Authors Note: The name of this fic is to be changed: Four Walls will now be 'To Love'
I'm not going to make the change until my next chapter posting
(which will hopefully won't take as long as this one has).
Sorry for any confusion this may create, but I promise, the Title will make more sense at a later date.
At least I can hope as much.
To Em: for listening, talking, and being silent at all the right times.
Sunrise
...
Kate wasn't ready to leave. She knew she had to go back to work, to catch the bad guys, to find justice, to keep Ryan and Esposito in line, but at the same time, she was dreading her departure.
Once, it was hard to watch her father. Watch him suffer; watch him drown in liquor and depression. Now, it was hard to leave him.
She rolled over on the couch, propping her head up on her arm so she could watch the man beside her. The couch created an awkward angle but she adjusted herself so she could admire his sleeping form.
He had yet to wake- most of the world did- but remained in a deep state of REM, his arms around his pillow, protectively. He was facing her, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. His hair was uncombed and disheveled from the night's sleep. She smiled despite herself, almost in a puzzling way. He puzzled her.
This trip up here had her re-examining him, this time in a whole new light. She was re-examining their relationship, who he was, what he meant. What had possessed her to invite him along was a mystery even to her.
She had spent two nights at his apartment after the explosion, and she was wounded. She was emotionally battered and Castle was a light. He behaved himself, he was an excellent host, and he had good liquor.
It was a nice little break.
Whether it was him or the atmosphere or the booze, she was in a good mood, and she wasn't above admitting that he had a large part in that.
"I need to swing by Target, is that okay?" she asked Castle. He was sitting in the passenger seat, knees propped up on the dash, his eyes lost in the traffic before them. He turned to her, realizing she spoke.
"Of course that's fine," he told her, surprised by the question. "As long as you don't make me wait in the car," he teased., watching her visibly relax.
"Depends on how well you behave," she shot back, along with a saucy stare that made him grin.
They walked through the aisles, only the sound of the right back wheel of the cart she was pushing squeaking in protest between them. It was odd, shopping with Castle. Domestic, and weird. She pushed the cart along, Castle with one hand obediently on the side, looking around and the things for sale.
She was constantly grateful- Grateful when he casually looked away when she bought her toiletries, grateful when he made a very lame excuse about checking out the DVD's when she needed to get some underclothes, grateful when he casually dropped a Band of Horses CD into her cart.
"To get you started," he said.
After that night, it became routine- long after she had found a new apartment. She would push the cart, and he would toss in what he referred to as 'The essentials.'
Plates, silverware, cups, pots, pans, bowls, a can opener. When the kitchen was done, he decided she needed something to cook with all of her new kitchenware. Canned soups, tuna, bread, milk, and a whole lot of Ramen.
They then moved onto the bath- soaps, shampoos, conditioners, bath towels, hand towels, a loofa, and some bubble bath. He added the last thing into the cart with a sly smile, both pushing his bounds and testing her reaction. In reply, she raised an eye brow, put it back, and grabbed another bubble bath of a different scent.
"C'mon, Castle. Cherries. You know that." For some odd reason, he blushed at that. The next morning, though, she found a fire-resistant blanket on her desk, with a note.
'To complete The Essential bathroom set, edited, of course, to format Kate Beckett's lifestyle.' The blue sticky note read.
The day they began working on her living room, things seemed to slow down a bit. He seemed set on making her apartment a home- this was obvious in the way he dropped in candles and magazines she didn't know he knew she read. Bookends, a throw blanket that matched her new couch, little wall decorations and trinkets. Photograph frames.
She fussed over the 'essentials', arguing that they were luxuries. She didn't need little squares to hang on her walls, or bookends. At the same time that angry words passed her lips, she was immensely touched.
How he knew she subscribed to Print magazine, or loved the smell of Dragon's Blood incents. How hard he was trying to make her comfortable. It wasn't the first time she had asked herself why he was there with her, and it certainly wasn't the first time she had been glad.
In the end they had come to a compromise- yes to the candles and the magazine, no to the wall décor. That left the photo frames.
"Beckett, I've been to your old place- you had pictures everywhere," he reasoned. "Your new one is incomplete without them."
"I just don't see the point," she told him, pushing the cart with more speed than necessary, so he had to practically jog to keep up.
"Don't see the point?" he asked, confused.
"I don't have anything to put in them," she reminded him, and he stopped in his quick walking. "What?" she stopped as well, now ahead of him, looking back , her eyes asking the question just as much as her mouth was.
"We will have to get you some," he said, decidedly, folding his arms across his chest.
"Yeah, we can hop inside the time machine and relive all those irreplaceable moments, Nikon in hand," she replied, sarcasm biting at her clipped voice.
