Chapter 6

Slipping into an alleyway that was mercifully empty, Kate walked several feet in and then stopped, leaning her back against the cool brick wall as she regulated her breathing. God, her chest was so tight. Why did all her clothing seem so tight?

Without really thinking she began to unbutton her shirt. She didn't stop until she'd pulled the tails out from where they were tucked into her pants leaving her exposed but for a white lace camisole. As the cool fall air danced across her chest, Kate shut her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, finally able to breathe. She didn't have many panic attacks on the job—didn't have many at all, actually—but she had been triggered by the horrific crime scene at which a father and his young daughter had been gunned down by the crazed wife and mother. She had tried to turn the gun on herself but missed and shot into a passing taxi instead (thankfully, no one else was injured).

Kate managed to keep it all together and bottle it up inside as she helped cordon off the scene, talk to witnesses, and escort the murderous woman to a waiting squad car. The killings did not fall in her jurisdiction, so thankfully she did not need to interview and process the woman, but she did need to stay behind and watch over the scene while it was processed. Only when she watched the medical examiner's office load the body of the girl she guessed to be no older than four or five into a black body bag did Kate escape. She needed a moment to collect herself and grieve for the horror she had seen.

Though she very much doubted they were easy for anyone, Kate found child murders to be the most difficult. There was just something about a life ending before it even began that felt like the extra twist of a knife on an already difficult wound. While the little girl's death was horrible, for some reason that day Kate found the young father's death even sadder. She believed that her working relationship with Castle fueled these feelings in no small way. Being around him over the prior five months had opened her eyes to things she had never conceptualized before, and for that reason alone she was grateful.

Kate doubted she was in the alley more than a few minutes before she heard footsteps approaching. She opened her eyes with a gasp, but immediately saw there was no reason to worry. It was only her partner, who had evidently snuck around the police tape now that the scene was being cleaned up. For once, she didn't even mind that he went against protocol. "I'm sorry. I just—I couldn't—I-"

"Hey, it's okay. Deep breaths, Kate; it's okay." His voice was calm and soothing as he approached. He placed a tentative hand on one of her shoulders and only when she didn't shy away did he put a hand on her other shoulder.

"I'm sorry." She apologized again as a tear slipped down each of her cheeks. "I just needed a minute."

"Don't apologize for being human, Beckett. This was a rough case." He stroked his hands up and down her biceps and little by little she could feel the anvil rising up off of her sternum.

She shut her eyes and leaned her head back against the brick wall. "Yeah, it was…rough."

"For a woman to kill her child like that…I can't even imagine. It's unfathomable."

"Plus, her husband," Kate added softly. She opened her eyes to gaze at him and gave her head a little shake. "She killed her whole family."

He continued to stroke her arms. "Well, there were plenty of witnesses. It won't bring them back, but there will be justice here."

"Yeah." She rasped out, though in that moment the notion didn't make her feel all that better. She shut her eyes, took another breath in, and then, finally feeling like she could face the public once more, she gave Castle a gentle head nod. He took a step back, giving her some space, and waited patiently as she brushed at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. "Thanks for…thanks."

He smiled a bit wider than before. "Any time, Beckett. Oh, um—your blouse."

"Wha—oh!" she gasped when she looked down at herself and realized her shirt was still completely unbuttoned. Thank goodness she wore a camisole that day! "Sorry."

He smirked. "Won't hear any complaints from me."

A slight smile cracking across her face, she elbowed him playfully. Then, she led the way back out on to the street, where the officers were narrowing the police tape to the spot just around where the bodies had been; finally allowing traffic to pass by on the street.

"So…back to the Twelfth to right up your report?"

"Yes to the Twelfth, no to the report. It's not my case, so I don't have any paperwork."

He smiled. "Ah, so that means you'll probably get off work on time tonight?"

She shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"Want to have dinner with me?"

Caught off guard by the invitation, Kate actually stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk and stammered. "I, uh, what?"

