The cursor blinked back at him.
Mocking him.
This shouldn't be so hard, he thought. Then he chuckled. That's what she said, he thought, giving himself a mental high five.
Still, there was no earthly reason why he should be having this much trouble with the climax.
Oh God, he thought. I've got to get my mind out of the gutter. Just because I haven't got any in a while…
I should not be having such difficultly with composing the narrative peak of this novel. There, there was nothing dirty in that, he thought with triumph.
Over the summer, the words had poured out of him, almost faster than he could put fingers to keyboard.
But now, the scene was set for the intricate reveal in the third act of his latest Nikki Heat novel and he was stuck.
He had tried as much as possible to create the perfect writing environment. A large cup of Moroccan blend sat by his elbow. His phone was on silent. He had the whole loft to himself.
And still the dark blinking of the cursor on the barren white page stared back.
He let his mind wander for a moment. Back to the summer. In a way it seemed only days ago, and yet so much had changed in the intervening months.
He remembered the book tour, and the loneliness, and missing Beckett more than he would admit to himself. Imaging her back at his loft, living in his house, curled up under his throw rug, on his couch.
He'd spent a lot of time over the summer thinking about her. When he wasn't thinking about Nikki.
Except, now that he thought about it, he'd never really thought about Nikki. Rick doubted anyone had missed the fact that his writing in the Heat series was rather meta. So he'd surrendered to his imagination. It was no longer Nikki, but Beckett he'd pictured as his words flew across the page.
With new verve, Rick turned back to the page before him.
He'd been going about this all wrong. He didn't need to carefully build tension and plot out the confrontation between his antagonist and hero.
He just needed to ask himself that most vital of literary questions:
What would Beckett do?
Hours later, he was so deep in concentration that he let out a little girly yelp when his phone suddenly vibrated it's way across his desk.
Focus broken, he picked up the cell and glanced at the caller ID, smiling automatically. He swiped to answer. "Ah, my lovely muse," he greeted.
"Got a body. You want in?"
"Oh, er…"
"Nikki speaking to you again?"
"Faster than the disclaimer at the end of a pharmaceutical ad. But I can write later, when the boys are in bed, if you want…"
She chuckled. "I was solving murders long before you came on the scene, Castle. I think I can handle one little GSW without you holding my hand."
"Great! Cause the perp has got Nikki cornered, and she just realised she's out of slugs."
"Slugs, Castle?"
"Too clichéd?"
"Unless Nikki's been transported back to prohibition era, then yeah."
Rick pictured a noir film set. Rook (who looked remarkably like himself) sitting at a desk with his sleeves rolled up and a fedora sitting jauntily upon his head. A broad – no wait – a dame, walking in (looking remarkably like Beckett in a flapper dress, slowing off her long gorgeous legs).
Of all the gin joints…
"Castle! You still there?"
"Hmm?" he murmured, distracted.
"I asked if you want me to pick up the boys from school so you can keep writing. Someone's got to save Nikki," she said in that tight voice she always used to talk about her literary counterpart.
"Nah, she'll be out of it by then. Crash tackle onto the perp from an overhead beam, jolt to the ulnar nerve to loosen his grip, wrench the gun away from him and it's all over. She'll have him down the station in an hour, and I can go pick the boys up."
"Thanks, Castle. I'll make it up to you."
"You don't have to make anything up to me."
"Still," she said, and he could tell he didn't believe what he'd said. "Thanks."
He thought about arguing with her, but he glanced at the clock out of the corner of his eye, and was diverted for a moment in wondering where the time had gone. He'd gotten so wrapped up in the story he'd even missed lunch. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get much more done before the school run.
Still, even after his thumb hit 'end' on the phone call, he thought about what Beckett had said. It always bothered him when she was grateful that he'd done something for the boys. As far as he was concerned, they were his boys. And no one should have to thank him for looking after his own children.
If he was honest with himself, it was more than that.
He didn't want Beckett to feel indebted to him. He didn't want her gratitude.
Rick wanted a lot of things from Beckett, but obligation wasn't one of them.
