This chapter is dedicated to fembot79. I thank twitter every day that I joined and became twitter pals with her; she is absolutely hilarious. And an awesome person. Absolutely guaranteed to make a Castle episode even more interesting with her unique perspective and rapier wit. I love her perspectives on events, and hope she continues to share her viewpoint for many more years with all of us.
January, 2000
"Kate? What's wrong?" This was the second time she'd acted like the very sight of him was revolting. He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to know so he could stop it. Whatever it was.
She pivoted slowly back to face him, fake smile now plastered on her face. He could tell the difference.
"Nothing, Rick. I'm fine. Just caught me off guard with that haul of fish, that's all."
"Oh, yeah," he happily crowed. "I had a little trouble at first, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly. Just look at these beauties!" He swung the net around, while Kate studiously avoided watching his muscles flex and stretch with the movement. She didn't see a thing. Not his biceps bulging, or the impressive deltoids shrugging off the burden. Nothing. Of. The. Kind. Seen. At. All.
"That is impressive," she said, distracted. Since she wasn't looking at the fish, it simply confused Rick even more.
"Are you sure you're okay? Did you get stung by any jellyfish or step on an anemone when you were walking along the shore?" he worried, looking over her legs for any tell-tale red marks.
"No, no nothing like that. Sorry, I just have a bit of a headache," she lied. Well, she was dizzy, though not because she was ill. 'Get a hold of yourself, Kate!' she told herself sternly.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't think we brought anything for headaches, did we?"
"It's ok, Rick. Really, I'll be fine. It's not too bad."
"Well, maybe you should rest in the shade for a while. I can watch the salt."
"No, it's really fine. I'm good. Should we start cleaning the fish?"
He looked at her speculatively. Seeing nothing to truly concern him, he nodded. They both had filleting knives that Rick kept in meticulous shape. Dividing up the catch, they cleaned, washed and filleted the prized haul, cutting them in half but leaving the tail intact so they could be hung over the poles of the drying rack. There was a small fire burning nearby, made quite smoky by the addition of various greenery, keeping flies and birds away.
Rick collected all the offal in a basket and disposed of it at one end of the beach, leaving it for the numerous waterfowl that roosted in the island cliffs' cracks and crevices. Kate turned her attention back to the boiling pot of water, determined not to watch him walking back and forth. No matter how much the idea attracted her.
"How's the salt making going?" he asked after returning to the campsite, watching as Kate peered in the pot once more, giving the interior a few desultory stirs.
"I think it's about ready for the sun. What do you think?"
He took the spoon from her and stirred. "Yeah, this is about right. Let's go spread it out."
He carried to pot to a sheet they'd laid on top of a flat rock. Kate emptied the pot onto the sheet, trying to keep everything evenly distributed in the hot sunshine. The remaining water would evaporate in the heat, leaving behind the desired salt crystals.
"You okay taking over from here?" Rick asked from behind her, making her startle once again. "I refilled the bucket with fresh seawater, so you're already to go for the next round," he said, slowly, watching her with evident unease.
"Look, Kate, I can see something's wrong. You're not acting yourself. Why don't you go rest, and I'll take over the salt making for a while. We've got enough fish for this first trip."
Kate closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She knew she wasn't ill, but she was feeling a bit desperate to get away from him and just think. She couldn't understand her reactions, and wouldn't be able to sort it out if he kept sneaking up on her and staggering her with his physical presence.
"Actually, Rick, I don't think I'd mind lying down for a bit. Do we have any extra water?"
"Of course."
He unexpectedly reached an arm out, touching her forehead. She felt a shock go through her; this had happened when he'd touched her before, but never as strongly.
"Jeez, Kate. You're burning up. You've got a fever! Maybe you're getting sick."
She felt the flaming heat crawling up her cheeks. It was a fever alright. But she wasn't sick.
"It's probably the sun, coupled with bending over a boiling pot for the last few hours. Once I lay down, I bet I'll be fine." More lies. Though she hoped the last statement was the truth.
"Ok," he said, doubtfully. "Just let me know if you need anything."
"Oh, I will Rick. I will." She colored further, having not intended for that to sound quite the way it did. Hoping he hadn't caught it, she strolled off to the trees near the cliff base, bottle in hand. Some cooler temperatures would be welcome, both internally and externally.
Choosing a comfortable looking stretch of shaded sand, Kate sat down, leaning her back against the palm trunk behind her. Alone at last, it was time to try and sort out her reactions to the man. Time to stop lying to herself that she was inured to his presence. She wasn't. Today had proved that in spades.