He gave a small shrug as he slipped his hands into his pants pockets. "I was just thinking between this case and that home invasion with the dead dog two days ago you've had a rough week and you might want a distraction."

"Oh." She commented to give herself another few seconds to process the invite. "That's sweet, Castle, but you don't have to. I mean, it's Friday night—you must have plans?"

"Not really. Mother had asked me to go to her rehearsal and give her some feedback, but-"

"You can't miss that!" Kate insisted.

He gave her a wry smile. "I was just about to say: but I've been looking for a reason to get out of it."

"Castle!" she half-scolded him. "She's your mother."

"And I've seen her in dozens of plays before; it'll be fine."

"What's the play?"

He shrugged. "Something strange no one has ever heard of…It's a black comedy; that's all I know."

She nodded. "I see."

His brow wrinkled momentarily, and he tilted his head to the side. "You…would you want to come with me?"

Kate considered the offer for a moment. She did not feel like being around crowds that evening, so an ordinary night at the theatre would definitely not be something she was up for, but she very much doubted the audience would be very large for a rehearsal. If she declined the offer and went home alone, she would probably spend the evening on the couch with a glass of whisky, visions of the dead father's body floating through her head, and that definitely seemed like a worse idea. "Would that be okay?"

"Sure, but…are you sure?"

She quirked her lips to the side. "Like you said: I could use a distraction."

He smiled. "Ok. Great! Um, let me just double check with Mother to make sure its okay and then I'll text you the address. You can meet me there."

"What time?"

"Seven. And…you know what? Let me handle the snacks."

"You don't have to," she insisted, but a secretive smile crossed his face.

"But I want to. It'll actually be more like dinner, so don't eat before you come, okay?"

She half laughed and agreed. "Okay."

"Okay!" He proclaimed as he began backing down the sidewalk, light on his feet as though he just won the lottery. "I'll see you—at seven!"

"Seven," she said, though it was quiet enough that he didn't hear. Still half-surprised at how the prior few minutes had gone down, Kate walked the rest of the way to her vehicle and was surprised to catch her reflection in the driver's door window; somehow, despite that afternoon's tragedy, she was smiling.

When an actor on stage poorly delivered another sub-par line of dialog, Kate audibly groaned, and half covered her face with her left hand. By her estimate they were only about half way through the first act and the play was already one of the worst she'd ever seen if not the worst. The content of play was mediocre at best; the overall plot didn't seem the worst, but some of the dialogue was ghastly. What made the situation unbearable, however, was the fact that she was convinced the actor hired as the male lead had actually never been on a stage before in his life.

Though she was partly miserable, Kate did not hesitate to admit that Castle's mother was the one highlight. She played the main character's mother, and while Martha Rodgers could certainly chew scenery with the best of them, Kate also found her utterly hilarious. More so, she enjoyed picking up on mannerisms or ways of speaking that her partner shared along with his mother.

A few minutes later, the lead actor walked into part of the set accidentally, which caused some props to go tumbling to the ground. As he scrambled to pick them up, Kate could not help but turn to her companion and proclaim, "Oh my god; this is horrible."

He turned to her appearing as casual as ever. "Oh, I'm sorry; did I not warn you? My mother makes dreadful acting choices."

Her jaw dropped. "Seriously?"

He hummed as he nodded. "Almost always yes. She was nominated for a Tony back in the day—before I was born, actually. Ever since then it's been a steady decline."

"Castle! That's a terrible thing to say about your mother."

"I'm not saying she's declining; her choices are. She just…I don't know." He rubbed his hand over his chin. "She's had a lot of failed auditions, which makes her gun-shy, I suppose. I get that, kind of, since I had plenty of rejection letters before Black Pawn finally accepted my manuscript, but… well, Mother's version of 'getting back on the horse' is to grab the low-hanging fruit—something she feels confident that she'll get. Which is one strategy, I suppose, but she ends up losing anyway. The plays are so bad that they close quickly—case in point," he said, gesturing towards the stage. "I try to encourage her to reach higher, but this is where she's comfortable, so I suppose it just kind of…is what it is."

