Blank: Chapter 18
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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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5:20 p.m. on Tuesday afternoon, April 17, 2012, at the Cliff House in San Francisco
"I just realized – we actually get to see the sunset this time around," Kate Beckett remarks as Richard Castle pulls the sleek, black Ferrari into the parking spot, some fifty yards before the Cliff House restaurant. The small sports car purrs softly as he shifts into park and shuts the vehicle down.
"This is nice," she tells him, her voice low and soft.
Her companion simply smiles, his mind far away from the present moment. He is thinking some ten to twenty minutes into the future, to a moment that he hopes launches them into a new and different future. His nervousness has been increased by the drive here, which ran into heavy, mid-week rush hour traffic on Geary Street.
"And what has to be considered to be front-row parking here is a bonus," he remarks, but his mind still on the delayed drive here. He is hoping nothing else derails this evening. He is already glancing around, taking in the surroundings before they even get out of the car. Searching for anything out of the ordinary. Anything that would surprise him.
Anything that would knock him to the ground with another relapse.
"Please, God," he whispers silently to the heavens.
No, the last thing he needs is a relapse tonight. A relapse, after which he would awaken, and either have no idea why they are there in the first place before he has a chance to propose; or possibly even worse, a relapse after he has proposed and reawakens with no knowledge that he and the woman he loves are finally engaged.
He pulls his large frame up and out of the small car, hurrying to the other side to help his future fiancée out of the car.
"I hate sitting here waiting for you to help me out of the car, Rick," she admonishes once again, for the umpteenth time since winter. "I don't expect you to do this all the time."
And as always, he offers her the same response.
"Indulge me, my Love," he tells her. "I have – for years – dreamed of doing this for you."
She simply smiles, offering her hand as he helps her up and out of the vehicle. She brushes off her dark blue skirt – habit really – and follows it up by wiping down the black blouse, again by habit. Her ritual completed, Castle smiles as he takes her hand as they begin the short walk down the walkway toward the restaurant. His eyes, however, are further down the walkway, past the restaurant, where he knows Alexis will have her friends waiting.
Sure enough – Brian and Glen are on the sidewalk leading down to the street level beach wall, as planned. Of course, Richard Castle can only assume they are there as he would not recognize them in a lineup. He can't even assume that they will be the only ones with a video camera there, as the spot is a well-known location for picture taking and video making.
"Right this way, babe," he tells her as they walk past the doorway that offers entry into the restaurant. Immediately, Kate knows where he is taking them, and she cannot help the widening smile that paints her face, her mind going back to the previous December.
"Trying to recreate the magic?" she teases.
"Trying to create some new magic," he counters with a smile, as they walk to the same approximate spot where they stood months ago during their initial 'date' on Kate's holiday trip out to San Francisco – their coming-back party, so to speak. The night that started all of this.
As they reach the intended spot, Castle can only smile as Kate turns her back to him, backing into him once again as they face the stone railing – and the ocean beyond. He turns his head toward the left and catches the two young high-school friends of Alexis giving him a wink and a nod. Now that he knows who – and where – they are, he can proceed. As planned, he draws Kate's attention to the young men with the cameras.
"Probably some school exercise," he chuckles, pointing them out to Kate. "Alexis tells me that quite a few media projects are captured out here on this wall."
As planned, pointing them out to her disarms her from thinking further about it. Hopefully she won't notice that the cameras seem to be trained on them.
On her.
"Believe it or not, we actually filmed once out here when I was at Stanford," she tells him, staring back out into the ocean. "Although our camcorders were decidedly larger," she laughs, and he laughs with her.
Both young men hold cameras that are pointed out to the ocean, for now. They had arrived earlier to also place a couple of cameras inside the Cliff House proper, hidden inside floral arrangements near the window table that has been pre-reserved for the couple by Alexis. Once she knew what time the reservation was for, she called ahead to explain the reason for their dinner this evening. The restaurant, not a stranger to such requests, happily complied.
