The Long Game: Chapter 26
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.
Richard Castle's Hamptons Home, around 8:02 p.m., Thursday evening, March 22, 2012
Richard Castle is one confused man right now. This – without a doubt – has been the month from hell, these last four weeks or so. His daughter kidnapped, the daughter of a good friend kidnapped, two people he knows murdered, his mother almost murdered, Jim Beckett almost murdered. That's enough for a lifetime, right?
But no – there is so much more. His long-lost father, who he has never met, reappears out of the blue, and within hours makes him an accessory to a murder. Days later he is in jail, only to be quickly transferred to a federal facility, while his reputation lies in tatters. He has learned tonight that a number of outlets have stopped carrying his books, even with his partial exoneration. But let's not stop there.
As if all of this is not enough – he gets shot. Long-range, sniper-style shot. And even though he knew it was coming, it still hurt like hell. It still scared the hell out of him. And then one of the most beautiful, exotic women he has ever laid eyes on climbs on top of him. Normally that's good news, right? He's a warm-blooded man, a gorgeous woman crawls on top of you – that's good news.
But not so fast – she climbs on top of him, whispers encouragement in his ear and then stuffs a pillow over his face. He's knows it's not real, but hell, it sure feels real. The stitches that pop open are real. He sure is struggling to breathe, that was real. Then he hears gun-shots, and the pressure on his chest disappears as he hears an explosion.
Really? An explosion. Less than eight feet from him. He catches a glimpse of a lithe figure diving through the broken window, as he struggles not to die from a freaking heart attack.
And yet – even this is not enough. A friend he thought long dead is not dead. And the exotic woman who has shot him, smothered him, all the while protecting him? She turns out to be the sister he never knew he had.
Half-sister, step-sister, he considers it pointless. All he knows is that a week ago he was a fatherless, only child. Now, it turns out, he has two parents and a sibling.
And the woman he loves . . . loved . . . hell, he no longer knows how he feels . . . this woman seems to be creeping back into his life. He wants this very much, and he wants it not at all.
Yeah, he's a mess right now. That's how Elena Markov finds her step-brother as she enters into his bedroom. He's trying to make sense of the senseless right now. She knows the feeling. She has lived the feeling.
That's why she feels horrible – literally – for what she is about to do. She held no remorse over killing Roy Montgomery. He is the type of man she feels she was born to take out of this world. There are some people whose walk on this planet must be cut short. And she is one fated to accomplish that task. She accepts this without hesitation.
She felt some form of sympathy for Kate Beckett moments ago. She knows that was a tough message to receive. But the remorse she feels right now, knowing that she is dropping yet even heavier boulders onto the battered psyche of a man she has grown to respect greatly – yeah, she hates this.
It is a strange feeling for Elena. She reflects on this new and strange feeling, this new response from herself. She likes it. She finds it somehow . . . humanizing. Much of her life has been far from that.
"Uh, Elena . . . is there a reason you are in a towel?"
"I just got out of the shower," she deadpans.
He stares at her for a moment, and the stress, the unbearable weight of these weeks finally breaks him. He steps back, and sits on the foot of his large, king-sized bed and puts his head in his hands in laughter. Uncontrollable laughter. It is loud, and long.
Elena recognizes the emotional release playing out in front of her, and allows it to unfold. She has been here, too. She knows that he needs this. He's going to need it even more in a few minutes.
She sits beside him on the bed, towel tightly wrapped around her, her legs crossed. His laughter is infectious, contagious. She finds herself smiling broadly. Hunt told her – warned her, actually – that she would probably like her 'brother'. He was clearly understating the issue.
"Feel better?" she asks, as his laughter finally dies down. His head remains in his hands for a brief instant, and then he turns his head to face the assassin.
"I have no idea what that was," he admits.
"A necessary release," she tells him. He simply nods his head, then stands and walks to his closet, retrieving a light blue dress shirt.
"Here," he tells her. I have a feeling things are about to get worse, and I need you dressed," he half jokes, but she can see the seriousness in his eyes. He's no fool. He knows she is here for a reason.