Kate nodded, though the idea of Martha not wanting to challenge herself to do better did make her feel a little sad, even if she barely knew the woman. "I'm sure she's grateful for your support."

"Particularly since my support means she gets to live with me rent free," he added with a noticeably fake smile.

Kate let out a breathy laugh, having already heard the story about Castle's mother's last husband stealing all her money resulting in the destitute woman needing to move in with her son as she rebuilt her life. She turned her attention back to the stage, but by that point the lead actor was attempting to mimic crying and, quite frankly, it was an embarrassing display that had them both groaning.

"You can leave if this is too painful," Castle said softly.

She turned her head quickly in his direction. "I can't leave—they'll see me!" With the off-Broadway theatre being as small as it was, there was no way she could make an escape without being noticed by everyone on stage. If she decided to leave, she would at least half to wait until the end of the act—and even then she felt her absence could be noticed.

"So? They don't know you."

"Your mother does."

"I'll tell her you got a call from work."

Kate almost laughed at his unexpected offer to lie on her behalf. It was…oddly sweet, but also unnecessary as she had agreed to the evening and did feel as though she was being entertained—though it was definitely not in the way the playwright had intended. "That's nice of you, but I don't want to abandon you. Besides, I'm not done with this yet," she added, lifting up the take-out container in her lap.

When Kate had arrived at the theater not quite an hour earlier, Castle had presented her with the black plastic container with no explanation. All he said was, "Trust me." As they had been eating lunches together with decent regularity for months, Kate wasn't overly concerned, but still wasn't certain until after her first delicious bite. She immediately asked the writer where he'd procured their meal, and he told her it was from a small Asian-fusion place near his apartment that he didn't go to very often because his daughter wasn't a fan, but he had a suspicion she would be—and he was completely right.

He grinned before taking a long drink from his water bottle as he had already finished his meal. "Thought you might like that."

"Definitely," she said in between bites. "Are you actually going to tell me the name of this place, though, or will that continue to be your secret?"

Castle rotated in his seat so that he faced her head-on. He rested his right elbow against the back of the seat and linked his fingertips together as he gazed at her, considering. "You seem to have presented me with an interesting quandary. I could tell you, but if I tell you, then you'll probably just go there without me some other time, and you won't have as much motivation to accept when I invite you to join me for dinner there next Friday night."

Kate felt her cheeks flush in response to Castle's statement. If she was not mistaken, it sounded as though he was asking her out on a date. If she was truly honest with herself, she could not be too surprised at the fact that he was asking her out. While he flirted with most of the women in her department, the compliments and smiles he sent in her direction were relentless. They had been growing closer, too; especially over the prior month. Their relationship had already progressed from coworkers to friends, so taking it a step further did seem natural while at the same time it felt utterly terrifying seeing as she hadn't had a relationship with a man since she was in high school.

"Friday, huh?"

He grinned a little wider. "Yeah. You busy?"

"I have a shift." She told him; his face fell instantly. She waited a solid three seconds longer before continuing with, "But I'm free on Saturday."

The grin returned to his face with a flourish. "Yeah? Saturday?"

"Sure, if you're not busy."

"I—no. Not at all. In fact: why don't we meet for lunch? Then, if we feel like it, we can do something else after."

Kate felt her heart flutter beneath her ribcage and she bit down on her bottom lip, slightly startled by the feeling she hadn't really felt in well over a decade. He was definitely asking her out on a date—and she was excited by it.

"Sounds good. Meet you at your place at noon?"

"Perfect. Now, uh, we'd better be quiet—wouldn't want to miss any scintillating dialog."

She suppressed a chuckle at his comment and then turned her attention back to the stage, though really all her brain could focus on was the fact that she had a date with Castle for the following weekend—and that the next eight days were going to pass very, very slowly.