Any thoughts he might have, however, are rendered moot by the woman who is leaning back into him. Her presence, her pressure against him have captured his full attention, and for now, both are lost in the seascape scene playing out in front of them.
He smiles, feeling the weight of the ring box on his inner jacket pocket, the excitement of the pending moment now relaunching exploding cocoons inside his stomach.
"This is nice," he tells her.
"Mmm Hmm," is her only response, but he can feel her falling back even heavier into him. The moment is perfect. There are a lot of people around, but that can't be helped. Not at this place. It is a place beloved by tourists and locals alike.
"No better time than now," he thinks to himself, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the small box. He ignores the butterfly garden that serenades him from deep inside his belly. He slowly – almost reluctantly – breaks away from her, stepping backwards. He begins turning her around to face him, ready to speak a few words as he lowers himself to one knee. Yes, this is going to be done proper, old school.
At least that is the plan. But, as a writer he knows, plans often go awry, and that is his immediate reaction when a loud, high-pitched scream breaks the moment, grabbing their attention.
They both turn simultaneously to see a young girl, with a long blonde ponytail. She looks to be about ten, maybe eleven years old. She is on a skateboard. Rather, she is on a skateboard out of control. A man that they can only assume to be her father is chasing after her.
It is also immediately clear that he is not going to catch her. All he can do is scream after her.
"Ava!" he yells. "Lean forward, baby! Fall sideways!"
The harsh downward slope of the walkway – along with gravity – have other ideas, though. Castle can tell this is not going to end well. It happens before he can even consciously think about it. His legs move him into a position to intercept the young daredevil, his arms reaching out to catch her . . .
. . . and he forgets about the ring box in his hand.
A second later, the youngster is falling into Richard Castles arms. Bracing himself as best he can against the downward momentum of the young girl, he actually succeeds in catching her. But in catching her, he unconsciously releases the ring box. The box goes tumbling to the ground. To the sloped walkway. Once again, gravity and the slope of the wide sidewalk do their parts, and the box begins tumbling down the slanted ramp.
Now Richard Castle is the one screaming, releasing young Ava safely to the ground as her father arrives, as Castle is now running after the small object that seems to be picking up speed.
Kate – of course – has no idea why he is running. She had watched him gracefully stop the young girl from seriously hurting herself, but cannot fathom why the man she loves is now sprinting down the sidewalk, himself yelling something downwind that she cannot make out.
"Rick?" she asks aloud, almost yelling to get his attention. All she knows is that one minute they were in a romantic embrace recalling their first real date. The next minute, he is running away from her screaming like he has seen a ghost, yelling something incoherent.
She cannot be blamed for worrying, giving his tendency to fall unconscious of late. But somehow this seems different, and it is that difference that has her worried.
The universe, however, is smiling on the couple this day. Some twenty yards down the sloped ramp from where Kate remains paralyzed stands Alexis Castle, thankfully in disguise. She wears a black wig with brown contact lenses hiding her eyes. A too-large, tie-dyed shirt and a wide-brimmed tan hat complete the ensemble, altering her identity. Had she been standing next to the couple, neither Kate nor Castle would likely have recognized her.
Now, however, her disguise will be put to an unexpected test, as her father comes barreling down towards her, screaming.
"Nooooooooooo!" she hears him cry and can barely stifle her laughter. She sees the tumbling device gaining momentum as it approaches the spot where she stands.
"Only you, Dad," she thinks to herself, still smiling as she bends over to pick up the ring box as it reaches her. Seconds later, a quickly-out-of-breath Richard Castle catches up to her. She hands the box to her father, who – sure as the sun – does not even recognize her.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" he repeats on autopilot. "I don't know your name, Miss, but you are a lifesaver!"
"Geesh Dad, I've heard of getting cold feet," she whispers to him, laughing, "But hurling the ring box down the street is a bit much, don't you think?"
"I did not hurl this box anywhere, young lady," he counters, catching his breath. "It was knocked out of my . . . Dad?"
