A/N: Very Casketty chapter ahead. :)
Castle returns to the loft in the early evening. He's not nearly as anxious to get home as he was yesterday. Today was less trying with Beckett with them making a break in the case.
Once they returned to the precinct, Ryan and Esposito were already going through Williams' life again to see if he had a solid enough alibi for the time of the Bradley's disappearance. Even Beckett was accepting, surprisingly eager even, to start focusing on Williams' innocence rather than reproving his guilt as she had been when she first came to him. The Bradley's showed up to the precinct a few hours after they returned and gave a very detailed statement, recalling everything they could remember during their abduction.
And the sight of those two is what brought him to stop on the way home and buy some pale ales. Every once in a while, he just needs a hard, cold, beer.
Castle opens the door to the smell of cooking meat and the sight of his mother fluttering about the kitchen; an odd combination of senses to see her in the kitchen and the smell of good food. But he's too hopeless, to robbed of all optimism to be his bright, charismatic self and send her a smile and a joking quipped compliment.
"Hey," is all he says upon his entrance, dragging his feet into the loft and closing the door behind him.
Martha turns with a smile, sashaying as she always does, "Ah," she breathes at the sight of her son, "you're home earlier than usual for being on a case with Beckett."
"We made a pretty big break, so..." he tells her on a deep sigh as he slogs over to the island and drops the six-pack onto the counter, hidden in a black plastic bag, but the sound of the glass clinking giving it away, "just paperwork at this point."
Martha watches silently, using the corner of her eye as her son reaches into the bag he brought home and pulls out a dark brown bottle, putting the cap against the edge of the counter and slamming down onto it with his palm to open it. All she does is silently let out a sigh and untie her apron from around her neck.
As the first refreshingly bitter swig goes down his throat, he looks toward the stairs. "Alexis home?"
"No, it seems today was senior skip day at her school, so she and some friends went out to dinner, but she said to expect her home no later than eight."
"Ah," Castle nods as he takes another swig.
Martha stops her slow pacing about the kitchen and leans against the counter across from him. "Well, dinner should be ready in another ten minutes or so."
Castle nods again and slowly drags the bottle across the counter before letting it fall to his side and turns to head into his office. He's making it clear something is bothering him and is only acting this way with the sloth-like movements and half-lidded gaze. He's well aware that it's out of hopes that his mother will sniff his depression in the air and come swooping in to talk to him so he doesn't have to admit that he needs to talk about it. She gives him a moment alone and watches from the kitchen as he slumps himself down in his chair and clicks on the TV.
And as she checks the timer, she makes her way into his office as he's taking another drink and staring blankly into the nightly news.
"We're bringing you live coverage of the prison riot that erupted a little over an hour ago. We are receiving reports that the riot has been stopped, however, dozens of inmates were sent to-"
"So, what's this big break all about, kiddo?" She neutrally asks over the low volume of the TV.
"We are being told by prison officials that-" He shrugs and picks his clicks off the TV. "I told her yesterday that there might have been another couple that the killer went after because of the timeline and she didn't believe me," he stops and sends her a look as she comes to sit down in one of the chairs facing him, "until we found them."
Martha pauses and leans back, curious. "So you found another pair of bodies?"
He shakes his head with a lift of his brow. "Nope... they're still alive, happily married for the past ten years and living out in Queens with their nine-year-old little girl with blonde hair, Hannah." With a deepening sadness, he sends his mother another look. "She loves peanut butter."
And sensing it in his tone, as an innate motherhood instinct when to talk and when not to, she stays silent and waits for him to get to the heart of the matter.
"It seems I was right... again. The killer wasn't doing it to cause pain. He was doing it to test the couples. Turns out he was kidnapping recently engaged couples and forcing them to tell the truth with shock torture. And when we got back to the precinct," he says and rolls onto his side slightly to dig out the picture from his back pocket, "I went looking through the other victim's lives and found this."
He tosses the photo, folded up three times onto his desk, close enough to where she can reach it with a stretch. When she opens it, seeing the picture of the first male victim, Joel Sydney at a work party, his pinky finger tangled around that of a petite redhead that isn't his fiance, circled in red ink. Martha knows what her son is getting at as she looks back up to him.