Castle lent against the low wall outside the school, waiting for the kids to appear. The ending to Nikki's latest caper was still bugging him. There was always a fine line in mystery writing between a surprise ending, and an ending with came completely out of left field.
The idea was that, upon the protagonist revealing the murderer, the reader would recall clues from throughout the story arch, confirming narrative integrity. The big mystery should not be too obvious, of course. But the reader would also feel cheated if the mystery was too obfuscated. It felt like the writer was being a smart ass, and gave the reader cognitive dissonance.
He was so deep in thought about whether he needed to re-write the interrogation scene, that it took a while for him to notice the group of people gathered further down the fence were staring at him. The moment he looked at them, they suddenly turned away, whispering together. Looking closer, Rick noticed that they group was actually only three people, all women – two blondes and a brunette.
Ricked smiled at them, almost reflexively. They were good looking women after all.
The three women turned away for a moment, giggling. Rick wondered if perhaps they were fans.
One of the blondes tossed her hair, and sent him a sultry pout. Well, Rick thought it was supposed to be a sultry pout, but the woman had obviously had some recent botox, which made her smile rather lopsided. The effect was somewhere between endearing and odd.
He nodded at them, then turned back to the school building. He checked his watch, realising there was still about a minute until students started flooding from the school gates.
"Hi ya," came a high pitch voice from his left.
Rick turned in surprise. Botox Blonde was suddenly right at his elbow.
"Er, hi."
"I'm Angel, Aspen's mother."
"Oh," said Rick. Did he know an Aspen? Wasn't that a place?
"Brooklyn," Angel continued, pointing. Rick was about to correct her, since Brooklyn was clearly in the other direction, when he realised that she was introducing the brunette woman, not making a non sequitur or giving her place of residence. Hah! As if Botox Blonde lived anywhere but the Upper East Side. "Her son George-Thaddeus the Third is in Aspen's class, and her daughter Shequntila is in fifth grade this year. And this is Naveah-Valentina," she said, gesturing to the other blonde. "He daughter Persephone is in class with my Aspen and George-Thaddeus the Third. Her daughter Tarquin is in second grade, and Hymen hasn't started school yet." Botox blonde gestured to a toothy toddler in a stroller.
Rick wondered if they always called him George-Thaddeus the Third. It seemed like rather a mouthful. He wondered if they could just call him GTT for short.
"Lovely to meet you ladies," Rick ventured, with smiles all around.
This brought out another chorus of giggles.
"I'm Rick. My daughter Alexis is a junior this year. And our twins, Elijah and Ezekiel are second-graders." Our twins, he thought, happily. Mine and Beckett's. It was a nice thought.
"Our?" asked Botox Blonde. "Where's your wife then?" She glanced at his empty ring finger, and a confused expression crossed her face. Well, Rick thought she was trying to furrow her brows in confusion. The botox lent her every expression a rather startled appearance, making her very difficult to read.
"My partner, Kate," he explained. "We've not married," he added, waving his empty ring finger as proof. "She's at work. She's a homicide detective." He may have puffed out his chest in pride at this statement, just a little. The brunette, No-Vacancy, or whatever her name was, recoiled. Whether at Beckett's job, or just her employment status, Rick wasn't sure.
Botox Blonde seemed to take this as a challenge. She sent him another simpering pout. "There's so much divorce these days," she commented. "I think it's very sensible to wait until you're sure. I'm certain when the right woman comes along you'll know it." She rested her hand gently on his arm.
Rick was filled with righteous indignation at the implication that this woman was in any way superior to Katherine Beckett. He brushed his hand along his arm, dislodging her carefully manicured talons.
"Oh, we've been partners for years. And, do you know, every day I am even more blown away by how amazing and caring and beautiful she is. I don't think anyone else in the world could compare."
"Well," said Botox Blonde. She gaped at him for a moment. Then, with an offended "humph" she turned and walked off. Bronx sent him a vicious look and followed.
"Get the stroller," No-Vacancy snapped at a bored looking college-aged kid. Ah, must be the nanny, Rick thought. The young woman came over and grabbed the stroller, sharing an eye-roll with Rick as she did so.
