As Beckett said she "believes in the everyday magic of life in … the way that I feel when I hear Coltrane", this is from his album "Stardust". These vignettes come to mind when I hear the songs as played by John Coltrane.
This song is "Stardust" by John Coltrane. You can hear the song as played by the Coltrane quartet on YouTube.
watch?v=TeFeLaEsHBs
This song is by Mitchell Parish and Hoagy Carmichael. A version of it being sung by "The Velvet Fog", Mel Torme is also on YouTube.
watch?v=3s1YVwGCgik
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC television. The lyrics are the property of their respective owners. No infringement is intended.
Transcriptions from seriesmonitor dot com slash castle slash transcripts slash index dot html
A/N: 8x05 The Nose
Rick took Kate's NYPD t-shirt and breathed in her scent. He missed her so much. She felt so warm and comfortable when she hugged him earlier today. He could still smell the faint cherry aroma of her hair in the t-shirt.
Rick gently, reverently folded the shirt and placed it back on his bed. Their bed. The bed he was supposed to share with his wife, his muse, his always. But she wasn't there and hadn't been there at the loft in over a month.
A month of worry for Rick. A month of "is she still alive." A month of "will the mercenaries find her and kill her." A month of "will she ever be here with me again." A month of gloom, despair and anguish.
Rick Castle had always been a hopeful man, a cheerful man, but now with his heart breaking, he could find little hope, little cheer. His wife had left him and didn't tell him why.
He looked around their room. Their room. The loft wasn't his anymore. It was theirs. And without her there it felt cold, forbidding, impassive.
Previously he had turned on all the lights in the loft to try to dispel the loft's emptiness. But the light only made the shadows clearer, stark and closer to his ever present writer's imagination.
So he knew that no light would help now. The only thing left to do was to listen to her favorite artist, Coltrane. Like Beckett reading her mother's books to feel closer to her, Castle picked up a Coltrane album to listen to, to feel closer to Beckett.
The first one he touched had a high contrast black and white picture of John Coltrane holding his sax that was topped by his name and the album title, "Stardust."
He put the album on the turntable and sat down on the couch to listen. To listen and to think.
And now the purple dusk of twilight time
Steals across the meadows of my heart
High up in the sky the little stars climb
Always reminding me that we're apart
You wander down the lane and far away
Leaving me a song that will not die
Love is now the stardust of yesterday
The music of the years gone by.
"Richard!"
Martha's heels click on the hardwood floor in her son's apartment while her jewelry tinkled from her movements. Clicking and tinkling, she proceeds from the entry to the bedroom. Dreading but knowing what she may find and hoping she doesn't, Martha opens the door to his bedroom. She's glad to find that her son is alone.
"Richard! It's time to get up."
"Mother," Rick Castle says, his face buried in his pillow. "It's too early to get up."
"Nonsense, Richard, it is after noon."
"My point exactly, Mother."
"Really?"
"Yes. Now let me go back to sleep."
"Richard," an exasperated Martha says. "May I remind you what today is?"
"What, Mother? What is today?" Rick asks irritated.
"It's your birthday. Happy Birthday, Richard."
"Thank you, Mother, but I'm really not in the mood for celebrating."
"Well, Paula and Gina may have something to say about that."
"Really?" Castle says annoyed. "Mother, they work for me. Not the other way around."
"Yes, but …"
"Mother, there is no 'yes, but' in it. I'm their employer, I'm not their employee."
"Richard, they combined your birthday with a book launch party. Or did you forget?"
"I was trying to forget." Castle says as he buries himself into his bed.
"Richard Alexander Rodgers! Get up!" Martha exclaims as she pulls the comforter and sheets down off of her now groaning son.
"Mother, you know that isn't my name anymore," Castle says as he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes.
"Well, I haven't got used to your new name. I still don't understand why you changed it. It is a perfectly good name."
"Mother," Castle answers. "We've been over this before. I didn't want to be accused of getting by on your name. And, more importantly, I didn't want to be confused with a famous musical playwright. Okay?"
"Well, I guess you're right," she responds. "Still, you need to get up and get dressed. Gina and Paula want you ready for your photoshoot before the party. You're on a schedule, so let's get to it!"
Castle trudges to the en suite to prepare for his day.
