A/N: (pokes head out) I know, I know. I'm sorry. This chapter took an almost inexcusably long time. But my Castle muse got roughly maimed by the finale and was only recently resuscitated. Here we go, Martha on her Son. The last of the character chapters. There is still an epilogue to go. Not entirely sure when it'll be up. I would hope it would be soon, but I make no promises, mainly because every time I do it inevitably takes months. I don't want to jinx it.
I hope you enjoy. And I apologize again for the delay.
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Martha on her Son
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As a mother I've only ever wanted what was best for my son.
Some (probably him included) might say I didn't do the best of jobs, but what can you do? You can't please everyone, so no point in even trying. And nobody's perfect, though some people have told me I've given performances on stage that have come close. Of course in the theatre a performance only has to be sustained for a few hours. Three hours of perfection is do-able, a lifetime? Well… let's just say I did my best.
Besides, I don't think I was too shabby. I made my mistakes, all parents do. But in the end Richard turned out alright, and I have a lovely granddaughter as part of the bargain. Not every grandparent can say that; especially if you happen to be, well, of an artistic temperament shall we say.
My son was half-raised backstage in the theatre. Not the most usual of upbringings, but it could have been worse. He was healthy and happy and it gave him a love of theatrics and a love of storytelling. Besides, he was always a bit of a favourite among the cast. One flash of that smile of his, a little bit of the Castle (or more technically at that point, the Reynolds) charm and he could talk his way out of anything.
Ah yes, the lessons in charm that he learned backstage at the theatre have gotten him out of trouble more than once. And in hindsight, it was probably an excellent training ground for the life he's chosen. Although I suppose one could debate which was cause and what was effect there. Ah well. Too late to worry about all that now. It's unimportant. He is where he is.
And Richard got there with a minimal amount of trouble all things considered. Yes, there was the odd blip, a few minor arrests, but nothing ever stuck. He's always been good at weaselling his way out of scrapes.
There was that time in the fifth grade that he almost killed his class' pet turtle. He managed to get out of the fiasco with only an hour of detention by convincing the science teacher that he'd strapped the turtle to a makeshift parachute for educational purposes, something about testing the laws of aerodynamics. Or the time when he was about eight years old and got caught sneaking candy from a store. His mischievous, but somehow also penitent smile managed to convince the sales clerk not only to forget the whole thing but to gift him with an extra lollipop. And don't even get me started about Richard Castle: The Teenage Years… Really, he's lucky I'm as sane as I am.
At least now he generally gets himself out of his more legal woes. Or rather, his high profile contacts get him out of them.
Sometimes it's just the fact that he has such a recognizable name; everyone knows who he is. It'd be more trouble than it's worth to bother pursuing an arrest, and the cops all know it.
I'm fairly certain that's what happened when Detective Beckett arrested him.
I admit I had a hand in helping the Detective locate my son for his arrest. What can I say? He deserved to face her wrath, and his crime was nothing serious (though it seldom was). Besides, that boy needs to learn a little bit more about consequences. Sometimes he's just a touch too glib if you ask me.
Of course, other than a few hours in a holding cell, nothing much happened to him. On the other hand, I did get to meet the lovely Detective. We had a couple of conversations, over the phone and at the precinct. She seemed like a sensible woman. Strong, smart, fair, dedicated to her job. What's not to like? She even had a bit of a sense of humour.
In the end she did compromise like all the others. Richard wasn't going to be sent to trial. But I think that was a product of a couple things, one her boss didn't want the aggravation of arresting a minor celebrity and two, she didn't actually want to see my son in jail, she just wanted him to go away. Which is a sentiment I can understand sometimes. Richard can be a bit trying on the nerves.
As evidenced by the fact that, despite agreeing to her deal, I don't think he ever had any intention of leaving her alone. My son may sometimes be flippant and glib, but he's also stubborn and very tenacious. Once he gets an idea in his head it'll take more than a few pesky legalities to get him to leave it alone. I knew before we even got back to the apartment that there was no way my son was letting the case go. So did his daughter.