She stands, and out of very uncharacteristic modesty, turns her body away from him as she lets the towel drop to the floor. He recognizes this as her version of being modest, and it almost brings another fit of laughter until his eyes wander downward, catching and staying on the perfect slope of her bare hips. Her nakedness is all too brief. His dress shirt is on her too soon. No, not soon enough.
"She's my sister," he tells himself. "She's my sister."
"Not by blood," another voice inside him counters.
"Doesn't matter," his inner voice tells him. "You've always wanted a sister."
She turns to face him, and is amused at the struggle she sees warring inside Richard Castle. Amused and . . . is this embarrassment she feels?
She walks slowly back to him, and picks up the phone she left on his bed a few seconds ago. She sits next to him again, crossing her legs.
"I don't know if that made it better or worse," he says under his breath, and is alarmed to realize his inner monologue was not so quiet. She simply smiles, and touches his knee and allows her head to drop against his shoulder. It is a display of affection that catches both Castle and his new-found sister off guard. It is brief, however, as she lifts her head and brings his attention to her phone.
"Richard," she begins. "I am truly sorry for this. I know that much has happened to you in the past month. It is grossly unfair. But I want you to hear this from me, and no one else."
She touches the black and orange icon once again, and hits PLAY once again. Castle sits motionless next to her as he recognizes the voice of Senator William Bracken.
"Hello, my friend. It is always good to hear from you. Where are you?"
"Leaving the Hamptons."
Elena feels him stiffen next to her. She knows the fierce battle waging inside his head, inside his heart at this moment. Her brother has experienced a number of betrayals. She knows this one cuts deep.
"The Hamptons? Does that mean what I think it means?"
"Yeah, it does. They know about me. I had to come out. Hey, we knew this wouldn't last forever. And I think Castle is closing in on the bigger truth."
Castle simply listens to the conversation between a man he just celebrated returning to his life, and a man he would truly not mind winding up dead. Elena glances down at the whitening knuckles on both of his hands, and reaches out with her free left hand to touch his right hand. Immediately he gobbles her smaller hand up in his larger hand. She hears the groan – the almost whimper – in the back of his throat.
"How so?"
"Well, he knows he didn't do anything to cause you to change the deal, and I suspect that any day now he's going to figure out that Beckett didn't do anything either. She's got to be racking her mind right about now, trying to figure out what she did that left bread crumbs for you to follow. She'll figure out that she did nothing."
"Turn it off," he tells her, his voice breaking, preparing to stand, as he releases her hand.
"No," she says simply, but with force. With equal force she tightens her grip on his hand.
"That leaves you."
"That leaves me."
"Well, then you're right. Look, you kept her off my ass for years, Roy, so I have to thank you for that."
"Turn it off," he repeats, this time his voice cracks, and she hears the silent sob that threatens to overtake him. Yeah, it just gets worse and worse, and worse.
"No," she repeats again.
She will have him hear this, and hear this now, while she is here. Of all the people in his life right now, save his daughter, she is the only person who has given him no reason for distrust. She has watched him in these past days, and she sees the continual betrayal that he lives with. From the detective. From the captain. From his own father who didn't completely level with him.
She will not be added to that list.
"Well, it worked out well for both of us, sir. Over the last couple of years, we've been able to get rid of Coonan, Raglan, Lockwood . . ."
"God, Elena," he now half sobs. "Please . . ."
"Shhh," she tells him. "It is almost finished."
"Everyone who could ever lead back to us. Just as you said. Your best was Lockwood. He never suspected a thing, did he?"
"Not a thing. I enjoyed watching the life flow out of that bastard's eyes
"As I recall, he was literally on top of you when you put him down."
Elena touches the STOP icon, terminating the recording.
"That's enough," she thinks to herself.
She tosses the phone to her right, on the large comforter covering the bed. She then turns to face her brother. She remains sitting, but now her left leg is pulled under her hip. She watches the battle rage inside him, as he blinks back tears. He does not want to cry in front of this woman. No matter that she is his sister . . . sort of. He fights to control his emotions. It is a battle he is losing.