Martha leaves the bedroom to prepare some coffee for her son as she hears the shower start. She knows that he is hopeless unless he is fully caffeinated. She starts the coffee maker and then scans the room. Clothes are on the floor and scattered around the room on the furniture, some obviously not his. Martha picks up a pretty but inexpensive bra.
"This is way too small to fit Richard, thank goodness," she thinks. "He doesn't seem the 'La Cage aux Folles' type."
She starts to pick up the clothes around the room, sorting them into what is obviously his and obviously not. Luckily, as far as Martha is concerned, the "obviously not" pile is relatively small. However, there are a couple of different bra sizes in the collection. She picks each one up with trepidation not knowing what germ or other substance may be on them. One of them is clearly a young woman's panty that has an obvious stain that probably came from something Martha really did not want to think about. That one she kicked into the "obviously not" pile.
Finishing her dirty clothes collection, she hears the coffee maker sputter its last indicating the brew is complete. She clicks her way to the kitchen to find a ceramic mug for Richard's caffeine injection. She notes that the sink is full of dishes, mostly wine glasses and coffee mugs, some of which apparently have been there for a while.
"I am not Richard's maid," she thinks leaving the mountain of dishes alone.
Opening the refrigerator, she finds a more than adequate selection of flavored creamers. She picks one and turns to the cup she filled. As she stirs in the creamer, she hears the shower stop. She stirs in a small amount of sugar and then proceeds to take a sip. Humming her enjoyment, she pours a second cup for her son, leaving out the sugar and creamer. Like her, he can be particular about the additions to his coffee.
She sees, off to one side, a box opened but seemingly full of books. They are all the same book, her son's latest offering, "Flowers for Your Grave." She picks one from the box and reads the blurbs and synopsis.
Hearing her son emerge from his room, she says, "Richard, is this your new book?
"Yes, Mother," Rick responds. "I haven't been lazing around all the time."
Martha raises an eyebrow.
"Okay, part of the time, but it's finished and today we have a party to celebrate," Castle continues, a smile on his face that doesn't reach his eyes.
"Richard, are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Well, you haven't been yourself for the past several months. Since … since Kyra left for London."
"Yeah, well, I've gotten better since I threw myself into the book," Rick says trying to deflect.
"Richard, look at me," Martha says as she grabs his head and turns it to look her in the eye. "A mother can tell when her child is hurting. Richard, it's okay to grieve after the loss of a loving relationship."
"Mother."
"Yes, you threw yourself into this book to hide your pain. And now that the book is out, you have nothing left to think about but your loss. I get that. I really do. And grieving is part of the process. But Richard, self-destruction is not the answer."
"Mother, please. I'm an adult now."
"That's debatable."
"Mother. Stop."
"Alright, I'll stop. But I ask a favor in return."
"How much is it going to cost me, Mother?"
"No. No dinner at La Cirque. I want you to meet someone."
"Someone?"
"Well, you let me invite a few cast members of the play I'm in now. There's one I'd like you to meet. Her name is Meredith and she is cute, vivacious and I think you two might get along well. So I expect you to be on your best behavior and show her a good time. Okay, kiddo?"
"Okay, Mother."
As Coltrane's somber tenor saxophone plays on the stereo, Rick remembered that time just before he met Meredith at his book launch party. Where he was still wallowing in self-pity and despair after the collapse of his relationship with Kyra. Then, just like now, he is despairing over a woman leaving him, "needing space", but this time it's his wife Kate leaving him.
"Just another case of a woman not defying her demons," Rick thinks. "Kyra's demon was her mother. Kate's demon is her sense of justice bordering on a crusade for her mother."
Taking another sip of scotch, feeling the burn on his throat, he muses, "After being so down, I made a poor decision by getting together with Meredith that results in something great, Alexis."
"I don't think I'll get a second chance that is so lucky," Rick thinks. "No quick decisions anytime soon. Other than I can't sleep at the loft until Kate comes back."
Sometimes I wonder, how I spend
The lonely nights
Dreaming of a song
The melody
Haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you
When our love was new
And each kiss an inspiration
But that was long ago
And now my consolation is in the stardust of a song
A/N 8x05 The Nose
Kate looks down on her left hand, the simple band on her ring finger. The ring that seems almost pointless now.
She left him. She left her husband of less than a year. She left him without telling him why. She left Rick telling him she needed space, a time-out.
