Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.
A/N: Ahead of schedule! I had to split this update into two chapters to make it work. See the other A/N at the bottom of the next chapter.
"Hello, I'm Kate Beckett. I was hoping to meet with Gina Cowell," Beckett introduces herself politely to the young Black Pawn receptionist who looks like she's just stepped off the page of a fashion magazine. "Unless she's left for lunch?"
"Lunch?" the receptionist huffs. "You don't look like Ms. Cowell if you eat lunch," she replies dismissively while running her eyes over Beckett as if scanning for cellulite. "You have an appointment?"
"No," Beckett answers, dropping the polite act and opting to name-drop rather than flash her badge. "But I suspect she'll see me. Just tell her Nikki Heat is here."
Huffing again at the naïveté of this clueless visitor, the receptionist lifts a phone and pushes a single button. Her call goes through immediately, leaving the receptionist to whisper into the phone to prevent 'Nikki' from overhearing. Beckett contains her smile as she watches the receptionist's eyebrows slowly rise, the shock at someone making inroads with the formidable Ms. Cowell sufficient even to overwhelm the effects of more than a few Botox treatments.
"Come with me, please," the young woman offers briskly as she stands and comes around the marble reception desk. Beckett notices the receptionist's careful to avoid contact – she must be embarrassed by being brusque with someone who knows Gina. Either that, Beckett thinks, or she's unwilling to make eye contact with the poor fool who's being marched to the gallows.
After holding the door to a small conference room, the receptionist disappears in a blink, apparently desperate to get some distance before Gina arrives. Beckett gives the room a quick scan: neat and studiously bland, obviously a room used for hosting outsiders and to obviate the need for a deeper penetration into the corporate workings of Black Pawn. Preferring to be on her feet when Gina arrives, Beckett steps over to the window, leaving her back to the door while she looks out the window and the vibrant life of New York City.
"Unbelievable," Beckett hears from behind her. Chagrined she didn't hear the door open, Beckett's still pleased she didn't visibly react to Gina's comment. Instead, she turns slowly to face Castle's ex-wife and, now that she thinks about it, ex-boss.
She looks just as Beckett imagined she would – fit, fashionably dressed, and impeccably coiffed. Her business suit is stylishly cut, professional yet undeniably feminine. Accented with gorgeous shoes and tasteful jewelry, she's a dream of a professional executive.
"Rick said you might visit," Gina offers as she steps to the head of the table and takes a seat, pointedly forgoing the greeting handshake ritual and instead tapping her lacquered nails on the tabletop. "I thought he was joking."
"I thought I should stop by," Beckett offers without preamble, pulling out the seat next to Gina and noticing her annoyed flinch at Beckett's close proximity. "Make sure you know…"
"You've got a hell of a lot of nerve," Gina interrupts, mouth pursed. "Is this some kind of guilt play or something?" she asks, lifting herself out of her chair and pacing over to the window, reversing their earlier positions. "First you steal my chance at reconciliation with my ex-husband. Then you steal my most profitable property. And now you just want to 'stop by' to chat?" Gina asks incredulously. "Well, thank you, Detective, but no thank you. I don't think you really want to hear what I have to say to you."
Beckett fights the urge to look at her watch and see how close the boys were on their guesses for how long this interview would last. She knew it wouldn't go especially well, but she thought they could at least pretend to be polite. And even if Gina's not interested in following that script, Beckett's going to try.
"Castle… Rick was hurt," she starts her explanation, only to be cut off by Gina again, this time with a grim laugh.
"Oh, I know he was hurt," she assures Beckett. "I didn't get a single, god-damned word out of him all summer. Our marriage hits the rocks and he's out partying a week later. You dump his ass and go hide God-knows-where and he mopes around for months," Gina offers in a quiet fury. "Thanks, Detective, that was a nice little comparison I didn't need."
"That's not what I was talking about," Beckett sidesteps. There is absolutely no way she's getting baited into a conversation about the summer or their relative importance to Castle. "He was injured…"
"I know," Gina interrupts again. "Trust me, I know. He and Stan visited," she answers with a moue of distaste. "Always so nice to see them together."
"Stan?" Beckett asks, annoyed at the continual interruptions but still curious.
