Part Two
Chapter Ten
Beckett smiled to herself; she had an entire Thursday off, and not a single plan. It might have been midweek, but not being on call during the week? That meant it was her weekend. She lay in bed as long as she could stand it, until coffee's siren song was a stronger call than her own desire to laze the day away. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, padding toward the kitchen and switching the machine on.
She leaned against the counter, coffee in hand, contemplating her day. She desperately needed to do both laundry and grocery shopping, but neither option particularly appealed. Still, if the chores weren't done now, they wouldn't be done at all during the next week, and laundry at least was becoming a necessity. Groceries, however, could wait; she lived in New York and if ordering in was the only way she was going to eat, so be it.
With a shrug of her shoulders she set her phone into the speaker dock, turning Arcade Fire up as loudly as she could without disturbing her neighbors; noise seemed to travel in spite of the thick walls in the old building. She stripped the bed, dumping the sheets into the wash and remaking it with a fresh set, pausing only to refill her coffee mug and pull some bread from the freezer.
She smothered the toast in strawberry jelly and ate in her study nook, her feet curled beneath her as she looked around her apartment. She loved it here; had loved this loft since the moment she'd seen it. And happily, it was rent-controlled, and even at the beginning of her career as an officer, she'd been able to afford it. Although, she mused, thinking back to her early days on the force, she would have probably paid market price and gone into debt if it had meant getting out of her father's place; Kate had hated every second of watching her father spiral downhill in a destructive deluge of alcoholism.
She ran her fingertip around the face of the watch she'd worn for the last ten years and smiled; she was proud of her father, she really was. She just hoped he was proud of her too. All these years a detective, and she hadn't even come close to unraveling the mystery that surrounded her mother's death. Of course, her father was adamant that he wanted her to let the case go, had said as much last time she'd seen him, but she wondered if they wouldn't both be happier if they had closure.
Standing again, Kate carried her plate into the kitchen, leaving it on the counter along with her empty coffee mug. Laundry was started, and it was close to midday; time to leave the apartment and enjoy the sunlight.
Kate meandered; a weekend meant flat shoes and a chance to be one of the mass of weaving pedestrians instead of the cop in heels flying through the crowd. A weekend meant jeans and soft sweaters and scarves, and a bare minimum of make-up. A weekend meant freedom.
Kate made her way through the streets of Manhattan, smiling at the sight of tourists and locals alike, a throbbing mass of life, even on a Thursday morning when the nine to fivers were at work. She stopped a few times to look up; she may have been Manhattan born and bred, but Kate liked the way she could feel like a tourist herself if she simply looked up and let herself stand in awe of the skyscrapers.
An hour later and she'd found herself close to Times Square; walking up Fifth Avenue she'd passed the public library and eventually found herself in the Barnes and Noble; she figured she could always relieve her wallet of a few twenties and bring some more books home.
She drifted aimlessly for a while, eventually finding herself in the design section flipping through coffee table books before moving toward the art books.
"Beckett?"
Kate whirled around. "Castle!" She frowned. What on earth was Castle doing here? "Are you following me?" she demanded, and he laughed.
"I should be asking you that," he told her with a smirk.
"What?" Kate dumped her books onto the armchair by one of the shelves and put her hands on her hips. "Why would I be following you?"
"I-" Castle hesitated, looking at her with confusion, before gesturing down the stairs behind her, toward the fiction section. "I'm here for a signing."
"Son of a-" Kate swore softly under her breath, eliciting another chuckle from Castle.
"Why, Detective, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were avoiding me." His gaze met hers and he looked at her through narrowed eyes. "In fact," he continued, "I do know better. I'm sure you're avoiding me. Why else would you have missed half a dozen calls and refused to answer any of my many texts?"
"You're just not used to women turning you down," she told him abruptly, and he shook his head.
"You'd be surprised," he told her, his sudden honesty disarming her. "But I am surprised that you went from making eyes at me over coffee at the precinct to declining my calls."
"I did not make eyes at you," she protested. "I didn't!"
"Right-"
"Rick?" They were interrupted by a tall brunette. "Rick, your reading starts now, you need to-" she looked Kate up and down- "stop chatting up women and come over to the signing table."