Beckett felt that if she told him why, then he would become a target and be killed. She felt that she couldn't live in a world without Rick in it.
So she risks all that she has worked for, all that she desires for … what? For justice? She's sure but she's not sure at the same time.
If Bracken's ex organization would kill her former team because of a severely redacted memo, what would they do if someone found out more? Scorched earth, perhaps?
She looks away from her hand and stares up at the ceiling thinking of another time where she was separated from Rick. And it was because he investigated something she told him not to.
A/N: 1x10 A Death in the Family
Castle and Beckett get up and start to walk toward the elevator to chase down another lead. Turning to Beckett, he says, "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Since when do you ask permission to ask questions?"
"It's about your mother's case."
Beckett stops walking and faces Castle. She looks at him with a shocked look.
"Have you ever thought about ... Reopening it?"
"What are you doing?"
Castle responds, "Nothing. I just thought if we worked together …"
"No," Beckett says firmly.
"I have resources."
"Castle, you touch my mom's case, and you and I are done. Do you understand?"
"Okay."
The pair starts walking again.
Castle continues, "Why don't you want to investigate it?
She stops walking and faces him again. Her look is almost unbridled fury.
With gritted teeth she answers, "Same reason a recovering alcoholic doesn't drink. You don't think I haven't been down there? You don't think I haven't memorized every line in that file? My first three years on the force, every off-duty moment was spent looking for something someone missed. It took me a year of therapy to realize if I didn't let it go, it was gonna destroy me. And so I let it go."
Beckett then turns and walks away, into the elevator.
Castle follows her and says, "Sorry. I didn't know."
"Yeah, well, now you do."
"And he investigated it anyway," Beckett thinks. "And even if I tell him not to investigate this, to stay as far away as possible, he'll investigate anyway."
Then she remembers that summer, when she sent him away afterward. How she was so angry at him. And frustrated with him. But he found something, his resources was able to find a clue that led to everything that followed up to her arrest of Bracken.
And now it has led to this.
This forced separation. This divide, this partition between them keeping them apart. This loneliness that she has is almost too much to bear. Seeing him, touching him in that too brief hug to know that he was safe.
Holding his shirt. Wallowing in the scent of Castle. His cologne, his soap, his shave crème, everything that screams Castle is there.
Part of it makes her feel closer to him and part of it makes her feel so alone.
Alone on this quest. Her "Don Quixote" moment.
She thought of that time that she beat him at Scrabble when she put down "quixotic" on the board thinking at the time that he was on a quixotic quest to beat her.
"Ironic," Kate thinks. "Perhaps now it's me on some quixotic quest."
She looks down again at the ring on her finger wondering if the sacrifice is worth it.
"No," she thinks. "They will come for me and I need to be ready. Forewarned is forearmed. I can't take the chance that Castle will be caught in the crossfire. I can't drag him into this investigation."
She pauses and thinks about the last time she kissed him. She kissed him as she walked out the door of the loft.
Touching her lips she convinces herself, "It's better for him to be hating me and be alive than to be loving me and be dead."
Besides the garden wall, when stars are bright
You are in my arms
The nightingale
Tells his fairytale
Of paradise, where roses grew
Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will remain
My stardust melody
The memory of love's refrain.
/N 8x08 Mr. and Mrs. Castle
After a fitful night's sleep, Beckett rises to prepare for the day. Another day at the office while trying to "unofficially" solve the Loksat case with Vikram.
Beckett turns on her coffee maker with the special blend that Castle had found for her. The aroma fills the small kitchen in the hide-out that she has taken refuge.
She continues to her shower as an "ear worm" fills her mind.
And I don't even know how I survive
I won't make it to the shore without your light
No I don't even know if I'm alive
Oooohhh without you now
This is what it feels like …
They enjoyed a night at a dance club and heard this song. Rick managed to find it and put it on her iPhone.
She had liked always liked "trance" style of EDM and Armin Van Buuren especially, but now this song just stabbed her in the heart.
"Ironic," Kate thought. "He put this song on because I liked it. Now it taunts me."
This is what it feels like …
The memory of love's refrain.
In her mind's eye she could see herself 5 years ago when he walked out of the precinct with his ex-wife Gina. How devastated she was then.
This is what it feels like …
The memory of love's refrain.
That day at the New Amsterdam Bank and Trust when the bomb went off and she thought that Castle was in the explosion.