It's a wonder he wasn't arrested again by the end of the week.
But, what happened was quite the opposite. Not only was he not arrested, he was inspired. When I heard the tapping of keys coming from the office well into the early hours of the morning I knew something was up. His late afternoon return to the apartment grinning like the proverbial cat it just confirmed it. Apparently I wasn't the only one who'd been intrigued and impressed by Detective Beckett. My son was fascinated. He'd decided she was the perfect protagonist for a new set of novels. I shook my head. This could be a disaster.
Originally I wasn't sure how I felt about the whole thing. After all, no mother wants her baby boy running after dangerous criminals all day. Even if you know you can't protect your children from everything, a parent still wants too. And this was dangerous. I give thanks periodically to any god that might be out there that Richard hasn't managed to get himself seriously hurt with this new hobby of his. At least I had the comfort of knowing that if anybody could keep him safe it'd be Detective Beckett, if my son's description of the woman was anything to go by.
His interest in her certainly didn't seem to be a passing fancy. For weeks I was hearing all about the Detective and her many virtues.
He told me Detective Beckett was awesome. He loved the visual of the young, hot woman bringing down men twice her size. When she slammed a suspect into a car, or a wall, or even the odd time a dumpster she didn't even flinch. And she was smart. He loved the way she'd stand around mulling things over. She had the highest closed case rate in the department. He talked about her dedication, her sense of humour, and he even mentioned her attractiveness, once or twice… a day. In Richard's eyes the woman was almost infallible.
If even half the things he told me about her were true then I knew I didn't have as much to worry about, at least when it came to his physical safety.
Not that he realized how much he talked about her, how frequently her name just happened to crop up in his conversation. I don't think he ever did. I'm sure if I'd asked him he'd just explain that he spent several hours a day with the woman, it was only natural for him to talk about her. Which was true in its way I suppose.
Except for the fact that most of the women he actually dated barely got more than a cursory mention over breakfast (or occasionally lunch) the next day.
But then again, the Detective wasn't most women. She had substance. Katherine Beckett had all the usual attractions for my son, beautiful, quick with words, a certain amount of charm. But she had something else on top of it all. And I think that, in part, is what drew him to her, though I doubted he realized it.
Naturally I wanted to see more of the woman. I was curious, so sue me. I'm his mother; it's my god-given right to push my nose in his affairs. And one meeting and a very short telephone conversation isn't nearly enough time to get a good idea of who a person is.
Besides, I only ever heard his side of the relationship. Who knew what Detective Beckett thought about the affair? I doubted she'd been pleased when she heard she'd be getting a semi-permanent shadow following her around all day. Richard seemed to think she was coming around, but, bless his heart, my son's always been confident in his own powers of persuasion. I'm not sure it even occurred to him that he might not be able to win him over.
If the Detective was as dedicated to her job as he claimed she was then it was entirely possible that she was merely tolerating his presence on order from her boss and the mayor, nothing more. And I knew my son would be crushed if that turned out to be the case. I didn't think it was obviously. My son might have an inflated sense of his own charms, but he was also reasonably perceptive. Besides, when it came right down to it he was charming. It was unlikely that Detective Beckett despised the sight of him.
Still, it'd be nice to have that confirmed.
My wished for confirmation came soon enough.
Alexis and I have a longstanding tradition of attending all of Richard's local book readings. I do what I can to keep his ego in check, but as an artist I also know the terror of putting something new out there for the first time. So I also try to provide moral support. What can I say? Being a mother's always a bit of a balancing act.
And the first reading of one of his new books is always fun. There's a sense of anticipation, will the public like it, and will the book sell? I suppose with the last ever Derrick Storm novel there never was much worry on that front. After all, even casual readers will want to find out how the story ends. It's human nature.