So, what was it about him that so disrupted her usual equilibrium? She was certainly attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? She'd thought he was good looking from the first time she'd laid eyes on him. Now that they'd been stranded together, and been required to work their fingers to the bone just to survive, his already well defined body had morphed into something a Renaissance sculptor might have copied to represent a Greek god.
But, she'd seen plenty of good looking men. Maybe none quite as attractive as Rick, with his perfectly cut shoulders that led to those delicious biceps. His incredible pecs that inevitably led the eyes down to those unbelievable abs. His legs were….
"Stop it!" she admonished out loud, tensing her body and sitting forward. She was truly losing it, talking out loud to herself.
"Ok, Kate. You have to stop thinking about his body, and figure out why you're reacting this way now, of all times. I mean, we've been thrown together for almost two months now, and you didn't have this…proclivity…back then." None of the coconuts answered her verbal agitation, so she returned to her silent inquest.
She thought about the past two months, and all the things that they'd been through. In the beginning, she had been at times annoyed by Rick, and at times frustrated with him. But, she'd always had a reaction to him. She'd never been immune. That was certain.
He'd more than proven himself to her after the ship had wrecked and he'd managed to rescue both of them from the sinking ship. The rescue alone was impressive; however their time together since then had elevated him in her eyes beyond measure. His knowledge of the flora of the island and his ability to subsist, if not thrive, in such a harsh environment was, simply put, incredible.
Kate felt that she'd contributed very little to their survival up to this point. Sure, her knowledge of how to dress a chicken had been valuable while attempting to preserve the carcasses of the dead birds on the ship. However, she recognized that Rick undoubtedly would've been able to accomplish the same thing, given time and effort.
Everything else that she had done on the island had been taught to her by Rick. She was now better at making rope, and far better at making baskets. Nonetheless, she knew that if he were alone, he would be nearly as comfortable as he was with her now. Though far lonelier. The man did like to talk. If she had been alone, however, she had no doubt that she would've been dead well before now.
Yet, it wasn't hero worship that had so sharpened her senses to his very being. If that had been the extent of it, she would have had these feelings from the time he'd rescued her. She'd been thankful, no doubt. And glad he knew what he was doing; could build a raft, rough as it had been. Could navigate to a desert island and bend it to his will. No, it was much more than admiration for his accomplishments.
So, she appreciated his physical appearance, but had done so from their first meeting. A time when she'd thought him mentally light in the ballast department. Even when that incorrect assumption was rectified, he'd still needled her. Then, he'd rescued her, saved her from an agonizing death locked in her cabin for who knew how many days before the boat actually sank? Yet he was so much more to her than a simple knight in shining armor.
Lying back against the trunk of the palm, she tried to relax again. Twisting her brain around her confusing feelings was starting to give her a real headache. She closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking about him for a while. As she lay there, a sudden memory of being wrapped in his arms came bubbling up. Gasping, her eyes flew open as she remembered all the sensations that being in his embrace had engendered.
Kindness. Empathy. Caring. Safety. Protection. At one of her most vulnerable times, he had held her tight and kept the demons away, for just a little while. These actions were what truly had made her reevaluate her perception of him.
She'd been nearly overwhelmed with the grief of her mother's death as the anniversary had approached. Every time she'd been ready to retreat into herself, shut out the world completely, he'd been there offering a shoulder to cry on and a hand hold. No one else in her life, even Lanie, had ever been able to reach her in that manner. Her father should have helped her, or at least tried, but he sought comfort of a different kind. Kate had ultimately donned a mask to hide behind, and no one had really seen through it until Rick had come along.
She thought then about how he had held her close as she grieved for her mother. He'd been a life preserver after she'd been tossed into a stormy sea. She'd told him earlier that he made her feel safe. Warm. Secure. He was still all of those feelings, but now she realized she was seeing him more as a man than as just a mere friend. A man that she wanted to know much better.
There was no doubt that she could easily fall in love with Rick. She thought he could feel the same about her. He liked to tease her quite frequently, but underlying that there was always a tension roiling off of him; an awareness of her, as a woman. And now she finally realized the disquiet she was feeling around him stemmed from his presence as a man.
However she was at a severe disadvantage, compared to him. He knew most of her story; at least the most important pieces. The part about her mother. The part about her father. She still didn't even know what on earth he was doing in the South Pacific. He'd told her that he would give her his story once they got past January ninth. Well, that cruel date had come and gone. Perhaps it was time to take the opportunity to get to know each other, to learn about the other: thoughts, dreams, as well as their past. After all, they were stuck on a small beach with few jobs to do and a lot of time to spend with each other.