Castle sighed. "Paula, I'd like you to meet Detective Kate Beckett. Beckett, this is Paula Haas, my agent."
"Detective." Paula's demeanor changed immediately and she smiled warmly, taking Kate's hand in her own. "I cannot tell you how good it is to meet you- you're all Rick has been talking about since that horrible business with his daughter."
"Uh- right." Kate allowed herself to be swept up in Paula's surprisingly weak handshake, unwilling to challenge the suddenly gracious woman by putting any strength into her own grip.
"Talking about me?" she mouthed at Castle, and he shrugged, suddenly evasive and unable to meet her eyes.
"Well, I, uh-" Castle shrugged, indicating with a slight dip of his head that he was ready to make his way over to the signing table.
"Right," Kate said. "Right."
Paula nodded, misunderstanding. "We're right behind you, Rick," she said, nodding at Kate as though she expected Beckett to follow her and Kate clenched her teeth, considering. Right.
"Let's go," she agreed, and she chuckled as she saw Rick's double take.
"I don't even know what book he's promoting," Kate whispered to Paula, and his publicist beamed, apparently happy to clarify.
"A winter to die," she told Kate. "It's his latest."
"Oh. Right." Kate shook her head. Of course. She'd pre-ordered hers ages ago, but in the haze and confusion of meeting the man himself, she'd completely forgotten about it; her copy was probably languishing behind the counter of her local bookstore.
Beckett clapped with everyone else when Castle finished his (in her opinion overly dramatic) reading, watching with keen eyes as the crowd - mostly women with perky boobs and low-cut tops - swarmed around Castle, eager to get their copies of the thriller signed. She glanced around; she wanted to reclaim the art and design books that she'd abandoned upstairs, and then she wanted to sneak out of here.
She stood, glancing behind her to make sure that neither Castle's or Paula's eyes were on her, and turned, slamming smack bang into another young woman. She took a step back, blinking and taking a second look.
Holy- "Alexis?" Was she seriously ever going to get away from this man and these people? The next thing she knew, she'd be running into Martha at her local bar. She bit the inside of her lip as the girl took her own step back and she saw recognition flood into the teenager's eyes.
"Detective Beckett?"
"Hey, Alexis," she said weakly. "You can call me Kate. What are you doing here?"
"I- uh… Dad had a reading."
Kate nodded. "I saw," she told the girl wryly, and to Kate's surprise, Alexis flushed.
"Oh. Of course you did." She stared at the ground for a moment. "I didn't know you were going to be here," she said at last, and Kate shrugged.
"I wasn't exactly planning to be," she confessed. "I just… happened along at the right time, I guess."
"I didn't really listen to the reading," Alexis said. "So I didn't see you. I was upstairs, checking out the art books."
"Huh. Exactly the section I was about to go back to," Beckett said, glancing at the long line of fans still waiting for Castle. "It looks like he's going to be a while- want to join me?"
If Alexis was taken aback by the invitation she didn't show it, and it was nothing compared to the internal surprise Kate was feeling. Where, exactly, had that invitation sprung from?
Alexis followed Beckett back up the stairs and Kate was glad to see her books were still on the armchair where she'd left them. She scooped them up, frowning as she noticed how closely Alexis was watching her. "What's up, Alexis?" she asked, and the girl shrugged.
"Nothing. I was just looking at those books when I was here before," she said, and Kate tilted her head to the side, considering.
"What do you say I go pay for these and then we look through them over a coffee?" she suggested, and Alexis nodded.
"I really like this," Alexis said, running her fingers across the bold print on the cover and leafing through the book once they were seated in the store cafe, and Beckett nodded.
"Me too," she said. "I've always been a fan of that era."
"I don't know much about art," Alexis confessed. "I mean, I like it. But I never took many art classes. I did more music in high school. And now most of my classes are environmental science and economics."
"Are you back at college?" Kate asked, hoping it was a safe topic, and Alexis dipped her head in acquiescence.
"Yeah," she said. "I've been going to classes. But I haven't gone back to the dorms yet."
"It will take time," Kate told her sympathetically, and Alexis nodded.
"I know. I just can't help thinking- maybe I should have gone to Stanford, you know? Maybe if I'd gone to Stanford everything would have been different. I might have been safe."
