Disclaimer: This is fan fiction as in fictional stories written for fun without any profit. I still want to acknowledge Marlow's creation and the awesome collection of stories the fans have written. I'm so glad it is still active.
Richard Castle swipes DISMISS for the call from the unknown number. Just because the area code is local doesn't mean it's a person he knows. Besides, his phone is going to die if he can't get to the other side of the room to get his charger. It's not his fault he couldn't sleep and played with his phone all night. Unfortunately Maxwell won't let him past the velvet ropes blocking passage in his own damn home. "I need to grab my phone charger. It's in plain site." He points and starts to push by the soft green barrier when the hired giant steps in front of him.
"No, Mister. No access to this area. You said you understood the rules." Max folds his beefy arms over the mass of his chest and imitates a marble statue.
He'd be intimidating if he weren't wearing pure white coveralls (with no pockets) and white cotton gloves. What kind of man wears white cotton gloves? He pictures Maxwell with those golden locks shaved off and almost smiles at the personification of Mr. Clean. "Just hand me the cord!"
"No. I get fired if I touch anything else out of the range of the cameras or that isn't handed to me by the appraiser."
Castle is seething. Damn velvet ropes. That's the perfect analogy for his life right now. Beckett didn't need cuffs to constrain him; she was done with the school's funniest kid before Montgomery's funeral and her actions in the hospital echoed her sentiment (or lack thereof.) He has to move on. He is done thinking about her and mourning what they could have been. He's got plenty to keep him busy. Just look at the fiasco in front of him.
He huffs in frustration. His home (his life) is in upheaval. The furniture is pushed out of the center of the room and totes are stacked by his office. The life size Boba Fett is on a pallet swaddled in moving blankets ready for transport. The green velvet balusters divide the living space between residents and auction house staff. It may be a gray and rainy day outside, but inside portable lighting is blinding and several video cameras are positioned in key areas. A roll of clear bubble envelopes await the contents at the end of the process. Nothing is simple.
The first station is where the handoff is made to the inspector. Both parties must agree on the proper description of the item in question. Then it goes in the ultraviolet light box to check for package tampering (deal killer). Everyone waits for the magic phrase, "Authenticity confirmed - item is as represented." Then it gets passed (with exaggerated care) to the next station. The appraiser gets his chance to inspect each piece, but he's been reduced to a parrot for the last hour, "Mint condition in mint package." Then Max gets to participate. He carefully accepts custody, slowly shows all sides to a stationary camera, then places it in its bubble wrapped cocoon and into the foam lined crate. A security person (dressed in all black lest he be confused with Maxwell) watches with hawk like eyes.
The women are in charge (aren't they always.) Tayrisha, an angel if anyone from an accounting firm can double as an angel, is checking off each item as custody is passed to the auction house. She's worrying about Castle but trying not to overstep. The very large, dark skinned women commands the room as easily as his mother. Castle's helper is here to oversee his interests and relieve him of pesky details like notifying the insurance company of the change in location and processing the funds once all sales are complete. But secretly she knows she is there to be ready to step in if her favorite client loses patience with the drawn out process.
By contrast Laura, the auction house manager, is a petite nerd who needs to get more sunshine. She pushes her eyeglasses up her nose and claps her hands to get her menfolk's attention. "All right, back to it everyone." She consults her clipboard, "I believe we are getting to the oldest part of Mr. Castle's Star Wars collection which is very exciting!"
Rick feels rather numb about letting it go. As if on autopilot he goes to his stack of storage totes and pulls out another figure, new, still in the original package. This was a gift from Martha. She asked him why he never opened the packages to play with them even though she observed him staring at them for hours. It was simple: he played with them in his imagination because the stories he wrote in his mind were more epic than anything the tiny figures could actually do. They were also small enough to collect and not take up much space in a cramped New York apartment from his younger years. "Here we have Jawa on a 12-back card #38270."
The inspector frowns at the information. "We've already had Jawa on a 12 character card back. Is this a variation?" he looks at the tablet database to know what details to check.
Laura's eyes lite up, "Oh my god. This is Jawa in a vinyl coat - not cloth!"
Castle hands it over to Tayrisha to check off their list as his phone rings again. It's the same unknown number. He's also got a text from Ryan. The writer doesn't need any more reminders of the good old days. He made a point of saying to the guys it was nice working with them after the new captain kicked him out. They've been out for drinks a few times. He'd like to keep them as friends, but he's not sure Ryan has time with his fiancé demanding his attention for wedding plans. The only time Espo calls is when he's restless on a Saturday night and doesn't have anything better to do except play video games, or cajoles Castle and his Ferrari into attending a fund-raiser for the youth soccer league. But Castle won't be the jerk that walks away like he did that summer when Beckett was dating Demming. Yeah, he needs to focus on anything but a sentence that has "Beckett" and "walking away" in it together, so he checks Ryan's message: "Please answer your phone! Espo is the unknown number calling you."
He shoots a quick text back, "Can't talk now. I'll call later." and turns the phone off. He feels a tad guilty about blowing them off, but his phone is about to die (because of Max) and he doesn't have battery power for a voice chat.
He reaches into the tote for another collectible and forces himself into a better mood. He stares down at the boxed set with four characters and focuses on a tall, blue Snaggletooth. He shows it to Tayrisha. "This Cantina set was a Sears exclusive. In the movie Snaggletooth is short and wearing a red outfit so Kenner toy company got it very wrong. It's not the rarest figure, but it's such a big goof that this one of my favorites." Or, it was one of his favorites. He can't be attached. He's letting things go.