Still, good opening numbers along with a reading packed with pleased fans is nothing to sneeze at. After talking briefly to a few fans to confirm that people liked the book, Alexis and I rushed over to Richard to see how he was taking the good news.
Unsurprisingly we found him sparring with an attractive woman in the crowd. I don't begrudge him his ability to zoom in on the most attractive woman in whatever room he happens to be in. With my past relationships I'm hardly one to talk, and everyone deserves to have a little fun. And Richard was obviously quite pleased with his current companion. On the other hand, I was surprised when I realized that I recognized her.
Detective Beckett had shown up at my son's book reading dressed to kill.
She'd apparently decided to get a little payback, try and rattle him as much as he rattled her. I have to say, I didn't care one way or the other which one of them was ahead on that score. What mattered more was that she'd initiated this round. The woman wasn't simply tolerating his presence. She'd moved on to playing his games. Richard was still probably more invested in her than she was in him, but at the very least whatever was going on between them wasn't completely one-sided.
That's when I decided that it wasn't fair that the two of them got to have all the fun. So I casually slipped the name of Richard's brand new female protagonist into the conversation.
Nikki Heat.
The woman reacted exactly as I'd expected her to. As most women would really. Make as many arguments as you want about prostitutes holding a sort of sexual power, no smart, strong, sensible woman wants to be associated with a name which, as the detective correctly pointed out, sounds more like it belongs to someone who should be wearing handcuffs, not slapping them on other people.
She went on the offensive, her target, my son.
Richard even took the precaution of putting a large cardboard cut-out of himself between him and his attacker. I dragged Alexis away so that we could watch from a safer distance.
Alexis wanted to hear what they had to say, but I've always believed that actions speak louder than words myself. The two of them circled around and around each other for a good five minutes, ridiculous cut-out still between them.
"I take it this means accidentally calling you Nikki in the middle of the station house would be a bad idea," Richard called after her as she turned to leave the room, in the process leaving him on his own.
She whipped around. "Castle," she snapped. "You ever call me Nikki Heat, either at the station or anywhere else, and you're going to end up looking at the business end of my gun."
He grinned, "I always forget that you're, wait for it, Packing Heat." His smirk widened as she whipped around a second time. "See Detective, the name's even more appropriate than even I thought. Or are you worried that you won't be able to keep up with your alter ego?"
To my utter shock instead of getting angry the Detective grinned back. Of course her grin wasn't exactly friendly. "As long as you're writing her I don't think I've got anything to worry about," Detective Beckett returned easily. Then she whirled around on her nearly deadly heels and stalked passed us. Sending Alexis and me a friendly smile as she passed, "Lovely seeing you again Martha, Alexis," she said before she sailed out the door.
The two of us turned back to my son who was now grinning inanely. "See you bright and early tomorrow!" he called. "I'll even bring you a latte, just the way you like it," he promised.
Beckett turned back at the door. "Don't try and make up with me Castle," she told him. "I'm not telling you wild stories about my past." Then she turned to leave a second time before changing her mind. "I still want that latte though," she called back over her shoulder.
Alexis and I spun on our heels back towards Richard.
"And you thought she didn't like me," he said, obviously pleased. Then he paused, "I wonder if she really does have wild stories about her past..."
I shook my head slightly.
She did like him. Would wonders never cease? As I watched my son being to mingle with the rest of the book-signing crowd I realized something else. He'd been unbelievably pleased to see her, and not just because the pink dress she'd been wearing had given him an excuse to ogle her legs. Like I said, my son was reasonably perceptive. He had to know what her showing up in his territory had implied.
He was making headway.
Actually, he made headway faster than I'd expected him to.
A few weeks later in the middle of a difficult case Detective Beckett initiated contact a second time. And this time she showed up at the apartment, though she did look a bit confused, a little bit out of place. Richard had mentioned that the case wasn't going well and that Beckett was taking it particularly badly. It was the first time I'd heard him say anything about his lovely muse that even remotely suggested she was struggling, so I admit I was intrigued from the start. Obviously I was never under the impression that woman was immortal, not like Richard seemed to be, but I knew she was extremely good at her job.
