December 20, 2009
"You sure you're going to be alright?" Jim asks as he watches his daughter grab a cereal bar on her way out the door.
"Dad, I'm fine," she says, rolling her carry-on behind her. "I feel better than ever."
"You can stay with me as long as you need."
"I'm just going back to get my stuff. I spoke with the subletters at my old place in Tribeca this morning and coincidentally, they're getting a house in Westchester, so I can move in once I return."
"What about your job?"
She pauses. "I haven't spoken with Montgomery yet, but we left things on good terms and they never got around to replacing me. I'd probably just need to re-certify and get a psych eval."
"Sounds like you got it all figured out," he says with a slight smile. "Your mom would be proud of you," he adds, "And I am, too, of course.
Kate abandons her suitcase for a moment and reaches out to wrap her arms around him tightly. They usually aren't so open with each other but she's emotionally raw from the day before and just wants to hug her dad. "Love you," she whispers, before planting a kiss on his cheek and breaking away.
"Always thought you guys were too similar for each other anyway."
Kate laughs in disbelief. "I knew you didn't like him."
Jim shrugs noncommittally.
"Oh hey, before you leave, I found this the other day while I was looking for Christmas decorations. Meant to ask if it was yours," he says, stretching to pick something up from the coffee table. Beckett freezes at the sight of the item.
"I don't believe it," she says, staring at the black cashmere glove in his hand. The same one she purchased a decade ago. She thinks of Rick and her heart aches with what ifs.
"I couldn't find the other one, but it's a nice quality, so I didn't want to throw it out," Jim explains, placing it in her outstretched palm. She looks at him, suddenly overwhelmed.
"Thank you," she says, "You don't know what this means to me."
"Are you getting misty-eyed?" he asks.
"No, uh," she says, sniffling. "I have to go."
She stuffs the glove in her coat pocket and snags the handle of her suitcase.
"Bye, Dad."
At Penn Station, she heads straight to the Amtrak platform for the 11:35am heading to Boston. She boards the last car and slides her suitcase above an empty seat, settling into her own row.
A few minutes later, a conductor comes by collecting tickets just as the train starts to move.
"Ticket, miss?" the woman asks.
Beckett sits up. "I didn't have time to get one at the kiosk, but I'm heading to Boston. $40, right?" she asks, reaching for her purse.
"It's $45 now."
"Right."
Beckett pulls out her Chanel wallet and opens it, only to find Lanie's ID staring back at her. She remembers then that she and the M.E. had both offered to pay for lunch the day before at Serendipity. Lanie won out, and they had laughed about having the same exact wallet, even joking about switching them. Guess they had ended up doing exactly that. No matter. She'd pay her friend back.
She digs into the folds for cash and luckily finds a twenty, two tens, and a five. She stacks the money together and offers it to the conductor. The woman takes it, flipping the bills as she counts it all out.
Beckett watches, bored, until something purple flashes out at her and her heart stops. Without thinking, her arm whips out to grab the conductor's wrist.
"Wait."
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to take your hand off of me."
Beckett quickly removes her grasp but stands up and pushes her way into the aisle.
"I need to see that money," she demands.
"Ma'am, please return to your seat."
"No, you don't understand. I just need to take a look at the five. There's—"
"Please calm down."
"There's some writing on it. I just want to know what it says."
The woman looks at her like she's crazy.
"Would you prefer to pay with a credit card?"
"No, I can't. My friend and I switched wallets, but the five—does it have something written in purple marker on it?"
Curious, the woman finally glances down at the money.
"Why yes."
Beckett snatches it from her grasp, hungrily scanning the bill and seeing a name and number.
Impossible. It can't be.
"Hey!" the conductor protests.
"I don't need a ticket after all," Beckett says, stuffing the cash into her pocket. She knows suddenly she needs to get off the train.
"Ma'am!"
"Can you stop the train? I need to get off."
"We've already started moving," the conductor replies.
But Beckett pays her no mind. Leaving her suitcase behind, she makes her way to the area between carriages, where another conductor is standing guard by the exit doors.
"I need to go," she says.
"I'm sorry, I can't open the doors until we've reached our destination. Our next stop is Stamford, Connecticut."
"We haven't even left the station yet. I can see the platform!"
"Miss."
Desperate, Beckett spots the emergency brake. The conductor follows her line of sight.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that—"
But the detective doesn't listen and pulls the brake line. The whole train jolts and they both tumble to the ground as everything screeches to a halt.
The conductor stares at her, wide-eyed and afraid.
"It's an emergency," she explains, before scrambling to her feet and using a nearby lever to open the door. The train car is a foot away from the last bit of platform. She leaps and trips as she lands. People rush towards her, but she waves them off. "I'm good, thank you."