His eyes comically turn upward in surprise.
"Alexis?"
"Get going, Dad, before Kate gets down here and recognizes me and ruins everything," the disguised daughter tells her father.
"Yes, yes, right," he quickly agrees. "Thank you again, Miss," he tells her, and then after offering a glance upward toward the spot where Kate is now walking briskly toward them, he whispers to Alexis.
"Good thinking," he tells her softly. "Thanks, Pumpkin," and without thinking, he leans in to kiss her head. Fortunately, his daughter is more into the moment than he is, and stops him in his tracks.
"Dad! Don't blow this! Kate is right there and coming this way!"
"Right, right," he agrees again, offering his daughter a wistful smirk, then turns to start walking back up the sidewalk. His daughter, however, has one final parting shot for her father.
"Oh, and yes, we got all of this on film," she whispers loud enough for him to hear. It takes all of his discipline, all of his will power not to turn back around and acknowledge her parting words. As he looks forward toward Kate, he notices Glen and Brian off to the side – and yes, sure enough – they have been filming the entire episode.
And smiling.
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Roughly the same time, 5:20 p.m. on Tuesday afternoon, April 17, 2012, at Councilman Barry Adams' residence at the Embarcadero Lofts in San Francisco
"I find it hard to believe that Andrew is losing his vaunted control," Councilman Adams remarks, standing in front of the expansive window with the large bridge in view. Captain Rodney Jeffries stands next to the politician, drink in hand, staring at the large structure as he responds.
"Control? What do you mean?"
"I mean Andrew has always been the one with leverage," Adams replies. "He's the one always in control, always one step ahead of anyone and everyone. You and I know he's been holding out information on me, that much is clear now. That's typical of Andrew, typical of him holding the good cards in the deck."
"Not at the moment," the SFPD captain remarks.
"No, not at the moment," Adams agrees. "And that is my point. He's made a strategic error threatening Richard Castle, which could potentially further antagonize Sam Carlos. But antagonizing Carlos may be the least of Klein's problems if your man inside is correct."
"He is never wrong," Jeffries quickly interrupts. "Never. He has never failed to get me the information I need, or to do the job I send him to do."
"Well, not so fast," the councilman offers. "Castle is still alive. He was laid up, unconscious in a hospital bed, and your man didn't finish him off."
"He did his job," Jeffries counters. "He was told to wake him up, he woke him up. Not his fault that Castle had a guardian angel close by to put him back under. But that's neither here nor there. The important thing is –"
"You're right," Councilman Adams interrupts. "You're absolutely right. That's not important. What is important is the news you have just given me. So now we know that Castle has sent part of his goon squad to visit Andrew, and the visit was anything but subtle."
"Daizo was very clear," Jeffries agrees. "Paratrooper kind of entry from the rooftop, quickly disarmed Andrew's security team, hurled a chair through Andrew's glass palace of an office and calmly read him the riot act. A cease-and-desist warning for certain. And a not-so-veiled threat of more to come if an antidote doesn't turn up quickly."
"An antidote that I need as well," Adams replies, testily. "Much as I hate to admit it, Castle may be doing me a favor with his aggressive tactics. The sooner he gets an antidote, I get an antidote."
The conversation between the two men is interrupted with a knock on the door. Before Jeffries can make it to the door, both men hear a click, and the door flings open. A revolver appears in Jeffries hands out of nowhere, it seems. Recognition kicks in immediately, causing the crooked cop to put the weapon away. It is not needed now.
Or yet.
"What's the meaning of this?" Adams barks toward the two men, when recognition of one of them kicks in.
"I see you both recognize me," Willie Crockett states, matter-of-factly, as he walks into the large loft area. "Smart of you to put your toy away, Jeffries," Crockett tells the man as Junior Boy walks in behind him.
"I don't need toys for the likes of you," Jeffries tells him, a hopeful glint of a smile slowing crossing his face. Truth be told, he has wanted a shot at Crockett for some time now. For no reason in particular. Just a testosterone type of curiosity.