I was excited for him when she came to him for help. She'd never have said it out loud, but it was clear that's what it was. And Richard was only too happy to help her. It was about time that he started showing the lovely detective his more serious side. I'd heard about him bouncing around her, watching her, demanding her attention, and a couple of times I'd seen it firsthand. But I knew that wasn't all there was to my son.
And if he was going to get anywhere with that woman, she needed to see that there was more to him than just his charming public image.
What I hadn't been prepared for was his appearance later that evening. He'd moved right past serious. In fact, he was positively sombre when he walked through the door.
I was sitting in the living room, but I'm not sure he saw me. If he did, he didn't acknowledge it. It was obvious something else was weighing on his mind.
"Richard," I asked gently.
"Hmm?" he said as he looked up.
"Did the case not go well?" I asked softly. If it hadn't he might need to talk about it. Richard was learning the hard way that actually shadowing a police officer was a lot different than just writing about crime.
"We got the guy," he whispered. "Figured out who committed both murders actually."
"Well that's good, isn't it?" I asked slowly. I wondered what was bothering him if they'd been so successful.
"Generally that's a good thing," he admitted. "Of course, this time one of our killers is already dead and the other's a grandfather who killed the man who killed his only daughter. He's also a big part of the only stable home left for his grandchildren. And Beckett had to arrest him," Richard explained.
I winced. "That couldn't have been pleasant. She couldn't just I don't know, leave things alone…" I started to suggest. I believe in the law, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it doesn't exactly seem, well, fair.
He shook his head, "Apparently in real life they don't get to make that decision."
"Ah," I said. Obviously the two of them had already had this discussion. Oh the many advantages of fiction, the author gets to pick the ending. But I noticed he still looked down. "Is there something else?" I asked tentatively.
To my surprise Richard poured himself a drink, whiskey. Oh, this wasn't good. "Her mother," he told me.
"Is she alright, is something wrong?" I asked. I sincerely hoped not. Losing a parent was never easy. I felt for Detective Beckett if something had happened.
"She was murdered," he replied bluntly as he gulped down the entire glass of whiskey.
Oh god.
"It was years ago," Richard was explaining. "Never solved," he added. "Part of the reason Beckett hates unsolved cases so much. Also part of the reason she does what she does at all."
"A very noble calling," I murmured. "I'm sure that half the police force doesn't have nearly as good a reason to be there."
"Yeah," he said absently. I knew he wasn't really paying attention to me. He was still lost in his thoughts… "I mean, I knew already that she'd lost someone. You could tell. And it made sense. But hearing her say it…"
"It probably wasn't exactly easy for her to tell you," I pointed out. I was surprised that she had to be honest. But what almost surprised me more was how upset he was. And he was clearly very upset. He was just staring at the wall. "Are you okay?" I asked after a moment.
"Yeah," he said again. "It's just, she really didn't deserve that you know? It doesn't seem fair. She's a good person. Actually, she's a really good person."
"Life's not fair," I reminded him. "And if you think about it, if her mother hadn't been killed then she wouldn't have ever become a cop. Think of how many criminals might not have been caught. Not to mention you probably would never have met her."
"I think she'd have preferred her mother still alive and being blissfully ignorant of my existence," he said dryly. "Come to think of it, I think I prefer that. Not because I don't want to know her obviously..."
"I know what you mean dear," I told him softly. Behind all the bluster he's got a heart of gold. And he was hurting for her, really hurting. Poor soul.
"I just, I wish there was something I could do," he said. "I got Esposito to show me her mother's case file," he admitted, ignoring my shocked look. "But there's not really anything there. Not that I can see."
"Richard you can't…" I started to tell him.
"I know I shouldn't have," he said. "I just wanted to… I don't know… And anyway, like I said there's really not much to go on."
"Well, look on the bright side," I told him.
