Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional.
Week Seven
"I'm not entirely sure why I answered this call," Beckett nearly growls into the phone. It's late on a work-free weekend morning, one on which she knows she won't be called into the precinct as the boys are out enjoying their trip to Las Vegas. She'd planned to use the break to relax, clear her head, and do more thinking. Instead, treating herself to a coffee and pastry after yoga brought her face-to-face with the Ledger's spread on the Aegis event, including pictures and speculation. She hasn't felt this way since high school, and it was the same perpetrator back then, too.
"You'll be glad you did, Becks," Maddie assures her from the other end of the line. "But maybe not over the phone. Are you at work? Can you meet me at that bistro?"
With a sigh, Beckett relents. Maddie always gives more away in person than she realizes, so meeting for a late lunch might be the best way to figure out what's going on. After speeding through an abbreviated shower routine, Beckett strolls into the café near her apartment to which she redirected Maddie to find her friend already at a table with drinks and food waiting.
"You look rough," Beckett says to begin as she takes a seat, wondering about her friend's baggy eyes.
"Late night," Maddie explains before taking another sip of a viscous, lurid green vegetable drink. "I kind of regret getting what I wished for," she says with a sigh before she notices Beckett's angry look. "The party," she quickly clarifies, lest Beckett think she's talking about Castle. "I've been trying to land a party like last night's for ages. Now that I've done one, I appreciate exactly how much work was involved. I didn't get home 'til 4:00."
"This was the Aegis event?" Beckett asks, recalling some of the details from the articles. "Congratulations. It sounds like it went well," Beckett says politely, trying to warm into the topic that most interests her.
"Look, Becks," Maddie says around a yawn, "I'd love to tease you and draw this out, but I'm just too tired. Can we just talk about Rick?"
"What's there to talk about?" Beckett replies, misinterpreting Maddie's lead in.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe about how you let him go," she says with a roll of her eyes. "Or how I went to bat for you, tried to get you another chance."
"He told you what happened?" Beckett asks in alarm, wondering what Castle said.
Shaking her head, Maddie shows some disappointment in her friend. "Of course he didn't," she says in exasperation. "But he's just a man. His feelings were pretty obvious. When he called about booking Q3 for the party, I asked him if the two of you were looking for a venue," she explains while Beckett blushes and looks down. "His reaction told me everything I needed to know."
Beckett nods along for a moment before her attention finds a hand-hold. "Wait – why did Castle call about the party?"
"His friend's the one who did all the planning," Maddie explains, "but the place she was going to use closed unexpectedly, leaving them without a venue. So, Rick got us together and it all worked out."
"Is this his blonde friend?" Beckett asks, recalling Lanie's story about seeing Castle in the throes of planning something while at the Haunt with a friend.
"Winnie Keates," Maddie replies with a nod. "She's at Aegis. She's alright." Pulling out her own copy of the Ledger, Maddie opens it to the page with the story and points to Winnie in a grainy group shot. It's not much help, since the picture is small. But it's the picture from the spread above that captures Beckett's attention again. Though the picture is uncaptioned, anyone who knows Castle was at the party would recognize his profile.
"Have a nice dance?" she asks, pointing to the shot of Castle and Maddie, the one that set off the rumors, where Maddie's tenderly cupping his cheek while leveling an intense stare.
"You wanna know what I was saying when this picture was taken?" Maddie asks, a little perturbed by her friend's chilly tone.
"Probably not," Beckett admits with a sniff.
"Then you'd be wrong. As usual," Maddie replies in a mix of tough love and teasing that only a friend can pull off. "This," she says while tracing their picture affectionately with her finger, "was right after he told me – and I agreed – that nothing could happen between us because of you," Maddie says with a challenging start. "Or maybe it was a little after that, when I was asking him to leave the party alone and to give you another chance."
"Oh," Beckett says, letting her head drop so that she can collect her thoughts and shut down the uncomfortable avenues she'd started to explore. Then, after taking a deep breath, she reaches across the table to grasp Maddie's hand. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "Thank you."
Maddie gives her friend a tired smile, then squeezes her hand to accept her sentiments.
"So, did he?" Beckett asks in a low voice, catching a tired Maddie by surprise.
"Did he leave alone or did he agree to give you another chance?" Maddie asks for clarification, before forging ahead. "No," she answers honestly, holding onto the hand that her friend wants to tug back, "he didn't leave alone. Not from Q3, anyway. He went to an after-party with Winnie. But I don't think you have to worry about her. She called him little brother and that's how he acts – protective and annoying, supportive and irreverent."
"Sounds like him," Beckett admits with a fond smile. "What about…"
"Another chance?" Maddie fills in the blank that Beckett had left hanging. "I'm afraid I didn't get an answer there."