Crockett seems to understand, reading the captain's face perfectly.
"Think you really want to buy that ticket, homes?" Crockett drawls, an almost sinister smile on his face as well.
"Not why we are here," Junior Boy reminds him. All eyes go toward the well-known enforcer for one Sam Carlos.
"Why are you here then?" Jeffries asks the large, mammoth man.
"A talk of sorts," Crockett replies for his companion. "We were sent here to deliver a message, nothing more."
"What kind of message?" the councilman asks, trying to regain footing in his own home. He cannot give any sign of weakness. Not here, no matter who the intruders happen to be. Truth is, he recognizes both men. Crockett drove him to the dungeon – or what appeared to be a dungeon – the last place he saw his wife. And the other massive man, who's name he does not know, was there also. If nothing else, he will hear this message – if for no other reason than it might shed some light as to the whereabouts of his missing wife.
"Very simple," Crockett tells him. "You seem to have a hard-on for a friend of our boss. One Richard Castle. You would do well to leave him be. I cannot stress this enough, Mr. Councilman."
"Is that so?" Rodney Jeffries intervenes. He is, after all, the hired muscle for the councilman, and he cannot – under any circumstances – allow the councilman to be spoken to in such a manner. Even if the statement offered rings true.
"And these are the words of the errand boy," Jeffries laughs, mocking Crockett with his statement. "That's all you are now, after all, Crockett. An errand boy. A chauffer. My how far the almost mighty have fallen," he continues laughing and mocking.
"You used to be a cop. You used to be someone. Now look at you," Jeffries continues. "Where is the professor these days anyway? Your master sends out his servants to talk these days?"
Willie Crockett is smiling now. A dangerous thing. He is about to reply when Junior Boy interrupts, placing a large, massive hand on the chest of his friend.
"No, Willie" Junior Boy challenges. "It is not worth it. Remember, Sam said no killing."
"Yeah, Willie," Jeffries continues. "Listen to your big brother there. You don't want to get in trouble with your boss. He might –"
"He might have a different plan for you, my friend," Willie interrupts, and his words hit their mark. Bravado aside, no one in the right mind listens to the right-hand man of Sam Carlos warn that they might be in the mobster's crosshairs without a large dose of concern. A concern that is now clearly on the face of Captain Rodney Jeffries.
"You would be wise to remember that you are a certain type of cop, Jeffries," Willie continues. "Do you know what type of cop that is?"
"A dirty cop," Junior Boy interjects.
"Yes, a dirty cop," Crockett agrees. "The kind of cop Mr. Carlos likes to kill."
With that, Willie Crockett merely nods his head at Junior Boy. Without warning, the large Filipino man smashes a massive fist into the face of Rodney Jeffries. The large captain goes limp on his feet, and is unconscious before he crashes to the carpeted floor.
"One punch?" Crockett laughs questioningly. "One punch? That's all he could take?"
"He's fortunate for the councilman's plush carpet," Junior Boy laughs.
With that, both men turn their attention to a now-completely frightened Barry Adams, who has just watched his most important muscle turn to limp jelly on the floor.
"Stay away from Richard Castle," Willie tells the man, his voice calm, no smiles, no inflection. It is meant to be disarming.
It works.
Crockett and Junior Boy head for the door, their message now delivered as ordered. As Junior Boy opens the door, Crockett turns back to the councilman.
"Oh, and please do take notice of the fact that – as sleeping beauty there clearly articulated – our boss did not consider you worth his time to have this conversation with you in person."
"That, by the way, is a conversation you do not want to have," Junior Boy states as he walks through the door.
Willie Crockett delivers the final veiled warning as he closes the door.
"Truth be told, Mr. Councilman, I am surprised you are still alive."
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A/N: What a delay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I really am sorry. I owe everyone an apology. Crap, I really am sorry. One more chapter and this story is finished. Finally. Wow. I am so sorry.