Five
Richard Castle stepped off the elevator on the Homicide floor of the twelfth precinct with an extra bounce in his step. The reason he felt as though he was walking on clouds that morning was not due to the fact that his nearly year-long dry spell had been broken or who it was broken with, but instead because of how excited he was for the next phase in his life—the one he believed would lead to a marriage that would last, perhaps another child or two, and, most importantly, endless amounts of love.
The writer was without any question in love with his muse. He'd known it for quite some time (hence the self-imposed dry spell) but crossing the intimacy barrier with her had alleviated any doubt. She was extraordinary in many, many ways.
That morning when he awoke to find his bed empty Castle had to admit to being slightly disappointed. He wanted a nice, casual morning with her when he made her breakfast, they ate together and talked about their plans for the upcoming day. Instead, he only found a cold pillow and a text that told him in as few characters as possible that she had an early morning and would talk to him later. Since she was not specific as to when "later" might occur, Castle took matters into his own hands, picking up her favorite caffeinated beverage and arriving at the Twelfth just in time to present it to her as her second cup of the day.
After peeking down the hall to see that she wasn't at her desk, he ventured into the breakroom to find that she was, in fact, retrieving that second mug of unappetizingly industrial cop java; thank goodness he was in time to save her taste buds. "Don't drink that when you can have the good stuff."
She jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up rather embarrassed. When he held it out to her, she took the take-away cup with a rather flustered, "Hi. Thanks."
"Good morning—and you're welcome."
She took a sip from the cup and wrapped both her hands around the carrying sleeve. "You didn't have to come in; no new car yet means no new cases and the boys are out looking for our would-be assassin."
"Well I hope they can knock him into the river before they cuff him, but that's not actually why I'm here."
"Oh?"
He glanced around tentatively, but thankfully the breakroom was empty save for them. No one appeared to be standing right outside the glass windows, either. Taking a step towards her, he smiled slowly and said, "I wanted to see you since you weren't there when I woke up." At least, not the time he woke up after dawn. The first time he'd woken up had only been shortly after midnight and he'd roused her with a kiss to the hollow of her throat so they could make love again—an event which was even better than the first, improbable as that was. Had he found her that morning, they probably would have gone for round three.
"Well, I, ah, didn't think I should stay."
"Why?" he asked, his brow wrinkling as she turned her eyes towards the floor.
Kate let out an exasperated huff and moved to step around him. "Let's not do this, okay Castle? Just let sleeping dogs lie."
He closed his hand around her bicep before she could escape. "What does that mean?"
She shrugged off his couch and tapped her fingers against the edge of the cup. "It means we had a great night so let's just-"
"No!" He cut her off when he realized a breakup was on the horizon. He would not accept a breakup—particularly not since they weren't even yet together officially. "No—absolutely not."
She shut her eyes and shook her hand gently. "Castle."
"No, Kate. My god." He breathed out a heavy breath and rested his hands gently atop her shoulders until she met his gaze. "Last night was the best night of my life."
"Rick-"
He once again cut off her protests, which he knew to be serious since she rarely used his first name. "I'm serious. I never…I never felt that I fit in— you know that." They'd talked about it before—many times while drinking milkshakes at a centuries-old dive called Remy's and while sipping scotch in one of her favorite cop bars. He'd told her about how hard it had been growing up and feeling like an outcast—feeling like the freak his classmates accused him of being. He'd been more honest with her than with anyone before and, most amazingly, felt no nerves or uncertainty about it because of how kind she'd been, empathizing with him as best she could, and thanking him for sharing his story with her.
Though thirty-five years had passed since he first realized just how different he was, Castle still felt the sting of his youthful outcast as it had a habit of returning to his life frequently. Every time he heard, "Oh. You're a First Gen," and the judgement that came along with it, the wound was rubbed raw, but he never felt that—not with her.
"I've never fit in my entire life. Black Pawn wanted to publish my books because I'm on the Elite registry and somewhat a novelty as a First Gen, but I never fit in with the other Elites there, just like I didn't fit in with any of my Normal peers in school. But then I met you and suddenly everything started making sense. I was doing things I'd never done before, truly helping people side by side with you and I felt like I was in the right place at the right time. Just like last night—last night I felt that more than ever. Kate," he squeezed her shoulders just a little bit harder, "I am in lo-"
"Don't." She twisted away from him, her voice on the precipice of breaking. She walked back to the counter, put her take-away cup down on it and rested her palms flat on either side, staring down at the mottled brown surface and croaking out, "Don't say it."
"Why?"
"Because you can't—you can't mean it. We can never be together."
Had she not sounded so broken when she said them, her words would have sent knives through his heart, but hearing how devastated she sound only succeeded in confusing him. "But why? Why can't we-"
"Because it'll ruin your life!" The words exploded from her mouth as she turned back around to face him, tear-tracks burned on each side of her face.
He took a half step back purely from the harshness of her words. His brow wrinkling, he shook his head and asked, "What are you talking about?"
She let out a mirthless laugh and brushed a tear away from the bottom of her jaw before resting her right hand flat against the counter. "Tell me you're not this naïve, Castle. Being in a relationship with a Normal would taint you badly enough but with a cop? You'll be a leper—you have to know that. Your career with Black Pawn will be over."
Castle pressed his lips together, carefully considering his response. She wasn't entirely wrong about what she was saying, sad as it was. For reasons he hadn't understood for many years, careers in law enforcement had become some of the least desired possible—even less so than sanitation workers, which was another profession largely done by robots. He didn't understand why people didn't respect those keeping the streets safer, but perhaps they merely saw cops as an annoyance—or looked down upon them for not making a more glamorous career choice.
