to wedge the door open a bit too far. The anxiety was because every hour passed was one further from her mother. The case grew colder and colder. Would Johanna ever get justice? There were no leads. Kate wasn't the right detective to find them. She wasn't ready to find them. Would she ever be? She wasn't ready for a lot of things. Not to lose her mother, not to lose Royce, not to have Aimee…. She was a horrible parent. She worked too much. Aimee said it herself. Kate wasn't on time to be there with her daughter. She was so busy trying to save everyone else that Aimee thought the stupid villain in her damn children's book had won. Kate was ruining the ending. She was ruining Aimee's life.
Rick licked his lips again. Kate almost asked him to stop speaking. Her throat was too dry. He went on.
"Because the person responsible was never caught. Because that guy who broke your heart years ago never apologized. Because the big break never came through. You can't live with that. So you put on a mask. Day after day. Katherine Beckett. Detective Beckett. Because for a while, those cops you talked to seemed like Gods. Falling, fleeting Gods who could make the world right. But they didn't."
They didn't. She tried to open her mouth. Her lips seemed stuck together. Her throat started hurting it was so dry. She needed water. She needed air.
"They were never enough. You try to be, but you're convinced that you're not. That you'll never be, in fact. When it comes to you, nothing is enough. No one is enough. Not until that something changes."
She finally brought her gaze away. The effect of those eyes and his words remained. She couldn't move. She couldn't anything. Through the physical pain and the emotional turmoil, she could still feel him watching her. Why didn't he ever look away?
"And that, Detective Beckett, is why you're here," he concluded.
As if those words were a green light, Kate felt her muscles again. Her mouth and legs were moving without her consent, without even passing her mind. It wasn't until she heard his voice calling out her name that she recognized she was leaving the room. She didn't stop. Why should she? He hadn't. The pain hadn't. Life hadn't.
…
Kate shuddered. Something that sounded oddly like a sob escaped her lips. Yet, no tears fell. Her mascara remained in tact. Those were the little victories, weren't they? She was a wreck, hiding out in the bathroom at the precinct from a man she used to idolize, but, hey, at least she wasn't crying. At least she could walk out of there and pretend that he hadn't split her lock right down the middle and left her raw for him to see.
She was an idiot. She got her hopes up. She did. She thought that having him around could mean that she got to talk to him about his work. Maybe she could learn a secret about Storm Falls. But he was like a child, playing with his jacks in a house made of glass. In her heart made of glass. Gosh, she was an idiot.
And he was right. She was never enough. She wasn't enough to stop her dad from drinking. She wasn't enough to take care of Aimee on her own. She couldn't even take care of herself. Her two best friends had to do it. They had to remind her to eat and to sleep and to take a break. What was the point in that anyway? She ate and then she was hungry again. She slept then she was tired. The pattern continued. As a human being, she was never satisfied. Never satiated for longer than a few hours. Her happiness span was the size of her daughter's attention span – small, and easily shattered and drawn away to everything but what brought her joy in the first place. She didn't even deserve Aimee. Aimee was perfect. She was….
Kate remembered the first time Aimee smiled at her. Kate hadn't been feeding her, or changing her, or doing any of those things that would later earn her the toothless grin. They had been on the couch. Temptation Lane played in the background. Ryan's voice soared through the speaker of Kate's cell, telling her about this crazy thing Esposito had done at a crime scene. Kate rolled her eyes at their antics and gave Aimee this look. One of those 'look at how silly our friends are' type looks. And Aimee just understood. She just smiled.
Three years later, Aimee was with Esposito while Kate hid in a bathroom. Oh, what Kate wouldn't do for one of those smiles. Kate shouldn't have sent him away after Montgomery put Castle on the case. She should have made Esposito bring Aimee to the precinct instead of allowing him to just cozy up at his apartment with her. If Aimee were there, Kate wouldn't feel so lost. When she looked at her little girl, that was when things made sense.
Beside Kate, the door bounced open. She swiped at her cheeks out of habit before turning to it. Her earlier feeling of being overwhelmed rushed back at the sight of Esposito. He read her mind sometimes.
