Chapter 18

Beckett curled into Castle as if he were her last hope of salvation, and stayed still and quiet within his arms for some time. Eventually, she unfurled and stretched.

"I know I can't save him," she sighed sadly. "But now I've no-one." She sighed again. "At least I've got a job."

"You love being a cop." Castle seized on the chance to turn the evening to a more positive note. "You're already a detective, so you must be good at it."

"I guess. There's still a lot of grunt work."

"Same in any job. Even writing. Editing. I hate editing."

"You do?"

"Tedious, boring, soul-destroying. I hate it."

"You've still got to do it," Beckett said.

"It doesn't mean I have to like it. I like writing. I don't like correcting and editing."

"Accuracy is important."

"I agree with that. Why do you think I'm asking you all these questions? It's important to get it right. But editing is all about putting in missing commas and checking my spelling and grammar and wondering if a different word would be better and then taking out all the repetition and it's just no fun." His face changed. "We could have fun."

"Here we go," she said to the air.

"No, I don't mean that sort of fun, though of course we can if you would like. I mean ordinary fun. Like ice creams, or going to the movies, or…or…Coney Island, or the Staten Island Ferry, or a picnic."

"At eight p.m.?"

"No. Stop being so negative. Next day you're off. If it's sunny, we'll all go and have a picnic."

"We all?"

"You, me, Alexis, one of Alexis's friends to keep her busy and happy… it'll be fun. If it's raining, come round and we'll build blanket forts and have movies and popcorn."

"Uh," Beckett said weakly, watching her life being organised for her. It wasn't a malady from which she regularly suffered. Her life was perfectly well organised – by her. Family picnics or movies in blanket forts hadn't figured in her schedule since she was around ten, and she hadn't been upset by their lack.

"It'll be fun. Fun is important. It makes the world happier, and it's nice to be happy," Castle said. Happily.

Beckett wasn't convinced that compulsory fun made anyone happy, least of all her, but clearly it made Castle happy, and more relevantly he was obviously going to continue thinking up things that might be fun – for him, anyway – until she agreed. A picnic would be bearable, and if the weather were nice, even pleasant, so long as she didn't have to do any child-wrangling. Blanket forts, on the other hand, were for babies, which she was not.

She regarded Castle's smiling face and bright blue eyes, and couldn't bear to kill the childlike enthusiasm and warmth emanating from them.

"Okay," she acquiesced. "My next day off is Saturday, anyway."

"Great!" Castle bounced, and hugged her hard. "It'll be wonderful, you'll see."

Beckett wasn't so sure, but somehow Castle's enthusiasm was contagious. She nestled in, put her head back on his shoulder, and breathed in essence-of-Castle: an addictive mixture of cologne and maleness, which surely had medicinal qualities, since it was, exceedingly quickly, relieving her misery at both her father's behaviour and her own response to that behaviour.

It didn't only have medicinal qualities, she soon discovered, as Castle's patent brand of silliness had removed her misery and left space for other feelings to creep in. It was also an aphrodisiac. She wouldn't tell him that, she'd just breathe his aroma in and feel much better. Endorphins, or something. She could use some endorphins. More than some, in fact. Lots, to overcome the spectre at her shoulder: chase it away for tonight. Tomorrow could look after itself, for now.

She nuzzled into his neck, and then nipped it. He rumbled, wordlessly, and then tipped her down across his lap, smiling wolfishly, and pounced on her: raiding her mouth until she gave in and let him take everything he wanted. Conveniently, that covered giving her everything she wanted. Her hands locked around his neck, pulling him down, but suddenly he rolled and she was above him, lying along his body with his hands clamped at shoulders and ass, pressing her into hard weight below her and hips thrusting up against her.

She pulled a little away, and unbuttoned his shirt, sweeping it wide and giving a pleased little noise at the muscle beneath. Castle flexed a little, and then flicked her soft sweater over her head and let it fall, revealing a pretty, pale green bra whose thin fabric didn't conceal her rising excitement at all. When he lifted her hips, flicked her jeans open and slid them down, she wriggled them away and sat up over his waist.

"Come back down," Castle suggested, and set his hands on her back to bring her back to his mouth.