"Joel was cheating on his fiance and the honeymoon killer forced him to tell her the truth, and when he did, she probably was so upset that she said she didn't love him anymore, so... he shot them both."
Martha nods, seeing that same sadness pang deeper into her son's eyes. "And... this missing couple you found?"
He sighs hard and rolls his eyes to himself, taking another quick swig of his beer before explaining. "They were high school sweethearts, they had nothing to hide from each other. They told us that getting married was basically a formality. They were already together for years before deciding to get married so they didn't have any secrets and they just... loved each other."
"And that's what's bothering you? That you met a nice, happily married couple in your pursuits?"
He shakes his head slowly as he feels his heart hurt. "As we were leaving their home... realizing that they could have been killed, she turned to him with a- very clear fear in her voice. She was scared. And I saw him tell her that it was okay as he pulled her into his arms. Then at the precinct when they gave their statement, he was holding her hand the entire time, not pushing him away. She was letting him be there for her when she was vulnerable. And when they were done, and Williams' innocence had been all but proven, she offered to go out to dinner and he accepted."
Martha lets a silence form between the two of them as he trails off, gazing soulfully into the bottle before throwing down another swig. She can probably make a guess as to what's bothering him at this point but doesn't want to say it. It will only make him clam up.
"What they were was a family. That's something that every man wants." When he feels his mother's eyes on him, judging what he just said, he looks over to her, "Well, I do. But seeing them together, how much she trusted him with her fears, and her insecurities, and her doubts, and how he trusted her with the same things... it made me realize that I don't think Beckett could ever do that with me."
And it's here that she feels the need to push him, to challenge him to question his own assumptions. "Richard?" She gently asks as he's taking another drink, "didn't you say this morning that she wanted to be together?"
He sucks his teeth and sets the bottle back down against his thigh, "That doesn't mean she'll ever let me be that for her, mother. The woman's always had to go it alone. And if I'm never given a chance to prove to her that she can trust me like that... I don't ever see us making it to where those two are."
On a sigh, she crosses her leg over the other and looks knowingly at her son again. "But you're going to wait for it, nonetheless, aren't you, kiddo?"
He clenches his teeth and doesn't give her an answer.
And when she sees that he isn't going to, she continues. "Because deep down, you know that if she wanted to be together then there must be some part of her that was willing to share an aspect of her life she hadn't before, am I right?"
Grasping the bottle's neck with a tight fist, he hisses through clenched teeth, mad at himself for a million different reasons. "Yes."
Martha stands to respond to the kitchen timer going off in the other room and takes a step forward, putting a loving arm on her son's wrist. "And that's because?"
"I'm still in love with her."
The next morning, Castle is up quicker to get dressed in another pair of designer jeans and a navy blue button up with the sleeves rolled up, forgoing the jacket again today. It felt nice yesterday not wearing a jacket out of simply being in a rush out to the door. He caught up with his little girl and in a surprising turn of events, she was making him and her grandmother breakfast. He gave her a very tight, fatherly hug when he heard. He has such a great daughter. Seeing that little girl yesterday, Hannah, made him miss his little six-year-old redhead though.
Keeping his mother's words in mind, he stops by his usual coffee stop and picks up his customary order, getting a smile from the barista as he takes his cups, leaving him a generous tip in his jar. When he arrives at the precinct, he finds Beckett's desk empty, but signs of her having been there. Esposito is in the conference room looking over evidence and files while Ryan is on the phone. "Hey, Castle." Ryan calls over to him as he stops near Beckett's desk.
He turns to see Ryan holding his hand over the receiver of his phone. "Any luck?"
"Turns out during the time of Owen and Amy Bradley's kidnapping, Ned Williams was out of state, visiting relatives. We called his wife and she dug up some old family photos from that time. That and the Bradley's statement, Gates says it's enough to get him released on time served. I'm on hold with the judge now."
"That's great, but um..." he says and nods to Beckett's desk, "where's Beckett?"