"He wouldn't answer?" Beckett asks, trying to imagine a Castle pushed to the point of silence before remembering that's how he ended their last meeting.
"He was struggling, but then he was distracted by a guest who got aggressive with Winnie," she explains briefly, "so he left to intervene. I don't know what he said, but he defused the situation quickly."
"So, they're just friends?"
"I think so," Maddie confirms. "He helped her set up the party. When I asked him why he was helping her, he just said she was a friend who needed help, that she'd helped him, too. And just like he helped her with the unruly client, she quietly frustrated some of his ex-wife's maneuvers during the party."
"What?" Beckett rocks back in surprise. "Gina was there?
"Yeah," Maddie laughs. "I made him tell me the story. I didn't believe she was his ex-wife, then I didn't believe that they still worked together. What a mess," she says with another laugh.
"And she was interested in him?" Beckett asks, surprised to find that this scab still hasn't healed as she picks at it.
"She was trying to be all coy about it, but yeah," Maddie smirks, "she couldn't keep her eyes off him. He danced with her once, and from the way she attacked my bar afterwards, I don't think it went particularly well for her."
"Good," Beckett grumbles, getting a raised eyebrow from her friend. "Let me tell you about Gina," she explains with a deep breath. "She's a part of this whole mess."
"Comfort food?" Alexis asks as she bounces into place in the booth, looking around with a smile.
"Yep," Beckett answers with a smile. "The best burgers and milkshakes in the city. Even your dad agrees."
"Now that you mention it, I think I have heard him talk about this place," Alexis smiles as she picks up a menu. "He takes his milkshakes very seriously. Now more than ever."
"Oh?" Beckett asks, not bothering to even go through the pretense of lifting the menu. "Don't tell me he's on that crazy ice cream diet he read about."
"No," Alexis laughs, "though he did push for that at home. Even Grams thought it was a terrible idea, and it would've given her an excuse not to cook. He still pouts about being outvoted."
"Hmmm," Beckett shakes her head facetiously, "I just can't picture that."
After sharing Beckett's laughter, Alexis explains. "He's working out a lot. Like a crazy amount, both at work and when he's at home. So, he's eating a lot, too. It's great for him, but it's kind of rough for the rest of us to have all these temptations around when we're not exercising as much as he is."
"He told me he's running, or trying to," Beckett replies, remembering their last encounter at the precinct. "Running burns a ton of calories."
"He's running, but only a bit," Alexis says as she lowers her menu. "It's mostly weights. His new job…" Alexis trails off, blushing. "I guess I shouldn't talk about that." She looks like she's going to drop this topic altogether, until one last comment slips out. "Being stronger helps him, and he promised me he'd be careful."
Beckett nods, barely reining in her natural impulse to investigate. Instead, she raises her hands. "I promised your dad that I wouldn't look into what he's doing," she says, making it clear that she's honoring his request. "But Martha promised she'd call if he needs any help. You know you can, too, right?"
"I know," Alexis replies shyly. "Thank you."
"Of course," Beckett smiles happily. "But for now, let's talk about a different kind of help. Tell me what's up on the college front."
Over the next hour, Alexis outlines her college application plans, including potential schools, summer coursework options, standardized test preparation programs, admissions consultants, and the strategic nexus between her application essays and the areas of focus in her recommendation letters. On the whole, her plan is more meticulously detailed and organized than a typical homicide casefile.
Still, Beckett manages to offer some useful insights, especially on how to overcome the geographic bias in Stanford's admissions review process. But they also expand the set of schools at which Alexis will take a look. Castle's daughter laughs, imagining her father's reaction to adding a few more stops on the college tour they're planning for the summer. True to her nature, Alexis already has that trip largely planned, having co-opted Paula's participation to stick Castle at local book signings where Alexis thinks a little alone time might serve her well.
"Just one more question," Alexis sighs happily as she surveys her notes and the remnants of their dinner on the table. Tapping a pen against her chin as she thinks, her question catches Beckett by surprise when she finally speaks. "What's going on with you and dad?"
Beckett has the embarrassing suspicion that she looks like one of her perps right now, one of those sorry fools who think they're going to the precinct for an informational interview before they find themselves in interrogation. Faced with a frontal assault from Alexis, Beckett freezes up, finally mumbling "Nothing good."
"What does that mean?" Alexis presses, just as Beckett would if she were asking the questions.
"It means," Beckett replies, wondering if she should ask for a pen and paper to draft her confession, "that I broke your dad's heart and he's asked me to stay away from him while he tries to move on," she says as she lowers her head. "That's why we're not meeting at the loft, why I went through all those lame excuses to meet here instead."
