Author's Note: I'm happy to see more people reading my fic. Mind spreading my fanfiction to other Castle fans?
Thank you for all the reviews! Keep them coming. :)
Castle cringed as his nails dug too deep into his scalp. He felt a sharp sting in the area where he had been scratching for the last 50 minutes. It wasn't itchy—he was positive his crowning glory was properly washed every time. He was scratching because… well, he didn't know what else to do. His butt was beginning to feel sore from sitting in the same position; afraid that if he'd move, he would disturb a thought that would enter his mind. And he needed one badly. Any idea would do at the moment, that's all he wanted.
Just one idea. One idea for a story.
Oh, dear, the fiction gods were ignoring his prayers.
Castle looked up at the ceiling and was almost horrified as he found a cobweb at the corner more appealing than the sense of writing. His mouth went dry the same time his enthusiasm peeled off. Almost dropping his laptop on the desk in annoyance, he grabbed the remote for the stereo. Choosing a random song that probably didn't mean anything; he blasted it to the maximum volume, as if hoping it would muffle all his problems.
Soundproof walls were a blessing.
Even if he calculated his ears would start bleeding in 4 minutes or less, they somehow were still able to pick the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. Voices talking. Silence. Nimble footsteps going up the stairs.
He lowered the volume until he completely shut it off, suddenly deciding he'd had enough. He looked at the blank document on his screen with disgust before leaving the room.
Castle found his mother sprawled on the couch, wearing a silk bathrobe. She seemed deeply engrossed in the article she was reading, so Castle walked over to take a peek at what caught her attention. As soon as he saw it though, he felt mockingly discouraged. "Mother, we have all the quality books anyone could find, right here in this room."
Martha turned to look at him. "His abs, Richard, are quality." She pointed to the half-naked picture of a male model advertising cheap jeans.
Castle chuckled, knowing his mother's silly antics. That was when he noticed the brown substance she had slapped her face with. It must be another tightening product she was trying out. Castle wondered why he didn't notice earlier—she didn't quite look like herself.
"What is that on your face?" he asked. "It's this new thing that all my friends have been using. It'll give you younger-looking skin, just like what the cover said." Martha replied, and then went back to her reading.
Castle placed his hands on his hips, slightly bruised at being ignored. To him, it seemed like he wasn't feeling a lot lately. If he did feel anything, it didn't make much sense. His emotions were disorganized—more than his mind was. He couldn't put things into categories. It all felt so jumbled; he didn't even know where to begin.
"Not to hurt your feelings, mother, but it looks like pudding."
Martha gave him a long look. It was in some way, entertaining, to watch the rest of her stiff face in contrast to her attentive eyes.
Castle evaluated her stare—was it serious or was she trying to intimidate him into apologizing for the harmless joke?
"Was that Alexis?" Castle asked, changing gears and venturing into something comfortable and familiar. "Yes." His mother answered in a clipped tone. Despite that, how easily she answered the question meant that Castle's comment was no injury to her pride or ego. "She looked like she has a lot to talk about later at dinner."
He nodded, satisfied. He loved seeing Alexis talk so passionately about her day. It always felt like she was one of his characters that had risen to his life. So full of life, so full of energy and so full of possibilities. Castle smiled at no one in particular.
His mother—sensing that he wasn't around to merely bask in the gloriousness of his apartment—scooted over to make room for him on the couch. Castle sat down beside her, squeezing her knee affectionately as he did. His thoughts wandered back to the approaching due date of his next manuscript, but tried not to let it overshadow the good feeling he held on to.
Martha put her magazine down and pushed back strands of hair that were threatening to stick to her expensive face mask. He smiled. "Who's paying for that, by the way?"
"My dear boy, it's like you don't even know your own mother."
"Hmm." Castle looked skeptical and hopeful all at once.
There was a short silence before his diva of a mother spoke again. "I used your credit card, of course."
"Wonderful." Slight pause. "I do love you, mother."
His mother moved in her seat and faced him with a big smile. "So, tell me; how many pages have you written?"
What was left of Castle's slightly good mood crumbled. "None." He exhaled loudly. "I just sat there for over three hours staring at the blank screen. It was as if I didn't know where to begin, let alone start forming ideas. It was terrible." Martha put a tender hand to his cheek. "This isn't new to you. You've had times when you couldn't think of a story. But you always got over it, and the next thing I see is your next book coming out."
"I don't know if I could get over it this time." Castle replied. He could see the pained expression his mother wore. "You know," She began slowly. "You've had the brilliant talent for words ever since you were little. And I know just how good you are by what you've achieved today. Richard, you've published your ideas even before you met Detective Beckett. Your creativity does not entirely come from your feelings for her, and you yourself know that. I simply wonder why it seems like that is the case."
Castle knew he was an open book around his mother. He just didn't expect her to read him this well. He shook his head. He shouldn't have underestimated her. "It's not that I don't know how to write… I don't feel like writing. It's as if the one thing that made me happy is the one thing I can't turn to right now. It sounds childish, but it reminds me too much of her." He smiled limply. "She was a big fan."
"Oh, I know. I saw her library of your books."