"What, that the only reason I know her is because her mother's dead?" he asked caustically.
"Don't be foolish," I said with a wave of her hand. "I meant that you get the opportunity to tell the world, well, maybe not the world, but at least the readers of English-language mysteries, how wonderful Detective Kate Beckett really is."
That seemed to reach him. After a moment he wrapped his arms around me. "Thank you mother," he whispered. "Every so often you really do have good advice."
"What do you think drew me to life-coaching?" I asked playfully.
He grinned. "Don't get me started," he muttered. "Alright, I'm going to bed," he added.
"Good night son," I replied as I watched him walk up the stairs. This was interesting. I'd known his interest in the Detective was outside the norm, but this was even more notable. He really cared about her, worried. And he'd realized she wasn't quite the wonder-woman he'd imagined. She'd let him see a chink in her armour. Instead of exploiting it, he'd tried to make her feel better, to protect. His feelings for her began to get more serious. He'd started to see her as a person, and not just as a character.
Of course, in the end it was Richard's concern for her that almost got him thrown out of her life. They'd been getting closer, becoming friends. I was seeing the Detective more and more frequently, at casual poker games or charity galas or over eggs in the kitchen. Their partnership was working, for both of them.
But Richard, as he always does, pushed just a little too far. And boy did he get burned for it.
He touched her mother's case. The fool poked his nose into old wounds that hadn't even come close to healing over. And he knew it.
I remember telling him that he had to tell her about it. He couldn't keep what he'd found from her. She deserved that.
I hoped it didn't mean that he lost her forever.
Not before he had a chance to realize exactly what she meant to him.
That day I hovered around the apartment, making sure I was available if (when?) my son needed me. A few hours after he left to find her, Richard was back. And their conversation obviously hadn't gone well.
I walked into the kitchen, leaned against the counter and waited. I didn't say anything. What was there to say? The set of his shoulders told the whole story. He hadn't been forgiven. Detective Beckett had done exactly what she'd promised she would if he touched her mother's case. She threw him out.
My son met my eyes. All I could see was pain and guilt. I sighed. It was even worse than I thought. I walked over to him and put my arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry Kiddo," I whispered into his ear. A second later I felt his arms wrap around my waist.
Then suddenly he was gone. He'd taken two steps back, and he was gazing off to the side.
My heart broke for him. My poor boy. Always joking, laughing, deflecting. Never wanting people to see when he was hurting. Keeping people from getting too close. Somehow she'd gotten close.
Then she'd shut him out when he got too close to her.
"You need to give her time," I told him softly. "She probably needs time to process. Just let her be for a while. Maybe she'll come around. You never know."
He let out a huff of derision. "Yeah, maybe," he muttered. "But I doubt it," he admitted. "When I told her what I'd done she looked like she'd been slapped."
I winced. "She was surprised," I reminded him.
"She physically took a step back from me Mother!" he told me angrily. "Kate Beckett physically recoiled because of something I did," he explained. "That woman goes toe to toe with dangerous criminals on a daily basis and she doesn't even flinch, but me she backs away from. I did something that made her do that." He sighed and dropped his head in his hands.
I could understand why her reaction had frazzled him. I certainly wouldn't want to watch someone I cared about step away from me either. But Kate Beckett wasn't the woman I thought she was if she was incapable of forgiveness. It'd just take some time. Also, he'd eventually need to do something to fix it. "Well," I said, trying to brighten the conversation a little. "You were expecting her to do what she did weren't you?" I reminded him. "You knew it would happen."
"Yeah, but knowing it would happen and having her actually say the words 'we're through' are two very different things mother," Richard told me sarcastically.
I ignored his tone because I knew how much he was really hurt by this. "So, then what are you going to do about it?" I asked.
"Do?" he asked in confusion.
"To get her to forgive you," I explained as if it was obvious. "Obviously you need to give her some space for now, maybe wait a while before making your next move. Let her come to terms. It'll give you time to plan your approach."
