Now I remember what it feels like to fly.
You give me butterflies.
- Kacey Musgraves, "Butterflies"
Slow Burn
Chapter 3
He doesn't go after her this time.
He uses the bathroom at the precinct, splashing cold water on his face to clear his head before he returns to her desk to find her gone.
He isn't surprised.
Esposito is still sitting in front of his computer, working, or at least pretending to. He raises his head as Castle silently wriggles into his coat and nods at him. "Sorry about earlier, man. Feels like maybe I interrupted something important back there?"
Castle shakes his head. "No. Nothing important." His voice is tightly controlled, terse, and he doesn't embellish for once. If he tries to explain, he thinks the detective will laugh at him, and he doesn't think Beckett would be too thrilled in any case.
Esposito narrows his eyes. "She's worth fighting for, you know. If ever anyone was, it's her. Don't give up."
Castle is pleasantly surprised by this encouragement; Esposito, in particular, has always been protective of Beckett and disapproving of him when it came to her. He gives the detective a friendly nod of thanks, stuffs his hands into his pockets and leaves.
His mother is home when he gets back to the loft. She's running scales on his grand piano and warbling vocal warm-up exercises that would get anyone else locked up in a psych ward. The flood of adrenaline and hope he felt when he dropped to one knee in front of Kate is draining away. Now he just wants to hide away in peace with his thoughts for company. So having his mother around is the last thing he needs.
He texted Alexis on the way home to tell her that he needed to talk to her about something. He doesn't think she'll mind not going to the wedding with him, but he wants to do her the courtesy of looking her in the eye when he asks if she's happy to stand aside for Kate. The reply she sent tells him that his daughter is out for the night with friends after which she'll be staying over at Paige's. Fixing things so that he and Kate can go to Kevin and Jenny's wedding together suddenly faces a frustrating delay.
The last of the certainty and euphoria Castle experienced at the precinct finally deserts him. Between his mother's caterwauling and his daughter's absence, he feels like a deflated balloon. He heads to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink, then slinks off to his office to nurse an increasingly confused tangle of thoughts.
His butt has no sooner hit the leather sofa before his mother appears in the doorway, borne forth on a shimmering wave of marine blue and turquoise silk.
"Hello, darling," Martha trills joyfully, lounging against the bookcase with a glass of white wine dangling elegantly from her fingertips. When she takes a closer look at him, she asks, "So what's new, Pussycat?"
Castle really doesn't want his mother getting into his business. He really doesn't. But before he can come up with something newsworthy and distracting to throw her off the scent, she sashays into the room, drops down into his office chair, kicks off her bedazzled mules, and says, "And Richard, don't even bother inventing some elaborate excuse. I know something happened with Katherine today, so just spit it out."
His jaw drops open and he gapes like a fish out of water.
Kate's heart is still racing as she exits the elevator and heads out into the street with her cell phone pressed to her ear. "Ugh! Voicemail!" she growls as she hails a cab.
"Hey, I just got your message. Come in," Lanie says when Kate pops her head around the morgue door fifteen minutes later. "I was just finishing up with that guy when you called." She indicates a gurney laden with lumpy shape inside a white plastic body bag. "What's up?"
"Castle proposed!" Kate blurts without any preamble when she's still only halfway across the room. She seems to surprise even herself because she emits a nervous giggle, too.
Lanie's eyes bug out and she shoots up out of her chair sending it flying back into a wall. "The man did what now?" she yells.
Kate doesn't repeat what she just said; once is enough for everyone. She just nods while Lanie screams loud enough to wake her refrigerated clients.
Eventually, the M.E. stops squealing and bouncing up and down. "Oh. My. God. OhMyGod!" she says in an excited rush of words. "Rick Castle proposed to you? Tell me. Tell me everything. Wait! Did he kiss you? Did he hold your hand?" When Kate shakes her head, Lanie says, "Okay. But that is you pair to a tee: everything ass-backward. Girl, you'll be giving birth to twins before that man gets you down the aisle."
Kate is still laughing when they both calm down enough to take a seat. "It came out of the blue. Totally. I'm sure even he didn't know what he was doing. We were talking about Jenny and Ryan, and I made some crack about what if we were getting married, would you want to know about all the guys I'd slept with. He didn't even answer my question. He just straight out asked me 'why aren't we getting married, Kate?' as if it was the most natural question in the world."
"Sweet Jesus on a tricycle," Lanie mutters. "And I always thought he'd hire a skywriter or a hot air balloon."
Kate leans forward to peer at her friend. "You thought he'd do what?"
But Lanie just waves this question aside to ask, "So what did you say?"
"Well, I checked that he was being serious for one thing. This whole Ryan-Jenny extravaganza has everyone a little crazy. I thought maybe he was coming down with wedding fever. He has been married twice already."
