The Long Game: Chapter 18
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.
New York Presbyterian Hospital in Lower Manhattan, 8:35 a.m. Tuesday morning, March 20, 2012
Detective Kate Beckett stands outside Richard Castle's cracked door, now on the fifth floor directly across from the nurse station. Since last night's second attempt on the novelist's life, the hospital has moved the patient up to the fifth floor, away from the elevator, and as far from the stairwells as possible. The Feds, for their part, have issued a statement that Castle has been moved to another, not-to-be-shared hospital. They want no further incidences, and they hope that by saying Castle is at another hospital, it will throw anyone still looking to kill the author off the scent.
She speaks quietly on her cell phone so that her voice will not carry beyond her close personal space, glancing backward to ensure no one is listening.
"Did you see the news this morning?" Kate asks. "About the Senator's family?"
"I did."
"You don't sound surprised," Kate replies, quickly.
"Very few things surprise me anymore, Kate."
Kate pauses, knowing that asking what is on her mind right now doesn't really encourage a lot of trust, but she has to ask the question. She doesn't believe in coincidences. Not anymore. Not since . . .
"Did you do it?"
"Of course not."
"Did you know about it at all?"
There is a pause, just long enough to tell Kate her answer.
"It's a logical move," is the reply.
"How do you figure," she asks.
"He took one parent. Two have been taken from him."
Kate considers this for a moment. In her heart, she had thought this to be the case, but then quickly dismissed the notion as being a bit self-centered.
"Surely I'm not that important," she had thought to herself this morning upon hearing the news.
"You still believe this is about me?" she asks, hesitantly.
"Yes I do. And deep down, you do, also."
She gazes back at the door, wanting to get inside to visit Castle. From her vantage point, all she can see is the lower half of his legs through the small crack in the door.
"I'm outside Castle's room, going in to visit him in a minute," she says, still gazing inside the room.
"Tell him hello for me."
Kate chuckles along with the voice on the other end.
"Yeah, right. I'm sure," Kate says, still chuckling, before growing serious again. "He's not stupid, you know. He knows that I have been distant. I barely visited him at the jail. I didn't call or leave messages for him and –"
"He is used to that behavior from you, Kate." It's harsh, and almost hurtful, but it is true, and Kate doesn't even bother to try and defend herself.
"But not anymore," Kate counters, testily. "I have been trying to change that dynamic between –"
"And you have plenty of time for that."
"I know. I know," she offers, silently, glancing behind her once again. "I was just thrilled that he asked me to look in on Alexis," she continues.
"There is something to be said for that."
"I just don't know how long I can keep doing this," Kate says. "Dammit, I don't like lying to him. I did that once and it has all but destroyed us. I can't –"
"Do you trust me?"
"You know that I do," Kate says, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.
"Then trust me. We're approaching the home stretch now."
Kate pauses for a moment, then begins to answer, but is cut off.
"I know that –"
"Call me when you finish, Kate."
The call disconnects, leaving her staring at her cell phone for a moment, before safely tucking it away in her small purse. She takes a deep breath, puts on a smile, and opens the door to Richard Castle's private room.
Castle sits upright in his bed, his eyes focused on the television above him on the wall opposite his bed. He listens to the morning news - on television - that had earlier been talking about the tragedy on Long Island, but now is focused on another equally-relevant story. The newscaster speaks about one Richard Castle, and how – while he remains a person of interest – he is no longer a suspect in the murder of Scott Dunn. It is clear that someone is trying to silence the author, and that – as Jackson Hunt had suspected and planned – is enough to sway opinions back in favor of his son.
"Hi there," Kate greets him, walking toward his bed.
Castle turns, and his pained smile to her is genuine, giving her more resolve for the ruse she is playing – and has been playing for far too long now.
"Hi yourself," he tells her. "Quite a morning," he says, focusing immediately on the current story about himself. He knows he can't talk to her about Senator Bracken's parents, because she has no idea that Bracken is the man behind her world falling apart all those years ago.
At least that is what he thinks. Had he been able to hear her conversation just outside his door, he would question that belief.
"You know, Detective, I have to say that I'm getting tired of being the leading story on the news," he says, half-smiling.
"The FBI is considering putting you and Martha and Alexis into protective custody," Kate replies. "At least for the time being when you get out of here."
"Not so fast," he counters. "The minute I am strong enough to blow this joint, Martha, Alexis and I are headed back up to the Hamptons. It is far safer there," he continues, knowing this statement to be true.
"How can being isolated on a beach house be considered safer, by any definition, Castle?"
"Trust me, Kate. It's safer there."
She considers his words for a moment, and decides to attribute them to the pain medication that she knows still flows inside him.