He stumbled forward at a snail's pace. Each step of his was uncertain yet determined. It honestly would have worked faster had he been able to see, but Aimee had her tiny hands firmly covering his eyes. Once Aimee noticed Kate, however, she released him and wiggled to get out of his grip.
"Mommy!"
Esposito's eyes popped open. He gave Beckett once of his questioning glances.
What? Was she not allowed to be in the bathroom? She ignored him and squatted down to Aimee's level.
"Hey, sweetheart. Funny seeing you here," Kate greeted. Aimee fell into her mother's hug with a giggle. She squeezed Kate tightly, a gift that she didn't even know she was giving. Kate held on, breathing in the easiness. She nearly missed Aimee's response. Luckily, the girl's head was directly next to Kate's ear.
"It's a bathroom. I have to potty," Aimee told her. That was a logical reason. Kate smiled. She loosened her hold to give Aimee the space to escape. Aimee headed for the stall while Kate turned her attention to Esposito. As much as she had wanted to see Aimee, there was still the fact that Esposito was just bringing Aimee into the precinct willy-nilly.
"Esposito, is there something wrong with the toilets at your place?"
He swallowed a little strongly. Another little victory. She obviously still had the mental capacity to intimidate. Or just the maternal instinct.
He answered, "Yup. It's short, under fifty pounds, and answers to the name of Travis."
Kate grimaced. Travis. She knew all about the little squirt. He was Esposito's nephew, a boy with a penchant for punching anyone of equal or lesser age than him. Aimee fell in that category. Kate knew what Esposito would say next. Looked like Aimee would be back at their apartment that night.
"I'll call the sitter and see if she can get Aimee for now," Kate said.
"Sorry about that, boss. Look, next time you want me to take her, I will, whenever, whatever, no questions asked," he vowed.
"You'll probably regret saying that," she told him. He shrugged in reply.
Kate went back to the mirror. She certainly looked better than before. Her eyes were less red and more like the green she was accustomed to. Some of the harsh lines had eased. Good. She had to go face Castle again after that, and he would not get to know that he had gotten to her.
"You okay?"
Kate looked at Esposito's reflection in the mirror. He had a few lines on his face. He got those whenever he worried about her. Maybe she didn't look as normal as she thought. Maybe he just paid too much attention.
"Yeah," she lied. He didn't buy it. He didn't say anything either. He simply lifted his right fist and tapped it twice above his heart. The act made Kate want to cry again. She did the same.
"I'll go see what Ryan's up to," Esposito said in farewell. She nodded her approval. He left the room, swinging the door open widely in his exit.
In the wide opening, Kate spotted Rick Castle, watching from the doorway of the room across the hall. How long had he been there? What had he seen? He met her gaze head-on, his own slightly apologetic but mostly just curious.
ooo
As it turned out, Kate was right in her appraisal of Castle's stare. Not even five minutes after Kate returned to the room, he broke the silence with a question.
He asked, "Are we really not going to talk about it?"
Kate considered ignoring him altogether. Answering his questions had not worked out so well for her before. He could want to talk about anything. She just wasn't in the mood. It had taken fifteen minutes to get hold of her usual sitter and forty dollars for cab fare so that Aimee could be picked up. Add that to her earlier mood, and Kate just didn't feel like doing the serious chatting thing again.
"About what?" she deflected. His gaze flittered between her and the paper in her hand. She wasn't reading it. He probably knew as much. She had read the opening line half a dozen times by that point.
"About you walking away when I… when I talked about the story."
Great answer. He didn't say when he basically exposed her most haunting thoughts. He didn't say when she stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes reliving the ordeal. He didn't mention Aimee. Had he seen Aimee? She hoped not.
"No," she said. There would be no talking about any of that.
He repeated her. "No?"
She fixed with him with one of her hardest stares. She needed to make it clear that this was not up for discussion.
"No, Castle. We've got a case to work on. If you want to talk about something, talk about the investigation," she said. She went back to the letter. The obligatory 'Dear Mr. Castle' finally became a thing of the past as she moved into the body of the note. This guy apparently spent a lot of time reading Castle's books. A lot. There was a doodle at the bottom. It sort of resembled the crime scene from In a Hail of Bullets. Hmm.