They stare at her as she secures her purse across her body, brushes the dirt off her knees, and starts to run. She doesn't know why, but she has a feeling she needs to hurry.
She pauses in the middle of Penn Station to take a breath. She can't believe she just did that. Taking the bills out of her coat pocket, she plucks out the five and smooths it out.
Her eyes latch onto the purple scrawl.
Richard Rodgers
212-555-1119
Shaking, she inputs the number, and immediately gets an automatic reply from a cool, robotic voice. Out of service—of course. Pressing her speed-dial, she calls the 12th.
"Hey Beckett, nice to hear from you," Esposito says. "Let me grab Ryan, one sec."
"No—" But it's too late. He's gone to fetch his partner. She taps her foot impatiently.
"You have us both," Ryan says cheerily a moment later.
"Hi, can you run a name for me?" she urges.
"Straight to business, I see," Ryan replies, miffed.
"No love for your former colleagues?" Esposito teases.
"I miss you guys and everything but I don't have time for small talk. I need some info right now."
"Sure, what's the name?"
"Do you have an updated number for a Richard Rodgers?" She spells out the last name and waits breathlessly as she listens to the clack of the keyboard.
"Oh," Esposito says as Ryan lets out a sardonic chortle.
"What? What is it?"
"Why do you want this info, again?" Esposito queries.
"It's kind of a long story," she says, exasperated.
"Does it have anything to do with a glove?"
"What? Have you been talking to Lanie?"
"Lanie? No, uh, listen—have you heard of Richard Castle?"
"Who?" she asks, getting annoyed.
"Yeah, well, he and your Rodgers are the same person. He's the writer who shadowed us. And he's getting married today."
"He's getting married," she repeats, processing.
"In twenty minutes," Ryan chirps.
Beckett checks her watch. "Noon, then?"
"What happened to Will?" Esposito asks.
"He met someone else," she says.
"I see."
"Javi?"
"Yeah?"
"Where's the wedding?"
The Latino detective looks at his partner and Ryan points at his notepad from last night. For love.
"Waldorf-Astoria," he replies.
"Thank you," she says, snapping her phone shut and running down the information in her head.
The Waldorf is across town, more than 40 blocks away. The loud scratch of metal tracks reminds her that the subway is nearby. Mapping out a course in her head, she figures she can hop on the E line and get off at the 51st and Park Avenue stop, which is only a few blocks from the Waldorf. It's not ideal, but it's better than grabbing a taxi in New York traffic.
She sprints down the stairs to the subway, and is fortuitously able to hop onto an outgoing northeastern-bound E train, the doors almost clipping her as she squeezes through them just as they close. She grabs onto a pole, hoping with every fiber of her being that there won't be any delays. She can't remember the last time she felt so...awake.
She's the first one out the door five stops later, glancing at her watch. 11:58am. Adrenaline spikes through her—there's still time left.
She rushes into the Waldorf minutes later and spots a placard announcing the marriage of Richard Castle to Gina Griffith-Cowell. Her heart stutters at the sight. It says the wedding is in the ballroom.
Without another thought, she runs toward the grand doors and bursts through them, words of protest ready to fly from her tongue. But there's no need for them.
The ballroom is empty.
Her heart drops into her stomach.
She missed it.
A sounds startles her and she spots a man stacking chairs to the left. He glances up at her.
"Is it over?" she asks.
"It's over, alright."
She sinks into a nearby chair.
"Don't worry. They'll send you your gift back."
She snaps her gaze to the man.
"I'm sorry?"
"The groom called the whole thing off."
He...what? Hope swells in her chest.
She steps outside of the hotel, dazed. What the hell was she supposed to do next? She shoves her hands into her pockets, and her fingers collide with something soft. The glove. She pulls it out, running her palm over the silky cashmere. She thinks of their night together, drinks at Serendipity, skating in the park and—that's it. The park. She knows it in her gut.
Twenty minutes later, she finds herself walking towards Wollman Rink, the wind slicing at her cheeks. People are huddled close and heading in the opposite direction, hoping to abandon the sudden plethora of flurries swirling around.
At the rink, she spots a swath of people leaving and observes a little girl with flaming red hair skating in wide circles, a lone figure. Except for the man laying on his back in the middle of the ice.
A familiar tingle run down her spine as she approaches the entrance.
Alexis had dragged him outside, wanting to distract him from what was supposed to be his wedding day. He'd made it back to the hotel at around three in the morning and caught a few hours of sleep before his alarm went off at 8am.