Suddenly the sidewalk was filled with a sea of uniforms, as school ended for the day. Within minutes, Rick had a twin on each side, Eli loudly reciting his two times tables, while Zeke proudly displayed the bruise he had acquired playing dodgeball at recess.
A minute later, Rick's entire encounter with the Nip/Tuck brigade was forgotten.
The boys had finished their homework. Rick rewarded them with an hour of x-box time, which also gave him an hour of Nikki writing time. He was sitting at his desk when Alexis walked in, deep in thought.
"Hey Dad, can I ask you a question?"
"Is it about algebra?" he asked. She'd been bent over her Math textbook at the dinner table last time Rick looked.
"No."
"Well then I actually might have a chance at answering it. Shoot."
"How do you know when you're in love?"
"Oh God, I think I should have taken my chances with algebra."
Alexis pouted. "Seriously, Dad. You've been married twice. How did you know you loved Mom or Gina? Like, how did you know for sure?"
"You just do."
"But how?"
"No one can tell you you're in love. You just know it, through and through. Balls to bones."
"Isn't that from The Matrix?"
"Err-"
"Dad!" she flopped down on the couch dramatically. "This is serious."
"I know, hun. But I really don't think I can answer."
"I know it's an emotion, a feeling, and you can't exactly define, like technically, how you know when you're feeling it, but since I've never felt it before how do I know what I'm feeling is even it at all?"
"Well, I don't -" Rick floundered.
"Except of course for the fact that I'm feeling all these things I've never felt before like in my stomach, in my throat, and even kind of in my ears … I mean, which just has to mean that it's love, right? Considering I only feel them when I'm with Ashley or thinking about him … I mean, it's gotta be love, right?"
"I -"
"And I can't stop thinking about him, Daddy. I don't even want to, because he's the greatest, sweetest, most adorable guy and his nose crinkles when he laughs and … I'm just so happy."
"Right."
"But what do you think?"
"I think maybe The Matrix had it right after all. I don't think I can tell you if you're in love or not, honey. I think that's something only you know."
The following day, Castle loitered by the school gate once more, scrolling through his Facebook feed as he waited.
"The wolves are leaving you alone today, huh?"
He looked up from his phone, looking around for who had spoken to him. A woman stood across from him, smiling. She indicated a group standing on the other side of the school gate, shooting him furious looks, then looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.
Rick recognised No-Vacancy, Bronx and Botox Blonde.
"Does that make me a sheep?" he asked the stranger.
She laughed. "You're a DILF with no ring. You're unequivocally prey as far as they're concerned."
"A DILF?" he asked.
"Dad I'd Like to…" she locked eyes with him, "Friend," she finished in a deadpan voice, which left no doubt as to what other 'f' word usually went in that sentence, and just what kind of 'friend' the other moms had been hoping to make.
Rick laughed. "I talk it you've seen this before?"
"God, yes. They think every male on the block is their property. If they're not a DILF, they're a manny," she indicated a 20 something guy in jeans waiting down the block, flirting with a group of belched blonde mothers in tight capris, dripping in gold. "Mannys are just temporary distraction though, more common amongst the married set, who just want a bit of fun. Single mothers, like Angel Archer need someone with a larger…." She paused, raising an eye-brow "…pocketbook, to satisfy their needs and the style to which their ex-husbands made them accustomed."
Rick looked over at the woman. She was about low to medium height – much shorter than Beckett – and appeared to be of Asian descent, with pale, almost porcelain skin, but straight black hair and dark eyes. She was dressed casually, in blue jeans and wedge heels that showed off her great legs, with a flowing print top. "And how do you fit in?" he asked.
"Oh, I committed the cardinal sin. I actually work for a living."
Rick affected a look of horror. "Horrible. What do you do?"
"I'm a writer. Journalist actually."
"Really? Me too. Well, the writer part. But I'm a novelist."
"I've always enjoyed something a bit more quick and dirty myself. Never could commit to the long form."
"Really? I've always felt there's something to be said for the long build-up. I could go for days and days. Writing of course."