Rick had spent the time while Kate was resting thinking about why she was acting so weird around him. He hadn't come up with a good explanation by the time she came back, but he was hoping she would feel open enough to talk to him about it.
Fortunately her mood seemed much improved, compared to earlier in the day. She returned just as he was placing the second batch of salt out onto a sheet.
"Hey, how's it going?" she asked, as she strolled up to him.
"I'm fine, but how are you feeling? Are you feeling better?"
"Yes, thank you very much. I really appreciate you letting me rest for a while."
"It's no problem, Kate. I'm just glad you're feeling better."
"Do we have time to make another batch of salt?"
"I think we can start, however we may have to finish it tomorrow."
"Okay, what else do we need to work on today?" she asked him as he finished ladling out the salt.
"There's nothing in particular, but I was thinking about taking a swim in the ocean. Do you want to join me?"
"Well, I suppose I could. Though I was wondering if we would have some time to talk today?"
"Talk? Talk about what?"
"Do you remember that you told me that you would tell me about your past, after we had gotten past January ninth? I think I'm ready to talk about it, if—if that's all right with you?"
Rick stopped still, startled by the request. He'd known that this day was coming, but he hadn't expected it to come so quickly after the anniversary of Johanna's death. He knew he had to tell her about his past, but he was terrified that she would find out that he was not the man she thought she knew. Sighing, he turned toward her and looked deeply into her eyes.
"I know I said that to you, and I'll keep my word. You told me about your past, and it's only fair that you know about mine. However, there are a lot of things that I'm not proud of, and I hope that you won't think differently about me, once you've heard about them."
"Rick, you saved my life. You've been the rock that kept me from crumbling into the dust, held me up when all I wanted to do was lie down and cry. I highly doubt that there is anything you can tell me that would change my mind about what kind of man you are. I told you once that our past was meaningful in that it only serves to remind us of what we were, not who we are now. You don't have to tell me everything, but I want to know where you came from and what brought you here today. Not to judge you, but to understand you better. Does that make sense?"
He closed his eyes, then opened them and reached for her. Drawing her into a tight hug, he whispered into her hair, "I'm scared, but I know you won't judge me for things I did when I was a different man."
"So, it's okay that we spend some time talking about our lives before?"
"Yes, we can. But first, do you think it would be okay to take a swim? I was really looking forward to playing in the waves for a while."
She laughed, music to his ears after so many tears over the last few weeks.
"Yes, Rick. You can go play in the surf. Do you want to build a sand castle too?"
"Only if you promise not to knock it down."
That evening, he managed to keep her distracted through dinner. He had worked up an appetite, out in the sea air, and wanted to enjoy the meal they put together. Most of it was bounty from the sea, a big change from their now mundane fare inside the island.
They sat near each other in the sand around the fireplace. Not so close that he was touching her, but close enough that he could if he so desired. They'd built the fire up after cooking dinner, knowing they'd be up for a while talking and wanting to have enough light to see well while they sat and twisted fibers into sennit.
And they would talk. The moment had arrived, and he wasn't sure he was up to it. He would have happily gone back into the fury of a cyclone, or even faced off with the oily Grollet instead of having to confess his sins to her. It would be a process that stripped his soul bare. He knew she deserved no less, and if he had any shot of a long term relationship with her, he had to be honest. No dissembling. No avoiding. It was time to man up.
She sat, quietly twisting away, content to let him initiate the conversation. He knew she wanted to have this discussion. So, she'd let him decide when it was time to do so. She never doubted that he would go back on his word. He simply was not that type of man.
"So, Kate, where should I start? What do you want to know?"
"I can ask anything?"
"Yes. For you, yes. I want you to know that I think very highly of you. What you've been through, in such a short time? I'm not sure many people would come through it. But you have; it's tempered you, made you stronger. And you let me in, let me see the real you when you didn't have to let anyone inside. I want to give you the same thing, though I don't have any traumas in my life like those that you've had to deal with."
"It's not a contest, Rick," she retorted, a bit annoyed by the deprecation of his own life in order to pay due to hers.
"No, I know it's not. That didn't come out right. I just meant that there are things that have affected me, some deeply, and I'm not proud of how I've responded to them. It wasn't until I came out to the South Pacific and met Anapa that I realized what type of man I wanted to be. He's the one that shaped me, not through a forge of fire, like you experienced, but through gentle molding and sanding off the rough spots."