"My approach?" he repeated in confusion.
"Well Richard, you're not really planning on just letting her go are you?" I asked him in exaggerated surprise. He blinked at me. "Richard really," I said in exasperation, and mainly for effect. "You made a mistake. People are forgiving. It might take some time, but you might be able to get her to forgive you, if you want. Of course you'll have to work at it, which I know will be a bit of a change for you," I told him dryly.
But my mild putdown washed off him like water off a duck's back. He was already perking up. "Yeah," he said, a bit of the old fire returning. "You're right. Of course you are, I just have to figure out something that'll... I mean, I know what I did was wrong, but I had good intentions. That's got to count for something right?"
"Sure," I told him easily, pleased that he was no longer looking like someone had fired him, stolen his puppy, run over him with a car, then pushed him into a ditch and left him to die.
"Right," He agreed happily. "I need a plan. Thank you mother," he said giving me a kiss on the cheek before heading towards his study.
"You're welcome!" I called after him.
He spun around when he got to the door. "Do you really think she'll forgive me?" he asked hesitantly.
I grinned affectionately at the rare show of insecurity. "Of course I do darling," I told him. "But you'll have to prove to her how much you want her to, how important she is."
"Right," he said with a nod before he shut the door.
I watched him go, shaking my head. I knew he cared about her, but I hadn't quite expected him to be this broken, though now that I think about it I'm not sure why not. His feelings for her had been growing steadily practically since the day he'd met her. And I already knew she was different than most of the women in his life. I wondered just how much he cared about her, and I wondered if even he knew. Hopefully this little experience would give him an idea of what exactly she meant to him. Richard Castle may have been down, but he hadn't quite given up yet. Now it all depended on whether Detective Beckett could find it in herself to be understanding.
Luckily she did. She forgave him. Turned out all he had to do was apologize and mean it, which was obviously the last thing he thought of doing. In the end he only thought of it because of his daughter. Really, if I'd thought Richard needed to be told to apologize I'd have ordered him to months ago. It could have saved us all a lot of heartache.
Ah well, all's well that ends well I suppose.
At least his friendship with the Detective seemed to be back on track. There was a period of awkwardness obviously but soon Richard was trailing around after her again, happy as a clam. Alexis and I were once again being regaled almost daily with stories about how cool Detectives Ryan and Eposito were, about the antics they all got up to at the precinct. About wagers and games, during which he almost always allied himself with the lovely Detective Beckett. Unless of course he was the one she was toying with. If that was the case he wasn't upset, more impressed whenever she managed to pull it off. He pushed her all the time and he was never so happy as when she pushed back.
I began to wonder if there was anything she could do that would actually make him genuinely irritated with her.
Clearly I was tempting fate.
He got that damn offer to write about "A certain British Spy..." Alright, I know I'm being unfair. I know how much he loved those stories, how much it meant to Richard to get that offer. But really, my son was an artist. Why should he settle for working with someone else's characters (no matter how wonderful) when he could create his own?
So I tried a little reverse psychology. Told him Beckett would be thrilled he was leaving, that if he got the offer it was a big deal. And I tried to keep some of the sarcasm out of my voice when I told him he had every reason to be excited. After all, his cockiness was wearing on my nerves. Besides, I was fairly certain he hadn't thought it through and I thought I could make him realize how much he enjoyed what he was doing now.
Originally I thought my plan was working. He refused to commit himself to the other potential offer.
Then he got the offer, heard about it at the launch party for Nikki Heat. But after the party was over, instead of being ecstatic because he'd gotten what basically amounted to his dream job, he was a bit like a bear being poked with a stick. Didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on there. Our resident mystery author had had a tiff with his muse. And unless I was very much mistaken it was right in the centre of the party, in front of the lovely display of the new copies of Heat Wave.
