Blank: Chapter 12
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DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine
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3:00 a.m. on April 17, 2012 at the Castles Complex in Sausalito, California
The small light in his office barely illuminates the dark office where Richard Castle sits at his desk, his feet up on the table. A cup of hot coffee smokes before him, a much-needed beverage to keep him awake and his sense keen.
Kate Beckett has already left, driving home with Alexis to get the young woman to bed. He has promised to be home as soon as possible, but right now his priority is his memory. The past two weeks are still somewhat of a blank page. Yes, his alter-ego gave a spirited video version of what is happening, and Kate has filled in the blanks with much of the 'what'.
He knows the Councilman Barry Adams was behind the drug that has stolen two weeks of his life. He knows that Adams was also behind the raid on his complex. He knows that Andrew Klein, an old college acquaintance of Kate's, is the one who actually developed the drug and is working on the antidote. Those are the 'what' elements.
What is missing are his thoughts, his musings, his wonderings. That's what he hopes to find in the journal, on the screen laid out in front of him. And there is no time like the present. In his mind, the sooner some semblance of memories return – in this case – artificially, the more normal his life will be. And no, to Richard Castle's way of thinking, this is not something that can wait.
So here he sits, and so far he has made it through two days of journal writings. But it is this entry that Alexis has told him to focus on. And good thing, too. His notes tell him that he was . . . is . . . prepared to ask Kate to marry him. He smiles, because yeah, he has lost two weeks of memories, but the reality is that he knows that this is something he has thought about in great depth over the past couple of months.
Sure, she has only been out here basically four to five months. Sure, they agreed to date a while. Well, in his notes, he states that it has been 'a while', and his current self agrees with that assessment. He offers a glance up toward the ceiling, at the heavens beyond, grateful that he decided to create this journal that captures his thoughts. They are what is important. What is and has been happening isn't important. He can get that from Kate, from Mike, from Alexis, from Samantha. But none of them know his inner thoughts. He nods his head in satisfaction that he decided to capture those inner thoughts, and idly wonders whose idea it really was.
Was it his idea? Kate's? Alexis, perhaps. These are the things that bother him. He knows that he has not written down everything. Only those things that – at that time – he felt were pertinent, were critical.
"What's not here, though?" he thinks to himself. Quickly, he pushes those thoughts away. He was planning on proposing. This weekend. That much he knows, and in his heart, he knows it is the right thing to do.
Once again, just as he did some eight hours ago last night, he spins his chair – almost in the exact same way – until it faces his credenza. He removes a small key – his journal has told him exactly where the key is located. The key unlocks a drawer, and there it is. A small jewelry box. One that will change his life, change her life.
He opens the box, admiring the single platinum band with a three-carat princess cut diamond. For him, it is like it is the first time he is seeing it. In the greatest of ironies, he gets to relive that eureka-like moment when he found the perfect ring for his hopeful-bride-to-be.
"Geesh, is the weekend too far away?" he muses out loud. After all, it is only by the grace of God that he used such foresight to write to himself, to record a video for himself. To remind himself of his proposal plans. To remind himself of the existence of this ring.
He reads a little more, now understanding that he and Alexis have an agreement that she will be there, recording everything this weekend.
"Smart to have Alexis video record everything," he thinks out loud. "The proposal, the wedding . . . all of these things that I might forget if this happens again." He laughs out loud, totally unaware of the countless times he has had these exact same thoughts in the past ten days. He just doesn't remember.
He takes a long swallow of the hot coffee on his desk, and then settles in, reading more of the personal notes he has left himself. Reading, and re-reading, trying to think of his mindset when he wrote these words, looking for ways to somehow absorb everything like a sponge, holding tight to what is now new information to him.
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Roughly the same time, 3:00 a.m. on April 17, 2012 at Jennifer Blackard's residence in the Mission District in San Francisco, California
The incessant ringing of the telephone on her nightstand brings a frown to Detective Jennifer Blackard's very groggy face. She has barely gotten to sleep and now someone is waking her? At three in the morning? This is ridiculous, even for a cop.
As she pulls herself out of her sleep state however, she recognizes the ring tone, and immediately wills herself awake. Kate Beckett would not call this late unless it was important.
"Yeah, Kate, what's up?" she answers, trying to sound wide awake.
"I'm sorry to call, Jen, really I am," Kate begins. "But we all agreed that if it happened again, we would let everyone in the inner circle know."
Blackard feels the goosebumps immediately cool off her arms and back. Perhaps it is just the knowledge that misfortune has once again struck her new good friend, the ex-author. Or perhaps it is the realization that they – Castle and Kate – consider her to be a part of their inner circle. Already. After only a few months.
Regardless, she shakes the good feeling away. This is a not a good news phone call. Not by a long shot.
"I'm so sorry, Kate," the SFPD cop tells her, swinging her legs around and to the floor, pulling herself out of the bed.
"Where are you?" Jennifer asks. "I can be there in –"
"No, Jen," Kate interrupts. "I didn't tell you so that you can get out of bed and come here. I just told you, you are important to us, you are part of what we are trying to do here, so we wanted you to know."