It gets passed on to the inspector and Castle dives into the tote for another gem. "Will the original artwork help or hurt the value of this one?" He holds up an unpainted gray figure under a plastic bubble glued to a white piece of cardboard. The clear plastic is too big for the toy and the artwork is obviously from a child. No claim of "original packaging" for this one. The mockup smacks of a story.
He addresses Tayrisha, "This is a prototype of a rocket firing Boba Fett with a "J back" and two missiles. When it was released to the public the rocket was glued in place. This one really works."
Laura actually gasps, "How did you ever get this? We'll need the story to help prove authenticity!" She reaches out for it but Rick holds onto it for a few extra minutes while he takes a trip down memory lane.
"My mother acted with summer theater in Cincinnati Ohio which is where Kenner was headquartered. She was really coming into her prime then and was getting a fair amount of publicity, so she was a pretty big deal in the Midwest in 1977. She had the lead female character in the production of 1776 the musical. The official recounting, the story Alexis knows, is that a man I know only as Uncle Donald worked at Kenner and was quite smitten with my mother. They saw each other all summer, and this was a gift to me on the last night before we were to return to New York City."
"Oh Mr. Castle, can I hear the full story? I promise it won't be used for the Provence."
Rick musters a smile, "Martha loves to tell it but I try to avoid recalling too much detail. It was after the matinee performance when they came back to our little rental. Don was a good guy - divorced with 2 daughters - and he was happy to spend a Saturday afternoon watching whatever sci-fi movie was on television with me. I was going to miss him almost as much as Martha. He showed me the figure and told me about how the rocket launcher kept breaking and that this character would never end up in stores if he had anything to say about it. Then he told me he'd let me play with it. If I was a good boy and didn't bother him or my mom for the next few hours, he'd let me keep it. If I bothered them, he'd take it away. I spent all my time at the table making the holder for the figure. The plastic bubble was from Mother's new hairbrush and I cut up a cereal box and glued white paper to it for the card stock. I labeled and colored it." He flips to the back to show the childish artwork.
"I was afraid he would take away Boba Fett, and I was trying to show him I'd give it a really good home. I never even fired the rocket before I encased it under the bubble." He gives a half smile. "Uncle Don really clued Martha into the variations and minutia of Star Wars collectibles. He told her about production shortages that were going to happen for Christmas, so she did all of that shopping early. His information was the reason Martha was so knowable about the items she gifted to me over the years. She also had a fellow actress who was an employee at FAO Schwarz who always put back special characters for me. Star Wars was all I ever asked for. When I was older and in boarding school, I was surrounded by rich kids who got all this Star Wars stuff and never even wanted it, so it got tossed into the back of their closet. I did a lot of English homework in exchange for characters. Then when I sold my first book, I went a little nuts buying the memorabilia released in foreign countries. I didn't have an accountant at the time who could reign me in on my spending, and I was broke in 6 months." He nods with affection at Tayrisha.
She clucks like the mother hen she is, "That will never happen while I'm on duty. I'm no investment guru, but I bet whatever you paid for items back then will end up making a good return on your money." Tayrisha is wistful. She can clearly see the boy that still lives in the body of Richard Castle and there is a little something forlorn about what he is giving up.
The shrill ring of the house phone interrupts story time. He parts with his past and answers the land-line. After a minute he interrupts, "Javier, just stop! This is hard enough without having to hear about a case with Tom Demming saving the day. I'm done being the puppy kicked to curb and expected to come crawling back. Enough is enough!" He hangs up with a little too much force.
Ewoks and animated droids join Yak face and a telescoping light saber Darth, which all get handed over to the auction house employees. They are excitedly talking about the merits of selling the collection as a whole or individually to appeal to more buyers.
Another unwelcome call comes in on the house phone and he turns his back to it. He randomly grabs Luke the farm boy and pretends to study the brown hair (instead of blond) while the message is recorded. His tension eases when it's just another reminder from Gina about Black Pawn's 'New Beginnings Gala' in two days. She stressed how important it was to start off on the proper footing with the new CEO and that the attendance was mandatory. He ignores the message and holds one of the earliest images of Luke Skywalker out. "I always liked this one. This character had no idea how much his life was about to change." Rick hands it over and lets it go. "I bet Luke looked back on those days with fondness. We never appreciate what we have until its gone."
Hours later when it's all done, he pauses for a moment. It's not official until he signs the paperwork. He talked with Martha, got her blessing with letting things go ("Really darling, we could use the storage space,") and reaffirms his decision. He scrawls his signature and walks away. He's done with the past.
He finally pushes past Max to get his phone charger and retreats to his office to power it on. He allows himself a fresh cup of caffeine. (Not coffee. He switched to black tea because coffee evokes memories of her.) He knows he has voice mail to deal with (but none from Beckett. She has already moved on.) He swallows and hits play for the last message.
The bite in Javi's tone was obvious, "Don't bother to try to call me back - I'm probably being watched which is why I was calling from someone else's phone. Sorry to interrupt your celebrity life but I thought you'd want to know. Maybe you could help her or at least say whatever needs to be said before she is bleeding out this time. But hey, we all know how you two are. Anyway, they plan on finishing the job, killing Beckett soon, but I guess you've already moved on..."
The fourth of July was over but the fireworks were just beginning.
Author's Note
Here is some relevant info to decide if this story is for you: this chapter is a fair representation of my writing style (no formal instruction in creative writing, no beta, and basic internet searches for information like the Star Wars characters in this chapter.) I also ignore cannon that involves Lok-Sat and the later seasons.) I labeled this story as Romantic Drama so it is about the RC/KB relationship, but it mostly follows Castle while Beckett is recovering. Mild use of a few curse words. The pandemic and craziness of the country made me reach for a "happy place" so I came back to the Castle fandom. Feedback is appreciated.