Another Auld Lang Syne

Chapter 5

Seas Between Us Broad

We two have paddled in the stream,

from morning sun till dine;

But seas between us broad have roared

since auld lang syne.

Rick stared at his knees. The deliberations, feelings, and memories flickered in and out of his thought stream. He was able to catch a glimpse, but not fully discern or grab ahold of any of them. Like fish in a pond. A scummy pond, at that.

He'd been sober for over two years, this time, yet he felt just as jittery, as the days following his first AA meeting. He wiped the imagined sweat from his lip and noticed the one cop watching him from the rear-view.

He barely suppressed an urge to roll his eyes and covered by turning his head to the window.

"Are you okay back there?" That came from the younger one. The guy had his Irish roots all over him.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Weren't you two with Charlie?" He stopped and sighed. "What the hell was her name?"

"You mean Beckett. Yeah," the older, and, in Rick's opinion, the more callous, less compassionate one filled in. "She's our partner."

"All three of you?"

"She's our lead," Irish corrected.

"I didn't know the guy," Rick reiterated as he had done back at his bar. "I still don't understand why..."

"You are a person of interest in the investigation."

"Yeah, because I grew up next to interesting guys."

"Yup."

He blew out a sigh and let his gaze fall on the passing scenery: a blur of streets, shops, and people.

The first time he'd been driven to a police precinct, he wore handcuffs.

"So, Mr. Castle, where is Charlotte?"

"God, I wish I knew."

He only received the same dull glazed look in the detective's eye and a raised eyebrow in acknowledgment.

"Look, like I've been saying, I love Charlie. I wouldn't ever...I couldn't."

"When was the last time you saw her?" Rick wondered how he could come across as disinterested when he should be interested in finding his girlfriend.

He sighed and answered. "A week ago. She said she had to take care of some things."

"What kind of things?"

"She promised me that she was leaving the life." He rubbed his eyes.

"So, by 'the life' I guess she meant yours?"

"No..."

"That must've made you angry. That cheap whore..."

"No! She didn't and she wasn't," he yelled.

"Got you right where she wanted and then what happened? Did you threaten to stop paying?"

Rick stood, rage oozing from every pore. "You son of a bitch! She wasn't like that! It wasn't…"

"Sit down, Mr. Castle."

He sank back down to the seat and hung his head. "She wasn't like that. She..." He inhaled, either his breath or his heart thrummed a staccato beat in his throat. He sniffed. "She wasn't a prostitute… anymore. She stopped."

"Are you certain?"

"Ya, yes," he stuttered and then remembering the look in her eye, the joy in her expression when she looked at him. He added, more confidently, "Yes."

"Then how do you explain her disappearance? If she was so in love with you, where is she?"

"I...I don't know." He swiped at his eyes again. "I wish I did."

There was a knock on the window and the detective stood and took his folder and left the room.

Rick looked around. The room hadn't changed much since the first time he was there. He sighed and lowered his head.

Beckett walked into the bullpen and noticed Esposito at his desk. "Hey Espo, where's the guy?"

"Interrogation one," he answered.

She shook her head incredulously and hastily grabbed the case file from her desk. "No, damn it, he's not a suspect."

Esposito made a face. "Beckett..."

"Go get him and bring him to conference room one. Nicely, Esposito," Beckett ordered. She tread wearily into the break room and got two bottles of water.

"Beckett?"

Kate closed her eyes in a brief respite. "Sir?"

"I would never interfere with how one of my detectives runs an investigation," Montgomery began conversationally.

"That's good to hear, sir." She started for the door

"But," he said as he sidled between her and her goal.

"But, sir?" she surrendered.

"But I reread the catastrophe that this ah," he checked his notes, "this Mr. Castle was a part of before." He sighed, remembering his first public relations nightmare. "Tread softly."

"Yes, sir. I have no doubt that Mr. Castle is not involved. It's just his associations. I think someone is sending a message. It may or may not be directed at Mr. Castle."

She waited for a beat before leaving the room. She didn't want the awkwardness that this meeting was destined to be, broadcast to the entire bullpen. She breathed in and out a few times and decided on her frame of mind.

She strode into the conference room. "Mr. Castle..."

"Mr. Castle?" he said, staring at the table. After what seemed a lifetime, he added, "Like you don't know me?"

Kate's face became hot. "I, I'm sorry. I thought it would be best to keep this part of our discussion professional."

Rick looked up at her and stared for a moment and then returned his gaze to the tabletop.

"Look, I know we have...things, history to discuss, but let's just talk about the present first, okay?"