She watched realization dawn on his face. Why she didn't want the damn picture frames. She watched the wheels turn in his head until his eyes brightened again.
"I'm a father, Beckett. I know I have never thrown away a picture of my daughter, and especially not the ones of me and her together. I'm sure your father's kept yours."
She nodded. "He might have a few," she realized.
That was pretty much how they ended up here. One day, instead of driving to Target, they took a road trip upstate.
And here they were.
She didn't want to leave the couch, she didn't want to leave the comforter, and she didn't want to leave her grandfather's home. She thought bringing Castle along would make it easier to leave, that he would be able to coheres her to her senses, but oddly enough, she didn't want to leave him, either.
She knew, of course, she wouldn't be leaving him leaving him, but things would be different when they got back to the city. They would slip into the charade of their old ways and life would move on.
When did that become such a bad thing? She asked herself. When last names dropped out of the equation. When the barrier of socially acceptable personal space was breeched. When she showed him a picture of her in a Styx t-shirt and he didn't make a comment.
"What time is it?" Rick's groggy voice forced her out of her mind and into the present, where he was waking. He was propped up on his elbows, the blanket once covering him falling as he rose.
She was silently grateful and secretly disappointed that he had the thoughtfulness of sleeping in a shirt. "Early," she replied, smiling a small smile as she continued to watch him.
"Were you watching me sleep?" he asked her, confused. He was adorable, she decided as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"Well before your big ego got in the way, I was watching the sunrise," she told him, nodding her head to the window behind his spot on the couch. It was a partial truth, at least.
He turned to look, a small 'Oh' falling from his lips. "It's beautiful," he told her, not look away. It was too, a gorgeous, light gray canvas smeared with the most vibrant pinks and a hint of orange. The effect was only heightened by the fresh blanket of snow, the reflective surface creating the most drastic contrast to the sky.
"Isn't it?" she murmured, truly caught up in it.
"We should get going, huh?" he asked her, not looking away from the window.
"Probably should."
"Beat the traffic, ya know."
"Yeah."
Neither moved.
...
"I want some coffee," Kate declared. The sun had made its accent into the sky, where it now rest, still. Sunlight poured in, casting them both with warmth.
"I'll make some," Castle offered, standing. "If that's okay," he stopped short, remembering exactly where he was.
"Of course. I'm going to clean all this up and get everything together. We really should get going."
"Yeah." They both stood there a moment, both painfully aware that yes, they did have to leave. Castle was the one who broke the stalemate, heading into the kitchen in socked feet.
He had no sooner had the coffee in the pot and brewing than Jim Beckett joined him.
"Good morning," the older man greeted, groggily.
"Morning, Mr. B." Castle replied. Mr. B was not only a respect thing, but also fun to say. Jim just shook his head.
"Sleep well?" It was a question.
"Very. You?"
"Lightly," his response was very fatherly, and Castle jotted a mental note to remember that line. After, of course, he battled the hot blush in his cheeks. "Where is Katie?"
"In her room, I think. Packing, you know."
"Right."
"You know it's killing her," Castle said, surprising himself with the words. Jim turned to face the writer. "Leaving here. The snow, the sunsets, the pictures, the memories. You." He paused, hoping to god the man was joking about the gun earlier. "She hates the idea of leaving."
Jim just looked down at his feet, taking a sudden interest in the patterned tiling. "Kills me too, Rick." A beat, and then: "It kills me too." The coffee had finished brewing, and reaching into the cabinet for three mugs, Jim handed the writer one, after filling two to the brim. "Castle, I like you."
The admission was short and unexpected, but for some reason Rick beamed with pride. "I like you too, sir."
"My daughter likes you, too."
This observation was just as short and very, very unexpected. Rick knew exactly why he was beaming, now. "Uh-huh," was all he dared say.
"She likes you more than I think she's ready to admit."
"Sir, I don't think-"
"Well I do, son. She does. And you like her back, a whole lot more than you let her see."
"Beckett and I are just-"
"Work friends that call each other by their last names and solve murder and that's it, I know. She's fed me the same story."
"Well it's not a story, Mr. B, it's the truth-" for the third time, Castle was cut off.
"Then where's the goddamn body?" Jim asked, earning silence from the other man. "Beckett and Castle didn't visit me, Rick and Kate did. Do you know how many co-workers Katie had brought home?"
Castle shook his head.
"None." Castle looked up, catching the wiser man's eye. They were as green as his daughters. "And I don't think she's going to start anytime soon."
...
At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear. It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us. You can love completely without complete understanding.
Norman Maclean