Ryan looks back up to him with a crooked brow. "I'm not sure, I saw her on the phone when I got in then take off to the stairwell. Hasn't been around since. Yes!" Ryan says loudly as he uncovers the receiver, "Yes, your honor, we do."
With a sigh, Castle sets down the coffee on her desk and goes for the stairwell, stopping as he enters. She might have gone down to see Lanie, could have gone down to the range to vent some frustration with this whole situation between them. Lanie might be the better option, Beckett was still pretty upset after their argument in the car. But on a whim, he starts upward, taking the stairs slowly. If she had gone anywhere on an errand, she would have taken the elevator. She wouldn't have taken the stairs just to get some exercise. She would only take the stairs if she were going to one place in the building the elevator won't take her.
And when he pulls open the door to the roof access and peers out, he was right. Standing near the edge with her back toward him, clad in a dark navy blue peacoat and tight fitting slacks, is Beckett. She wouldn't have come up here to get some air. This isn't like her. One after another, these questions shoot through his mind, making his heart beat faster with worry.
As the door latches shut, the gravel on the roof crunches underneath his loafers while he slowly steps toward her. It isn't until she turns her head to look at him that he can see the clear track of a tear running down her cheek. He wishes she would stop crying. It kills him to see her cry.
"How'd you know I'd be up here?" She asks him, her voice thickened with emotion.
He shrugs casually, his brow pinched with worry and frowned, "Call it a hunch."
She nods once in a small motion before turning away from him again. Her head dips down briefly and he can see her reach up to wipe away the evidence of her tears, small enough to where he almost can't see her do it. But when she stands up straight and holds her head high, he can still see clearly that she's having trouble containing herself.
Did what he say yesterday really cause her this much pain?
"I suppose you've heard." She says without looking him in the eye.
He shakes his head, "Ryan did say you proved Williams' innocence. He was on the phone with the judge when I got here."
Beckett sniffles and dabs her sleeve under her nose. "Doesn't really matter now." She mutters.
Castle takes a small, shuffling step forward. "What do you mean?"
Her neck cranes again for a moment before she looks back up but still not at him, "There was a riot at the prison last night."
"Yeah, I-" he cuts himself off when she mentions it, not wanting the voice in the back of his mind to be right, "I heard about that."
She nods and puts her hands on the back of her waist. "Williams was in general population when it happened and he uh... he was sent to the infirmary, but um..." she trails off, but the tremble in her voice gives away why. And the tear leaking out of her eye gives away that she's only just begun the war with her own emotions. "He didn't make it."
Castle takes another step forward, so he's standing in front of her, still, a deep longing sadness in his eyes, wanting her to be okay.
She finally looks him in the eye with a small nod, trying to be brave by stoning off her expression. "He's dead."
Castle gives her a moment, not wanting to say it out of knowing it won't mean much for Williams or his family. "I'm sorry."
Her eyes look away from him again before she continues. "I finally have it. I finally have the evidence I need to get an innocent man I sent to prison out and back to his family, but..." her tone is getting tighter with coiled emotion, getting ready to spring at any moment. "But that just isn't enough, is it?" She asks him desperately, looking back at him. "I finally have a chance to fix my mistake and to... to reach behind my pride and my arrogance and my ego to fix it, but I can't now." She tells him, still putting as much bravery onto her tear-laden face as she can muster. "I can't, he's dead."
At first, her eyes simply turn down from him. But it only takes a second for her head to shake off to the side and her face get twisted with sadness and sorrow as her eyes quickly flood with tears.
He can't see her like this. He can't stand it anymore. He can't stand idly by anymore while the woman he loves goes through this alone. When she shakes her head again, vigorously to shake away the tears, he takes a courageous step forward and engulfs her in his arms, hugging her tightly to himself.
And she can't deny him any longer. For what's felt like the longest time, she's felt the need to just cry, to sob out the emotion as hard as she can. And she can't push away that feeling anymore. Once she feels his arms go around her, she doesn't hesitate at all to fling her arms around his chest and cling to him, pressing her face into his chest as hard as she can and letting everything break loose.
