Chapter VII
Castle Private Investigations, NYC
"I sent her home. Gutierrez took her in the cruiser," Esposito had told him over the phone. "Seriously Castle, why'd you even let her come to the crime scene? She can barely stay on her feet."
"'Let her'?" Castle had questioned the absurdity of Esposito's choice of words. "Seriously? This is Beckett we're talking about."
"Yeah, right- sorry, bro. Just try and make her stay put for a day, wouldya?"
Alexis's eyes bored into him after he ended that call. "Well?"
"Espo says she's on the way home."
"Then you should be there too."
They'd both still been leaning against his massive mahogany desk, when his daughter had suddenly given him a push, digging her palms into his side. "Go, Dad. Go home."
"You said you were planning on a surveillance set up for our client and-"
She'd issued another gentle push and then grabbed his hand and led him away from the desk, towards the door. "Which I am perfectly capable of doing myself. In fact, I'll probably get more done without you suggesting completely unrealistic approaches."
"Hey!"
A final push had done the trick.
"Bye, Dad! Give Beckett my best."
Not that he'd really needed all the pushing and pulling. The moment Esposito told him that Beckett was on her way home every fibre in his body wanted to make a beeline for the loft.
He'd been desperate for answers and desperate to have her back.
All of that was two hours ago.
Now he was back at home and still alone, standing beside the pantry and in the process of pouring himself a third glass of scotch.
Last one, he told himself. Not because he didn't crave a few more, but because he wanted to hold on to the anger that coursed through his veins. Didn't want to dull it too much with alcohol.
He'd been such a fool.
To think that just because Esposito had stuck her in a cruiser and told her to leave a crime scene and go home, that Beckett would actually comply.
He should have known that giving her an ultimatum, to either come home and tell him the truth or not come home at all, would only serve to push her away for good. She'd never reacted in any other way when she felt threatened.
All of her actions in recent weeks were classic Kate Beckett. He realized that too now, while he was sitting in an empty loft foolishly thinking that maybe things had changed. That maybe now that they were married he wouldn't have to fight so hard to make things work between them anymore. To find ways to scale all the walls she kept building around herself, for reasons that he couldn't begin to fathom, despite his abundant imagination.
Castle put down the decanter after he finished pouring and clenched the glass that was one-third full of expensive Scottish whiskey. He hadn't eaten lunch today and was already buzzed after two glasses. There was absolutely no need for a third.
Such a fool.
He couldn't quell his rising anger. Knowing that in spite of it all, he was scared to death for her. Worried sick. Hating that he couldn't turn it off.
She doesn't care. Least you can do is stop caring in return.
But of course he couldn't. And that only multiplied his resentment.
Castle gripped the glass a little harder.
Then he raised it above his head and channelled all his rage into throwing it across the room. Watched it shatter as it hit the wall beside the fireplace and fell to the ground in dozens of tiny shards.
Long Island, NY
It took them over an hour to get out to the suburban enclave where Vikram Singh's parents lived.
Beckett might have enjoyed eating the spicy leftovers that Balinder Singh gave her son to take back to the apartment after his visits home, but she'd never met the soft spoken woman before today.
This had always been, and still was, the most unbearable part of her job.
Notifying the next of kin.
But in this case Beckett needed to do it herself. She owed Vikram that much.
So she spent nearly two hours at their house. Vikram's sister was there too and with trembling hands and tear-filled eyes had insisted on preparing them all a batch of soothing herbal tea. Turning it down was not an option and Beckett let the beautiful young woman pour her a cup. It was bitter and full of foreign flavours that her taste buds didn't recognize, but oddly enough, it curbed her nausea. Was exactly what her sensitive stomach needed.
They insisted that Kate stay until the massive pot tea was finished among the four of them.
Apparently, Vikram already told them a lot about his captain and his new job at the 12th.
Kate sat around an ornate dining-room table with the three Singhs, surrounded by colourful tapestries hanging on the walls. Sari-clad Balinder calmly and firmly held on to her husband's hand when Kate told them what happened. In turn, Beckett listened to them tell stories of about their son, the baby in the family, and the only one born here, on US soil. She learned about young Vikram, who hacked into his high school computer database in order to change his best friend's grades. How he got suspended for two weeks as a result, without a single regret, and was later motivated by the death of his oldest sister to join the attorney general's team.
In return, Beckett made sure to tell them how brave he was and assure them that she would do everything in her power to bring those who did it to justice. She let his father pull her into his embrace before stepping back into the cold November afternoon, grateful for the sudden gust of wind that dried her tears.
Officer Gutierrez was waiting in the cruiser, parked on the street. He'd been in the process of biting into a donut when Beckett came out of the house and by the time she entered the car and sat down next to him, he'd stuffed it into a paper bag and set it aside.
"Captain." His mouth was still half full and he wiped some powdered sugar off his lips with the back of his hand. This was the protection they'd given her against Locksat.
