When Beckett had called about the body drop, offered to swing by and pick him up he thought nothing of it. When they arrived at the scene, the alley where the stabbing victim had been left splayed against a few trash bags, he knew it would strike a chord with her, too much like her mother. Of course she wouldn't say anything, wouldn't let it show on her face, she probably wouldn't even think about her mother once she crossed the crime scene tape. But he knows. Knows that later, when she is alone, probably after they close this, and she heads back to her silent apartment, the similarities will hit her, smack in the face. Right now there is a glint in her eye, a determination he recognises, she wants this guy caught.
When they break it he can't stop smiling at her. The glow she has, the buzz she is emitting makes him so glad he picked up that discrepancy, leading them straight to the break. Whenever their eyes meet she joins him in his smile, full-mouthed and radiant, unbridled joy. He isn't sure why she is being so open about it, but he revels in it. Making sure to catch her every chance he gets.
The detectives have all settled into their desks to finish the paperwork and he grabs them all a cup of coffee before he takes his seat beside her desk. Esposito gives a distracted nod, Ryan says "thanks" without tearing his eyes from the screen but Beckett smiles at him in thanks, turning her whole body to face him, meeting his gaze and lingering a second as he takes his seat before she continues to smile down at the paper before her.
He realises, while watching her, that this is the perfect opportunity to show her. She has had a day filled with emotion, her own just below the surface he knows (dangerous territory for anyone other than himself). But he knows that the mood she is in right now, is the perfect time to tell her.
"Can you come over when your done? I've uh, got something to show you…" he breaks the silence, speaking only to her, his voice soft to keep it from the boys, like they are in class, whispering in the back row.
She regards him, studying him silently, her brow furrows as she thinks. "Okay, give me…" she studies the papers in front of her, "an hour and I'll head over," she quips, resigned. He isn't giving anything away as he studies her.
"I'll order Chinese," he offers, giving her another smile. He waits for hers in return then, grabs his coat and heads for the door. He just hopes this is the right time, its too late to back out now he has mentioned it to her. she won't drop it, even if he does, because it will eat her alive as she worries, over thinking it of course.
When he answers the door to her, he is not himself, he seems distracted and instantly she is suspicious. Whatever he has to show her is serious, her chest tightens. Damn it, she doesn't need this drama today. He of all people should realise that. She follows him to the kitchen. Both of them are completely silent. Castle regretting bringing this up, but it's too late now that she's here. Beckett analysing every aspect of his behaviour, searching for a clue, but he isn't giving anything away. He has written down Alexis' dinner order alongside his own. "Pick whatever you like," he gesture to the menu, "and I'll order."
He hadn't wanted to pick for her, despite her consistently ordering the same thing. But what he is about to show her is going to rattle her; he will be the one in control, she doesn't like that. Letting her choose food is a minor type of control that she may need to cling to later.
When she makes her selection he is already on the phone ordering. She points with her finger and he nods. He relays her choice. "Thank you," he chimes into the phone before hanging up. "It'll be here in half an hour," he informs her, once again nervous.
She nods and gives him half a smile. He is basically squirming every time she looks at him. Whatever this is he needs to get on with it, he is driving her insane. "Want to tell me why I'm here?" she suggests with a shrug, trying to keep the hitch out of her throat. The last time he told her he had something serious to tell her and got this nervous it had been that her mother's murder was not a random mugging. That causes a deep pit to form in her stomach.
He swallows, awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, stalling.
"Castle…" she urges, "you are making me nervous," her voice conveys it. She could hear it crack herself.
"Sorry," he says too quickly. "I just... I should have shown this to you a long time ago." He is walking backwards without looking behind him, it is making her nervous. "But.. once you were… shot it became harder."
She can't stop her eyes widening a little when he brings up her being shot, so she clamps them shut for a second, in an attempt to steel herself against whatever this is about.
He stops at the doorway. "Aren't you coming?" his voice is soft, but he flicks an eyebrow and gives her a tentative smile easing her tension a little. His gut is twisted and clenched, he is nervous. But he has to show her this.
She follows, so they can both be put out of their misery. His plan wasn't to show her straight away, but he had been too anxious and she'd picked up on it. Of course she had, she knows him too well to be fooled.
When he stops in front of his storyboard her gut sinks. This cannot be a good thing.
He touches her shoulder, silently urging her to come closer. "Don't be mad," he murmurs as he hands her the small remote, giving her the control.
She stares at the remote and hits the power button, but doesn't look up at the screen as it springs to life. When it fills the room with a soft, blue light she chews her lip. She knows it is waiting for her to make a move, she knows he is waiting for her to press a button.
"The green one," he mutters to her, forgetting she has never used it before and even if she had she doesn't know the shortcut he assigned to this.
She presses it and takes a deep breath. She exhales loudly. He is watching her, she can feel his intense gaze.
"It's loaded," he murmurs, his breath hitching. The double meaning of his words making him wish he hadn't spoken them, although maybe she didn't take it that way. He can only hope, it is too late now.
She meets his gaze through her hair, studying his face for his reaction. He is forcing himself to keep a straight face, but she can see past it. She can see that he is scared of her reaction, but she can see a faint gleam of excitement behind his intense gaze. Now she is confused, the only way to clear that up is to look at the board. She swallows and turns to face it.
It doesn't make any sense.
It is a murder board.
But it isn't for a crime.
It looks like a wedding plan. She blinks, forcing her eyes to focus on the details arranged before her.
There are pictures of napkins, flowers and tablecloths, pictures of food, invitations and ballrooms.
"What is this?" she is confused. Why is he planning a wedding? Why is he showing her that he is planning a wedding? There are several options for each category, each listed like a suspect with reasons for and against.