With one ragged breath in, she's sobbing, her cries muffled by his chest and his arms as he hugs her, her back jumping painfully against his hands as he caresses her. She stops and pulls in another long, shaking breath as she crumples up his shirt in her hands on his back, and when she lets it out again, still crying uncontrollably, he lets his eyes drift shut and puts a soothing hand on her hair, petting her scalp softly with his thumb and begins to twirl her softly from side to side.
And the feeling of him, of his sanctuary and his protection, of his loving arms wrapped around her, her heart finally proving to her mind that she can show him her weakness and not be judged any lesser for it, that she can lean on him for the support she needs, all of it only serves to intensify her sobs as she presses her face into his shirt to try and dry her never-ending tears.
She sobs for a solid few minutes, with him still rubbing her back and petting her hair as he holds her to him, and her not giving up on squeezing his torso with her arms and listening to the soft music of his heartbeat under her ear. And after her body can't take the pain of sobbing, she continues to let the tears flow out of her eyes and onto his shirt.
When she's calmed down a little bit, he moves his hand from her hair and keeps massaging the dip of her spine with his hands. "Did you know," he begins in a light, almost happy tone, "that the sperm whale produces a substance in its intestines from the food it eats that it can't digest called ambergris, and is used in the mixtures of perfumes?"
In a sudden shift, her eyes pop open and he can feel her arms jerk against him. When she pulls back to look at him with a pinched brow, her eyes still red and puffy with tears, she sees him just softly smirking at her. "Wha..."
His smirk just grows a bit brighter as he lifts his brow, "A friend of mine found a chunk of it once on his honeymoon. Made a bundle on it."
Still having no idea what he's even talking about or what he could possibly mean, she has to ask. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"It doesn't." With that, she can feel her pinched brow of confusion melt away. "I just thought you smelled nice and my mind started to wander."
That earns him a bright yet watery smile that engulfs her teary face and she doesn't waste her opportunity to wrap her arms around him again and pull herself closer to him, feeling him put his arms back around her in response. "Thank you," she mouthes silently against his chest.
He lets out a sigh as he continues to stroke her back. "No one expects you to be strong in the face of everything, Kate."
She sniffles and readjusts her head against his chest. "Yes, they do. I've always had to be the strongest, Rick. I've always had the most to prove. Even if it is just ego, I have expectations I have to live up to now."
"The only person's expectations you need to live up to are your own, Kate. If you spend your life trying to make yourself into what other people think, you're never going to be happy."
"I've set a standard now, Rick." She tells him, burying herself deeper into the cove of his arms. "I'm not allowed to show weakness. I'm not allowed to waiver in the face of anything."
"That doesn't mean you're not allowed to be human."
That sends another wave of emotions roaring up her throat, her heart aching that she was so scared of taking a chance on what this could have been, always afraid to trust him with all of this, underestimating how not only understanding but helpful and wise he can be. And before she even realizes it, she's crying silently into the chest again, reveling in the feeling of him putting her back together with little more than keeping his strong arms around her.
And after a long few minutes, when she feels gathered enough, she snakes her arms back out from around him and puts her hands gently on his chest, her fingers patting the stains her tears have made. She feels his hands slide down onto her waist as she works up to the courage to get the words out. "I'm not asking you to forget about what I did," she begins softly, looking at the buttons of his shirt, "or to feel the way you did about me before you found out. All I want is a chance."
He waits her out, wanting to see how she puts it. Because the voice of his heart is telling him that whatever it is, she already has it.
"I just want a chance to earn back your trust." She tells him, looking him in the eye through dried tears.
He blinks, feels the edges of his lips lifting in a small smile, and feels his heart urging him. He would kill to kiss her right now. "Your coffee is getting cold, Beckett."
With immediate understanding, knowing that he brought her coffee, knowing he was thinking of her even before all this and wanted to do something for her, she knows she has her chance.
And she's not going to lose it.
A/N: Had the hug scene written in my head for a very long time. One of the scenes that inspired me to write this story. Only took me about three hours to write the whole chapter. Let me know. :)
