Castle: Patience

Sunday 13 October

Castle woke suddenly, the remnants of a half-remembered dream fluttering against his temple. His eyes still closed, he reached across the mattress. It thrilled him that she was there every morning, but he still couldn't quite believe it. He turned and scanned her side of the bed, patting in several places as if she might be invisible. The sheets were cold. How quickly they had settled on their sides – maybe he should have known his marriages had been doomed: he had wrestled and experimented with each woman, but they had never found an arrangement which pleased them both. He looked over to the ensuite: the ajar door revealed only a dark empty room. The red light of the digital clock on the bedside table read 2.32am.

Pulling on his silk robe he ventured into the main room. On the couch, lit at each end by a lamp, were two pyjamaed figures haloed in identical mirrored poses: Kate and Erin were each curled into a black leather corner, reading Agatha Christies from his library. Castle lent against the door frame and watched, a smile playing on his lips.

It had been five days since Beckett's daughter had crash landed into their lives. He thought back over that time.

Four days earlier

Castle had spent Thursday at the precinct surprising Esposito and Ryan by helping with actual paperwork and actual research as they investigated the double homicide Erin had witnessed. No one yet knew of their relationship, Beckett being so concerned that Gates wouldn't let them work together. He suspected that this was not quite as realistic a threat as she imagined but he chose to be touched by her desire to continue working with him over the more worrying interpretation that she was ashamed of him. They wouldn't be able to keep their new living arrangement a secret for much longer; Castle had spied Captain Gates scrutinising him at intervals throughout the day.

Even with the grunt work, there had been far more hanging around than he was used to, mostly while they waited on forensics results, which had given him time to think.

After his initial shock at the revelation, Castle found it easy to see Beckett as a mother even though she herself had expressed such self-doubt. Last night she had been shell-shocked and openly insecure. Finding her this morning fussing over a ridiculous feast of a breakfast had made his heart swell, loving this whole new side of adorableness; and it had hurt when he saw how stung she had been when her efforts had been snubbed by Erin. She had been forlorn then, a little lost as he had entertained Erin with making fruit salad, relying on the clown-dad role he had perfected over 18 years. But the remarkable Beckett he knew had snapped back pretty darn quickly, as if he would ever doubt her.

The idea of taking on responsibility for her daughter didn't faze him; in fact, he was excited. Alexis had only just left for college, and it would be galvanising to have another young person around again; except when writing, he loved noise and drama. He would need to talk to Alexis sooner rather than later: he had always been impressed by his daughter's maturity and her generosity of spirit but after Beckett had been shot, Alexis had rather cooled in her attitude to his girlfriend and he couldn't be sure that he could predict her response to them living together so soon, as well as the acquisition of, what, a stepsister?

Now, as he returned home, an unfamiliar feeling of masculine pride at being at work all day and returning to the family hearth prickled behind his ears. Obviously, he had lived with Alexis, and with his ex-wives, but that it was Beckett waiting for him made him tingle. He couldn't help calling out 'Honey, I'm home!' as he closed the front door. When he received no answer, he called out again. A mountain of shopping bags blocked the bottom of the staircase. He walked through the loft to his office. Beckett was asleep at his desk: her cheek rested heavily on one arm; at the corner of her parted lips drool glistened. Behind her his favourite staircase painting loomed like a wormhole about to swallow her.

'Hey,' he called softly. When she didn't answer he tiptoed over and leant down to kiss her cheek - not before taking a few seconds to ogle her with his head tilted to one side, safe from her accusations of being creepy. She jumped up like a firecracker, narrowly missing headbutting him. One cheek was red and wrinkled.

'What, huh? Oh hey, you're back.' She rubbed her face, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and pushed back from the table.

'Where's Erin?' he asked, spinning around.

'She's upstairs. Asleep.' Kate stretched then smoothed her shirt and then her hair.

'Naptime, huh?' he teased. She didn't smile back. This was not cuddle-and-reassure-me-Kate; this was the formidable Detective Kate Beckett. He stepped around to the other side of the desk. He noticed then that the laptop was open beside three empty cups of what he assumed had been coffee, and the printer had several pages in the print tray.

'I, um, guess I didn't sleep much last night. And neither did she.' He had no doubt that Kate's insecurities would be as raw as ever, however, an onlooker seeing her now would never know.

'You didn't say this morning that she was awake last night.'