When Alexis doesn't reply, Beckett looks up to gauge the reaction to her admissions. The young woman looks pensive, not angry, as if she's trying to work out a puzzle. Deciding that patience will serve her best, Beckett waits, her fingernails biting into her palms as she fists her hands in her lap.
"You don't sound happy about this," Alexis offers.
Suddenly understanding at least part of Alexis' reticence, Beckett clarifies her feelings, as much as she can. "I'm miserable about it," she admits. "I miss him, Alexis. I want him back, want us to be more," she admits, blushing. "And I'm worried that his time away is going to make it that much more difficult for me to make amends. Make it that much easier for him to see through me."
Alexis takes some long moments to think about Beckett's response. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," Alexis replies slowly. "You know I like you. And I like how dad changed when he was spending time with you. I always hoped that the two of you would get together," she admits with a blush.
"But he's my dad. The most important person in my life," Alexis says resolutely. "I want to protect him like he's protected me. So, what do I do, Kate?" Alexis asks honestly. "Do I remind you that my dad has always seen through you, and liked what he saw? Do I remind you that my dad's chronically unable to hold a grudge? I'd like to see the two of you together, but not if it's going to hurt him, not if his forgiving nature is going to tee up his heart for another pounding. So," she repeats herself, "what do I do, Kate?"
Though she'd love an ally, someone who could help her make amends and maybe even build a stronger relationship with Castle, Beckett knows the answer to Alexis' question and that's not it. The right answer requires faith and hope, so she focuses on those feelings while she finds her words.
"You protect your father," she answers, meeting Alexis' eyes. "You keep his heart safe and you help him laugh. You play laser tag, you gang up with Martha to outvote his dinner choices, and you remind him to be safe. You love him, Alexis," she says with a hitch in her voice. "Just as you always have. Everything else will sort itself out."
Alexis nods, still pensive but looking lighter, happier. "That sounds like good advice," she says after some thought. "Maybe," she says with a pause, "maybe I could also remind him how he got this far, remind him to treasure, and forgive, old friends."
Beckett blushes and again looks down, humbled by the young woman who seems to handle emotional conversations so much better than she does. "If you think that's okay," Beckett replies, looking up again, "I'd really appreciate it."
Alexis nods again, seeing whatever it was she was looking for in Beckett's face. "I miss laser tag," she admits with a smile. "He's been so busy lately, and when he's not busy, he's often in the gym or sleeping."
"And writing, I imagine," Beckett adds, picturing Castle perched before his laptop in his office, weaving intricate plotlines, wry humor, and sinful situations into a wonderful story.
"No, not really," Alexis answers, surprising Beckett, "not since he stopped at the NYPD. He's playing the piano again. It's something he does when he's not writing, usually when he's having trouble working out plotlines or dialog. I'm sure it's fine, though," Alexis says in response to Beckett's look of concern, "Gina hasn't been harassing him, so he must not be too far behind on his deadlines."
The second reference to Gina this weekend jars Beckett, but it's still better than hearing that she's been visiting him at the loft. Actually, Beckett thinks, since they're on the topic and Alexis seems amenable, she might as well follow Lanie's advice.
"Is he seeing anyone?" she asks of Castle's daughter, her nerves apparent in the blunt question that could've used a segue that was apparent to Alexis.
"No," Castle's daughter answers, apparently following Beckett's line of thought from the Gina reference. "I thought he was, but they're just friends."
"His friend Winnie?" Beckett follows up, unable to keep her mouth shut now that they're tripping down this conversational lane.
Alexis looks confused for a moment before her expression clears and she laughs. "Sorry," she says with a smile. "Yes, Winnie. But dad calls her Fred. Some joke they have, I think. And it makes sense…," she starts to trail off.
"It makes sense?" Beckett asks, noticing Alexis' blush and wondering for a moment about the source of her embarrassment. The light bulb illuminates only seconds later, as Beckett recalls her conversation with Lanie, the one in which she speculated about how a woman might avoid Castle's charm. "Oh, thank God," she hears herself murmur before she blushes, too.
"Yeah," Alexis says with a bashful laugh. "I thought he was dating Fred and was a little upset that it wasn't, well, you," she confesses with a shrug. "So, I was a little quiet when she came over for dad's birthday dinner. But things sorted out easily after that. She's actually really cool."
"That's what my friend Maddie said, too," Beckett agrees, happy that this new information fills in some of the blanks from Maddie's stories about the Aegis party at Q3.
The two women sit in silence for a few moments, each thinking about the conversation, until they're startled by the arrival of their waitress, who clears the table and leaves the bill behind.
"Kate, no," Alexis objects after Beckett's reflexes prove far quicker. "I invited you out to ask your advice. I should pay."