"There is no shame, brother," she tells him softly. "I would never think less of you."
Somehow, her words are enough, as a single tear falls down his cheek, then another, and another. And then it stops. Suddenly, as quickly as it began, it is over. She nods her head, admiring how quickly he has come to grips with this latest sledgehammer to the heart.
"There was no way to sugar coat this," she says softly, and he simply nods his head. His eyes stare at the door ahead, staring through the door if that were possible.
"I am learning to expect the worst," he says just as softly. "Every time I see you, something awful seems to accompany you."
She knows he does not mean to hurt her, but she knows he speaks the truth. She has shot him, half smothered him. Now she has told him that an old friend was nothing more than a deceiving liar. His words hurt her more than she anticipated. Yet, he still gives her a bridge.
"I'd like that to stop, someday," he tells her. "I would love to just sit down with an amazing woman who happens to be my sister of sorts, and just have a normal day."
"I would like that, too, Richard," she admits, and half smiles at the warm feeling this gives her. This, too is brief, as she knows she is not yet finished with this disclosure.
"This will kill Kate," Castle muses aloud, his head back in his hands.
"No. It did not kill the detective," Elena tells him. "I cannot say the same for her mentor."
Richard Castle simply stares at the woman for a few seconds before nodding his head. He half smiles, letting a small grunt of approval escape. This vengeful response on his part surprises him.
"I thought I knew these people, Elena," he says, his voice barely audible. "Turns out I don't know them at all."
She knows the thoughts going through his head now. She hopes that she is not a part of the disgust she knows he feels.
"I told Beckett that I loved her. Almost a year ago," he tells her. "Yeah, it was the world's worst timing. She's lying on the ground dying. I could have picked a better moment. But she ignored it. Told me she didn't remember. Then gives me some bullshit talk on the swings that gives me hope, that sucks me back in."
He shakes his head as he remembers the conversation with Kate at the swings.
"If that's not bad enough, I find out that a man I had grown to respect pulls a Lazarus on us, only doesn't tell us. Tells Kate though, and she keeps that from me also. He keeps it from me. And all the time, he's in the back pocket of the man we needed to take down. All that time, he knew who he was, and let us go running around chasing our tails."
She can feel the anger rising in him. She considers helping him squash it, but then changes her mind. If he must explode, then she will be there when he does, to put him back together.
"And the worst . . . worse than all of it. My father steps back into my life, telling me about a mutual enemy, about a man who is trying to kill me, kill my daughter, kill my friends . . . my father tells me we are in this together to take him down . . . and yet all the while, he is propping him up. All the while, his actual goal is to put the man in the White House."
She waits for it . . . waits for it. She is not disappointed.
"Son of a bitch!" he screams suddenly, standing and now pacing in front of her. Back and forth, back and forth.
"It is unfortunate," Elena agrees. "Believe me, I warned him against telling you a half truth."
"Seems like I am getting a lot of those," Castle laments, still pacing.
"From me, you do not," Elena tells him. He stops walking, and stares at her for a moment, considering her words. "I will never lie to you, Richard. No matter how distasteful the truth may be, I will always give you that truth."
He walks to her, holding his hand out. She takes it and he pulls her up, off the bed, and into his arms. He wraps his arms around her, and she finds herself strangely comfortable inside his embrace. She feels no sexual tension, no physical longing from him. She feels . . . she cannot place it, but it is something she enjoys. A strange kinship is forming, she realizes this. She embraces it.
"So what now, sis," he half kids. "Roy is dead, Kate knows she's been made a fool of, as do I. And my father sits downstairs with his overall goal to protect a man I would love to see dead . . . or at least behind bars. And then there's you."
She pulls out of the embrace, and stares up at his eyes.
"What about me?" she asks, now for the first time unsure of what may be going through the writer's mind.
"I just met you, Elena," he says softly. "I won't lie, I find you to be an amazing woman. I know I should have a problem with what you do, with who you are. Hell, I should have a problem with you for shooting me," he chuckles. She does not.