When he woke up, he knew suddenly that he couldn't go through with it—not when he was still thinking about Kate and what could've been. It wasn't right. He'd knocked on the door to Gina's bridal suite, his heart constricting uncomfortably.
She took it well, considering.
"It was real, wasn't it?" Gina asks.
"Hmm?"
"The story about the glove," she says.
He falls silent, looking down at his feet.
"And last night, I hand-delivered the thing you've been looking for all these years," she says, "Ironic, isn't it?"
Castle doesn't respond, only able to offer a beseeching look.
"You're in love with her," the blonde surmises.
He smiles sadly. "I'm so sorry."
The publisher arches her head toward the ceiling, hiding tears. She wipes under her eyes before glancing back at him.
"Even after all this time?"
"I can't explain it."
"I want to hate you right now," she says.
"I wouldn't fault you for it," he says.
"But I don't think I could've gone through with it, either."
"What?"
"I...I thought it was just you, and your cold feet, but I've been having this feeling. Like this isn't supposed to happen. Like we got caught up in how it looked on paper. And to tell you the truth, I'm not prepared to become a mother to Alexis."
"I wasn't expecting you to," he says.
"I know, but I want what you have with this other woman," Gina explains, "Fate."
He brings a hand to her cheek, cradling it.
"You deserve that."
"Well, what are you waiting for? Go get her."
"She's with someone else."
"Then go find a better ending."
And now he's lying in the middle of an ice rink, wondering how the hell he's supposed to find a better ending. He fiddles with his cashmere glove, which hadn't left his person since he'd found it a couple days before. It looks so lonesome all by itself—missing its other half.
Snow starts to fall on him and he feels like laughing hysterically. Just another joke the universe is playing on him. But then something else drops down from above. Something small and black. He catches it and realizes it's a glove...a second glove. He sits up and holds his glove and the new addition side-by-side. They're exactly the same, like twins...but where?
He immediately turns his gaze upward, but there's no one there. He shifts his body toward the rink entrance and sees a figure...a tall woman with short, brunette hair. His heart skips a beat. It can't be.
Kate.
He doesn't understand it, but he doesn't care. She's here, his heart sings.
Everything stills as he slowly stands up and Kate steps onto the ice, snow falling lightly around the two of them. His heart somersaults wildly. Time stops when she reaches him, standing half a foot away. They drink each other in, speechless, shy smiles sprouting on both their faces.
"Richard Castle," he says finally, offering a hand.
She grins, slipping her hand into his, and it's like coming home. "Detective Kate Beckett."
They gaze at each other, overcome. It's like no time has passed.
"Can I get an autograph?" she asks.
"Where'd you like it?" he replies, smirking.
She ponders for a brief moment and then taps her lips.
"That's new," he says, grinning crookedly. He slowly raises a hand to her jaw, and her fingers slot around his neck, their lips meeting in a perfect caress; two halves finally making whole. The world spins as they kiss each other in careful exploration, the press of their mouths stained with a decade's worth of heartache and missed chances.
"Um...wow," Beckett exhales, when they eventually pull apart, her heart pounding.
"Worth the wait," he says.
She ducks her head down, hiding a smile.
"I think you know some detective friends of mine," she says. "Ryan and Esposito?"
"No way, those bastards! They knew who you were the entire time, didn't they?"
"What do you mean?"
"I asked them to help me find you."
"That must be why Espo was being weird over the phone," she says, shaking her head.
"Weird?"
"I asked them to help me find you, too," she admits.
He laughs wryly.
"Believe in fate yet?"
"Maybe just the possibility," she concedes.
He leans down to kiss her again and it's somehow better than the first one, soft and sweet and everything. They break apart, resting their foreheads against each other, smiling stupidly wide.
"So, you finally published a book, huh?" she prompts.
"I'm guessing you didn't read them."
"I have enough murder in my life as it is."
He sobers.
"You became a homicide detective, huh?"
"Yeah."
"That's so hot."
She laughs.
"Wanna get out of here? Debrief each other?" he asks.
"Dad!"
The two look over and spy a little redhead barrelling towards them on skates.
"Lex!" he chuckles, as she comes to a stop, bumping slightly into his legs. "This is my daughter," he announces.
Kate and Alexis smile at each other knowingly.
"We've met," the detective says.
"You've wha—"
"Long story."
"Can't wait to hear it," Castle says, "Do you guys want some hot chocolate?"
"Yes, please," Alexis pipes in.
"I know a great place," Kate says with a twinkle in her eye.
A/N: There will be a short and sweet epilogue coming in two days, but I wanted to thank everyone for coming on this journey with me! It's been fun reading your input and reactions, and I hope you'll check out Serendipity (2001) if you haven't already.