"Alexis," Beckett says while shaking her head, "your advice was worth so much more than mine," she says as she hands her credit card to the passing waitress. "You don't know how bleak things have looked for the past couple months. Actually, longer. For the first time in a long while, I've got hope."
"I'm glad, Kate," Alexis replies. "But you need to be careful. Dad can be a little stubborn. Just because you and I are on the same page doesn't mean that he'll be willing to talk to you."
"I know," Beckett says with a nod. "I'm not taking anything for granted, not anymore. Besides," she continues with a shrug, "it's still two more weeks until I'll see him. Here, actually," she says while waving an arm at their surroundings.
"Send him a text," Alexis suggests. "Soon. Doesn't have to be anything big, just something to spark his thinking. His imagination will take over from there. And the sooner, the better. Fred's been trying to set him up. I think he finally relented."
"I will," Beckett promises, making a mental note to send an innocuous text on which she's sure she'll spend far too much time. While she's thinking about her upcoming lunch, the waitress returns with her credit card and a receipt to sign. "With any luck, my birthday present for him spurred some thoughts, too."
"Did you give him the Fleming book?" Alexis asks with interest, looking happy at Beckett's nod. "That explains some things. He hasn't said anything to me about it, but it hasn't really been out of his reach since it showed up at home."
Heartened by this comment, Beckett signs the bill and returns her credit card to her pocketbook.
"Thanks again," Alexis says, "both for the college advice and the meal. I still should've paid," she harrumphs.
"Tell you what, Alexis," Beckett proposes. "You can make it up to me by telling me one more thing about your dad. Is he really riding a motorcycle?"
"Yes," Alexis huffs again. "The filthy hypocrite. He's paying a friend of his to teach him how to rebuild it – it looked pretty bad when he bought it, but it looks worse now." Noticing Beckett's look of confusion, Alexis explains. "It was a wreck, but at least it matched. Dad and his friend are rebuilding it slowly, as they get the parts and have the time. So, it's kind of in-between right now, half nice and half junk."
"Harley?" Beckett asks, wondering if her bike might've influenced Castle's purchase.
"No," she answers with a shake of her head before pulling out her phone and opening the camera roll. Handing her phone to Beckett provokes a laugh as the picture of an exceptionally grease-stained but proud Castle stands behind his contraption, apparently after installing a new fuel tank.
"An Indian Chief? That'll look beautiful when he's done," she praises, already imagining the possibilities.
"Maybe," Alexis allows. "I still think he looks more natural on a Vespa."
"Hey, check it," Esposito says from behind the wheel of his cruiser, drawing Ryan's attention away from his cell phone, where he was again reviewing the pictures of their wild trip to Vegas, from which he still doesn't feel fully recovered.
"Isn't that Castle's Ferrari?" Ryan answers, noting the car a few ahead of them, idling at a red light.
"We should say hi," Esposito says with an evil look, pointing at the controls for the flashers used in a traffic stop.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Javi," Ryan says with some apprehension as the light turns green and the cars start moving forward. "That's not exactly a nice way to say thanks."
"Nah, he'll get a kick out of it," Esposito replies, moving into position behind the sports car. Ryan's misgivings increase as the lights flash and Castle pulls over ahead of them.
"Cover me," Esposito laughs as he exits the cruiser. With a sigh, Ryan also leaves the car, walking around to the space behind Castle's Ferrari and in front of the cruiser's hood. It's difficult to tell with the small rear window, but as Ryan crouches to look through, he gets a sick feeling as he realizes that Esposito's plan has run into a major problem.
"Javi!" Ryan calls out, only to get waved off by his partner. Laughing as he saunters towards Castle's window like an old-time sheriff, Esposito doesn't bother to look as he raps on the window even as it lowers.
"License and regis…," he trails off as he finds himself looking at a beautiful woman, not Castle.
"Is there a problem, detective?" Fred asks from behind the wheel.
"Sorry," Esposito fumbles, a little dazed by Fred's looks and tongue-tied by having his prank run aground. "I, uh, need to see your license and registration," he says, committing to his story as the best way to get out of this situation, planning to go through the routine and then let her go with just a warning.
"The registration hasn't changed since the last time you borrowed this car, Javier," Fred says while shaking her head. "Do you really need to see my license, or are just going to admit that you pulled this car over thinking that you'd bully Rick?"
Waving for Ryan to join him, Esposito defends himself. "We weren't gonna bully him," Esposito says while getting a cross look from Ryan for making it sound like he was part of this plan, "we just wanted to say hi to our friend."