"I've got a better idea," she replied, wriggled away from him and smirked evilly from the door of the bedroom before he'd blinked twice. He reached her, leaning provocatively on the door frame in pale green underwear and a come-hither smile, in an instant, planted her against the wall and kissed her hard, grinding into her till her breathing became panting and her leg came up around his waist, opening against him. He ran a firm hand along the lean, hard muscle of her thigh, learning the cut of her quad all the way to taut rear; his touch sure and strong, experienced and expertly winding her higher. She clutched at his shoulders, heedless that her nails were biting into the muscle, as his big fingers slipped below the fabric of her panties and started to slide through hot, slick folds, dipping inside, drawing faster breathing and small noises; a moan when he entered her a little way and withdrew: digits mimicking the possession that would later come, her body tight and hot and soaked around his movement. She flowed and melted around him, not thinking, only sensing, lost to everything but him as he drove her up and up: higher and higher until she broke apart around his hand and sighed out his name.

"Bed," he stated, and took her there, stripping shirt and pants, socks and boxers, to be naked and erect, proudly ready. She flooded again at the sight of him smoothly rolling on protection and then standing, surveying her as if she were already his (but maybe she was).

"They're pretty, but I think they'll be in the way," he rasped, and suavely removed bra and panties, leaving her as unashamedly naked as he was. He leaned over her, then rose above her, catching her hands in his to place them by the side of her head, letting go for an instant to position himself just where he should be, then pushing home; each slow inch taking her up again, filling her, hard against her fluid heat and the arch and curve to him, wordlessly wanting more, deeper, harder, until they moved in unison, shattered and fell together.

Reluctantly, much later, Castle unwrapped himself from the Beckett-teddy-bear which he'd been cuddling and petting for quite some serene and soothing time. "I need to get home," he murmured. "See you tomorrow?"

"I guess so. More of your questions?"

"Yep. I'll have thought up a whole compendium by then."

"Urrhhh."

"You love it really," he teased, and then bent to kiss her. "Till tomorrow."

The week passed with only a moderate supply of murders, generally of the mundane variety. Mundanity, however, provided the senior detectives with a chance to pass off the majority of the work on to Beckett, including the more interesting pursuits of interviewing – indeed, leading interviews – and reviewing evidence as well as collecting it. She was so cheered by being given more responsibility – even if they were simple cases – that she barely noticed the days go by, took some care not to notice the absence of any contact from her father, and answered all of Castle's questions with good humour.

She might not have been so good-humoured if she'd realised that his questioning had moved on from techniques that Storm would use to straight police work. Castle, in fact, was constructing a new story as well as Storm, based around a rookie detective bearing a considerable resemblance to Beckett. Since it was, he told himself, simply a speculative project, he kept it to himself, not even mentioning it to Alexis. He certainly wouldn't mention it to his mother, who was continuing her full-frontal assault on the New York theatre scene and, in consequence, his wine rack. Thanks to her late nights, she woke late too, which meant that she was generally indulging in a restorative beverage when Alexis came home from school, which further meant that Castle could amble off to the precinct safe in the knowledge that as long as he was home around eight, Alexis and her Grams were enjoying comfortable bonding time. Alexis, not having seen her Grams for some time, was exceedingly keen on spending time with her, and if Castle hadn't been pursuing his precinct pursuits, he would have felt quite excluded.

On Friday, Castle checked the weather forecast, and found that the next day was expected to be horrible, with driving rain and a sharp fall in temperature. Picnics, therefore, were off the happiness menu, to be substituted by blanket forts and movies. He made all his preparations, and quietly hid the wine he intended to share with Beckett in his bedroom closet, where (he hoped) it would be safe from his mother's depredations.

On Saturday morning, Beckett dressed herself in comfortably stylish weekend wear, ready for almost anything with which Castle might assail her. Prudently, her attire was also washable. She had very little idea of the mess-causing quotient of a ten-year old girl, but she wasn't sanguine. She was just about to leave, when her phone chirped. She checked, in case it was Castle with some hitch or – more likely – request.