This is what it feels like …
The memory of love's refrain.
Then the car crash on their wedding day. She crawled down to the car first to try to save him. When the fire was too much she plopped herself down in the gully beside the car engulfed in flames.
This is what it feels like …
The memory of love's refrain.
She took the 20 minutes to do her hair while she thought. She could almost do the whole thing in her sleep now. It was part of her armor, her captain's uniform. Her hair, her suit, her heels, her holster, her gun … all this was her armor, her modern day knight's uniform. The last thing she put on was the coat-of-arms, her shield … her NYPD badge.
This is what it feels like …
The memory of love's refrain.
Beckett walks out into the grey twilight dawn of another day. Another day separated from her husband.
This is what it feels like …
The memory of love's refrain.
The click, click, click of her power heels is the only thing she hears in the alleyway before she reaches the street. She turns and walks the block to the stairway to the subway, no hailing a cab from this area, still traceable. Her metro card paid for with cash makes it less likely that she can be traced to Vikram and her safe house.
Beckett stood on the platform waiting for the train to come, her mind blank staring at the advertisements on the opposite wall. She chuckles sadly to herself thinking that she was "zombie like" this morning and how Castle would bring it up.
Castle.
This is what it feels like …
The memory of love's refrain.
The next train pulled up and she entered the open doors to take her downtown to the 12th. The car was fairly full for an early morning trek to the precinct. She looked around at the other early morning denizens of the subway car in her immediate vicinity.
A business man in his power suit reading the "Wall Street Journal".
The white man with dreadlocks and his iPod earbuds bouncing his head to the beat of the music.
The fashionable black woman seated at the extreme end of the car staring out at the lights passing the subway car window.
The swaying of the car made her bump into the "Wall Street Journal" man, but neither said a thing. That was the way it was for New Yorkers, the subway had no shame in making people invade another's personal space, so they regularly ignored it.
The "Wall Street Journal" man had noticed her at first but then turned to his reading very shortly after. She saw that the last thing he noticed was the ring on her finger.
This is what it feels like …
The memory of love's refrain.
Looking down at her finger she wonders if she even deserves to wear that ring. Whether what she has done to Rick has nullified everything.
Then the thought leaves Beckett. She puts on her mask. She becomes the "Beckett of the 12th". The avenging angel from the NYPD who will solve any case … as long as it takes.
She sat there somewhat dazed. Her next clue, the drug cartel man, Longarzo, was gunned down by Ryan and Esposito trying to protect them all. Beckett wondered when her next clue would come out. A clue to end this Loksat investigation. It was almost like when she gunned down Dick Coonan. Her best clue, the person who kept the information to the next step was killed right in front of her. This time she didn't pull the trigger, but it still felt the same.
She doesn't think about her biggest case. How she struggled for years without coming up with a single clue. How she was stuck and had to pull herself out of the mire. How therapy helped her get beyond her mother's murder.
And then this mystery writer, her mother's favorite, had upset her apple cart. Beckett's well ordered, if lonely, life had been turned upside down by this apparent man-child. He broke down her walls and she broke down his.
To all outside his mother and daughter he looked like a playboy, a nine-year old on a sugar rush, a man-child. But as she got to know Castle better, she found him to be more than met the eye. How she shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
Castle wasn't, isn't that man that she read about in the gossip pages. He isn't that man who has some starlet wannabe on his arm that he beds. That was his wall, his façade.
Castle is a loving father and a good son. A caring, protective man of those who he loves.
He was the reason she was able to solve the case. His resources broke the clue. His $100,000 dollar contract, a gift really, got her her mother's killer.
After thinking about their first case, her mother's case, the dirty bomb, her first apartment blown up by the Nikki Heat killer, even the case in D.C., Castle was a key component to her solving each one.
Maybe she would have solved them eventually, but with his help they solved it faster. They got the "story". And the story got them their suspect.
It took Beckett a while, but she finally realized that, no matter what, Castle and she were better together than apart. And if they were together, perhaps, just perhaps she would still be able to protect him from Loksat.
Beckett reached her desk and reviewed the reports left for her from the overnight cases. She reviewed them with half her attention because she knew what she had to do.
She needed to apologize to Castle and hope he would take her back.
Then they would solve this case together.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope that you and yours have a very Happy New Year!