"Could I get a drink?" he asked as if she hadn't spoken.

Kate looked down and realized she still grasped both water bottles. "Oh, yeah. Sorry." She handed it to him and watched as he swallowed, his throat working.

"Okay," she said as she sat across the table from him. "The man found in your freezer was Salvatore Rossi, a member of the Pericolo Family. They have their fingers in a lot of pies in and around Little Italy – the usual: extortion, prostitution, well basically, you name it and they're in it."

Rick sighed. "I don't...didn't know him."

"I didn't think you did, but you do know..." she paused as she consulted her notes, "Matteo De Stefani and Joseph Onio, both well-known associates of Giovanni Pericolo."

Kate raised her eyes and had to admit, he did a good job not rolling his eyes. They were his friends for a good portion of his childhood. He'd gotten into trouble a few times with them as teenagers, but was sent to a boarding school for most of his high school years and had fallen out of touch with them.

"Jesus," he said quietly. "I guess I'll be paying for that horse incident my entire life."

Kate sat back and observed him a moment. "I hope not, but with a mob connection, we have to look at all... relations." She sat forward again. "Have you been in contact with anyone from the Pericolo Family?"

"No," he said as he reached for the water bottle. "Not since the last time I was brought in and accused of murdering someone. That person turned out to not exist." He kept his eyes on hers. "Maybe the guy in the freezer is just playing possum." She had fallen in love with those eyes, the warmth, humor, and intelligence, but in that room, they were as hard and cold as stone.

Kate swallowed, but her throat was dry. She took a drink and as she put the bottle down, she whispered, "I was sorry to learn about Alexis."

He dragged a hand down his face. "Yeah, well, she's better off."

"No, I'll never believe that. You are such a good fath..."

"You have no...", he raised his voice but stopped, inhaling and exhaling. He swallowed and continued in a normal tone, albeit laced with bitterness. "Look, Detective, you can't honestly say how I am or what I've done recently. Let's keep this professional as you said."

"I'm sorry."

He sighed.

"Um, I think that's all I need from you today. Will you let us know if you hear anything from any members or associates of Matteo..."

"Matty and Joey. Yeah." He pushed himself back and up from the table.

"Please don't contact them regarding this investigation." She stood as well and extended her hand. "Thank you for your cooperation."

He looked at her hand and then up into her eyes. "Jesus," he sighed, "can I go?"

"Um…I'd like to talk to you." She withdrew her hand and rubbed it down her thigh.

"What have we been doing?"

"Not, no, not here, not about the case. I want to…." She let her hand drop. "What did she want?" she thought. He wasn't making it easy and she really couldn't blame him. "Maybe we could talk and clear the air?"

"Charlie, would you have sought me out if a guy didn't die at the Haunt?"

"It's Kate. And I was ordered…"

"Ordered?"

"I was not supposed to make contact."

"I don't…" he began, but then just stared as he worked his jaw. "Look, I lost a lot after the last time I saw you. I don't have anything left. Just…please…please just leave me alone."

"Hello?"

"Martha, it's Jim, Jim Beckett."

Martha inhaled. The only time she heard from Jim Beckett was when her son was in trouble. It was an unorthodox arrangement. Richard, after the first time he had sobered up, had insisted that Jim and Martha meet. Both were, in a way, his safety nets – at least until Martha had had enough. She hadn't spoken to Richard since that horrible day after the courthouse when he lost his daughter, she found him passed out. She thought he was dead. Martha just couldn't ride the roller coaster any longer and even though it broke her heart, she cut off any contact.

"Oh, dear God..." she sank onto her chair.

"No, he's okay...well, he's not okay, but he hasn't had a drink."

"That's good," she answered relieved, but coldly.

"He is having a hard time and I thought if maybe you could make a way to see..."

"I can't, Jim. I just…I can't watch him kill himself."

"He's much stronger than he was."

Martha shook her head.

Jim continued, "Charlie is alive."

"What?"

"Well, she is a cop." Jim sat back down at his kitchen table as he explained the whole situation.

"And do you think that was the answer?"

"I was making progress before all this happened. I think the best thing for everyone is that she goes back to being dead and I continue my life."

The doctor sat back, steepled his fingers under his chin and stared at Rick. Rick hated this part of the session. The part where he felt he had figured something out only to have Dr. Murphy show him how he was wrong.

"Do you love her?"

"What?" he scoffed. "No…I mean, no. No. How could I possibly?"

Murphy tilted his head. "You loved her…still, when she was dead. That hasn't changed, has it?"