Now, let me just say that I'm a woman, I understood where Detective Beckett is coming from. The poor girl was probably feeling threatened, maybe even a little bit like she'd been rejected, and her insecurities probably caused her to lash out at my son. After all, heaven forbid that either of them ever actually tell the other what they're thinking let alone sit down and have an actual conversation about anything! No, I tried to understand her point of view, really I did.
But she'd wounded my baby. And unlike last time she'd hurt him, this time he'd really done nothing to deserve it, apart from being irritatingly excited about some good news. After all, Richard had dedicated his book to her. I'd read the dedication that night. Alexis had read the dedication that night. Both our eyes had widened into saucers when we did. "To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12th." It was the closest thing to a statement of how he felt that Richard was going to get, at least any time soon. And she lashed out at him five minutes after she read it.
I was put out for a good twenty-four hours about the whole thing.
Not that Richard was blameless of course. If he'd ever just told her that he absolutely adored her I'm sure the problem would have been resolved. But he didn't.
And he was hurting. I knew my son, and I knew he didn't like it when people were angry with him. Always wanted everybody to love him. It's half the reason he acts the way he does. And he'd been desperate for her approval. She didn't give it to him. My anger really only began to let up when I realized that the only reason Detective Beckett gotten so angry in the first place was because she didn't want him to go. Well, that and I suspect the Detective was frustrated with herself for not being able to tell him how she really felt, and probably with him for not just throwing her up against the nearest flat surface and kissing her senseless.
Or maybe I was the one who was frustrated with him for not doing that last one.
What? It probably would have been better all around.
As it was, the solution came from the fact that the public was as fascinated by their fictional relationship as I was by their actual one. Nikki Heat sold well. Really well. Plus the mayor was doing badly in the polls. So Richard had a financial excuse, and Detective Beckett had a political one to continue their partnership.
To my surprise Richard pranced into the apartment the day after the release party without a care in the world, babbling on about their latest case. Apparently someone had been found decapitated in a hotel suite, head unaccounted for. From the way he was acting it was like the opportunity to write about one of his all-time favourite characters had just slipped his mind.
"I thought you were done shadowing Detective Beckett," I said dryly as soon as he paused in his exuberant explanation of the case. "Why the new case?"
"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Right. Well, apparently Nikki Heat sold so well that I got offered a three book deal for even more money than the other thing, so I figured why the hell not?"
I understood his vastly improved mood all too well then. "And what does Detective Beckett think?" I asked in amusement.
"She was a little irritated at first," he admitted. "But the mayor's on side, and the commissioner, and Captain Montgomery, so she agreed pretty quickly," he told me. "She'll get over it."
"And a certain British spy?" I asked.
But he waved that off. "Yeah, that would have been cool, he admitted. "But come on, this is way cooler. Nikki's an awesome character. Any writer'd kill to have one as good. Plus, this way I'm writing my own character. I wasn't sure I was done with Nikki anyway, but then when Beckett got so annoyed about the possibility of more books and I got the other official offer I figured, why not switch gears? But she's on board now, and I get more money. Everybody wins," Richard said cheerfully.
"Even Beckett?" I prodded.
He paused again. "She did get irritated," he admitted. "But she got over it pretty quick when she got called to another murder. She even asked me if I was coming with her, which is basically Beckett code for 'I'm annoyed with you, but I'm also kind of okay with it and you can keep shadowing me around.' At least I think it is. And before I even got the offer to do more Nikki Heat stuff she told me that she couldn't have solved the last case without me," he added, his chest puffed out in pride.
"Did she?" I asked, still amused. Well that settled it. Telling Richard to his face that he'd helped her solve a murder was an obvious Kate Beckett seal of approval, and he knew it. Basically it was as close as she'd ever come to telling him that she'd miss him when he was gone, and that she liked him. That coupled with the fact that she'd apparently only put up a token resistance to the idea of him sticking around clinched it. I figured the lovely detective may have wanted my son to stay in her life as much as he did himself.
Lord knows what would have happened without the convenient excuse of Heat Wave's success though. I suspect that the world would have had two more very unhappy people.