"It's a plan. If you don't like it I can change anything you like. If there is anything I've forgotten just let me know," he says in a rush.
"A plan?" she asks, completely confused and still caught on the first words.
"Yeah, your mother's benefit," he says as if this is the most obvious thing on the planet.
She swallows, the relief practically oozing out of her. She catches her lip between her teeth, working it back and forth. At least its not a wedding, she tells herself, then immediately questions why on earth Richard Castle would be planning a wedding. But he is planning her mother's benefit. He has laid out the details on the board, everything they ever discussed, every possibility is examined and explored. It is… meticulous, thoughtful but so intense. She had forgotten that he had begun to plan this with her. He hadn't brought it up for months, she just figured he was too busy at this stage. That maybe he had postponed his plan for until after they caught the man responsible.
He gives her a minute. She needs a minute, he can tell.
"Castle…" she starts and fails, her breath hitching. She meets his gaze, reluctantly. "Thank you." She doesn't know what else to say. There is nothing else she can say. He has thought of her in a way that is so generous and selfless that she is overwhelmed by it. She had told herself that she shouldn't bring it up with him, she shouldn't be the one to broach the topic. It wasn't her money being spent to raise the money, so she had no right to ask.
"You're welcome," his relief evident in his voice when he speaks. He isn't sure what he expected her reaction to be, but her amazement is shocking him. He had expected her to yell, storm out, maybe even get upset. But amazement, he is shocked. Not that he isn't extremely grateful with how she is taking this, he truly is, but it is just not what he expected.
"Why?" she asks simply, stepping forward to look at the colour themes, the food choices and the different locations.
"I thought that…" he exhales, "I thought that once you… recovered, we would start planning it again. I know we talked about it a few times… before, but we never really locked anything in, just vague ideas. So I put up what we had, then… I thought of a few more venues that had everything you said you wanted. I found out some possible dates." He shrugs, as if to say no big deal.
She is a silhouette against the board, her arms crossed against her chest, her hips set as she studies it. The way she does at work, when she is absorbing every detail trying to find the discrepancies. Only now does he notice she has changed since he saw her at the precinct, probably the spare clothes she keeps in her locker in the gym. At least she is comfortable now.
She nods and stays completely silent, unsure how to respond. Finally when she gives up trying to find the right words she says the recurring thought which won't leave her, maybe if it is spoken aloud it will. "This is too much," she mumbles. It doesn't leave her like she'd hoped. "Castle, you shouldn't have-" she tries again.
"I wanted to," he defends.
She spins on her heel, regarding him with the same intense studying gaze he knows she has just been scrutinising the board with. He can see the slow rise and fall of her chest, raged and uneven. She is forcing herself to stay calm, to stay in control, to not let the panic overwhelm her, or maybe she is bottling her rage and the cork will pop any second.
She opens her mouth then closes it. She swallows.
"I thought you should be involved. I didn't actually make any decisions, just explored the possibilities more in depth," he explains himself, "I just thought you might need some… closure on it." He cringes at his own words, they aren't right, they aren't what he had planned. But the plan went out the window when he answered the door to her, he knows that.
She eyes him warily now. He is venturing into dangerous territory and he knows it. But he can't stand the lack of discussion any longer. She has bottled up and closed off. He knows that's her process, but he figures this is a good thing. Get it out in the open, show these people her mother is more than just a problem they had to solve. The benefit for the scholarship won't harm anyone, won't reopen the case and will give her a chance to honour her mother's life by doing more than risking her own, again.
She closes her eyes, and spins back to the board. Choosing to ignore his prod at her wounds, he lets her have the silence. He knows in time she will speak, when she is ready. There is no rush. They have as much time as she needs.
The doorbell rings, the food is here. She doesn't even flinch, apparently either too deep in thought to have noticed, that or she is ignoring it to regain some control over the situation. Either way he leaves the room, an opportune moment to leave her to her thoughts.
He sets the plastic bag which contains their boxes on his desk. Before grabbing the containers setting them on the table and unwrapping the chopsticks he puts the rubbish in the bin beneath his desk.
"When is this one free?" she asks, breaking her silence long after he hands her the container. She didn't thank him for it, she didn't need to. Her only expression of awareness was her brief eye contact, and that meant more than a simple thank you ever would. It meant she was overwhelmed, but not impossibly so.
He smiles at her, mouth closed chewing on his chicken. He swallows. "Touch the picture, the dates will… appear," he trails off as she does it.
She studies it as she eats. Considering everything that is written there, all the details he has laid out before her.
"Can you ring tomorrow? See which ones are still free," she turns her head, shyly back to look at him. She would call herself, but she knows the name Richard Castle will hold more weight than her own, it's the way these things work.
"Uh… These are current, I rang them all just before you got here," he says between bites, then quickly busies himself with his chicken, letting her have another moment to process.
She freezes, food hovering precariously on her chopsticks, half-way to her mouth. She drops it back into the box. "Can we organise it for… three weeks time?" she hesitates mid-question, as if she is afraid he will say no, as if he could ever refuse her anything.
"I could organise it for tomorrow if that's what you wanted," his tone is teasing, but his eyes are sincere.
"Three weeks is fine," she dismisses his seriousness.
"I'll be back," he smirks as he speaks, then disappears out the door before she can form words.
Just as she resettles into her dinner, her eyes studying the colours, he barges back into the room and happily announces, "All booked, we meet with them in three days to hash out some more of the details and view the room."
"You booked it without seeing the room?" she questions.
"I placed a reservation deposit. If you change your mind I get a full refund, don't stress." He puts his hands up to further convey his surrender. His dinner has disappeared, she notices.
She nods at him. "Thanks," she murmurs as she gathers another clump of food.
"Anytime," he smiles.
I apologise for the delay, but I have another chapter almost ready to go to make up for it!