Rick swallowed. It was only a couple of months ago, at his last appointment, that he confessed that and that moving forward was pointless, even though she'd been dead for years. He would never get over her.

Of course, Murphy would remember his impassioned and somewhat dramatic speech in which he martyred his future for a past he could no longer have.

Rick lowered his gaze.

"Rick?"

"I…" he stood and paced to the window. He let his head drop. "I don't know. I don't know how to deal with…well, that's why I'm here, right?"

"Mr. Castle?" the receptionist asked. Rick stood and approached her desk. "The doctor is running a little over. Do you mind waiting a few more minutes?"

Two years ago, Moses Murphy sat at his desk reading a court file. Richard Castle was an alcoholic and had lost custody of his daughter. These cases, where his patient had been ordered to see him, were tough. Most of his patients had done a lot of bargaining, soul-searching, and realization before they asked for help. Court-ordered patients skipped all the deliberation and had to come. That was tough, because not only did Moses have to help them, but he had to get through defenses first. He sighed and got out a new pad and hoped for a good session but prepared for a fight.

"I really don't have a choice," he snapped but instantly regretted his tone. "I'm sorry. No, I don't mind." He retreated to the couch. His hostility toward everyone and their mother is why he was here in the first place. The court had ordered psychiatric counseling after his outburst during the custody hearing.

"You can go in now," the receptionist said politely as if he hadn't been a horrible human being a few minutes ago.

"I really am sorry for earlier," he mumbled on his way to the door. She smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.

A tall African American man met him at the inner door. He had an understanding face at least three inches higher off the ground from Rick's. "Mr. Castle?" The imposing man held out his hand. "I'm Moses Murphy."

Rick gripped his hand. "Richard Castle...um Rick."

The doctor indicated the seating area, a choice between a couch and two armchairs. Rick chose an armchair and the doctor grabbed a pad, pen, and file from his desk and sat in the opposite chair. "So, Rick, tell me why you're here."

"I was ordered to be here."

"I know, but you acquiesced to the order rather quickly, without a fight. That tells me that you may think, down deep that this time here may be beneficial." He kept his steady, deep brown eyes on Rick's. His voice soothed.

Rick inhaled. He remained silent for a few minutes and Moses felt he had once again been mistaken.

"Yeah. Something...I have to do something."

The doctor flipped open the file and read, although Rick got the impression that he was just refreshing what he already knew.

"Now, you're here, legally, because a judge mandated it."

"Yes."

"But why are you here?"

"Because the court..."

"No Rick, why do you want this therapy?" He narrowed his eyes at Castle and Rick felt immediately exposed.

"I'm..." he paused and swallowed, dropping his gaze to the carpet under the doctor's feet. "I'm a mess. I drink and I just lost..." his voice disappeared. He hadn't yet said it aloud – that he lost his daughter, that his inability to get himself together resulted in losing the only other thing he truly loved. "I can't keep living in this grief. It's destroying everything."

"I think I can help you," Murphy said softly.

"I must say, and I'm not complaining, but twice in one week? I might be getting spoiled," her dad said as he rose from their booth to greet her with a hug and kiss. Truth be told, they were comfortable with their once a week dates. They both led busy lives but had made the time for their little family to be together.

"I know…I just…"

"Katie?"

"Have you ever just needed to be grounded?"

Jim raised an eyebrow.

Her lips quirked upwards. Of course, they had had their share of that kind of groundings – she knew, she had been a horrendous teen. She shook her head. "I mean, you just need to latch onto something solid, something…someone steady – that you can count on." She kept her eyes on the paper napkin as she nervously shredded the corner.

Jim inhaled and worked to clear his throat. His heart had jumped there. It had been a long road. He had always been someone she could turn to, even when Katie had been at odds with her mother - until she couldn't. During his addiction. He had come to terms with how he had left her on her own to tend to himself. There was nothing he could change, except how he was there for her now and in the future. To have her call him her solid place – it blew him away. He had worked hard for many years to be worthy of and to be competent enough to claim to be that stalwart in her life. He blinked back tears.

Kate raised her eyes when her father remained silent and noticed the emotions on his face. "Oh, Dad! I'm sorry. What…are you okay?"

"No, no, no. Katie, I'm fine. I'm happy to be whatever you need."

The waitress set glasses of waters and cups of coffee down. Kate lifted her gaze and smiled her thanks. They placed their orders and sat in silence, sipping their drinks. Jim figured his daughter would speak about her problem when she was ready. He was euphoric: like he had been reborn as her dad. They had been working back from all the years of hurt and neglect he had caused since he became sober and for the first time, he truly felt they'd reached the pinnacle.