She collapsed on to her couch, completely forgetting that it was time to leave, and stared at the message from her father.

Bug, I'm sorry. There's only one thing I can do now.

He couldn't. He couldn't do that. Surely, surely he didn't mean that…she hadn't driven him that far, had she? She'd abandoned him…had it pushed him past that last taboo? She pushed the phone away, and sank her head in her hands, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

There was another chirp. She dragged the phone back to her, barely able to focus on the screen.

Pressed send by accident. I'm going to rehab. Dad.

"What?" she said aloud. "Rehab? He's going to rehab?"

She burst into tears again, this time of utter relief, unable to control her overwhelming emotions. She wept until her head was pounding and she had blown her nose so many times the skin was dry and raw, then, exhausted, fell into a doze.

She was woken by her phone ringing.

"Beckett, where are you? Couldn't you have rung to cancel?"

"Castle?" Oh, shit. "What time is it?"

"It's four o'clock. You were supposed to be here by two." He sounded completely furious.

"My dad…"

"You said you were cutting him loose. You blew us off for your drunk dad" –

"He's gone to rehab."

Castle's tirade stopped in its tracks. "He what?"

"He texted. He's going to rehab." She started to weep again, tired, dragging tears, trying to stop them and failing. "He never went to rehab before."

"Come over now," Castle said, completely reversing his fury. "Come over and stay."

"I…" –

"You can. You shouldn't be alone. You're upset. I'd come and get you, but I can't leave Alexis and Mother is, thankfully, out." His tone changed, to firm determination. "Come over. I'll expect you in half an hour, and if you don't show, we'll both come and get you."

"I…"

"Bring an overnight bag, and stay." His voice was cheerfully commanding, and didn't admit argument.

"Okay," she said. "Okay," Someone to tell her what to do, while she felt as if she was moving underwater, or through fog. It was easier to concede. "I'll come."

She staggered to her bedroom and threw a change of clothes, hairbrush and toothbrush into a bag. She caught a glimpse of her face, smudged and tear-stained, and washed it clean, but ignored her make-up, too tired to care, still blindsided by hope, still sure that hope would be dashed. She wanted so badly to believe that he really would change, that he'd made his decision – but deep down, she couldn't, and the conflict within her ripped the raw edges of her heart wide open.

A cab deposited her at Castle's door; the doorman allowed her in, recognising her; and she finally knocked softly. The door opened, to a backdrop of is it her, Daddy?, and Castle took her bag, drew her inside, and put an arm around her waist, unworried by his daughter's presence.

Castle had been incandescently angry at being stood up – as he thought – by Beckett, and more so because Alexis kept asking where she was. When he finally called her, he'd only done so to bring matters to a head.

But then she'd said her father was going to rehab, in a tired, tearful voice that told him its own tale, and his anger had drained faster than snow melted in a heat wave. He'd told her to come, and she had; and bring an overnight bag, and she had; and now he could take care of her.

He brought her in, wrapped her in, and put her bag down for her: in a few moments, when he had an excuse, he'd move it to his room, but he wasn't opening that discussion with Alexis present or when Beckett was so clearly drained.

"Come and watch a movie," Alexis bounced. "We've got popcorn and M&Ms and Reese's Pieces and chocolate raisins and ordinary peanuts."

"Okay," Beckett said, mostly to stop the flow of words. She sat on the couch. Both Castles stared at her. "What?"

"You can't sit on the couch when there are blanket forts available," Castle pointed out.

Saying Yes, I can would be the wrong answer, Beckett divined from the plaintive expressions on both faces.

"They're really comfortable," Alexis offered, a hopeful expression on her small face.

"Come and try it," Castle said, and gestured at the pile of cushions beside him.

Beckett looked dubiously at the arrangement, but, again, couldn't muster the energy to argue. In a tiny piece of her heart, it looked like it might be…fun. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had uncomplicated, childish fun. She sat down next to Castle, and found that the cushions were sinfully soft, but propped her up at exactly the right angle to see the TV.

"Okay, what shall we watch?"

"We already had High School Musical, Daddy. Let's have Lilo and Stitch."

"Great choice, pumpkin. Do you like Disney, Beckett?"