"Right," Fred says with disdain, "you just wanted to say hi. To chat with your friend. That's why you've visited him at the loft, right, to say hi? Oh, wait, the one time you've stopped by was for a case," she recalls. Ryan and Esposito exchange curious looks as they try to figure out how this woman knows so much about them.
"The Haunt, then. You must've visited him at the Haunt," Fred continues before shaking her head. "No, that didn't happen, either," she says while pretending to look pensive. "You're happy to drink there, but not to say hey to the guy who owns the place, who sets aside a table for you and covers your tab. But I'm sure that was just an oversight, right?" she asks while leveling a penetrating stare that's met by sheepish looks.
"Oh, I know, I'm sure you've just called him since he left, right? Maybe for his birthday two weeks ago," she asks as Esposito and Ryan exchange guilty looks. "Oh, wait, not that, either," she reminds herself while tapping her cheek.
Fred waits, offering them a chance to explain, but instead Ryan and Esposito stand mute like chastened school kids hauled before the principal for willful misbehavior.
"He speaks so fondly of both of you," she continues when neither detective speaks, "and I could never really figure out why. From where I sit, it seems like you're pretty shitty friends. Glad to see that my instincts were right, though for his sake I wish they weren't. Here's my ID, officers. Please write my ticket so I can be on my way," she says while thrusting her driver's license at Esposito, who takes it mostly out of shock.
It's Ryan who moves first, pulling the ID out of his partner's hand, glancing at it, and handing it back to Fred. "We're sorry, Ms. Keates. You're free to go. Apologies for having wasted your time."
"What, no admonition to not tell Rick about this? To keep it quiet so your bogus traffic stop doesn't get you into trouble back at the Twelfth?" she asks as the partners share another wary glance. "If either one wouldn't devastate Rick, I'd do it in heartbeat," she promises. "I'd hoped for better from you both. Javier, you should've known better," she says while looking at Esposito, "and you should've stood up to him, Kevin," she notes in disappointment.
"Oh, and welcome back," she offers as she fires up the engine, reminding them again of exactly how much she knows about them. "I hope you enjoyed Las Vegas."
She doesn't even peel out as she leaves them behind, instead pulling neatly into traffic. Within moments, the red sports car is lost to sight, hidden behind buses and taxi cabs.
"Great idea, jackass," Ryan says as he punches Esposito in the shoulder and walks back to the cruiser.
"Who was that?" Esposito asks as he slides in behind the wheel of the cruiser. "She was mean. Hot, angry, and mean."
"Hot, angry, mean, and right," Ryan replies.
"Make you a cup?" Ryan offers from his place in front of the espresso machine, showing off his expertise now that Castle's departure elevated him to the post of chief barista.
"Sure," Beckett replies absently, walking over and leaning against the counter to watch him work.
"I wanted to talk to you," Ryan says quietly. "Is everything okay with Castle?"
"He's okay," Beckett replies. "I met with Alexis this weekend. She says he's fine. Tired and overworked, but fine."
"That's good," Ryan nods while he works the machine, "but I guess I asked the wrong question. Is everything okay with you and Castle?" he asks with a knowing look.
"I don't know," Beckett admits quietly. "Ask me again at the end of the month."
Ryan waits, wondering if Beckett will offer an explanation, but he's not terribly surprised when she remains silent. In an effort to prompt the discussion, or maybe just provide some information, he takes a different route.
"I called Randall down in OC," he offers, noting Beckett's head jerk in his peripheral vision as he focuses on the mug in his hand. "She said she'd need to know more about his tattoo to decide on whether it's linked to any of the crews – the location isn't enough. Garcia in Gangs said the same thing."
"Kevin, we're not supposed to be poking into this," Beckett says suppressively. "Besides, Montgomery knows what he's doing and he's not worried. He even wants him back. That wouldn't be the case if Castle was working with a criminal crew."
"Except he's done it before, right?" Ryan asks, voicing some of his own concerns.
"Years and years ago," Beckett confesses. "Look, Kevin, I was worried about this, too, until I realized something: he'd never do that to Alexis," she says with conviction. "Whatever he's doing has some risk attached to it, but he'd never do anything that dangerous while Alexis still needs him. If she were off to college, I'd be terrified. But for now, I think we're okay."
"Yeah," Ryan replies as he hands a cup of coffee to Beckett, "I guess you're right about that. I was just being dumb."
"No, Kevin," Beckett contradicts with a hand on his forearm, "you were being a friend."
"Better late than never," he mumbles, but doesn't elaborate at Beckett's raised brow. "Besides," he says to shift the topic, "you saw the size of him. He's probably a stevedore," he laughs at the image. "That'd explain the calluses on his hands. Or, I know, a bouncer at a strip…," he trails off as he remembers he's talking to Beckett, not Esposito, "... steak restaurant."
