A/N: Well, this story has served its purpose. I've survived a frantically busy week, and episode 3:13 airs shortly.
Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed; I sincerely appreciate all of them.
She swallows harshly, then opens her eyes and turns to leave. She walks out of the elevator, then pauses, hesitant. This whole walking-away-from-Castle thing is starting to get repetitious.
Biting her lip, she half turns and looks at him over her shoulder, says the first thing that comes to her mind. "You know, you haven't said or done even one annoying, childish, funny, rude, sarcastic, clever, or otherwise Castle-esque thing today."
"I know," he says. He smiles then, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I thought up some really good ones, though, if you'd ever like to hear them."
"Why?" she asks, ignoring the second comment but relieved to hear the normality of it. She won't let him distract her with his cavalier attitude, however.
The smile vanishes, "Because…" he hesitates, "because I didn't want to say the wrong thing. I didn't want to… upset you today, with everything else."
Her shoulders slump, and she realizes only then how much stress she was carrying in them. She suddenly feels compelled to reassure him. "I... I would have forgiven you, Castle. I always have before," she offers a tiny smile.
"I know," he says.
She raises an eyebrow.
He hastily amends his statement, "I meant you always have forgiven me before. Not that you always will." He smiles now, "I fully expect you to shoot me someday."
Her smile grows, and he's thrilled to see an expression on her face besides numbness and exhaustion.
"But until you kill me," he continues, warmth in both his voice and eyes, "I'll be here with you."
She actually flinches.
It's like one of those slow-motion moments in a movie, in which a character learns something that changes everything and can only stand there in shock. Had she been drinking or eating something, she probably would have choked.
His expression changes to concern as she stares at him. "You okay?" he asks, taking a step forward and unconsciously extending his hand slightly as if to catch her, as if she were about to faint.
She clears her throat, "Yeah," she says quickly.
But still, she stares at him, letting a new realization flood her mind.
Castle is a good man.
Yes, to some extent she'd already known that. She'd seen the way he'd cared for his daughter, allowed his mother to live with them, helped her and others, and was determined to catch their suspects and bring justice to victims.
But she'd worried too much about the other facets of his life: his two exes, the numerous affairs, his obvious admiration of shallow and plastic-surgery addicted women, his impetuousness, and his obstinacy. Whenever she had allowed herself to think about him as more than a friend, she'd shrugged him off as not stable enough, a flighty individual, especially after he left for the Hamptons with Gina.
But she hadn't seen the bigger picture.
He is a good person. He has his faults, but she isn't exactly the poster child for propriety. She stares at him, and realizes that they just might work out.
Someday.
Not today, because emotions are running strong and they're exhausted and worried. Her mother's case still takes the majority of her thoughts, but it is slowly becoming manageable.
For the first time, she thinks about what her mother would have had to say about her daughter's obsession with her murder. She wonders, fleetingly, if her obsessive preoccupation would annoy her mother, a woman who always advocated love, forgiveness, and hope. Love that Beckett had hidden from due to fear, forgiveness that she had done away with the moment she'd seen her mother's body, and hope that she'd long forgotten.
But here was hope.
These thoughts flash through her mind in a moment. He's still eying her warily. "You sure?"
She nods, not trusting her voice. Her world has just spun, minutely perhaps, but instantaneously. It's such a small but obvious shift that she can't believe it feels like such a revelation.
He takes a deep breath and steps back when it becomes obvious that she's okay, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at the ground. "Look, about yesterday," he looks up but doesn't meet her eyes. "I'm sorry."
Her heart stops for a second. She knows he can't really deny what happened between them, but she's afraid he might try. "Don't worry about it," she says quickly, cutting him off, "No problem."
"No," he finally meets her eyes, "I mean it. I know you're with Josh and last night was really stressful and all and I'm sorry that…" he trails off and shrugs, unsure of how to complete the sentence, "I—I just, I hope it works out between you and that you're happy," he finishes with a half-truth. He really hopes that she's happy, but there's also a nagging little voice in the back of his mind that suggests that it would be a wonderful compromise if she were to be happy without Josh.
"I broke up with him," she says, almost cavalier about the whole thing, "This morning, actually."
He's stunned and regretful, but a little too pleased, "I'm sorry," he says, with at least some sincerity.
"It's not your fault," she shrugs, "We weren't getting along too well anyway."
"But I thought he was Dr. Perfect."
He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth, but she just looks mildly amused. She wonders why he even bothers to attempt to hide his true thoughts from her. "Perfect people get annoying after a while."
"Really? Can't say I know the feeling," he smiles, relieved. Then his expression sobers, "I am sorry, though. I shouldn't have…" he trails off again, unable to say the words "kissed you."
"You never liked Josh," she says, dodging his apology.
"You did. And I should have respected that."
She finds that the more she tries to brush off his apologies, the more self-degrading he becomes. This only reaffirms what she realized moments ago. For all his posturing and bravado, his ego really isn't all that big. He cares what she thinks about him.
"It's okay," she says, leaning one hand on the still open door of the elevator. There are probably people upstairs furiously waiting to use the elevator, but she doesn't leave. "I never used to like Gina," she admits.
"Used to?" asks Castle after a moment, suddenly entertaining a ridiculous thought in his mind.
"Before," she says. Her voice is casual, but her eyes are direct, almost challenging. "Now she's fine."
It's his turn to stare. "Since when?" he dares to ask, the ridiculous thought gaining strength.
She shrugs, realizing she's enjoying herself. "Week or two."
He realizes he's holding his breath. "And why is that?"
A smile flickers on her face and she reaches up and starts playing with a strand of her hair, twisting it through her fingers. "You're gonna make me say it?"
Their voices are so casual that they could be talking about the weather.
"I don't think I'll believe it unless you do," he replies.
"Really? I thought writers were supposed to be intuitive," she's taunting him now.
His ridiculous thought suddenly isn't so crazy. She disliked Gina for the same reason he couldn't stand Josh. Now, neither of the two is a problem. For once, Castle and Beckett will admit to being on the same page.
Her phone beeps suddenly, a text message. She glances at it, then back up at him. "My dad," she explains, "I'm taking tomorrow off, starting the weekend early. We're going to visit some of my mom's family." She slips the phone into her pocket and turns to go. "See you Monday."
He steps forward quickly, catches her hand, stopping her. "Take care," he says quietly, "of both of you."
Her only response is a slow smile. She squeezes his hand briefly but tightly and then releases it, walking backward a few steps and watching him for a few more seconds before she turns around and leaves.
Her mother would have loved him. She can feel tears threatening at the corners of her eyes again as she walks away, but the grief is almost bittersweet. A small, hesitant smile forms on her face as she slips out the front doors.
Someday with Castle might come sooner than she'd first thought.