'I only found out later.' She stalked into the main room, over to the shopping. He looked back at the printer but said nothing and followed her. She knelt on the floor and started to unpack.

'Update me on the case,' she commanded as she removed labels and sorted the clothes into piles.

'They're still canvasing the neighbourhood for further witnesses. The bullets were 0.45 calibre.' Common bullets for any number of gun types.

'How far wide are they checking road cameras?'

'Um, a two-block area,'

'Tell them to widen it to five.' He resisted the urge to click his heels and salute.

'We've been researching the backgrounds of the victims,' he said instead.

'You, Castle? Research?' She paused and cocked her head upwards, one eyebrow raised.

'I do do research for my books,' he pouted. 'Anyway, Noah Campbell and Briony Foster were on a date; it doesn't look like they had met before that night. We're trying to find any reason why they might have been targeted. Ryan looked into their financials and Campbell's rang alarm bells so we're looking into his background.'

'Any forensics?'

'There's a bloody shoe print – looks like one of the killers got close to the bodies, maybe they were checking if they were dead?'

Beckett unfolded herself to standing and took the empty bags with her to the kitchen.

'Looks like shopping was a success?' She sighed and slid onto a stool. Castle grabbed some grapes from the fridge and placed them in a bowl in front of her. He also collected salad ingredients and began chopping. Beckett slowly ate a grape.

'She saw my gunshot scar,' she said bluntly, fidgeting with the ridges on the grey ceramic bowl. Well, that was unexpected. He placed the knife down.

'What did you tell her?'

'The truth,' she said, popping another grape into her mouth. 'I wasn't ready to tell her; it's too soon but she knew it was something serious. You should have seen the look on her face, Castle. If she thinks I'm going to get killed, that I'm going to die like her parents, how can she ever settle here?' He leaned forward over the counter resting on both elbows. He knew how Erin felt. It was his own daughter's worry too: the reality of being close to Kate Beckett had potentially devastating consequences. But she was so worth the risk and he had no doubt that Erin should live with Kate rather than anyone else. He knew it was selfish and he would never say it out loud but at the back of his mind floated the idea that Erin might even be Kate's saviour. Could she be the one to rein her in?

'She'll soon learn you're invincible.' Beckett shook her head, not taking the bait of his jovial tone.

'She had a panic attack on the way home. That's when I found out she's hardly slept for two days. She didn't say more but she has been sleeping during the day, God only knows where. She's been asleep since we got back – I've checked on her twice. I called Dr Burke.'

'What did he say?'

'That she should see a child psychotherapist and he would send me a list. In the meantime, I want everything to be as normal as possible for her: routine, school, extra-curricular activities, family dinners. I need her to trust me, trust you, to feel safe here.' She paused to eat a few more grapes and he reached across and squeezed one hand before returned to his chopping.

'I think she might have PTSD,' she said, her mouth still half full and she wiped grape juice from her lips.

'PTSD?' he frowned.

'From the shooting. She kept freaking out at sudden loud sounds.'

'We've never really talked about your experience with PTSD,' he said studying the chopped vegetables. Kate had always expressed the most gratitude when he didn't pry when he knew something was troubling her and left her to deal with it in her own way.

'I'm fine,' she reassured, looking him in the eyes. Fearsome I-dare-you-to-question-me eyes that made his heart skip a beat.

'PTSD or otherwise, it's hardly a surprise that she would be freaked out after what she saw. Has she said anything else about the weeks before? Ryan said she had been in foster care briefly?'

'No, nothing.' Castle could see the frustration and impatience in her body language.

As he leaned against the door watching them read, the night silence heavy around them, Castle thought about just how patient Beckett had demonstrated she could be. Over the next couple of days she had marshalled Erin's sleeping habits. She had let her sleep as long as she had needed on Thursday; she had finally woken up close to midnight, and to her great relief, asking for food. Kate had insisted he stay in bed as she wanted him to have slept so he could go into the precinct on Friday. From then on, she only let her sleep for shorter stints so that by Saturday she had made Erin wake up in the early evening after just a few hours' sleep, her hope being that she would start to fall asleep during night hours. He watched Erin stretch and yawn and suspected Kate's strategy was working.