"Nice save," Beckett says flatly, before she huffs a laugh. "Actually," she says while pulling out her phone and navigating to the picture Alexis sent her, "maybe he's a mechanic."
"Huh," Ryan says, smiling while he looks at the picture. "I thought that was a bike helmet by the door after we met with Martha, but I wondered if I might've been hallucinating from whatever she put in the food."
"If you hadn't gorged so much, I'm sure you wouldn't have been seeing things," Beckett answers with a smile of her own, especially when Ryan starts muttering about poison, betrayal, and the perils of working for a skinny boss.
His antics cheer her, until she remembers that Ryan was always Castle's understudy when it came to humor in the precinct. That recollection depresses her as she makes her way back to her desk to dive back into today's paperwork. The caffeine helps her focus, but it doesn't make the forms any more exciting. As Montgomery predicted, the demands from the DA's office have skyrocketed, leading Beckett to uncharitable thoughts about how a new case involving someone there might be a double win – it'd get her team out of the precinct and it might remove someone piling on the administrative work.
"Hey Beckett," Ryan calls out about ten minutes later. "He's legal – Class M license endorsement," he says while looking at the details of Castle's driver's license.
"Timing looks off, though," Esposito says from behind Ryan, having gotten up and walked around when his partner started talking. "He probably knew somebody that helped him speed things up."
"You're in the DMV database?" Beckett asks. When Ryan nods, she hesitates for a moment before deciding to forge ahead. "Will you pull up the file on Winnie Keates?"
"How'd you know about that?" Esposito asks in alarm, the same time Ryan protests with "It was his idea!"
Like a parent confronting two guilty kids, Beckett lets her disapproving glare soften them up before she moves in for the confessions.
"Conference room," Beckett says curtly, rising from her seat and leading the way. The boys follow, looking like they're walking to the gallows.
Ryan and Esposito are trying to surreptitiously work out their story as they settle into their seats in the conference room when a knock on the door changes the agenda. "Detectives," Montgomery says. "Unless you'd prefer to stay and do more paperwork, a wellbeing check at his apartment turned up the body of one William Webber." Handing a post-it note with the address to Beckett, he easily recognizes the look of relief that Ryan and Esposito both share. "And gentlemen?" he says as the team stands and prepares to leave, following a hunch based on the guilty looks of the two men. "I think we need to have a talk when you return."
"Well, this is awkward," Castle's companion says from her side of the candle-lit table. The lights are low, the music subtle, and the aromas enticing, but the mood isn't making this blind date any easier.
"That it is," Castle laughs as he agrees, "but it doesn't have to be. Did Winnie set the same conditions for you, too? One date, a promise of no follow-up for a month, with an established curfew for tonight?"
"She's worse than my parents," Divya replies with a small smile. "But yes, she gave me the same speech about 'cleansing the palate,' whatever that means."
"So, tell me about your ex," Castle dives in, figuring this dinner, which is only getting started, can only get better by shaking things up or ending abruptly. While his companion for the evening is lovely, she's been so painfully shy in their futile attempts at conversation that it's difficult to see how this date won't be a complete fiasco.
When Divya looks uncertain, he tries to coax her along. "We're both here because we need to move on. I don't know about you, but one of the worst things I find about being in this situation, again, is worrying that I'll remember her or mention her in a conversation with someone new. But, we're in the same boat here tonight," he says while Divya adds a hesitant nod, "so why tiptoe around? Tonight can be a chance to get that out of our systems so we're not worried about it haunting us as we try to move forward. I think that's what Winnie meant by cleansing the palate."
"I guess," Divya says slowly, trying to get comfortable with the idea, but clearly struggling. "I think I need more wine before I'd talk about something like that," she admits. "It's just embarrassing, you know? Heartbreaking and painful and humiliating. And I don't even know you!"
"Which might make it easier, right? I'm a safety date," he says smugly. "Plus, however embarrassed you feel, look at me! I've been divorced twice and dumped even more often. Can you beat that?" he asks with self-deprecating bravado.
"You're not a very reticent fellow, are you?" Divya asks, looking intrigued but also taking another fortifying gulp of wine.
Castle huffs a laugh, then sits back in his chair. "That's fair. Maybe we should take a step back. Why don't you tell me about yourself? Usually I try to guess people's stories, but tonight I'm just going to listen. Tell me whatever you want – who you are or who you want to be, where you're from or where you want to go."
"I know you work in a different genre, Rick, but have you read any science fiction?" Divya asks, prompting a happy grin while he nods vigorously. "Are you familiar with the concept of a pocket universe?"
"Marry me?" Castle says with a laugh. "Seriously, breaking out the sci-fi on a first date. So cool."