The two of them settled back into their status quo remarkably well. I eventually gave up hoping anything would knock them out of it. After all, he'd almost left and it hadn't changed a thing.
At least they were both happy.
And my son's stories about the lovely Detective started up again. Plus the Detective herself started popping up. She came to his Halloween party, then to a concert with the family, then Alexis started asking her for advice, and developed a bit of a case of hero worship.
Guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree on that one.
Alexis interned for a week at the precinct. I told her she should have gone with the firefighters, but everyone knew that as soon as she found out that the NYPD was one of the options, that was the one she'd pick. By all accounts Beckett was lovely to her. Alexis was gushing about how understanding the Detective had been, how Beckett had given my granddaughter her own little project and even helped her solve it. It was really very sweet how pleased Alexis had been. Not that her father was much better.
I got to hear all about how great Beckett had been with Alexis. How the woman just seemed to get people. And of course Dad was awfully pleased when the Detective made his little girl feel important, that her contribution had mattered.
I just wondered if he realized that he'd given the woman more access to his daughter than anyone since wife #2. Actually, I think Alexis liked Beckett more than she'd ever liked her stepmother.
Someone really should have whacked both of them upside the head with a blunt object. Just to knock some sense into them.
But I didn't dare to.
They were great together, but after the near catastrophe at the Heat Wave release party I couldn't help feeling like even the slightest little push could have them running away from each other faster than magnets that'd been flipped the wrong way.
It sounds ridiculous, but, Kyra Blaine almost did it.
When that woman drifted back into Richard's life I almost had a heart attack. Not because I didn't like her. I did. She was a lovely woman. But she was engaged to another man, and she'd already broken my son's heart once. The last thing either of them needed was to get involved in each other's lives. Especially since I rather doubted she was going to leave her fiancé, meaning that Richard would end up heartbroken and alone. Again.
And the last time that had happened he'd married Meredith.
To say I wasn't anxious for a repeat of that would be an understatement.
But in the end Richard just got closure. He seemed calm about the whole thing when I saw him. Plus there were no repercussions with Detective Beckett either. Apparently she hadn't batted an eye over the entire affair. Well, other than a reasonably minor scolding.
It would seem that even an old flame couldn't push the two of them together. I nearly gave up hope.
Then her mother's killer resurfaced and she shot the man who could provide her with some information to save my Richard. He was devastated about what he'd cost her. He'd been so determined to help her. In fact, he'd even confided in me that he planned to stop shadowing her. For her benefit. Luckily my son had learned from his mistakes and he asked her what she wanted before he did anything stupid.
She asked him to stay.
And I began to hope again.
My hope that was momentarily dashed when he became obsessed with that stupid list of New York's hottest bachelors. Not only did he panic about being romantically tied to his lovely Detective (as if the idea was completely ludicrous) he even went on date with one of the Bachelorettes. The date was an utter train wreck obviously. Then Alexis told me that in fact her father had spent the most of his evening with Detective Beckett. Over burgers.
And I wondered if he'd finally gotten a clue.
I watched him closely. When he talked about her his eyes seemed brighter, his expression softer. They'd weathered a lot together and he knew her well now.
I think he even knew she was special, though I'm not convinced he knew exactly how special.
I'd watched him dance around with women for years, very few of them serious. Now here was one who'd stuck around for over a year, who liked to tease him as much as he teased her, who wanted him in her life, who knew his daughter, who'd gotten him to put her interests before her own. He'd finally gotten well and truly caught by a real woman for the first time since Kyra Blaine. He wanted her (and he might even know it), but she was still pushing him away. But he always chased her. Always. I wondered if he knew what the almost inevitable destination would be. Because though he'd spent most of his adult life chasing after and charming women, she was by far the best.
And I wondered if he knew the real reason he was peeling back the layers to the Beckett onion as he called it. Or if he'd even acknowledged it to himself yet.
Call me crazy, but part of me thinks he might have.
xxxxx
TBC