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Chapter Twenty Six

They arrive back at the loft without incident. The paps are gone by the time they get back to the building, likely chasing down another poor celeb in the hopes that they'll get something scandalous out of him or her—but usually it's a her they follow.

Kate removes her wig, throwing it onto the couch, before collapsing next to it and letting out a long suffering sigh.

"Well, that was a waste of time," she grumbles, sinking into the cushions.

"Not completely," Castle replies, sitting next to her, allowing her to lay her legs over his lap as he removes the gray hair, wincing as the costume glue pulls on his actual facial hair. It's not very strong stuff, having spent years at the bottom of a trunk, but it'll be a bitch to scrub off in the shower. "You got to see your dad."

"Yippee," Kate deadpans, rolling her eyes.

"Come on, Kate," Castle sighs, rubbing her legs. "What happened between you two? Where's all this animosity coming from?" He thought she'd pull away from him at the question; thought she might just stand up and walk upstairs to her room, slam the door and hide herself away.

For a heart-stopping moment, it looked like she might do just that, her muscles tensing under his hands. But then she relaxes, takes a deep breath and levels him with a somber gaze.

"He ruined my mother's funeral." There are tears in her eyes when she says it but her voice is even, emotionless. His hands clench, fisting the pink material of her scrubs.

He doesn't ask how; doesn't say a single word, and barely breathes, as he waits, patiently, for her to continue. And she does.

She tells him about the fact that she had to plan the entire thing practically alone but for Gina, who was there almost every step of the way, holding her hand and covering any phone calls Kate didn't think she could handle. She tells him about how she had to fight off the press when they learned that her mother died (though they were kept in the dark on her mother's identity, thanks, again, to Gina) and how her father was nowhere to be found in any of it.

"At first, I thought he was just off grieving," she tells Castle as he continues to massage her calves, unlacing her shoes and pushing them off her feet. "When my grandmother died, he locked himself in the bathroom for five hours and wouldn't say a single word. My mother kept her ear to the door to make sure she could still hear his breathing. When he came out, his eyes were red and his face was blotchy, but he let us hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. When his father died, he drank a whole bottle of scotch and my mom rubbed his back while he vomited the next morning." Kate looks away. "She was always his rock; mine, too."

"So when she died…" Castle sighs, and Kate nods.

"There was no rock." The tears that had been threatening to fall now spill from her eyes and Castle grasps her hand and squeezes. Kate gives him a watery smile.

"What about Gina?" he asks softly, knowing just how caring the blonde is when she needs to be. "She wasn't your rock?"

Kate shrugs. "Gina was…tough. She let me mourn for an appropriate amount of time, kept all my liquor locked up, never let me have more than half a glass of wine at dinner, and kept me company when I was feeling lonely. It took a month before she was encouraging me to get back on my feet and start working again." She smiles sadly. "I won my first Oscar that year."

Castle nods in remembrance. "I know," he says, earning a wan smile. "It's no big secret that I'm a fan of yours, is it?" he asks and she snorts, shaking her head. "Did Gina try to help your dad?" Her face darkens and Castle's heart aches, cursing his stupid, stupid mouth internally. But she nods.

"She did," she says. "When he showed up drunk off his ass at mom's funeral, she practically dragged him out and reamed him a new one outside the church, telling him to get his shit together and put on his brave face for me and…"

"And?" he pushes, lightly.

"He called her a frigid bitch and said, straight to her face, that he knew who she was and she wasn't going to let her get away with it."

"'It' being…?"

"Hell if I know," Kate sighs. "But she got him in a cab and sent him home. He told the cabbie to drop him at a bar near the apartment."

"You were living with him?" he asks her. Kate nods.

"Mom never really wanted me to get my own place; she'd rather me stay with her or in hotels with Gina, so I would never be alone, so when I came back to New York…"

"You lived with your parents," Castle finishes for her, nodding in understanding.

Kate nods. "Yup," she says, "but not after that. Not after he just showed up after disappearing for nearly a full week and just…" she shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks as she laid back. "I didn't even go back to the apartment, I was so angry," she continues. "I just bought the first place I liked, stayed with Gina until all my furniture was moved in and ignored my dad's calls until I'd calmed down a little bit."

"And how long did that take?" Castle asks.

"Three weeks," she answers. "It would have taken longer if Gina hadn't informed me that he was selling the apartment. I wanted to go and make sure I got a few of her things—and mine—before he could sell everything for more liquor."