"I think, perhaps, we might've discovered one of the reasons your relationships haven't fared well," Divya says with tongue in cheek. "Don't you know that men are supposed to be afraid to commit?"
"I've always been a bit contrary," Castle replies happily. "Anyway, a pocket universe – a theoretic possibility, a reality separate from but contained within our own, possibly with different physical laws. That's a great analogy for tonight. We can say whatever we want without concern about the effects and reverberations back home. Are you up for it?" he asks with a tilt of his brow, wide eyes, and a beguiling smile.
Divya pauses for a moment to consider, then jumps in. "Yes," she answers decisively, reaching for her wine glass. "Let's try it. Just be gentle with me, Rick," she says with a naughty look – apparently now that she's decided to participate, she's fully embracing the experience – "it's my first time."
Two hours later, Divya pushes away the remnants of their Chocolate Decadence that Castle enticed her to order for them. The combination of the dessert and a lush red wine has rendered them mellow, happy, and more than a little buzzed. The buzz becomes literal as Castle's cell phone reminds him that their curfew approaches.
"Shall we go?" he asks lazily, enjoying himself. Once they finally embraced Winnie's structure for their date, they had a wonderful evening. Divya can be wickedly funny, oddly bold considering her background, and is anxious to put a two-year dead-end relationship (complete with the aforementioned fear of commitment) behind her. In fact, she was so talkative once they got started that Castle was able to avoid talking about himself or Beckett, instead pumping Divya for more details about her background, hopes, and dreams. After the first hour, the references to her ex became infrequent, so that not even his specter loomed by the time dessert arrived. He envies her ability to leave heartbreak behind, but is glad that tonight might've worked for one of them.
"I suppose," she agrees with a sigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if Winnie calls me to see how things went. You, too?"
"I'm not sure," Castle smiles. "She doesn't usually call me late at night – she's always worried about waking Alexis or interrupting me at work. But maybe she'll make an exception tonight," he says as he rises and offers a hand to his companion. In just minutes they're in the back of a car service sedan, gliding gently and quietly through the beauty of New York City at night.
"Thank you, Rick," Divya says, reaching across the seat to grasp his hand. "It's been a long time since my last first date," she admits, "and I can't remember one that went better than tonight's."
"My pleasure," Castle replies with a happy smile. "It might've taken us a few minutes to lose the training wheels, but I think we remembered how to ride the bike."
"We did," she replies with a smile. "I'm just so glad that tonight went well. I was convinced it was going to be a disaster," she confesses.
"Glad I could surpass your disastrously low expectations for the evening," Castle laughs, getting a gentle swat to the arm for his joke before Divya reclaims his hand. "You've discovered my secret, Div – foster low expectations so people are always positively surprised. Works like a charm," he laughs again and wins a smile with his antics.
Before she can reply, the car pulls to the curb as it slows to a stop, positioned outside her apartment building. "This is me," she says with a sigh. Castle exits the sedan, holding out a hand to help her out of the car. Rather than release his hand once standing, though, Divya takes a deep breath and turns toward Castle rather than the door to her building.
"Winnie just said we had to be home by curfew," she says in an attempt to be bold, though her voice warbles. "She didn't say whose home."
"Divya," Castle replies gently, "I really don't think that would be a good idea."
"Come on, Rick," she entices, tugging on his hand again, "Pocket universe, remember? Besides, you're a writer. Isn't a line like that how all the best stories start?"
"Wow, breakfast, too?" Fred asks as she opens her door to admit Castle, who's struggling with a tray of their coffees in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other.
"This delivery service promises a full range of amenities," he says as he pauses and waits for her to grab her drink.
Fred unburdens the tray and points to the dining table even as she walks off in another direction. "Sorry, I'll be right there. I'm a little behind on my packing. Give me a few minutes?"
"Sure," Castle says with a laugh, adjusting her estimate by the conversion rate he's learned from experience and preparing for a 10-15 minute wait. He's shocked when Fred's back in fewer than five minutes, a suitcase in one hand and a roller-board in the other, coffee balanced precariously on top.
"There!" she says happily as she collapses into a seat at the table and lunges for a croissant. "Perfect," she sighs after a bite, turning quickly to her coffee.
"So," she says as the caffeine hits her system, "what, exactly, happened with Divya?" she asks with a perched brow and inquisitive look.
"That's what I should be asking you!" Castle replies. "Somehow 'I know you're not ready, she's safe,'" he says with air quotes, "turned into 'good luck, she's a wanton seductress!'"
"I think you're exaggerating again," Fred laughs. "Divya's among the most demure women I know."
"Demure," Castle marvels, shaking his head. "Maybe at first blush. But get her talking, then bam! Watch your bottom."