"Will my innate and overactive imagination get in the way of the investigation?" Castle asked.
She bought herself time to answer by flipping quickly through the folded together pages. Something red caught her eye. She turned the small packet over. No way. Another doodle took up the entirety of the page, this one of a body covered in rose petals with sunflowers over the eyes. Her tone was sharp when she spoke.
"Castle-"
He was quick to defend himself. "What! That was about the investigation."
She shook her head at him quickly. He needed to focus. They both needed to focus. "Not that. This." She held up the sketch for him to see. His eyes lit up the same way she was sure hers had. She told him, "I found the story."
ooo
Kate pushed shut the door to her apartment with her foot. She gently placed the copy of Cabot's files on the table beside her keys. The manila folder slid slightly. She reached a tired hand to steady it as a yawn escaped. New York traffic was not conducive to staying awake at night. If only she could just fall asleep in the car the way Aimee normally did.
Next to Kate, Aimee wrestled with her sneakers. Her sluggish fingers battled with the bow and gravity altogether. The tiny Beckett eventually got the laces loose enough for her to slip her feet out of the constricting fabric. Aimee sighed in overdramatic relief.
Kate peered down at her. She found it hard to believe that she had created someone so normal and innocent. Kate was a wreck. Royce certainly hadn't been the loving type. Aimee was anomaly. A very inquisitive anomaly.
Aimee pulled on Kate's pants leg. The motion caused Aimee's overnight backpack to rest low on her elbow. Aimee paused to shake it off without looking away from her mother.
Aimee asked, "Why am I not at Uncle Javi's? He said he wanted to play with me."
"He does, but so do I," Kate said. "Can we spend some time together tonight?"
A bit of Aimee's tiredness evaporated as the little girl nodded.
"Okay."
Kate's earlier insecurity crept back in. Okay? Was Aimee upset that she wasn't with Esposito? He could be pretty entertaining, but Kate was the queen of child merriment. She knew how to keep her kid happy. At least she thought she did,
"Okay?"
Aimee nodded once more. "Yeah. I like being with you too."
Good. Kate picked up Aimee's backpack, flinging it over her own shoulder. Aimee bounced alongside her. Little tidbits about the day fell from Aimee's lips. She had gotten lunch with Ryan and Esposito at Remy's. The burgers had nearly been the size of Aimee's head so she had the rest in her backpack. Kate was welcome to eat it. Aimee wanted ice cream by that point, a suggestion that Kate vetoed while pointing towards the pajamas on Aimee's bed. Aimee picked them up and carried them into the adjourning bathroom.
Aimee examined the bathtub from knob to back. Her bubble bath sat beside the many other toiletries around the tub. She didn't have an extensive collection of bath toys. She preferred making shapes out of the bubbles and flinging them at Kate whenever possible.
"Can I have lots of bubbles?" Aimee asked over her shoulder. Kate glanced down at her in consideration. Kate planned on showering in the morning, something she normally could not achieve if Aimee splattered bubbles and soap absolutely everywhere. The warm water would call to Kate if she wasn't careful. She wanted to review those files again after Aimee was asleep. Just to prove to herself that Cabot was their guy. She wasn't doing it for Castle. She was doing it for herself.
Aimee waved a hand in front of Kate's face. The older Beckett blinked at the sudden intrusion into her thoughts. Right. The question that had started her little tangent was still unanswered.
"How about a story instead?" Kate proposed. Aimee looked up to the ceiling in thought, no doubt figuring out which story she wanted to hear.
"Alright! But I want a new story. You make it up," Aimee said.
"About what?"
"About you."
That was treacherous territory. Kate's life was not exactly child friendly in any story that didn't involve Aimee or her own mother. Why couldn't Aimee have asked for Shakespeare instead? At least that didn't make Kate's mind flash to all sorts of horrible, wildly inappropriate things that she couldn't tell her child.
Kate racked her mind for a story as the water ran. She dumped the bubbles while crossing out her college years. She got the washcloth after reaffirming that work stories were out of the question. In fact, Aimee was settled into the bath before Kate had finally decided on just mixing together a few things and hoping it would suffice.