"It might not have changed anything," Kate offered, frowning. Castle and Alexis had both been evasive when she'd taken their statements, crediting the French police and interpol with their rescue, but she'd stood across from enough liars to know that they weren't being entirely truthful in their accounts of the event. It had all washed, though, and she'd reluctantly set the farmhouse murder aside, satisfied she wouldn't find any more answers.
"Maybe," Alexis agreed, staring into her coffee.
"Well," Kate attempted. "I spent a semester at Stanford before I transferred to NYU- it's not so great."
"You did?" Alexis looked up at her, surprised. "Just one semester? Why'd you leave?"
"Family reasons- my dad needed me here," she said honestly, but omitting the key reason.
"And this dad needs his daughter here," Castle interrupted, swooping in to plant a kiss on Alexis' head before pulling up a chair and sitting down at the table with them. "This is for you," he told Kate, handing her a Barnes and Noble bag that looked suspiciously like it contained a copy of his hardcover.
"Thanks," she said, glancing at Alexis and accepting it reluctantly.
"More coffee?" he asked, looking at the empty cups on the table. So he wasn't going to make a big deal about the book. Interesting. Kate glanced at her watch. She should get going, but she found herself wanting to make time for another coffee. After all, the only thing waiting for her at home was laundry.
"Okay," she agreed, and Alexis nodded too, apparently happy to stay a little longer at the cafe.
Castle smiled, standing and heading to the counter and Kate took the opportunity to take a peek inside the bag he'd given her. She opened it under the table, sneaking a look at him to make sure he wasn't watching her, but he was engaged in conversation with the woman behind the coffee machine, so she pulled the book from its bag, taking a moment to appreciate the bold use of color on the cover; rich blues and reds made for a striking book jacket.
She flipped it open; he hadn't written anything on the inside cover and she turned another couple of pages, wondering whether he had, in fact, signed it at all. And then she saw it. The dedication page. A simple dedication read: This one is for my daughter, Alexis. And below, in scrawled handwriting, messy, apparently rushed, a few more words personalizing it: Kate. The next one is for you.
Wow. That was… unexpected.
Beckett blinked, shoving the book back into the paper bag and pushing it into the larger one that housed the art books she'd purchased, before Castle made his way back to their table. "For you," he said, placing a coffee in front of his daughter. "And Beckett."
He smiled at her and handed her the cup and she took it from him, letting his fingers brush her own for a moment, and she bit her lip, smiling back. She let the moment wash over her, the buzz she felt from their touch warming her. He really was like two different people.
And she was sorry, suddenly, that she'd been so easily influenced by the page six article a few weeks ago; the man adorning the glossy pages wasn't the man she'd met at the precinct, and he wasn't the man in front of her now.
"Dad, I'll see you at home," Alexis announced, pushing her empty cup away. "Thanks for the coffee, Kate."
"Bye, Pumpkin," Rick said to his daughter, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at her.
"Bye, Alexis," Kate echoed, watching the girl walk away, suddenly nervous about being alone with Rick.
She swallowed, her mouth uncomfortably dry. Having reluctantly drained the last of her coffee she mirrored Rick and stood up, awkward now.
"Dinner?" Kate asked, finding her voice at last. "Do, uh-" The words stuck, and she cleared her throat. "Do you still want to have dinner?"
Rick looked at her, silent for a moment, before nodding. "Okay, Kate. Dinner. But- tonight. You're not on call, right?"
"No. Not on call," she agreed.
"I didn't think so," he said, a note of smugness in his voice. "You don't look like you're going to rush off to a crime scene at any moment." He looked her up and down, and she blushed.
"Right," she said, ignoring his implied comment about her casual look. It was her weekend, and she wasn't going apologize for meandering around the city in jeans and flats. She pushed back at the voice in her head that said the women he usually dated probably never dressed down. "Nope. Not going anywhere."
"Good," he said. "Because I like Casual Beckett." He grinned. "So. Tonight. I'm going to take you out tonight, because I don't want you to have a chance to change your mind again."
"I won't," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.
"Good," he said, pulling his cell from his pocket. "Give me your address, I'm picking you up at seven."
A/N: Thanks for the beta, K. :) And to everyone else... thanks for reading, favoriting, following and reviewing. Mwah!