This comment, combined with his affronted look, pulls peals of laughter from Fred. Castle's happy to go along with it until Fred doesn't stop, tears leaking from her eyes as she tries to calm herself.
"Oh, Rick," she hiccups, "if only your reputation could see you now!"
"I know, right?" he says while giving up his pout to chuckle along with her. "But that wasn't cool, Fred," he says with a voice mostly pretending to be stern. "Here I am worried about relapsing and you feed me to a tiger!"
Shaking her head and chuckling some more, Fred sits back and gives Castle a good, long look. "You must be quite a charmer, Rick. She really isn't like that. And you must've fended her off gently, because she still sounds fond of you. You did fend her off, right?"
"My virtue is intact, thank you very much," he says peevishly, causing another mirthful reaction. "I'm actually glad to hear that she's okay with how things ended. I nearly froze up – the whole 'cleanse the palate' thing could've backfired big-time if it ended with a rejection."
"I hadn't even thought of that," Fred replies apologetically, blushing. "I mean, I never even thought things could've gone that far. You're a good man, Rick Castle," she says, patting his hand. "However you let her down, it was gentle enough that she's not feeling bad about it."
"Good," he answers, genuinely glad to hear that Divya's not upset. "But I don't want to try that again for a very long time," he says emphatically before looking at his watch. "Enough about my evasive maneuvers, though – we need to hit the road if you're going to catch your flight."
Nodding her agreement, Fred bustles them out of her apartment, acceding to Castle's desire to carry her bags only so that she can take the trash out with her, lest her place grow ripe in the three weeks she'll be out in LA – two for 'vacation' and one for scouting potential Aegis locations for a west coast expansion. Castle, of course, refuses to pass either piece of luggage back once she deposits the trash in the disposal chute, so she spends the elevator ride down to the ground floor giving him trouble about his animal magnetism and how it must be so difficult to have to hold off the women of the city. Only when he flinches at one of her barbs does she remember his upcoming meeting.
Following him out of her building and toward a parking area down the block, she apologies. "Sorry, Rick. I forgot that your big lunch outing is coming up while I'm gone. Call me if you want to talk, yeah?"
"I'll be fine," he answers, not sure he believes it himself, but willing to put up the front. "I actually got a text from her last week," he admits, now wishing he had a free hand to run through his hair.
"Oh?" Fred asks, starting to feel guilty for having overlooked this aspect of his life and growing concerned about her absence.
"Yeah," he answers in a voice too nonchalant to be genuine. "Nothing big – just mentioned that she met with Alexis to talk about college applications and that she's looking forward to our lunch."
"Is that good or bad?" Fred asks, wondering where Castle's head is at.
"Not sure," he huffs in response. "It's different. She's not usually big on telling me what she's up to. I think she wanted me to know that she met with Alexis so that I wouldn't be angry if I found out later."
"Would you have been angry?" Fred asks, genuinely curious.
Shaking his head and turning into the lot, Castle shrugs. "Not directly, I guess. Alexis admires Kate, and getting her help is a smart move. But I'm starting to wonder how I'm supposed to get over Beckett if my family doesn't. Mother's still dropping her not-at-all-subtle references to 'darling Katherine' and Alexis revamped our college visit trip to include Beckett's recommendations." Setting Fred's suitcase next to the trunk of his Mercedes, Castle now takes advantage of having a hand free to show his frustration. "But I'm being petty, and I know it. Beckett's suggestions were all good ones, so how can I fault someone for giving good counsel to the most important person in my life? It's making me crazy. She's the most maddening woman I know."
Letting Castle have some privacy while he huffs and loads her bags into the trunk, Fred waits quietly for him to unlock the doors. Sliding into the passenger seat and buckling up, she waits until they're on the road before she offers a hesitant observation.
"You sound like you're not over her," she says gently.
Castle remains silent for a few moments, letting his white knuckles speak to his state of mind. Eventually, though, he finds his words. "I'm not," he admits with a sad smile. "But I always do my best work when faced with a looming deadline."
A/N: This is the first chapter where I've messed with where the weekends fall. In this case, the last scene with Winnie was supposed to be the first scene of Week Eight. But that would've left a gratuitously angsty cliffhanger for this chapter, so I didn't end with Castle's blind date. For those of you hoping for shorter chapters, the next one will be shorter as a result.
I post this as I head to the airport for a business development event in San Francisco. I'm hoping the cross-country flight will give me time to get some writing done (though it's also an excellent excuse to reread Aalon's A Different Road Taken). If the event goes well, I'll post the next chapter on Thursday. Finally, thanks to Garrae for the heads up on getting around the website's current difficulties with .docx files.
