Beckett: Reunion

Wednesday 10 October

Her fingers hang over the doorknob. Castle's hand wavers over the small of her back, heating her through her blouse. The bullpen seems to be holding its breath – all activity paused in respect for this mother and child reunion. Like jumping out of an aeroplane, she needs to just do it. Count to three, pull the handle and go in. Kate steps into the room, leaving Rick as she shuts the door slowly behind her, the click of the latch louder than it should be. It is one of the smaller conference rooms of the precinct, just a sofa to one side and a couple of chairs on the other. Large pictures of bright, open-petaled flowers hang above the sofa – Captain Montgomery's wife had brought them in years ago to 'brighten up the place' – lit with stripes from the blinds across the large windows opposite. Standing are two people: the untidily besuited woman from Child Services and, in the shadows at the far end of the room, her daughter.

Her daughter. Her chest rising and falling. Breathing. Real. Really here. No longer an imagined child at the periphery of her consciousness for almost thirteen years. She remembers her first thoughts when Erin had slithered from her body: 'Oh. It's you. You're the one who's been living inside me.' The same maternal pride and disbelief flushes through her now. The same extraordinary feeling of the fictional child within erased by the messy yet perfect bundle of flesh and blood before her. It's you.

It is like looking at her younger self. Softer skin: even with her thin face that hints at malnourishment a touch of teenage puppy fat hides strong cheekbones; she is shorter than her. The twelve-year old's almond shaped eyes are sunk behind dark circles that are out of place for her age. She wears jeans and is swamped by a plain black hoodie, her fingers curled up into the cuffs. Before she can step forward, the girl moves towards her, determined, shoulders back, chin up, a hand outstretched, shrugging out of its sleeve.

'I'm Erin,' she says in a Manhattan accent.

Smile. She must smile.

'I'm Kate,' she smiles back, her stomach doing somersaults, carefully taking the offered hand. Her neck tingles at the touch. Erin shakes it once, and then twice, a formal, firm grip that is at odds with the smallness of her hands. Her gaze is drawn to two small scars to one side of Erin's left eye. The fingers in her unoccupied hand twitch. Erin pulls her hand away and slips it into the hoodie's front pouch as she takes a step back. Her eyes don't quite meet Kate's.

The girl's confidence seems to waver, shyness taking over, and Kate, thrown slightly by her forwardness, grabs the reins. 'Do you want to sit down?' The older woman points at the sofa. Erin nods appreciatively and moves back to one of the chairs. Kate hesitates. Sofa or chair? She chooses the sofa. Space for Erin if she wants it. They sit down in unison. The Child Services woman hovers awkwardly by the door.

Again, just as she is about to speak, Erin leaps in first.

'This is weird, isn't it?' Kate notes the cadence of her accent. Erin's neighbourhood growing up had not been poor. And it is tinged with something else, something foreign.

She lets out the breath she hadn't realised she's been holding.

'It is.' She pulls her back straight. 'Erin, you know who I am?'

'Sure. That famous writer told me. I knew though when you came in to interview me.' Erin shrugs and shifts her stare to the flowers above Kate's head.

'How? How did you know?' she stutters.

Erin shrugs again. 'I don't know, really. I have always known your name.' So, she did know she was adopted. And her parents had told her her name! A shiver of something she can't identify ripples through her. A thrill, maybe? 'And then you ran out and I guessed. There was always a chance, wasn't there? That we might run into each other one day?'

She doesn't know what to say. Was this something Erin had wondered about? Imagined? Was this a kid's fantasy, bumping into her birth mother in the street? Was Erin prepared for this encounter in a way that she wasn't? She had never conceived of this. When she had given her baby up for adoption it was as if she had moved to a parallel universe. Another world safe from her world. She had kept that locked away, knowing that one day the worlds might bleed together when her child reached eighteen and would legally be allowed to search for her, but she had never imagined she would run into her by accident.

There is so much she wants to say; a plethora of questions and thoughts whip through her bloodstream to all her muscles, circulating from heart to brain and back again. The way Erin is looking around the room, sitting stiff and controlled, however, it doesn't feel like the moment to start asking questions, or to issue apologies and explanations. It is enough to be in her presence. Her beautiful presence.

Be pragmatic. First things first. There will be time for a heart to heart later, she hopes. Now, make her feel safe.

'Erin, I'm so glad to meet you. Do you have any questions you'd like to ask me?'

Erin's face flickers for a moment, a sea of emotions appearing suddenly and in the same flash, a return to impassive, calm, teenage nonchalance.

'What happens now?' She detects movement in the pouch. Fingers twisting, perhaps?

'I'm so sorry about your parents, Erin. I wish I had known; I would have come for you,' she whispers, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. This one fact Kate can't hold back. Erin has to know that she would never have let her be looked after by the state if she had known.

She watches Erin's face control itself: the lips barely twitch, the eyes stare upwards without blinking. Her heart sinks as she recognises her own walls which she had built after her mother's death in her daughter's face. Her child is grieving just as she had. Worse. Twice over. A father and mother gone; her whole life, her childhood, had been upended in a second. And so much younger than she had been. Still a child.

Kate pulls herself together. She can't react emotionally. She needs to show her child that she is strong, that she is in control.

Keeping her voice steady, she offers herself on a plate: 'Erin, I'd like you to come home with me. Would that be okay?' The closed windows make the room stuffy and the air between them hangs heavy and heated. It takes a couple of seconds for Erin to slowly lower her chin in confirmation, her lips pursed together as if holding back a tremor. Erin turns expectantly towards the Child Services woman who has the decency to look vaguely embarrassed that she is present for this intimate moment and blusters: 'The paperwork has been arranged.'