The thought somewhat comforted him, but not enough.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Maybe you need to get a new muse."
"Not helping."
"I'm sorry, darling. Cheer up."
He ran his hand through his hair that didn't need fixing. "I don't look at my laptop the same way anymore. Am I bad person?" His mother closed her hand around his tightly, smiling. "No. You just miss her, and I understand. Everything will be better."
"Everything will be better." Castle echoed.
He was the one who said it. If he didn't believe in the possibility of hope, he would never find it. So he was going to believe in it more than he believed in anything else. He believed that he was going to see Beckett again. He believed that she didn't want him gone forever. He believed that she wasn't going to give up on them.
Rick Castle believed.
Someone laid a finger on the doorbell. Its tone shook up the entire apartment, and it left an eerie ring to Castle. He jumped and craned his head to stare at the door. His stomach suddenly hurt; his breathing shallow. Castle looked at his mother with unsure eyes, and as soon as she met them, Martha understood the thoughts that were running through his mind.
Martha patted his shoulder and in a soft voice said, "Alexis ordered pizza for dinner. That must be the delivery. I hope you like cheese overload." She stood up wordlessly to get to the door, leaving Castle to swallow his expectations.
He heard the hoarse voice of the delivery guy and the smell of the pizza wafting in the air. He had no appetite but he knew he had to get some food inside of him. Starving and lacking of intellect was not a good combination. Alexis' footsteps came thundering down the stairs. "Oh, goodie! I'm so hungry, Grams."
"Just in time, then. Go on, set the table."
Castle stood up and walked to them with a masked smile. "Set the table? For pizza?"
Alexis beamed at him—his humor was starting to come back. "I think," he continued, putting an arm around Alexis. "Someone's being a bossy pants." He looked pointedly at his mother.
"Is this revenge because I put the facial cream on your tab?"
"No. It was really inappropriate the way you fawned all over that model's so-called abdominal muscles."
"He had abs. What do you have, Richard?"
Castle kept a serious face despite wanting to double over in laughter. "I have amazing hair. That's what I have."
"You guys can argue all you want. But I am famished." Alexis broke apart from Castle and skipped to the table, opening the box and taking the first slice. He drew his hand open and lowered his tone, mimicking a voice used in thriller movies. "Truce. For now."
Martha rolled her eyes. "Truce forever. I'm starving too."
He took a seat in his chair, whilst Alexis had already gnawed halfway her pizza. Castle chuckled. Her demeanor at the table was spotless compared to Castle's eating habits as a teenager now that he remembered. Even the presence of the Queen would not have toned down his appetite. Castle ripped the hot sauce open with his teeth, carefully dropping it on parts of his pizza slice.
"How was your day, Grams?" Alexis asked, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. "Same old, same old, darling. Oh, by the way, have you seen that new soap opera that came out sometime this week? It was called, 'Leaping over Stones'. Sound familiar?"
"Um, I think I overheard some girls talking about the lead actor. He's some sort of newbie but he's really good-looking. What's your take on it?" Alexis answered.
Martha crossed her arms and tipped her head up matter-of-factly. "I wrote to the director this afternoon and told him how the show wasn't going to last three episodes if the acting kept moving like that. He may be a handsome boy, Alexis, but he couldn't act even if his life depended on it."
Castle covered a hand over his mouth and laughed. "Ouch. A little too over the top, don't you think?"
"A little over the top would have been if I hauled myself over to the set and told them off while the cameras were rolling." She replied and rolled her eyes. "And they have the courage to call it acting nowadays. Really—the flair of my generation is lost in this world of love squares and always horny teenagers."
Alexis gave her father a knowing glance. It wasn't the first time Martha complained about the vast difference between her time and the present. "Whatever happened to meaningful conversations and love stories that were believable?" She went on.
"You know what happened, mother." Castle paused to take a drink. "Society got bored with couples just holding hands, men grew tired of fully-clothed women and well… they discovered colored television screens."
"I suppose you're right about that." Martha replied, looking dejected. Alexis gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, gently prodding her to eat and to forget about the last five minutes.
"Alexis," Castle said. "How was your day? Did anything wild that I shouldn't know?"
She smirked. "If wild is finishing my exam 30 minutes before any of my classmates, then I think you should know about it."
"Ahh, my wondergirl. You certainly didn't get your smart gene from me."
"Don't listen to your father. He's fishing for compliments."
"Not to worry, Grams." Alexis grinned and turned back to him. "Well, I must have gotten my smart gene from somewhere, right?"
"That is true. But right now I am pretty sure you got your looks from me."
"No argument here." Alexis laughed. She looked at her dad with adoration, knowing he could be the only person she could have this kind of conversation with. Castle caught her smile and smiled back. "So dad, um, how's your writing coming along?" she asked.
His smile froze in place. He didn't want Alexis to fret about him. "It's still coming. Got a few ideas in my head. I could use your help sorting them out."
Alexis nodded slowly, seeing right through his front. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever you need."