"Oh, that's right," Gina offers with false innocence. "You don't know Stan yet. Well, once you marry and drop Rick, you'll meet Stan. He's the one who'll make sure you don't get Rick's money or the beach house," she nearly growls, revealing more than a bit of her own personal history.
More topics Beckett needs to avoid – the assumption of an inevitable failed marriage with Castle and the fate of the beach house. "I thought his attorney's name was Henry," is the only thing she can come up with to divert the conversation.
"You really don't get it, do you?" Gina chides. "I thought your parents were attorneys. Rick's got a group of attorneys, obviously, all with different areas of expertise. And Stan's the worst."
While Beckett's surprised and a little uncomfortable Gina knows about her parents, the shock of hearing her reference them knocks her back on track. Stick to the script, she reminds herself. "So," she says, "Rick told you what happened?"
Gina laughs ruefully at the question. "Yeah, you could say that. He shows up out of the blue, sits down right in this damned conference room, and had Stan do his thing. Pictures. Physician notes. Medical records…," she recalls angrily while simulating the rapid fall of more and more documentation.
Beckett wonders at the reaction. Rather than sounding rueful about Castle's torture, Gina sounds upset with him. Surely she doesn't blame Castle for what happened?
"… All leading up to his contract," Gina finally ends. "With the relevant section oh-so-helpfully highlighted."
"Sorry," Beckett offers, though she's not feeling especially apologetic. "The relevant section?"
"The Force Majeure clause!" Gina spits. "That bastard sat there and used his mangled back to invoke the clause of his Black Pawn contract that allows immediate termination."
"Gina," Beckett says sternly, trying to get the woman's attention while hiding her disappointment at the origin of her anger, "Castle was kidnapped, tortured, and nearly killed. His family was threatened. You can't honestly expect he'd adhere to his writing schedule under those circumstances," she offers. "That's exactly why contracts have clauses like that."
Gina looks like she's been slapped before shaking her head. "Perfect," she grouses, "you sound just like him. You and Stan are going to get on famously," she offers acidly.
"Look, this isn't getting us anywhere," Beckett admits, anxious to address the reason she's here and get out. She's starting to wish Espo had won the bet, since it would've meant a conversation of two minutes or less. "I just came to warn you. The people who took Castle are still out there. They'll hurt whoever they need to get to him and that includes you."
"How noble of you," Gina scoffs. "But unnecessary. After Stan killed Nikki Heat, Rick sent him away and told me what was going on. There are plans in place if I need them," she says doubtfully, "as if I'd let anyone force me out of my office."
"Okay," Beckett says with relief, her conscience soothed by knowing that Gina's safety has been addressed. Standing, she reaches into a pocket and pulls out a business card, extending it to Gina. "If anything happens, or if you need help, please call."
Looking at the card as if it's a soiled handkerchief, Gina takes it by the corner and carefully drops it into the pocket of her fitted jacket. Beckett's sure it'll be forgotten or summarily discarded, but she's met her obligation.
"I'll see myself out," she offers, more than ready to get back to the precinct.
"Without this?" Gina asks, reaching into the breast pocket of her coat and withdrawing another dove gray envelope, one that matches the one her father presented days ago. "Like I said, I thought Rick was joking. But he made me promise to pass this along if you showed up."
Rather than hand the letter to her, Gina drops it on the tabletop on her way to the door. "I'll have someone escort you to the exit. Goodbye, Detective," she says as she leaves without looking back.
Beckett,
You never lack courage. It's one of the many things I admire about you. Wisdom, though? From the safety of my current distance I can openly call that into question. Visiting Gina? Really? That's a bold move, Detective, one that's appreciated even though it's unnecessary.
I've left your father for last. I could say I did it that way because it was the right strategic decision, but that would be a convenient lie. Aside from you and the boys, that conversation will be the most difficult. Talking to Gina, on the other hand, was straightforward. She's not a fan of yours and I suspect the feeling's mutual, but she's not a bad person. I doubt she'll do what she should to protect herself, but I'm also confident her anger at me will convince any adversaries to leave her alone. After all, she might do their work for them and finish me off the next time she sees me.
You don't need to visit anyone else (even though imagining you sitting down with Meredith brings me great joy). Just take care of yourself and your father and everything else will work itself out.
Be safe,
Castle