Lanie laughs. "Kate, come on. The guy's been head over heels in love with you since about five minutes after y'all met. Of course, he was being serious."
Kate's face is a picture: her cheeks are an attractive shade of pink and her eyes are sparkling when she presses her fingers to her lips. "He got down on one knee," she confesses, causing Lanie to emit another ear-piercing scream that dogs halfway down the block could hear.
"Oh, my." Lanie clutches her hands to her chest. "So romantic," she whispers, and there are tears in her eyes. "So, you said yes, obviously?" she says, nodding and smiling at the same time.
Kate shakes her head and the happy look dissolves off her friend's face. "Javi burst in. Kind of ruined Castle's big moment."
"I will tan that man's behind when I see him," Lanie declares. "What is wrong with those boys?"
"Don't blame it all on Javi. We needed to talk and the break room at the Twelfth was the wrong place to do it. But it has been a long time coming."
"So how'd you leave it? And please explain to me why you're sitting here with me instead of rolling around in Castle's bed with a bottle of Champagne on ice?"
Kate covers her face with her hands. When she finally removes them, she says, "We pulled things back a little…well, a lot. He didn't ask me to be his plus one to the wedding because he assumed I'd say no. If Alexis is okay with it, we're going to start with that. A date. Well…go as a couple." Kate's cheeks feel hot by the time she's explained all of this to Lanie because it sounds incredibly high school when she says it out loud.
"And how'd you feel about that?" Lanie asks. She watches Kate's face carefully to assess her friend's response.
"I'm cool with it if he is," she says, trying to sound breezy. But Kate doesn't really feel cool. She's worried they'll backslide and lose all the forward momentum Castle generated for them today.
"And is he? Cool with it?" Lanie asks. "Because a date is a major step down from waiting for you at the altar."
Kate shrugs. "You know Castle. He's king of the grand gesture, as you said." She leans over all of a sudden to rest her elbows on her knees. Momentarily winded by everything, she mutters with wonder, "Oh, my God. Rick just proposed to me," as it hits her all over again.
Lanie laughs, and it is such a happy sound that Kate looks up. "I'd say that if you wanted, and it does sound like you want it, that offer is probably still on the table, Kate Beckett. But don't hang around too long. Castle might just get cold feet."
Castle bolts upright to stare at Martha, sloshing Scotch onto his pants in the process. "What? How? How can you possibly know anything about me and Kate?" He stares down at the cell phone in his hand as if it is alive. "Mother, are you bugging my phone?"
Martha grins like the Cheshire Cat and taps the side of her nose. "Mother's intuition," she says calmly before taking another sip of wine. "But I'm right, aren't I?"
"You cannot possibly know anything out of intuition," Castle declares. "I'm open to most things, but I cannot countenance that," he says with a shiver when his brain runs over all the other scenarios his mother might employ her intuition if such a thing existed, though he quickly decides that it doesn't.
Martha wafts her glass in the air. "Forget intuition. There is definitely something, so cough up. Or do I have to call that darling girl myself?"
Castle both knows when he's defeated and does not want his mother calling Kate. He's also desperate to talk to someone, so he takes a deep breath and blurts, "I proposed to Kate today."
For once, Castle is glad that his mother invaded the sanctity of his office and commandeered his desk chair because she looks like she might collapse in a dead faint like the drama queen she is.
After the shock fades, Martha's face blooms into a smile of delight and she claps her hands. "Oh, dear boy. Please tell me she said yes?"
At this point, Castle deflates against the sofa cushions, feeling once more like that empty balloon. "Not exactly, no," he says darkly, scrubbing his hands over his face. His heart is beating faster at the memory of his own recklessness, and not in a good way. He feels an impending sense of panic and doom. Kate Beckett is not the kind of woman you spring a proposal on; he knows that. What was he thinking? This self-flagellating clamor of negative thoughts crowds out every positive memory: of her smile, her giddiness, her whine when she asked why he'd proposed. All of these good omens have vanished into his growing sinkhole of despair.
"If not a yes then at least a maybe?" Martha asks hopefully, but Castle shakes his head and then changes his mind, beginning to nod unconvincingly. "Well, which is it? Yes, no, or maybe?" his mother presses.
Castle shrugs to illustrate his own confusion. "Not a no, but then not a yes, either. We agreed to go to Ryan's wedding. As a couple. But first I need to ask Alexis if she'll stand aside. Only she's out with Paige until tomorrow." He looks forlornly at his phone. "God, this is torture!" he exclaims, tossing the phone down the sofa and flopping back dramatically.
Martha makes a dismissive gesture. "Alexis won't mind. Richard, the girl is humoring you. There are so many things a young woman her age would rather be doing than going to a wedding with her father, believe me." At the last second, Martha adds, "No offense, darling, but that's the truth."