She looked up at him, almost shy in appearance. "Sorry. I'm too defensive about some of these issues. I didn't mean to accuse y…"
"No, Kate. It's fine, please," he interrupted. "I didn't explain it the way I should have. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to try and draw an analogy between us. I'll tell you what, why don't I just start by telling you about my childhood and how I got here, then if you have any questions you can fire away?"
She drew in a breath, hardly believing how open he was being with her. It was invigorating. Encouraging. And utterly terrifying. If he was willing to strip his defenses completely away for her, she would be left with no doubt as to how he felt about her.
Taking her silence for acquiescence, Rick started at what he thought was the logical place to begin. His entrance into the big, wide world.
"My mother's name is Martha Rodgers. I don't know my father's name. She told me she fell in love with him through the course of a magical night, but by daylight he'd melted away like the mist in the night. Six weeks later, she realized he'd left more than just memories behind; she was pregnant, with no idea of his name or where she could find him." He paused, seeing Kate's look of sympathy for a woman she didn't know.
"That couldn't have been easy for her."
"I daresay it wasn't. She'd come to the big city chasing a dream of acting, like so many before her. Finding herself alone and pregnant did not fit in with her career plans. But my mother is incredibly tenacious, and she decided to continue in her chosen career, and have me as well."
"Was she successful?"
"To a degree. It's hard to break into acting even without the burden of a baby and no one to help. But she persisted, and while we had a lot of years where there was simply no money for anything besides the essentials, we survived. I didn't know any different, at that age. I thought all kids grew up haunting the backstage of theaters and being chased off by annoyed property masters when items went 'missing.' I didn't get to play with many children, but I was free to develop my imagination. I was later exiled to the public library as a punishment, but I soon learned to love reading. It took me to places far beyond the world I'd seen so far. I had a very liberal childhood, in the sense that I had next to no supervision. But constraining as well, since I had no idea how to act around kids my own age."
"I can just picture a little Ricky Rodgers, dusty from exploring some backstage nooks and crannies and getting underfoot all the time."
"Oh, yes, I was great at getting into things I shouldn't. I think that's why mother finally enrolled me in a boarding school. She was finally getting bigger parts, and couldn't supervise me; I was now old enough to get into real trouble. She'd tried a series of nannies, but all they ever did was sit around watching soaps. I ran wild in the meantime."
"Boarding school, as in you lived there?"
"Yes. Well, until I got kicked out. I was pretty smart, so was able to get scholarships. We were doing better, but not that well. But I hated boarding schools with a passion. I was always the perpetual new kid, a loner. It was hard to fit in, harder to feel like I was somewhere I belonged. I eventually took a page out of mother's life and started playing a part. The big prankster who didn't care if he got into trouble. I went through several schools in short order, and I think my mother was ready to disown me."
"I sense a 'but then' coming."
Rick laughed, pleased at how easily she could read him. "You're right, Kate. But then, I met one of my best friends, Damien Westlake. He took me under his wing, helped me settle down and find my voice."
"Your voice? As in singing?"
Rick chuckled. "Surely you've heard me trying to sing while I was working around the island?"
She nodded; it was a deep voice, but not particularly melodious.
"Well, then you know singing was never a talent I possessed. No, Damien was the editor of the school's literary magazine. I wrote a few pieces for him, and he encouraged me to learn more about the craft of writing. It fit me perfectly, as all that reading and time spent alone as a child was molded into an ability to write stories that others wanted to read. I was fascinated by the whole process, and quickly decided I wanted to be a writer."
"Ah, I seem to remember you having a stash of paper and pens in the bow. And Hina mentioned that you liked to sit up there when off duty and write."
"Yep. That's one reason I brought all that I could with me. I can't imagine not being able to write."
"I haven't seen you ever sitting down to write, not since we've been here."
"Well, no. We've been too busy. But once we get the major projects done, life should be a lot easier. And I'll have time to write. I'd like to keep a record of things that we do here, big and small events. Perhaps when we get back to the real world there will be an interest in knowing our story."
Kate blanched, having not considered that some celebrity, or notoriety, might result from their disappearance. Rick, noticing, reached out and took her hand.
"Hey, listen. I'll not write anything you don't want me to. And, of course, you'll be the first to read anything I write about our time here. If you don't want to be a part of it, that's fine. I promise."
He had no way of knowing that this was one promise to Kate Beckett that he'd have to break.
Well, he's started to share his life with her. More coming. Many are asking where they can get a Rick like this one for their personal use. Maybe I should start a crowdfunding account to clone him?