"That's a little harsh," Castle comments.

"But not too far off the mark," Kate retorts. "He'd already sold my old bed and a few old trinkets that I didn't really care about, but still." She sighs. "I was able to grab my mother's rings and most of her more treasured jewelry and clothing. But we fought over this thing I made her for mother's day when I was four."

"What was it?" Castle asks, his fingers working between her toes. Kate sighs in pleasure, stretching them out before continuing.

"This clay imprint of our hands," she says. "It was like a comparison of my tiny hand to hers and in her print said 'Mommy' and in mine was just my initials, but she treasured that thing like the frickin' Holy Grail."

"Who ended up getting it?" he asks.

"Nobody," she replies, her voice cold. "He threw it against the wall and it shattered into a million little pieces." Her voice breaks at that and Castle reaches for her hand, tugging on it until she's settled in his lap, sideways, his arms cradling her like a child. She curls into his shoulder, her face pressed into his neck, tears wetting his skin. He strokes a hand through her hair and waits for her to continue. "He didn't even apologize," she hiccups. "He just stared at it, blankly, like he didn't just ruin the most important thing in Mom's life; the last thing that connected us to one another. And then he had the audacity to blame it on me! 'Look what you did, Katie! LOOK WHAT YOU DID!'" She grits her teeth and Castle can practically feel the vibrations of them grinding in his own mouth. "So I slapped him, grabbed my shit, and left."

"How many times have you two spoken in the last ten years?" Castle asks. Kate shrugs.

"Maybe a handful of times," she sighs. "Likely less; never more than ten minutes, certainly."

He shakes his head. "I can't imagine my relationship with Alexis going that way…" he murmurs.

"Neither can I," Kate replies, nuzzling against his neck. "You're a much better father than mine ever was."

"Don't say that," Castle groans.

"Why not?" Kate growls in return. "It's true."

"If that were truly true," Castle replies, pulling back to look her in the eye, "then you would never have tried to reconcile with him after your mother's death. You wouldn't find any reason to be around him without your mother as a buffer. You'd completely cut him out of your life, wouldn't you?"

Kate is silent for a few moments, considering his words for a couple of moments, before conceding.

"Fine," she groans, "he wasn't always a complete asshole, but he wasn't there for me when I needed him most and I…I just can't forgive him for that. Not yet."

"Take your time," Castle says, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "But just know that he won't be around forever and you really don't want to have regrets, do you?"

She glares up at him, her lips pursed.

"You can be annoyingly thoughtful sometimes, you know that?" she says and he smirks.

"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that…" Kate rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, before reaching for his mustache.

"Shouldn't you be taking this off?" she asks. "I'm starting to feel like a grave robber…"

"What? You don't think I look spiffy?" He wiggles his bushy brows at her and Kate rolls her eyes before quickly ripping the mustache off.

Castle lets outs a decidedly un-masculine screech and Kate dissolves into giggles when he reflexively pushes her off of his lap, dropping straight to the floor in a heap of laughter.

Castle glares down at her, rubbing his upper lip, sticky with costume glue and slightly furry with leftover hair.

"Was that absolutely necessary?" he groans.

"Yup," Kate replies, before pulling herself to her feet and leaning forward to inspect the reddened area. She presses light fingertips to the affected skin and Castle winces at the slight surge of pain.

"Does your mother have any glue remover?" she asks. He shakes his head.

"She said it would be fine with water," he replies. "It's pretty old stuff." Kate nods and tugs on his arm.

"Come on," she says, "let's go take a shower."

Castle hesitates. "Kate…"

"Relax, Castle," she sighs. "I'm just going to help you take the caterpillars off of your face; besides, your girlish shrieking is a total turn-off."

"It wasn't a 'shriek'," Castle grumbles.

"Oh no?" Kate grins. "Then what would you call that? A rebel yell?"

He narrows his eyes dangerously at her and Kate squeals as he starts at her, running straight into his bedroom as he chases her, squealing and laughing as they pass straight into his bathroom.

She stops short, though, when they reach it. Castle runs into her back, nearly knocking her over, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"Castle," she says, staring at the figure in front of them, pointing a gun at her. "What the hell is that?"

Castle grins, his arms wrapping around her waist, claiming his prize.

"Kate," he says, "meet Boba Fett."

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