She bent her head to down to her plate and Castle seized those few seconds to release the scowl that was creeping to get out. He was so disappointed with himself. Another load onto his shoulders at that point. Martha noticed the muddled look on his face but intentionally avoided to say anything. They continued to eat in silence. Castle didn't like that his family had to put up with his problems; that they were forced to reckon with his ways. He'd tried to get them to somehow back off, you know? Just leave him to fix his own issues. But it wasn't easy and they were obviously affected about the whole thing as he was.
"Dad, I…" Alexis spoke up. Her voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. Castle expected an apology, though he didn't need one. But what came out of her mouth next was something different entirely. "Dad, I went to see Detective Beckett."
Her words seemed to have an awful ring to them. Castle was sure the room was spinning and he needed to hold on to something fast. It was the strangest sensation ever. Castle came to his senses shortly, but the feeling of being punched in the stomach lingered. He met his daughter's sorry eyes.
"Why would you do that?" He asked, his lips parting in grief.
"I'm so sorry. I know how you feel about all this but I—I was walking home and suddenly I was at the precinct and I saw her and we started to talk… Dad, I'm really sorry."
His words sounded ominous. "I haven't seen her in weeks, Alexis."
Martha put a hand on top of Alexis' as if telling her not to say anymore. Castle took a deep breath, surprised at his emotions that were all over the room.
Sad. Angry. Indifferent. Bewildered. Pissed. Mistreated. Close to tears. Confused. Angry. Angry. Jealous.
Jealous that Alexis got to see Beckett and he didn't.
"If you knew how I felt about this then—" he stopped to take a breath. "I need to be alone right now. Just, um, enjoy dinner. I lost my appetite." He stood up from the table, throwing his napkin on his chair with excessive force.
Alexis stood up after him. "Dad, please, I'm sorry. Don't be mad."
Castle didn't stop walking away from them. His feelings at the moment were so strong and all at their highest peak that he couldn't expect to keep them in check. If he stopped now, he might say something he would regret later. He'd done enough damage.
"I can explain, okay? If I had known it would make you this upset, I would have never gone to see Beckett."
Well, you sure didn't think about that, did you? Castle clamped his mouth. He was going to cut off his tongue if he had to but there was no way in hell he was saying those words to his daughter.
He was on his way to the door. He could her Alexis' voice pleading with him but none of her words made sense to him. There was a lot bottled up inside of him. His head was throbbing and he knew to get it clear he would have to hit his head against the wall. Just to get the voices to shut up. The images to become a blur. He needed them all to just stop.
"Alexis!" he almost growled her name. A tone that was never heard in their home just filled the silence. Alexis' shock was fresh and her face was turning a dark pink color. The tears were brimming in her eyes, but she pursed her lips, holding them back for a few minutes.
Castle didn't know what he wanted to kill himself over: the fear-stricken look on his daughter's face or that he just raised his voice higher than he'd ever gone.
"Richard!" His mother appeared before them, her voice stern. She gave him a disapproving look as she strode to Alexis. Martha took her into her arms.
"Look, um," Castle sighed, taking his hand off the door knob. "I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. I'm sorry." He touched Alexis' hair with his hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It'll never happen again." Martha shot him a bewildered look; to which Castle simply shook his head. He knew he'd been testy and his behavior had been a little tense nowadays but honestly, he didn't feel like explaining to anyone why he was that way.
He left them as he retreated back to his office, to his haven, hoping to knock some sense into himself. Castle closed the door behind him and started walking to his chair when he found himself staring at his laptop that he'd left behind. It really annoyed him—not being able to write. It was supposed to come naturally to him. Come on, he'd been doing it his entire life. It's what got them food on the table every day, it's what got Alexis her education—it's what made him who he is now. And suddenly not being able to find that within him made him frustrated. He didn't want to point fingers, because the last thing he wanted to do was blame the world for his problems. But ever since that night with Beckett… that's all he could think about up to date.
He didn't want to mess it up. He could be so close to getting her back that he just knew he had to play by her rules. Beckett said she needed time apart from him, and that she'd let him know if she was ready.
She didn't exactly say out loud that she'd let him know… but that's what she meant to say, right?
Castle didn't like going through the day wondering if she'd call or not. If she was ready or not. If she wanted him back or not. It felt so… desperate. But whether he accepted it or not, that's what he was. Castle was desperate on getting her back. He loved her and she had to know that. She had to.
Castle picked up his phone with trembling fingers, dialling the number he knew by heart.
What was he doing?
His smartphone located the number automatically and 'Kate Beckett' flashed on his screen. Seeing her name gave him an odd feeling he couldn't understand. His thumb was poised mere centimetres above the call button. Such a small thing to be done, but it got his heart pumping.
This was certainly a do or die situation. Figuratively.
Castle bit down on his lower lip, his eyes gazing at her smiling face in the background. How he longed to see that again in person. To hear her laugh was one of the things that he missed the most. He didn't appreciate what it felt like to be seated close to her before. He now realized he should have.
Positive thinking or not, he may not be able to have those moments with her again.
Moving his stare to the call button, he shut all the questions and doubts in his mind. Instead, he focused his attention on what he truthfully felt. Castle didn't even realize his eyes were shut until he opened them.
So he did what had to be done.