"Well, maybe I can join you there," she says softly, not expecting any response or reaction. She is pleasantly surprised.
"I'd like that," he tells her. She stares at him for a moment, then asks the question that has been burning her since he walked out of the precinct almost a month ago – the day his loft was destroyed, the day he walked out of her life.
"Are we going to be okay?" she asks, softly, her fingers caressing the top of his hand, gently avoiding the IV inserted there.
"Who knows, Kate," he replies honestly. "All I know is that I have been given a . . . –"
"Second chance?" she asks, hopefully.
"No. A . . . different outlook on life. A different perspective on what is really important, and what really isn't as important as I had first believed."
"I'd like to be a part of that life," she quickly responds.
Richard Castle looks surprised, almost wistful as he stares up at the beautiful, complex woman hovering over him. Sensing the difference, she quickly turns and grabs a chair, and pulls it to the bed and sits.
"You know," he responds, "there was a time when you saying that would have been music to my ears, Kate."
Her eyes down, her hope quickly and suddenly dwindling, Kate responds.
"But not anymore," she says. It is a statement, not a question.
"Oh, it still sounds good, don't get me wrong," he says, staring at her. "I just don't know if you are going to agree with what I am going to do."
"That sounds ominous," she responds, with a single raised eyebrow.
"These are ominous times, Detective," he says cryptically. "It's really amazing how a person's view of the world can change in just one month."
Kate nods, knowing that her own views have changed as well. She wonders if the last month has changed his views of her. He speaks about a changed perspective. Does that changed perspective include a more forgiving view of a pretty substantial lie? He knows that she lied. He found out the worst way possible. But somehow – and she can't bet any money on it or anything like that – but he seems beyond her lie. She can almost understand that. Perhaps the events of the past month have somehow rendered her horrible lie . . . less important. Less important to him.
But not to her.
It still matters to her – it matters a lot. She felt bad about her lie before. Now it kills her, on a daily basis. And now she sees what he has done, what he is willing to do. For her. For his family. She knows somehow, that he has done all of this to protect his family, and probably her. And yeah, that is more like the Richard Castle that she knows.
As the assassin who visited her made a point of telling her that she is not worthy. Not worthy of him. And right now, she feels unworthy.
"I wish I'd responded differently, Rick."
"What do you mean?" he asks her, glancing back at the news show.
"When you told me you loved me," she says, almost inaudibly. But yeah, he heard her right.
"How so?" is all he can manage.
"I just wish I had responded . . . well, any response would have been better than what I did," she admits aloud. He can't disagree.
"I have to agree with you there," he responds, just as quietly.
"I didn't know how I felt back then," she tries to explain.
"That would have been an acceptable response in itself," Castle tells her.
"That's no response, Castle," she argues, her hand still engulfed by his own. She likes the feel of her hand inside his. In the past two days, she realizes she is getting used to this simple physical contact between them.
"No Kate," he counters. "Saying you don't remember is no response."
He doesn't mean for it to sound as harsh as it does, but it doesn't deter either of them from continuing the conversation.
"If it matters at all, Rick, I feel horrible. I wish I could do it all over again. I wish that every single day, every morning I wake up. I wish I can turn back the clock to that day all over again."
"What, getting shot?" he jokes.
"No, c'mon, you know what I mean," she says, giving him a soft punch on the lower leg.
"Because I've got to tell you," he smiles, still chuckling, "now that we have both experienced that, I for one am not in favor of repeating it."
"You're still talking about getting shot," she smiles.
"Hey, it's still kind of fresh on my mind, you know?" he laughs.
She laughs with him, squeezing his hand.
"Me neither – about getting shot. But you know what I mean," she continues, still smiling, and drawing just a bit closer to him. "I wish we could do that all over again – that moment – especially now. Especially . . . with how . . . especially with how I feel."
"Maybe someday we will, Beckett," he smiles contently. "Maybe someday. But there is something we need to talk about first."
"What is it?" she responds, her radar now on full alert. Has he somehow found out her secret? Yeah, she's been distant lately since he was arrested, but the same can be said for him. He's been acting just as strangely. Has he found out?
"Oh God, if he knows, he will never forgive this," she thinks to herself.
"What is it, Rick?" she asks a second time.
"Not now, Kate," he tells her, softly, his voice dropping noticeably. "And not here. And not alone."
She stares at him quizzically now, convinced that he doesn't know, but now also convinced that perhaps she is not the only one harboring secrets.
"There are a few people I want to introduce you to," he tells her. "But not here."
"This sounds serious," she tells him, warily.
"Believe me, Detective. I've never been more serious in my life."