"None taken," Castle says, not sure whether to be offended or not. "But what do I do about Kate in the meantime? She'll think I've gone off the whole idea if she doesn't hear from me soon. Or she'll think Alexis said no. Oh, God," he groans. "I don't know which is worse."
Martha shakes her head. "Darling, you should never have given up on those acting lessons. You still have real potential. But right now you need to dial down the dramatics and start thinking straight."
"Mother, this isn't an act. I need to tell her something. I don't want to leave her hanging the same day I got down on one knee and proposed marriage. Oh, God. I proposed to Kate Beckett," he says, looking like he might throw up from the stress of it all. "Did I just totally blow my cool? Have I got no game left?"
Martha comes to sit down beside him. She puts her hand on his back to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades, so unlike her, and she smiles. "My sweet boy. Katherine doesn't want cool from you. She never did. And no woman wants a man who plays games. Besides, if she wanted cool she'd have stuck with that...that handsome cardiac surgeon."
Castle turns to stare at his mother, his mouth hanging open. "Not helping, mother," he gasps.
"Sorry. I'm sorry. My point is this: Kate needs love in her life. She's faced so much personal tragedy and in her job, oh my, and all largely alone. You bring that love and that light to her life, Richard." When Castle looks at his mother with genuine surprise, she nods and takes his hand. "Dear boy, you do. You bring love and laughter and light wherever you go, to all our lives. Forget writing, darling, that is your true gift."
She beams at him, nodding sagely, and again, Castle doesn't know whether to be touched or offended.
"So go to her," Martha says with dramatic intensity. "Let her see how sincere you are. You made a bold, brave move today, Richard, and Kate didn't run away. Don't let that momentum go to waste."
When Kate gets home, she's too restless to stay indoors. Her apartment feels too small to contain her, as if the walls are closing in to crush her spirit, to crush her sudden, reckless hope. Lanie's advice is still ringing in her ears. No way is she missing this moment, and she's fed up checking her phone every few seconds to see if Castle has texted about the wedding: Ryan's or their own, her giddy brain suggests. But she'd be happy to hear from him about anything really, any crazy theory or even the weather just to maintain their connection. This tells her a hell of a lot, which is new and, of course, not.
So she changes out of her work suit and heels into a white t-shirt and a soft, faded pair of skinny jeans, then she grabs her leather jacket, phone, keys, and wallet and heads up the block to the local parking garage. The garage where she keeps her Harley.
With every step her excitement builds. Though it's not exactly a pleasant experience; her heart is in her throat and it's beating far too hard, but she's carried forward by this new-found certainty that she knows what she wants because Castle showed her what is possible. One reckless question she'd have shot him down for a year ago now acts like a light in the darkness, a bright beacon showing her the way.
She nods to Danny, the parking attendant, discovering that she has to quash a crazy smile to do so. Her bike is stored in a dark corner on the first level, covered in a fitted tarp which bears a layer of city grime made up of diesel exhaust particles mixed with minute pieces of rubber tire and the occasional pigeon dropping. But once the cover is off, the bike looks shiny and spectacular underneath. She backs the bike out and throws her leg over the chrome frame. When she fires up the engine, it catches first time. The Harley Softail throbs beneath her, setting her skin on fire, and her blood begins to sing. Now she really can't stop smiling.
Out on the road with her visor down, she soon begins to feel confined again. She longs to tear the helmet off, to toss it to the side of the road and watch it bounce and roll in her wing mirror as the wind whips through her hair and makes her eyes stream. Time was she'd have done this very thing when she cared less about her safety and saw little future for herself. Today, she checks over her shoulder with care before changing lanes as she roars down the Westside Highway, SoHo-bound.
Castle's face is washed, his hair brushed, teeth cleaned and sluiced to minty-fresh perfection that eliminates every last trace of his pity Scotch. He has changed into a smart pair of charcoal slacks and a powder-blue cashmere v-neck that he really hopes Kate will like. He's so nervous it's possible he could be sick, but he's holding it together as best he can.
Martha flutters around him in the living room as he gets his bits and pieces together. He's too keyed up to wait for the car service, so he plans to hit Crosby Street and hail a cab on the corner, or maybe run a block over to Broadway just to burn off some nervous energy.
"Darling, you look divine. What woman could resist?" his mother says, leaning in for a powdery good-luck kiss. "And you smell even better, Richard. Katherine will just eat you up," she adds, horrifying him when she pinches his cheeks as if he's still a three-year-old child.
The thought of Katherine Beckett eating him up has the blood draining from his brain to other areas of his body. So he bids his mother a hasty goodnight before he chickens out or loses the power of cognitive thought.
"Go! Break a leg!" his mother says as Castle opens the front door.
"I won't wait up, darling!" Martha yells as an afterthought with so much innuendo in her tone that Castle's sure half the building must know his business by now.
This parting remark distracts him so badly that he turns his head away for a second, plowing straight into the arms of Kate Beckett in the process.
TBC...