"Are we headed back to Manhattan, ma'am?"
"Yeah," she mumbled, already dreading the lengthy drive. It least it wasn't rush hour yet so the traffic wouldn't be that bad.
"To the precinct or to Mr. Castle's home address?"
"Mr. Castle's home address." Not her home address.
"I don't know yet," she replied truthfully after he started the engine and slowly drove off. "I'll let you know once we're closer to the city."
She leaned back in the seat, bone-weary exhausted. Notifying the next of kin always took a lot out of her and this time around she'd already been running on fumes right from the get-go. Her eye lids kept threatening to close and it took all her willpower to keep them open. To focus on the traffic and the road ahead of them.
If she went back to the loft she'd drag Castle and his family right into the crosshairs.
Goosebumps lined her arms at thought. Kate wrapped her arms around her waist, chilled to the bone, underneath the grey skies.
"Are you cold, ma'am? Would you like me to turn up the heat?"
"No." The cold was the only thing keeping her awake and she needed to be awake in order to make one of the hardest decisions of her life.
Castle residence, NYC
By the time the clock struck four in the afternoon, Castle was certain she wasn't coming home and it hurt. In spite of his anger and wounded pride. A heaviness compressed his heart and immobilized him. Made it hard to breathe and impossible to put one foot in front of the other.
I've lost her.
It was over and he didn't even really know why.
He sat down on the sofa and stared into his study, at the bookshelf in his line of vision.
She'd walked into his life like a bolt of lightning, a dead-serious, badge-wielding cop that stormed into a party room full of plastic people and made a beeline for him. She was bossy, infuriating, unyielding and demanding. But mostly inspiring. No one else had ever reignited his muse with a single glance in his direction the way she did. Kate Beckett inspired him and made him a better writer. But, more than that, she made him a better person. She made him care.
And now she was gone.
He had no idea how long he'd been sitting on the couch staring at his bookshelf when he heard a knock on the door. Barely audible at first, then louder and more forceful.
Castle stumbled when he stood up because both of his legs had fallen asleep. A hundred needles poked him from ankle to groin as he made his way to the door, the pain rousing him from his trance.
His mother had a habit of forgetting her house keys lately that drove him crazy and he was ready to tell her as much when he opened the door.
Instead he saw Beckett standing outside in the hallway.
"Hi."
Rick stared at her in disbelief.
"Can I come in?"
A/N:
I don't usually do lengthy author's notes to explain my writing. Fiction is so subjective and everything I say can easily be countered with a "Yes, but...". But- given the overwhelmingly negative response to my last chapter I wanted to clarify a couple of things.
I admit I've struggled with this story. There have been some plot holes and there might a couple more to come. If that's a deal breaker for you when reading fan fic, you've been warned.
Several readers also pointed out how highly unrealistic these characters' actions have been and how they'd all be fired in real life. I am asking for a certain suspension of disbelief, just as the show does: the characters do things almost on a weekly basis that would see them fired in real life. Kate's actions in this story aren't all that different from those in season 8 and she's still gainfully employed. I've always intended the main focus to be the personal chaos and turmoil that these characters go through and to see how they weather that storm. It's meant to be a bit of an angsty homage to my soap opera roots.
As for the characters being out of character; to me, Beckett has always been single-mindedly driven and sometimes guilty of questionable choices when it comes to her pursuit of justice. Whether this makes her admirable or despicable is entirely open to interpretation. I never got the sense that Stana portrays Beckett as a character who cares all that much about being well-liked, so I won't write her that way either. To me she's human and flawed, and after the loss of her mother, absolutely terrified at the thought of losing someone else she loves. And there's no one she loves more than Castle.
Meanwhile, I see Castle as a character who might have ample reason to be bitter after being abandoned by his father and raised by a mother who wasn't always particularly maternal, but instead he has incredible capacity for forgiveness, especially for those he loves. Whether that's a weakness or a beautiful thing is debateable too. That's not to say he doesn't get angry and frustrated and says and does things he regrets. Like Beckett, to me he's human too, and I want to write him as such.
To those who asked whether Beckett was having meals with Vikram's family the answer is no. Vikram brought home leftovers when visiting his family and Beckett sometimes ate them. Perhaps that wasn't very clear so I've gone back and clarified things. I also made a timeline mistake in the crime scene section and changed that as well. Thank you to those who pointed that out.
I know that in posting my story here, I'm opening it up to feedback and criticism of all sorts. I accept that, even if some of it stings, especially when this is my fun, escapist hobby. But I'm an adult with reasonably thick skin, so if you get satisfaction from telling me how awful this is, I suppose I'm glad I could provide you with that outlet.
That said, I'm not a total masochist either. I share my stories here because if others enjoy them only a fraction as much as I've enjoyed other people's stories, this makes me happy. But if I see that's not the case, that this story is more offensive than enjoyable to most readers, then I'm also okay to stop posting it here and to finish it at my own pace offline.
