I do not own any part of the old TV Show Castle. Not the players, the title, or the canon
I only own my head where these things come from. Sometimes, I wish I had some control over the brain that does this.
Now.
To my readers who have followed me for the last 7 years, Please read this carefully
I don't normally tell stories filled with angst. I do not subscribe to the anger between Kate and Rick over the things they hid from one another.
This story will take some time to complete.
The haters out there, just do not even comment until you see chapter 4 you may find yourself incorrect on so may levels.
I already have 9 chapters finished and I am still building things up.
But I decided to go ahead and begin posting.
I consider this story Drama, Angst, Romance, Friendship
A Long Path Home
The fall of the year in Vermont is beautiful. The leaves begin their annual migration from green to many other shades of colors from yellow, orange, and brown.
As the Mercedes passes the various side roads, the light from the sun is interrupted by the canopy of trees covering the land. Even in the brightest of days, the leaves create a glow that is difficult to describe and the lessening of cover during the fall is a beautiful site to see.
The sedan pulls up to the curb close to a small sidewalk. The sidewalk that circles the entire area lining the road.
He steps out of the door and reaches back inside and takes his cane. He actually calls it his walking stick and not a cane. A cane indicates that he must carry it to be able to walk, where a walking stick is carried for show and only occasionally even touches the ground, therefore he calls it his walking stick.
The long walk up the path takes him several minutes but is seems to take longer each time he makes this pilgrimage. Each trip is a little slower and more time consuming.
The cool air surrounding him brings a little chill to him while the sun still warms his face. He pulls his collar up a little to guard his neck from the colder air.
The first time he came to this place was many, many years before. He had just arrived in this quant town in Vermont. He had purchased a small farm and decided to become a gentleman farmer. He was not in need of profit to survive, he had adequate finances to sustain him until long after he was gone.
His hobby farm was making and selling maple syrup on a local and regional level. His farm was filled with many acres of trees each one producing the nectar that was processed into the sweet flavorful covering for his favorite food, pancakes.
This farmer life was a far cry from his former life in the city. A life filled with parties, drinking, and women. And the one single woman that brought him out of that party life.
But.
That was a long time ago.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The original trip here sometime back, up the pathway to this place, was with a representative of the association in charge of the caretaking services of the park. The caretaker was able to locate a single plot in the sea of already occupied spaces since the man was not going to be bedside anyone else. The selected spot is in a nice location. Easy access on the path. Not too far from the driveway.
He selected and paid for the it on the spot.
He then had the monument made and placed. He did have a little difficulty with the stone cutter in understanding the memorial line in very small letters, near the bottom. But he finally explained to the engraver and got it all taken care of.
After several minutes of walking he arrives at his destination. A sea of stones. A field of monuments. Lined up like soldiers on parade.
But all are different.
Different materials
Different color
Different decoration
Different fonts of letters
Different names
Different dates
Different salutations
Assorted religious emblems
The one he stops at is the simple marker he had placed there several years before. An upright piece of polished granite with a single name in bold letters across the top with the given name below followed by dates.
A woman's voice can be heard from behind him "Dad…are you almost ready to go?"
He turns and looks at the red headed woman he raised so many years before "Yes, Alexis. Just about" he looks at the stone again.
Across the top in large letters is the name..
"CASTLE"
Followed below that.
"Richard Alexander"
Then in parenthesis
"Rogers"
Followed by the date of birth, but the date of death is still blank.
Then in the tiniest letters near the ground the words etched for eternity…
"To The Extraordinary KB. I Loved You Then and I Will Love You Always"
Walking back up the path Alexis is holding her dad's arm firmly until they arrive back to the car. She helps him into the passenger seat and buckles him in.
She moves to the driver's seat and starts the engine. Just as she put the vehicle into gear her father speaks.
"Pumpkin, when the time comes be sure to notify Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie"
"DAD! Stop talking like that"
"We have to face facts, precious. My time is limited. The doctors have given us a short window"
"I know" she responds with a hint of a tear in the corner of her eye.
"But I also ask that you please tell the guys to not tell Kate"
"Dad. Why? You were…friends? Partners? Almost…more"
"Once, but it was not to be. She had another in front of me" he interrupts "She picked him and not me"
"But dad…"
"Alexis. This is a last request. Please honor it?"
The woman nods her head in agreement to comply with her father's request.
He turns his head to face the front window "I think it is time that we go to the house and meet the Hospice representative"