"Of course."
"Rick Castle," he said, holding out his hand.
She laughed.
"What?" Rick asked, vaguely offended.
"I'm amused by the notion that you think everyone here doesn't know exactly who you are. You think Ms 'Boob-Job' Archer made a move before she knew your exact net worth?"
Castle cast a fleeting look over to the little Botox Brigade. "Really?" he asked.
She smiled at his naivety. "Samantha Ko," she said, reaching out to shake his hand. "Call me Sam."
Castle was about to ask her more about her writing, but there was a sudden burst of noise from his right as children started pouring out of the school building. He swept his eyes, looking for the boys. By the time he looked back for Sam, she was talking to a boy – likely her son, judging from his black hair and dark eyes, although he looked like he was going to be much taller than his mother.
Sam looked up and sent him a smile that was part friendly, part challenging, and then she gathered her son, and left.
Rick felt oddly disappointed.
"Right, I'll pour the wine, you see if you can find something worth watching on there," said Rick, gesturing to the television.
It was nearly nine, and the boys were tucked up in bed. Alexis had headed up to her room with a novel she was currently reading a few minutes ago. They'd just finished straightening up the lounge and cleaning up the mess from dinner, and Rick was looking forward to the chance to relax.
Kate snorted. "Yeah, right. Something good on television? It's all just those ridiculous procedural shows now, solving murders with jumped up science montages and explosive sexual tension."
Kate looked up as she spoke, locking eyes with Rick across the room. Someone had obviously been messing with the thermostat, because Castle swore the temperature suddenly jumped ten degrees.
"Totally unrealistic," they murmured in unison.
Castle turned back to the kitchen, glad for the distraction of fetching wine glass. When he headed back over the lounge a few minutes later, the television was off, and soft music played from the stereo.
"This ok?" Beckett asked.
"Perfect," he replied with a smile, handing the detective her glass.
She smiled in thanks.
Despite the fact that there were two armchairs free, Rick took a seat next to Beckett on the couch.
He sunk back into the cushions. "This is nice," he said, not really sure if he meant the wine, or the music, or their proximity.
Beckett hummed her agreement.
"What did you get up to today?" she asked.
He thought about the four hours he'd spent re-writing and then re-re-writing the confrontation scene in the Nikki book he was working on, before deleting the entire chapter, feeling like a frustrated failure. He thought about Sam Ko, flirting with at the school gate, knowing who he was, making him feel powerful and wanted.
"We went to the park on the way home," he said instead.
"Yeah, the boys told me at dinner," she said, giving him a funny look.
"Right," he replied, remembering how distracted he'd been at dinner, how guilty he felt for talking to Sam, and then how annoyed he was that he felt guilty, because it wasn't like there was anything going on between him and Beckett, and he could talk to hot school moms if he wanted to. And then he'd just felt guilty he felt that he was annoyed at Beckett, because he wanted there to be something going on, and he knew he shouldn't be rushing her, and God hadn't she gone through enough lately without him pressuring her with his guilty, annoyed feelings.
They were silent as the music played around them. Gradually he felt the combination of the alcohol and the music flow into his tense muscles, making his mind somehow both clearer and more hazy. Softer. The wine was over half gone before he spoke again.
"How do you know when you're in love?" he asked suddenly.
"All the songs make sense," Beckett replied, as though the question was easy.
Castle nodded, thinking it over. He remembered Kira and Gina and Meredith. He thought about every nonsensical thing that made perfect sense when you loved someone.
"Good answer."
"What made you ask?"
"Alexis. She asked me when we got home from school yesterday how you know when you're in love with someone. I couldn't answer her then."
"Do you think you can now?"
"I don't know. I've been thinking about it ever since. I think it's about how every other aspect of your life seems so much less important. Everything is brighter when you're in love. Who cares if you get every red light, because she exists. Who cares if you haven't got the dream job? You've got someone amazing to go home to. The world shrinks and expands all at the same time. I'm not explaining it very well."
"No I get it. I think I like your version of love too."