Erin turns back towards her, her face an impenetrable mask. Ignoring the tsunami of relief flooding her limbs, Kate shimmies forward on the sofa, clasping her hands in front of her, elbows on her knees. 'Before that, I need to ask you some questions about what happened last night?'

Erin removes her hands from the pouch and rests them on her knees and draws herself taller. 'What do you want to know?'

'This isn't an interview. I'm not going to be leading the investigation, my friends Detectives Ryan and Esposito will do that. I just need to know if you are in any danger,' she says softly and slowly. 'Did you know the people who were shot?'

Erin shakes her head quickly. Her right heel starts to tap up and down.

Kate lets out a breath. That's good, she isn't caught up in something big, she was just there by chance.

'Were you seen?'

'I don't think so,' Erin stutters, for the first time betraying a hint of emotion. 'I hid behind a dumpster.' Don't think about why she was in the alley. Don't think about it.

'But you saw them? That's why you stayed behind after you called 911,' she says with realisation, rocking backwards. She would forever afterwards be sympathetic to parents who didn't want their children to be interviewed as witnesses. She just wants to whisk her away from the precinct, pretend the homicide hasn't happened. It isn't yet clear if Erin could be recognised by an, as yet, unidentified murderer, or murderers. However, she perseveres, driven by the detective in her, knowing that not providing a witness statement wouldn't make her any safer.

'That was very, very brave of you, Erin.' The girl shuffles awkwardly. 'Would you be able to talk to my colleagues about what you saw?' Erin gestures yes. 'Is it okay if I sit with you – or would you prefer the Child Services lady?' She begrudgingly tilts her head in the woman's direction, suddenly aware that Erin might not want to reveal the horrifying details to her newly found birth mother. Thankfully, Erin, without lifting her hand from her knee, points a forefinger at her and gives her a tiny, almost conspiratorial smile. She could swear Erin thinks as little as she does of the woman.

A large smile spreads across Kate's face; she is unable to hide the joy this barely perceptible gesture quickens in her. Although they have exchanged barely a few words, Erin has made it clear that she is choosing her over Child Services. She wants to reach across the chasm and engulf her in a hug, but she swallows her desire, understanding that they have a long road to walk down before they can arrive at that moment.

She stands, and Erin mechanically matches her movements. Closer now, the grease of Erin's hair shining in the autumnal sunlight, she says, 'I'll go and get everything set up for your witness statement, and then we can go-' Her breath hitches on the last word. Home. To her one-bedroom apartment. Technically it is a two-bedroom apartment, but the second room is her office. There isn't a second bed. She sniffs loudly and holds up a finger. 'Just. Hang on a second.' She turns to the woman, who has contorted herself into something like a twisted tree and is drowning in her own discomfort. 'Can you get Erin some food please? I think there are donuts out there.' She smiles back at Erin, leans in slightly and whispers, 'There are always donuts.' She is confused by the darting and shifting in Erin's eyes as if an internal battle is being waged. Finally, the argument seems to be settled and she replies: 'I love donuts.'


She leans back against the door, the precinct a blur of browns and beige and black. Her whole body is vibrating. Her legs feel as if they might give way, white flashes like sunspots dance before her and her head spins for a second, but she pushes herself away from the door. Castle is right there, waiting for her. His eyes are full of hope and expectation as they drill into her own, searching for answers. She starts to well up and she blinks back tears before they fall. She reaches for his hands and then pulls them away, snapping them backwards as she remembers where they are.

'She wants to come home with me,' she says, tossing her hair back and laughing with surprise.

'That's wonderful news. I knew she would,' he replies, his eyes crinkling with his warm smile.

Kate huffs and shakes her hands in front of her, panic rising.

'I can do this. I can be her mother.'

'It's okay.' He steps much closer to her, so his breath is hot on her face. 'You got this. And I'm here. It takes a village, remember.'

He has said the right thing. 'Rick, I-' How can she ask this? They have only just started dating. He has been so patient, waited so long for her, and she had hurt him badly. They are in the honeymoon period and now she is about to turn their lives upside down. 'My apartment...it's…'

'You can both move in with me. Of course. We'll talk about it later, not here. I have space, she can have the guest bedroom. She's your daughter. It may be faster than we planned but wouldn't this always have happened?' he rushes, standing so close she can feel his body thrumming in tune with hers. She stammers slightly, not having thought that far ahead, as swept up as she has been in the just being with him. He must have been thinking about this while she was in the room. The writer, several chapters ahead in the story.

They stare deeply into each other's eyes oblivious to everyone and everything around them as they share the weight of what they are about to take on, unable to proclaim the momentous decision they have just spontaneously made together.

Castle steps back. 'I'll get you a coffee.'


A/N Anyone concerned that Castle is being a bit too passive and too understanding, I hear you. Petulant Rick will definitely make himself heard later on. This is Crisis Rick right now where for me, he will do and say anything to keep things calm and on Beckett's side. There's no way at some point he isn't going to rag on her for having never told him that she had had a baby.

So my plan had been to get this written before posting again but I'm having the same issue I've had before in that I just can't move on and I can't leave chapters alone. I don't really want to post this yet in case I come up with details later on that I think belong here. On the other hand I won't get anything else written if I don't let this chapter go. I have the story broadly outlined so I'll just have to go with it.

Apologies for inaccuracies in American English and date formatting (I'm sorry, I'm English and I just can't bring myself to write month/date/year. It's just…no. Though it was an unconscious inaccuracy that I hadn't noticed.) I try to keep the dialogue as accurate as possible but I may slip up in the main prose.

Thank you for your kind reviews and encouragement. You're the best!