Not so long ago, 2am would have been a regular bedtime for him, he remembered as if it were another lifetime. Like mothers are encouraged to do with their new-borns, Beckett had slept when Erin slept. So far, the lack of sleep wasn't affecting her too much, used as she was to her busy and often unpredictable work schedule. Castle hoped she wasn't building any false expectations for when they, hopefully, had children together: a few days to get a pre-teenager back into their natural circadian rhythm was not the same as months, even years, of disrupted sleep that is inevitable with babies and toddlers.

Beckett and Erin hadn't ventured out again; instead, they had done more shopping online. It had been fun looking at bedroom furniture and décor with Erin on Friday evening after he'd spent another day labouring at the precinct. Possible suspects had been identified but were yet to be located. However, Erin had kept to her room much of the rest of the time which had given Beckett space to plan.

Erin hadn't resisted her mother taking charge of her sleep. The same could not be said when Beckett had informed her that she would need to go back to school:

One day earlier

They had just finished an early lunch on Saturday. Erin had been awake since 11pm Friday night and Kate's plan was to let her sleep in the afternoon but wake her up early evening. To instill a sense of normality she instead they have meals at regular times.

'Erin, we need to have an important conversation,' she said as she piled up the dirty plates. Martha had joined them for lunch and her gave her a subtle nod to leave to which she responded by clearing the plates into the kitchen. 'It's the middle of the Fall term and you haven't been at school since before the summer break.' The printer, it turned out, had been full of school brochures. He was pleased that she had taken him at his word and included private schools in her search. Marlowe Prep was on the list: a sign of admiration for both his daughter and his parenting choices that had made him quiver with pride. They had eliminated several large public schools with poor reputations and had decided to present Erin with a small selection of public and private schools that they could look at together and she could have the final choice.

'I don't need to go to school,' said Erin abruptly, sitting bolt upright – tiredness had been getting the better of her and she had been slumped in her chair for most of the lunch. Not the choice they had been expecting.

'Yes, you do,' retorted Beckett firmly. Uh oh, he thought. Erin had yet to find herself in outright disagreement with Kate. Castle's buttocks clenched in his seat at one end of the table while they faced each other across the table.

'I can teach myself,' she said crossing her arms. 'I can go to the library, it's what I did…' she shut up promptly.

'You visited libraries when you ran away?' Beckett pounced on this rare piece of information.

Erin bore the mortified face of having given something away that she hadn't intended.

'I…I had a library card. You can use it anywhere in the city. You can return books to a different library from where you take them out.'

Beckett stared at him, her eyes ablaze. He knew exactly what she was thinking: how could a twelve-year-old runaway repeatedly use her library card for six weeks and no one had noticed? The horrifying answer was because no one had been looking.

Castle had to admire her: what an ingenious thing for the child to do, to try to cover her tracks like that. Having contributed little to the conversation since her arrival, it was too soon to know for sure, but he suspected that Erin might be pretty intelligent – after all her genes suggested as much.

'You still have to go to school, Erin,' she said, more softly now.

Erin collapsed back in her chair, arms crossed, face furious.

'Would you like to go back to your old school?' He raised his eyebrows – they hadn't included it in their list - at the loaded implication of the question: she had been doing her research and had noted the four schools Erin had attended. She had learned that Erin had lived in New York since she was four-years old. However, she had also discovered a three-year absence from 2007-2010. This had led her to investigate Niamh and Daniel McDonnel's work history. Niamh McDonnel had been a pharmacologist working for a global company, and had taken a three-year secondment to London, England. Further digging had revealed that her husband, Daniel, had been a Science teacher and had worked at a private girls-only high school with a preparatory school attached allowing Erin to be registered for free from the ages of seven to ten. That explained the mildest of twangs to her accent.

They had returned to the US in mid-2010. She attended a middle school for one academic year before her parents died. After that she had been moved to a different district when put into care so had then enrolled at yet another school.

Erin scowled. 'No. You can't make me go back there.' Castle had been wracking his imagination over the last few days resulting in a variety of scenarios as to why Erin had run away. Had something happened at her school?

He jumped in. He had meant to take a back seat, but he couldn't help himself. It just wasn't in his nature to sit back and watch. Especially as Beckett had sneakily used the conversation to pry.

'Not at all. Your mother has been looking at lots of options nearby, we can choose together.' He clocked how Erin twitched on the use of 'your mother'.

Erin sighed, her jaw grinding. 'Couldn't I be home-schooled?' she persisted.

'It's something we could look into, I guess,' Castle said looking to Beckett for confirmation. It wasn't a face of enthusiasm that glowered back at him.