"Yeah." Disney required no thought and no intelligence, and since she presently had neither, it was as good as anything else. She had no idea what Lilo and Stitch was, which wasn't a lack she felt like betraying.

"Have some snacks. Which would you like?" In front of them were large bowls of candy and popcorn. Healthy snacks didn't seem to figure on today's menu. "That one's salted, that one's sweet. I'll start the movie."

Beckett annexed the bowl of M&Ms, without protest from Alexis, who was glued to the movie, and mindlessly ate her way through them as she watched the insane mischief making of the little blue alien Stitch. Soon, chocolate, emotional exhaustion, and the soothing silliness of animation had the effect that Castle had expected, and her eyelids drooped. She blinked, but the moment of wakefulness didn't last long, and less than halfway through the movie she was asleep.

"Sshhhh, pumpkin," Castle murmured. "Detective Beckett's had a really busy week, and she's tired. Let's not disturb her."

"Okay. But can we finish the movie?"

"Sure."

They did. Beckett didn't stir, and before the second movie Castle carefully lifted her and put her in his room.

"I don't want to wake her going up the stairs and banging her feet on the wall," he said to Alexis's confused glance.

"Oh, okay." Alexis turned back to Robin Hood, and Castle disposed Beckett on his bed, gently removing her shoes but leaving her otherwise undisturbed. She made a soft, small noise and curled into the pillows without ever coming close to wakefulness. He shut the bedroom and then the study door, so that nothing would disturb her.

As the closing credits rolled, Beckett emerged from Castle's room, embarrassed and tousled. "I'm sorry," she said. "Did you…?"

"Yep. You needed the rest and me singing along might have woken you, though I've got an excellent baritone, which has been widely praised" –

Beckett rolled her eyes. "As has your modesty," she noted.

"Oh, Daddy's never modest," Alexis said. "He says it's a waste of time and nobody would ever believe him anyway because he's so obviously wonderful."

Castle and Beckett both choked, for widely different reasons. Beckett was desperately trying not to laugh, and Castle was trying to gather breath for a response to Alexis's ingenuous commentary.

"He does? Really?" Beckett managed, as Castle went purple in the face.

"Oh, yes."

Beckett gave up, thumped down inelegantly on a pile of cushions, and laughed till she couldn't draw breath. It was just so perfectly, ridiculously, totally Castle-esque that she couldn't help it. He'd been stitched up by his own daughter, completely inadvertently, and now he didn't have a single place to go that wouldn't walk him into the middle of explanations that he wouldn't want to give. She laughed and laughed and laughed, until Castle shook her shoulders before it became hysteria. She eventually ran down, still squeaking occasionally at the remembered look on his face.

"Dinner time," Castle said, somewhat sulkily. "Alexis, will you set the table, please."

"I'll tidy these up," Beckett offered, waving at the blankets and cushions.

"Oh, no. We'll need them after dinner for another movie or two. You just sit and be a good guest. Dinner won't take more than a few moments – it's only mac 'n' cheese and then ice-cream."

Dinner passed with an enthusiastic discussion between Castles of animation techniques and the animal characters of Robin Hood, with particular attention to the football-playing hen. Beckett listened, and occasionally added a comment, necessarily vague since she'd missed the movie and hadn't otherwise seen it for some years.

"Okay, we'll choose ice cream and then take it back to our forts," Castle said, which clearly came as no surprise to his daughter but caused Beckett some disquiet. Still, she played along, and spent the remainder of the evening watching, with immense enjoyment, Studio Ghibli's anime Kiki's Delivery Service and then, at Castle's insistence, Spirited Away.

"Okay, pumpkin, bedtime," Castle eventually said.

"One more movie?"

"Nope. Bedtime. Up you go and brush your teeth and hair, wash your face and I'll be up in a moment."

Alexis drooped off, and Castle took the opportunity to deposit a brief kiss on Beckett's head. "Once she's in bed, we can have some wine and a different movie, if you want."

"Let's decide then."

He wandered off upstairs, and Beckett curled herself up on the couch, leaving the blankets alone for now.

Thank you to all readers and reviewers. Much appreciated.