The truth of it was, he was already rather a laughing stock at Black Pawn for not only being a flawed, First Gen Elite, but because of the subject matter of his books. In fact, when he'd pitched the idea of a series featuring a sexy, savvy female cop to his publisher, he'd been laughed out of the office. When he'd returned a few weeks later with chapters, he faced a lecture critiquing his choices and had been kept on a very tight leash. Fortunately for him—and for his inspiration—the book was a best seller among Normals and his publisher was forced to eat her words. To that day Black Pawn claimed not to understand the success of Nikki Heat's tales, but Castle liked to think it was because people were anxious to read about a hero much more relatable than one who defied the laws of gravity while wearing a cape.
Despite the fact that his numbers were still some of the best at the publishing house, Kate's concern that Black Pawn would refuse to publish once his reputation as an Elite was "tarnished" by a relationship with a Normal were valid. They could very well drop him, but the fact of the matter was: he just didn't care.
"So what? I have more than enough money for us both to live well into our 100's."
She combed her left hand through her hair. "Castle…"
Trying to ignore the fact that Kate had inadvertently made herself look sexier by roughing up her shoulder-length locks, the writer insisted, "I'm serious!" Even if Black Pawn took away his royalty checks (which legally they could not do, but assuming they did) he had more than enough people for the two of them and their hypothetical children to live comfortably for many decades.
"But not writing anymore?" she questioned, her voice softer, more afraid. "Won't you be unhappy?"
He offered a gentle smile and took a step closer. "I can still write, Kate; maybe even find a new publisher."
She shook her head and offered a new speedbump in their plan. "And what about your daughter? She'll get dragged down along with you."
This comment did cause the writer to hesitate. Though he was an Elite, he had grown up walking the line between the world of Elites and Normals and, actually, it forced to choose, he would have associated more with the Normals, so leaving the Elite world wouldn't bother him. His daughter, on the other hand, as an Elite born from two Elite parents, had only lived in the Elite world. She went to a private school exclusively for Elites. In fact, other than her grandmother, he hazarded to guess that Kate may have been one of the only Normals she spent significant time with, and even that was just over group dinners and occasional movie nights.
Assuming all Elites shunned both of them because of his choice in significant other he imagined Alexis would be unhappy at first. However that was a worst case scenario and he doubted anything so extreme would occur. Besides, his daughter was a very reasonable and aged-beyond-her-years young woman; he was sure that she would accept whatever side effects occurred as a tradeoff for his happiness.
"Alexis'll understand."
"Will she?"
He ignored her comment and instead felt himself giving into the irritation boiling within his gut. He, the one who would face the most ramifications, didn't care about the fallout of their romance, so why did she care so damn much? Nothing would change for her except she would be able to leave her decent if not slightly dark and cramped apartment and move into his beautiful penthouse. Where was the downside in that?
"So you're suggesting what? That we not pursue this wonderful, amazing thing that we both know we could have? That we simply accept that we will be unhappy and unfulfilled for the rest of our lives because we're afraid of a little social resistance?"
She squeaked incredulously. "A little!"
"Kate." He softened his tone and stepped up in front of her so that he could slide one hand beneath her jaw and graze his thumb over her cheek in an attempt to erase the ghosts of tears. "I'm not saying it'll be easy and if you didn't want this, I'd understand, but you do, don't you? You want this."
He was certain she felt the same. The way she moaned and writhed beneath him the night before could have been physical responses to his touch, but the way she looked at him wasn't. The way she'd held his face with her hands smiled and then kissed him before snuggling her body into his wasn't. The brokenness in her eyes at that moment told him she didn't want to end things before they began, but she was afraid, and he couldn't fault her for that. Romances like theirs would never have an easy path, but he was willing to make the journey anyway.
She drew in a shuddered breath as he continued to cradle her face. She shut her eyes and two tears escaped as she said, "What if it doesn't work out? Your career would already be ruined and then you'd start to resent me and I couldn't-"
"Kate no." He cut off her silly thought and pulled her closer to him where thankfully she tucked her head beneath his chin and accepted his embrace. "That's not going to happen; I promise you. I would never resent you and I really think that-"
"Beckett? Oh—sorry."
The couple's moment was broken by a young blonde rookie cop poking her head into the breakroom door and then flushing as though she'd caught them in the throes of passion. Kate stepped back from the writer and sniffed back her tears before shaking her head and saying, "No—it's fine."
"It's just—the captain is looking for you."
Kate nodded and reached for a nearby napkin. "Uh huh. Tell him I'll be there in a minute."
The cop nodded to her before stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind her. Kate used the napkin to mop her cheeks and beneath her nose before tossing it into the trash and telling the writer, "I have to go. It's probably about my car…"
He offered a fractured smile, but refused to let her leave before their plans were more concrete. "Come over again tonight. Please? I'll make dinner, open some wine and we'll talk some more."
She picked up her take-away mug of coffee and grazed her teeth over her bottom lip. "That, ah, sounds suspiciously like a date, Castle."
He grinned as his heart lifted with hope once more. "Maybe it is. Please?"
She stared at him for an agonizing ten seconds before nodding in agreement. "Okay. I get off at four but I-"
"So come right over—we can talk while I cook."
"O-okay."
Fighting the urge to kiss her, Castle reached out and gave her shoulder a solid squeeze. "Great! I can't wait!" He was going to win her over; he would make her see that their relationship wasn't doomed to fail but destined to succeed. She only needed a bit more convincing and he was an expert at that.