'Erin, why don't you want to go to school?' she said, facing Erin again, not before giving him a Keep Quiet glare.

Erin clamped her mouth shut, her cheeks reddening, and stared down at the table and shrugged.

'Is it because you've had to change schools a lot?' she persevered.

Erin looked up at her with surprise, anger flashing through her. 'You looked up my school history?'

'I kinda need to know these things-' she started.

'How dare you! My past is none of your business!' Erin shouted, jumping to her feet.

Beckett's mouth dropped open in shock, He instinctively reached a hand under the table to squeeze her knee.

Erin ran across the loft and sprinted up the stairs. They stood up. He put a hand up to stop her from following her. 'Let her be, let her calm down.'

Beckett stood with her hands on her hips. 'I mean, I thought she might not want to go back to school but to tell me not to look into her past…' She shook her head in bemusement. At least now they knew: Erin protected her privacy and her past just as fiercely as Beckett does. Now, she reached for his fingers with one hand, lacing them through hers, needing him in a way she had resisted since Thursday evening.

'Maybe she shared that pancake anecdote with you because you told her about getting shot – maybe you have to offer something of yourself before she'll tell you more?'

'Or maybe she really hates me.'

'Woah, Beckett, that's a gross misreading of the text. She doesn't hate you. But she doesn't know you. This must all be so confusing for her. Maybe holding on to her past is something she can control, you know?'

'Maybe,' she said, not sounding convinced. 'She's having panic attacks. She's frightened. We need to know what's going on. Maybe that's all because of the murders she witnessed but something else happened to her. I need to know why she ran away.' Although he had been thinking about it, and he had assumed Beckett had been too, they hadn't yet discussed what could have happened to Erin. Evidently, she was in no rush to tell them herself.

'Well, that's why it's great you're getting her a therapist. Maybe it's too soon for her to share with us. You don't have to be the only important adult in her life, Kate. I know that's hard to hear, more than anyone – I hate it when Alexis needs other people.

'Let me talk to her,' he suggested. He was startled that Kate acquiesced without argument, the wind having been metaphorically knocked out of her.

'Remind her dinner is at six o'clock,' she called out as he mounted the staircase. Right: routine and consistency, he remembered. A raft for both Beckett girls to hold onto. He knocked gently on the door; Erin begrudgingly held the door half-open. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. His urge was to keep the peace. Part of him wanted to defend Kate, to say Don't talk to your mother like that but instead he found himself saying:

'Wanna see a movie tomorrow?' Erin's shoulders dropped with relief.

'Is she mad?' Erin's knuckles turned white as they clenched the door.

'Mad? Kate? No! She just wants what's best for you. Why don't you get some sleep and I'll introduce you to one of my own inventions for dinner?'

Erin screwed up her nose suspiciously.

'World-renowned,' he insisted as he waved his forefingers in the air and spun away from the door in true showman fashion.

That was over twelve hours ago. When she had come down for dinner – she woke herself using the alarm clock she had chosen with him – no one brought up the subject of schools. Erin had giggled at his Smoreletts and had thrilled him with her enthusiasm. After dinner, she had helped them wash up and then had browsed his library of books, gently rejecting Kate's offer to watch television with her. As she had said goodnight to them, Erin had stopped and turned back to them. She studied the floor as she said:

'I'll think about the schools.'

Erin had been in her room when he had gone to bed; Kate had resisted his attempt to entice her too, preferring to stay awake so she would know when Erin fell asleep. Kate looked up from her book and caught his eye. She glanced over to Erin who was now stretching with the book face down on the seat beside her and turned back to him and reciprocated his smile. Yes, Kate Beckett could be patient.


A/N

Erin's timeline in case useful:

Born 28/12/99

Moves to New York aged four, 2004

Lives in England, London, for three years 2007-2010

Parents died July 2011 (aged 11 and a half)

Meets Beckett Wednesday 10 October 2012 (aged 12, turns 13 28/12/12)

Thank you as ever for reviews and follows and favourites. Your ideas and imaginings for what might come next are great - some are way off base but they still stimulate me to consider what the audience might be expecting and if I need to address things in the text I might otherwise have overlooked.

Next up: Beckett tells Jim (I wrote that chapter two months ago but needed one more chapter before that could take place. That chapter became chapters 5, 6 and 7!)