It surprises Kate, and brings a smile to her face as she hears her own words. Words that take ownership of what Richard Castle is doing out here. A realization that she really is a part of this. That he has completely included her – and anyone else that she – Kate – feels needs to be involved.
"Sam will want to know," Jennifer begins. "But maybe we should hold off on saying anything to him just yet."
"Too late for that," Kate tells her, as she, too, takes a swallow of hot coffee. She plans on being awake when Rick returns, and there is no telling how long that is going to take.
"Sam and Rick had just made an arrangement on the phone, just minutes before Rick succumbed again," Kate continues. "So, it was important to let Sam know what had happened."
"I understand," the detective tells her. "But I really don't want to have to talk Sam off a violent ledge again tonight. We both know how he can get when he feels . . . well, you know."
She leaves the statement hanging in the air, as both women know exactly what she is talking about.
"Our mutual friend down in the valley had better hurry up with a better antidote," Jennifer remarks. "I would hate to see Sam's way of motivating anyone."
"I'm afraid we are probably too late on that front also," Kate muses aloud. "He mentioned providing motivation or incentive as he hung up on me."
"He hung up on you?" Jennifer laughs.
"Twice. In one night," Kate adds, then changes the subject.
"Speaking of," Kate begins, "how are you and our favorite ex-Cardinal doing these days?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, Kate," her friend replies. "Believe it or not, we talk or text every day – once in the morning, once a night. It has been like this for the past week or more. Ever since – well – you know . . . the event."
"That's good, Jen," Kate remarks. "You are good for Sam. You make him more . . . I don't know . . ."
"Human is what Willie said," Jen states, finishing Kate's thoughts.
"Yes, that is how I would say it also," Kate agrees.
The two women are quiet for a few seconds, as if each knows what the other is thinking, what the other is struggling with. Both of them have the same thoughts, the same internal struggles every day that they consider their old college friend.
"I feel guilty sometimes, Jen," Kate begins.
"I feel guilty that I don't feel guilty, Kate," the detective responds.
"That's exactly what I mean!" Kate exclaims. "I – you and I – we should both have a much harder time with this than we do. I mean, Sam represents everything you and I oppose."
"Not everything, per se," Jennifer disagrees. "I know Willie, Willie used to be a cop."
"I know," Kate tells her.
"Willie helped me see it differently," Jennifer continues. "Sam, you, me . . . we actually have much of the same values. We are on opposite sides of the fence, yes. But as Willie helped me see it, that fence is our values. The fence is the same. Our values are the same. It is what each of us are willing to do to protect those values, the rules we are willing or unwilling to break to see those values in place – that is what is different."
Kate is quiet, mulling the words over for a moment, while her friend continues.
"It doesn't make anything he does right," Jennifer tells her. "It doesn't give him an excuse, a pass. It just . . ."
"It just is," Kate finishes her thought. "One fence, one set of values, vastly different methods to protect those values."
"In the end, I asked Willie about it, because Willie was never a dirty cop," Jennifer tells her. "Willie was a good man, a good cop, who just got tired of all the bullshit. So when he explained this whole idea of a fence to me, I really didn't buy it, because like I said, he was a good cop. I asked him how he could kill people as he does now. Do you want to know what he told me?"
"What did he say?" Kate asks, genuinely interested. She, too, likes the big man that Sam Carlos depends on.
"He told me – and I quote – 'I killed people for the department, now I kill people for Sam . . . same fence, just different sides."
"I can't agree with that," Kate remarks.
"Neither can I," Jennifer agrees. "That's when I decided that this is just too big. I can't get my head around it. The universe has given us a great friend. It has given me a . . . well, something more. I don't know what Sam and I are, or were, or will ever be. It's just too big for me."
"I understand," Kate nods her head on the other side of the conversation. "I've never told you this – I told Rick – but were it not for Sam, were it not for an unexpected conversation Sam had with me a few years ago, I would have fallen to the opposite side of that fence myself. Sam and I went through the same loss, and I almost joined him on that other side."
"You're kidding!" Jennifer exclaims, truly surprised.
"Not kidding at all," Kate tells her good friend. "He pulled be back from the edge. So, when you say it is just too big, I get it. I agree. I think that is why I don't have as big a problem as I should. I guess that is why I can so easily – and Jen, I do mean easily look the other way. And that's what makes me guilty. How easily I can do this."
Both women are quiet again for a few seconds before Jennifer Blackard signs off.
"Thanks for calling, Kate," she tells her friend. "I mean it. Thanks for letting me know about Rick, for including me. And thanks for this conversation. It was . . . I don't know . . . kind of cleansing. I didn't realize how much I needed this conversation. And I mean have this conversation with you."
"I know what you mean, Jen," Kate smiles on the other end. "I will keep you posted on Rick."
"Do that," Jen tells her, clicking off and lying back into her bed, pulling the covers over her head. She smiles, with a feeling that she is going to sleep well for the first time in a long time.
Kate, for her part, stares at her phone, chuckling.
"Another person just hung up on me tonight!"
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A/N: I am trying to finish this story quickly. It has been so long and I know that I owe everyone closure on this one. Thanks for those of you still here on this.