"Alexis has one as well. She talked about feeling something in her ears she'd never felt before, but only when she thinks about Ashley. And all I could think was 'I'm not ready for you to be in love'."
Beckett was silent for a while. "You should spend some time with them, Castle. He's a really sweet guy."
"I don't want him to be a sweet guy," Castle muttered, darkly.
"You'd rather he was mean?"
"Well, no, but -"
"Wicked? Depraved? Heinous?"
"God I love it when you talk all literary," Castle broke in, momentarily breaking her train of thought. She blushed.
"I don't want him to be a guy," Castle said.
"You wish she was gay? Loving your child regardless of their sexuality includes loving them even if they turn out to be straight, you know." Beckett smiled. She was having way too much fun with this, Castle thought. "But I can see what you mean. It would certainly decrease the risk of teenage pregnancy."
Castle felt his heart stop. "Teenage pregnancy?!" he whimpered.
Beckett actually looked guilty at the pain she had caused him. "Sorry, I think that took teasing you a little too far. You don't have to worry about being a grandfather any time soon."
"I just want her to go back to playing with Barbies and asking me to braid her hair! I don't want her to be dating teenage boys who are only going to break her heart. I was a teenage boy, you know. I know how they think. Even the sweet ones."
"Well, that's hardly fair. I doubt you were a sweet one, so I don't think you can comment on what they were thinking."
"I was! I was sweet and feeling, and an utter nerd. Long before nerds were cool."
Beckett smiled, and Rick wondered if she was picturing his geeky fifteen year old self. He wondered if his old yearbooks were around. He really had to hide them. There was no way she would ever go out with him if she saw those pictures.
"I wasn't," said Beckett with a smile. "I was always after the Bad Boy, chasing after him on the back of someone's motorbike."
"Did you have a leather jacket?"
"Oh yeah. And tight pants and biker boots."
Rick tried to discreetly wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth.
"She's got to grow up eventually," said Beckett, breaking his train of thought.
"What if I'm not ready for it?"
"I don't think any dad is ever ready for his little girl to grow up."
Rick sighed and stared unseeingly ahead. Beckett moved closer to him, reaching down to place a hand on his knee.
"This is Alexis, remember. The most beautiful, responsible, wonderful teenager I've ever met. This is the girl who tutors other students who are struggling in class for free, who gives up her Friday nights to watch her 'little brothers' when we're busy, whose loyalty and compassion are endless. We trust Alexis, remember?"
"I know. You're right. I'm not being rational."
"You're a dad, talking about his teenage daughter's love life. I don't think rational plays a big part."
Rick looked over at the woman at his side. At moments like this, he was baffled at how he had managed to get here. How he had ever got so lucky.
Why was he wasting his time thinking about Sam, when he could have this?
Well, almost have this. It wasn't really his.
Maybe that was the problem.
He could have Sam.
He might never have Beckett. Not really.
Would this be enough?
Almost of its own violation, his arm stretched out over Beckett's shoulders and drew her into his side. Beckett of a year ago would have protested, but this Beckett just melted into him, as though she belonged.
And somehow, he knew that even the having of Sam, could not be as good as the not-having of Beckett.
Sitting on the couch, Rick tried to work out how he was feeling. It wasn't a loud emotion, It wasn't a powerful wave of dizzying happiness, or a rollercoaster of disappointment. It was just pure sensation, deep in his stomach.
For a moment, he couldn't put a finger on it. Then it was suddenly clear.
Serenity.
Rick was satisfied.
"I love hearing your talk about Alexis like that. I love her so much more than I ever thought was possible. Knowing you feel the same way about her…" he trailed off, words failing him.
"I know," said Kate. "I love my dad, and my mom, and I love Maddy and Lanie and Maggie. And I've loved men before, or at least thought I did. But the way I feel about Alexis and Eli and Zeke? I didn't imagine it could exist. It's like, I would die for my dad, or for you. But I would kill for those kids. In cold blood. In a heartbeat."
"Ah, welcome to parenthood. We're all psychopaths here."
Kate's pealing laugh rang out in the quiet room.
And Rick was satisfied.