"But I don't have a problem. The only problem I have right now is that you're going to leave," he tells her. "I know you will. My father down there will leave, you will leave with him. You've thrown a hand grenade into my life and watched it explode. And I will be left to pick up the pieces while you and our dear old dad go off on your next merry mission."
"This bothers you?" she asks.
"Your damn right it bothers me," he replies, angrily. "I'm getting pretty tired of people stepping into my life, fucking it up nicely, and then stepping back out and going off to –"
"I am not leaving you, my brother."
"Elena," he begins, but she interrupts again.
"What our father downstairs does is his choice, and I admit you are likely accurate on his intentions. But do not presume to understand or predict what I will do."
"Why, Elena?" he asks, now exasperated. "Why would you stay? What would possess you to –"
"William Bracken may be elected the next President of this country, Richard," Elena interrupts again, and she moves back to the edge of the bed, and sits.
"Then again, he may not win your election. If he does not, then there are those who will hold the detective responsible. And by extension, they will hold you responsible."
"Me?" he asks incredulously. "Why me? And why Kate?"
"Because they believe her to be his Achilles Heel," Elena responds. "I have been close to him. I know the Senator. He respects the detective. Yes, he has tried to kill her, but he has also passed up numerous opportunities to do so. She is the dark spot that his handlers wonder about, worry about. She will always be on their radar. As will you."
He considers her words, and before he can speak, she drops the final nail.
"As will Alexis. As will Martha."
Castle lets out a lengthy sigh as he walks to the bed and sits again, but this time on the floor at the foot of his bed, next to the woman who sits on the bed. His legs are drawn up close to his chest, and his arms rest on his knees.
"You would stay . . . you would stay to –"
"Protect you?" she finishes for him. "Yes. To protect you. And Alexis."
"And my mother?" he asks, noting the omission.
"If you insist," Elena says after a pause, and it draws a chuckle from the man at her feet, and then a couple of laughs. She joins in – they both need the release.
"But I'm sure you have . . . assignments, don't you?"
"I respect our father, Richard. I do his bidding, yes. But I am beholden to no man," she tells him, and he recognizes the warning tone. "No man. Ever."
"I understand," he tells her, without glancing up at her. "And thank you."
"For what?" she asks.
"For telling me. About Roy," he says, still not looking her way. "For telling me now. Tonight. Instead of 'sparing' me, or waiting until the right time, or any other bullshit reason people normally give me."
"I told you, Richard," she reminds him. "You will only hear the truth from my lips. I am a killer, yes. I have done horrible things. But I will not lie to you."
"Thank you."
The two are silent for a moment, and Castle notices the two long legs next to him suddenly cross at the ankles. He is struck again, tonight, realizing that this dangerous woman has her soft moments. Realizing that this dangerous woman is – by her own choice – inserting herself into his life as a family member. His musings are cut short, however, by a sudden realization.
"Elena?" he asks, turning upwards to face her. She meets his eyes with her own.
"Bracken was working with Roy all this time?"
"Yes," she replies. She wondered when he would put this together and walk down this road. She has promised not to lie to him.
"And Roy held Kate Beckett at bay all those years. All those years he knew Bracken, and evidently he was working with or for Bracken."
"Correct again," she replies again.
"So I understand the ruse to kill Roy. That literally allowed him to more easily manipulate Kate."
"Yes," comes the reply above him.
"So . . . what I don't understand . . . why did Bracken have Kate shot? Why try to kill her? If he has Roy keeping her in check for over ten years, and now they fake Roy's death . . . why shoot Kate? She's no danger to them anymore, and they are –"
The loud knocking at the door startles both brother and sister.
"Who is it?" Castle asks, frustrated at the interruption.
"It's me, Richard," answers Jackson Hunt from the other side of the door. Castle stands, but notices that his sister has moved faster, retrieving her phone and walking toward the bedroom door.
"We will continue this, brother," she says, then opens the door.
"Hello, father," she says by way of greeting. "I was just leaving."