Kate cleared her throat and sat down beside the tub. She wiggled her toes against the cold ground. Aimee mirrored the action, splashing the slightest of water towards Kate's top. Kate swatted near where the toes had been. Her resulting splash had Aimee giggling into a face full of suds.
Kate began with a dramatic flourish. "Once upon a time, there lived a princess named Kate. She was very lucky, just like you. Do you know why?" Aimee brightened at the question. Choose your own adventure stories were her favorite. Kate's as well as she got to steal a few ideas from the little one.
Aimee answered, "Because she had a mommy who loved her very much."
Kate forced herself not to flinch. She stuttered slightly, but she went on. "R-right. Her mommy, the queen, was very, very loving."
"And pretty?" Aimee asked. Kate nodded, flashes of her mother's long brown hair and carefree smile flittering through her mind.
"Very pretty. The queen and the princess spent a lot of time together. They cooked foods, watched TV, and painted on everything they could find. One day, though, the princess got paint on herself. The queen was furious."
Aimee quirked her head to the side curiously and asked, "Why? You can take a bath and the paint's gone."
Kate grinned. "Not this paint. It was permanent. The queen made the princess show her the painting right that second. When the princess did, the queen calmed down and even smiled. She said, 'I'm not going to say it this time, Katie. Just know you better stick by family now or every look in the mirror is going to remind you.'"
Johanna had looked so pleased with Kate that day. Her green eyes, the same ones Kate had, shined at what the tattoo had meant. It was not elaborate or difficult to understand. On the small of Kate's back, there were the scales of justice. On the lower scale, the Chinese symbol for family weighed down. The Chinese symbol for love was on the other. At the time, Kate was planning on becoming a lawyer, just like her mother.
"That not a good story, Mommy," critiqued Aimee. Kate faked an affronted gasp.
"That's because it's not over yet. That day, the princess swore to put her family above all else. She did everything for the queen and the king and eventually an even smaller princess named Aimee. Aimee was the brattiet pri-"
"No!" Aimee denied. "I'm not bratty!"
"Yes, you are. You're arguing with the storyteller."
"Well, you're lying."
Kate grinned. "I am. Aimee was the best and most beautiful princess in all the land. Every day, just for her, stars lit up the sky so that she could make a wish."
At the mention of the stars, Aimee turned to look out of the window. She threw the curtains back, eyes trained up to find the twinkling lights. When something seemed to sparkle, the little girl closed her eyes and started whispering.
"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I make. I wish-"
"Shush. Don't say it out loud," Kate reminded her.
Aimee giggled and squeezed her face close and tight. Her whole body was rigid and shaking as she sent her wish out into the night. Kate wondered what that night's specialty would be – a bike, a new toy, ice cream. It was easier to choose as a child. Simpler. Then again, Kate's wish was simple to; she wished that nights like that one would never end.
Review Replies:
(Just a general one)
Some people addressed that they thought Kate was a little distant towards Aimee. I hope part of the reasoning behind that is a little clearer after this chapter. Just some extra explanation, in the second chapter, we saw Kate working on a difficult case. She was having a tough time figuring things out, but Esposito was around to help distract Aimee long enough for Kate to keep working. Later, when Kate convinced Esposito to take Aimee, Kate was attempting to show him that being with Aimee all the time makes you a hell of a lot more tired than watching her for part of the day or tucking her in. She wasn't just shirking off her daughter. Instead, she was trying to get him to see from her point of view a bit more.
MHoles
I hope you don't mind that I answer this here. I wanted to address some of your comments about Esposito. He doesn't necessarily read the books with Kate. He just spends so much time with her that he sort of knows about the majority of them.
I chose Esposito to be at the birth over Lanie for a few reasons. One) it was my first conscious thought on the subject. Two) There's a scene that you guys have yet to see where Esposito really helps Kate through something in the pregnancy that cements him as the one she goes to for Aimee-related things. That's not to say that she doesn't go to the others, but he is her first choice. Three) It just adds a little levity, don't you think?
