Ask for Forgiveness
An alternate look at "A Death in the Family"
"Sorry. I didn't know."
Something in his tone causes the "now you do" she had prepared in response to die on her lips. It prickles the back of her mind, the cold wash of guilt she hears in just four words, and she hits the emergency stop on the elevator control panel and whirls on her shadow.
"What'd you do?"
He tries to pretend, she'll give him that. His eyes flare wide and his expression opens to something that's almost innocent, but she sees it anyway, the downward turn of his lips, the split-second that he looks away.
"Beckett-" he starts, taking a step back. He can't go far, though, and she takes a moment of satisfaction at the quiet thump as he touches the elevator wall.
She shakes her head, cutting off whatever excuse he might be about to make. "What. Did. You. Do. Don't give me that you're just curious, Castle; you don't ask idle questions and you don't ask for permission; you ask for forgiveness. So, what did you do?"
"Beckett," he tries again, licking his lips. "I swear I didn't- I didn't know how opposed you would be and why. I just thought-"
Her heart lurches, spilling dread into her gut. It's admission enough for her.
"What have you done?" she asks, swallowing hard, careful to keep any tremor out of her voice.
"I gave your mother's case file to a friend of mine – a forensic pathologist, a good one. I wanted to see if he could find something that could help. Anything that might've been missed. It's a long shot, but-"
"But nothing," she snaps, cutting him off. "You may be writing a book about me, or based on me, whatever. But that doesn't give you the right to trample through my life, Castle. Or to make decisions about me or my mom's case. I have my reasons, respect that."
"I overstepped, I know," he says, holding up his hands. "But I-"
"You're damn right you overstepped. Now call it off. Tell this pathologist of yours to forget looking at her file, and then you forget it, too." Sucking in a breath, she reaches over, starting the elevator again. "Or we really are done."
He gives her a small nod, standing straighter beside her. "I'll call him."
Castle keeps to his word, reaching for his phone once they're in the car, but he's forced to leave a message. She gives him some small amount of credit for that, for the attempt he makes to correct his mistake, and they settle into their investigation and she does her best to put it out of her mind.
Only it isn't that easy.
His face is troubled when he sticks his head into Will's hospital room. He doesn't even take her ex's obvious bait, doesn't puff his chest out in some macho display to try to convince her that he's the better peacock in this ridiculous (and fruitless) competition he's put himself into with Will. Instead, he swallows hard, leading her into the hallway and trying to get her to sit down.
And she knows. Before he even says a word, she knows.
"It's about your mother."
The backs of her knees hit the chair he'd been trying to guide her toward as bile rises into her throat. He – goddamn it, he promised. He promised her he would let it go, that he wouldn't bring this up and open her wounds again.
"You swore to me," she croaks, glaring up at him. "Castle, you-"
"I asked him to stop," he begins in his own defense, sitting on the table at her side, his movements stilted and fidgety. "You heard the message I left. And I called again twice later that day. But he… Dr. Murray found something before he got my voicemail. Something he couldn't ignore. And it's something I couldn't keep from you either, Kate."
Kate. Never in the last couple of months has he called her by her first name. Always Beckett, never Kate. Somehow that makes her even angrier. How dare he? He doesn't know her; he might think he does, he might think he has her all figured out, but he doesn't know a damn thing about her.
"Did it ever occur to you that I don't want to know?" she explodes, lowering her voice to a hiss upon receiving a glare from the nurses' station at the end of the hall. "That I can't? I can't get my hopes up only to watch the guy who did that to my mom go free because of some bullshit technicality or because he has a smarmy, smug, sleaze ball lawyer who knows just the right way to sweet talk a jury?"
Chastened, his chin lowers. Yeah, he hadn't thought about that part; she's not surprised. He's good at not thinking about anyone but himself.
"And do you have any idea what it would do to my father?" she continues, pitching into his space, needing to know he understands the gravity of his actions. "The man spent five years in a bottle because of her murder, Castle. What do you think bringing it up again is going to do to him?"
"So you're willing to bury it?" Castle counters, lifting defiant eyes to hers. "You, the woman who told me the cops don't get to decide how these things ends, is willing to bury her head in the sand and let an actual lead go by?"
"Go to hell," she snaps. She's on her feet a moment later, dodging the hand he holds out to stop her. "We're done, Castle. Finish the rest of your book with someone else, don't finish it at all, whatever; I don't care. We are done."
She makes it all of three steps before he's darting in front of her and holding up his hands to keep her from decking him. "Wait, wait. Beckett, just wait. That was… it was out of line. I'm sorry."
Of course. Now that he's been reckless in unearthing the most difficult part of her life, now that he sees the pain it causes her, now that she's walking away. Now he's contrite, apologetic.
"Just leave me alone, Castle."
This time, when she ducks around him, he doesn't follow.
So real talk: Life has been crazy and weird lately and I've barely been able to write. But I've had this hanging out in my drafts for a while so I figured I would release it into the wild and let it be seen.
Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading.