The Long Game: Chapter 27
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.
Richard Castle's Hamptons Home, around 8:30 p.m., Thursday evening, March 22, 2012
Richard Castle stands, his hands in his pockets, as his recently discovered father enters the bedroom while his even more recently found sister departs. Jackson Hunt shuts the door, indicating this is going to be a private conversation.
"I hope you don't have more good news," Castle says with a glance at the closed door, "because I've had all the good news I can take for now."
"Well, in that case, you will be glad to know that I am leaving then," his father responds with his now trademark smirk. Richard Castle is not surprised, nor is he exactly torn up about this news. His father confirms his reasoning seconds later.
"My primary objective for this visit has been achieved, son," Hunt confirms. "Senator Bracken was making a move against you, and against your friend downstairs, and potentially your family. My family. Because of our joint endeavor the Senator has . . . reconsidered . . . and cancelled his plans against you. More, he has lost his top assassin and his secret ally, who he considered his ace in the hole. He doesn't have time to regroup or reload because he has a campaign to run, an election to win. Plus, he now fully understands that you and your family and friends are under the protection of 'the Stone'.
Castle simply nods at his father's categorization of recent events. However, his father has left out what Castle considers to be one major point.
"And it doesn't hurt that all of this occurs without dampening your Senator's campaign efforts," Castle responds somewhat disgustedly. "Let's not forget your real primary objective. Getting that murderer into the White House. In fact he seems in better position tonight than ever before, thanks to – what did you call it? Our joint endeavor."
"Very true," Hunt smiles in response, ignoring his son's sarcasm.
"Really would have appreciated you telling me your real plans for Bracken from the very beginning," Castle comments. "A little honesty in my life would have been nice. What, did you think I couldn't take it? I wouldn't play ball?"
"Richard. Don't take this personally," Hunt counters. "It was simply a need to know situation. This is how my life works. There are only pieces that I can share with anyone – even family. That's why I never came around until now. But I have always been close by."
"I allowed myself to be shot, for crying out loud," Castle counters back. "Don't you think that gave me the right to know?"
"You're not listening, son" Hunt disagrees, his brow furrowed. "You may have had a right to now, but you didn't have a need to know."
The two men are silent for a few seconds, letting the eye of the storm pass overhead. Castle finally breaks the impasse.
"I don't think I like your life very much," the son tells the father. "I admit, I was fascinated at first, and thrilled to finally meet my father. To meet you. And I have no regrets –"
"Nor do I," his father interrupts.
"But your life is not for me," Castle continues, undeterred. "And it is not for my daughter, either, even though I know she is just as fascinated and intrigued as I was."
"What Alexis does is ultimately her decision, Richard," his father says, his tone slightly warning him in advance. It makes the novelist wonder exactly what kind of conversations his father has been having with his daughter.
"No, it is not," Castle argues. "Not yet. And not while I have a breath in me. That is, unless you are willing to put a bullet in me, too."
"Technically, I already have," his father says, smiling, still trying to defuse the situation with a bit of dark humor.
Another few seconds of strained silence follows. Suddenly, Castle wants nothing more than for this man to be out of his house and away from his family. His is a world of deceit, of betrayal, and those are the better things he can think of.
"I don't want to argue," Castle tells him. "I'm glad you came here. I'm grateful for . . . well, for most of it. And it's been a revelation in so many ways," he continues, almost smiling at the understatement. "I've learned some hard truths. But I am glad for them. I'm not going to live in the dark anymore."
"Well, I believe that is a discussion you need to have with a certain detective," Hunt says.
"I plan on it, count on it," Castle says almost to himself.
"Good," Hunt replies. "Then my second objective has been achieved as well."
"Your second objective?" Castle questions, his eyebrows raised.
"You and the detective," Hunt answers. "Right about now I would dare say that there are no more secrets between you and Detective Beckett. Where the two of you decide to take that is up to you."
Castle considers this for a moment, and reluctantly nods his head in agreement. There is much that he withheld from Kate Beckett, and even more – it turns out – that the detective had been withholding from him. He knows in his heart of hearts that he still loves her. The only thing he knows with more certainty is that he doesn't trust her. It's a horrible fork in the road, he realizes. He also knows that he, too, has been less than honest with her. For the past half hour, before Elena walked into his bedroom, he had been pondering what Kate Beckett and Richard Castle could mean to one another. The physical attraction is there, no doubt. But is there more? He has to ask the question because the sheer volume of dishonesty on the part of both of them – he and Kate – is staggering in its depth. His mind was taken back to a lesson he had studied – and should have learned - from long, long ago.
'Love is patient and kind. It isn't jealous or boastful or proud, or rude. It doesn't demand its own way, and it isn't irritable. It keeps no record of being wronged. It doesn't enjoy injustice, but instead, celebrates whenever the truth wins out.'
That last part – celebrating truth - was as far as he got before asking himself if he and Kate really love each other. He had to ask, because so far, their history doesn't sound like love. Lust, oh yeah. Fun, you bet. Entertainment, without a doubt.
Those were the thoughts rampaging through his mind when his sister knocked on the door and dropped yet another revelation. All it took was for Jackson Hunt merely to mention Kate's name, and the avalanche of thoughts and doubts and emotions return.
Yeah, he needs to talk to the detective, all right. But for now – he needs to get his father out of his house, out of his life – at least for now. After all, there is only so much one man can take.
"When are you leaving?" Castle asks, putting such thoughts out of mind, for now, at least.
"Tonight," Jackson Hunt responds. "I will be out of country for a bit."
"Where are you going?"
"Richard, the less you know about anything about me, the better. You have to believe that."
Believe it he does. In fact, Castle has had enough of all of this cloak and dagger stuff, which he has just decided is markedly more enjoyable when read from the relative safety of a good book, or viewed with popcorn, junior mints and a cherry Slurpee.
"C'mon," he tells his father as he begins to walk toward the bedroom door. "I will help you say goodbye to Alexis and Martha."
"Already did, son," Hunt replies, smiling.
"Oh, so this is goodbye right this moment," Castle realizes.
"This is goodbye," Hunt confirms, with a small smile on his face.
Castle pauses for another few seconds, staring at the man who – despite the intimacy and intensity of the past two weeks – is still a complete stranger to him.
"Okay," Castle decides, "Thanks for . . . for doing what you do, I guess."
Jackson Hunt simply smirks, recognizing his son's unusual and momentary loss of words.
"I will be around, Richard," he tells his son.
Castle grudgingly gives the older man a hug. He is his father, after all. And at least a few big questions in the novelist's life have now been answered.
Who is my father?
What is he like?
Am I anything like him?
Is there a place for him in my life?
Is there a place for me in his life?
Castle watches as the older man takes his leave, walking out of the room. He hears him walking down the stairs, and then takes a few steps back to the foot of his bed and sits on the bed. He runs his hands through his hair, recounting the past couple of weeks in flashes that pass before him. He glances around his bedroom – his sanctuary – as is the entire beach home now that his loft in the city has been reduced to rubble.
Minutes later, Richard Castle walks downstairs, finding only Alexis and Martha and Kate Beckett sitting in the family room. Martha seems her cheerful self. He smiles. Leave it to his mother to roll with virtually any ball life throws her way.
His daughter, however, is decidedly less cheerful. He knows that Alexis has been growing closer to her grandfather. She has been growing fond of the man with each passing day. And he knows the somewhat relative peace his father has returned to the young girl's life with the . . . handling of one Scott Dunn.
There is, however, no sign of his sister. Despite her promises of sticking around, she, too, has taken her leave.
"No matter," Castle thinks to himself, now very accustomed to people being less than truthful with him. Clearly she has left with their father. Well, he shouldn't be surprised. They are the same, the two of them. Assassins living in a cloak and dagger world where yes mean maybe and no means possibly – a world where those definitions are perfectly comfortable.
Castle notices that Kate has both of Alexis' hands inside hers, and the two are conversely softly. He cannot make out what they are saying, but the scene in front of him is striking. Knowing what Elena just shared with both he and Kate less than half an hour ago, he is pleasantly surprised – no, scratch that – he is flat-out stunned that Kate isn't wallowing in self-pity in a corner somewhere. In fact, if he is honest with himself, if she was drowning herself in her misery, he wouldn't have blamed her in the least. This most recent revelation has – he has decided – got to be the biggest gut shot for Kate Beckett since her mother's murder. It probably exceeds her own shooting for the sheer shock value of betrayal.
"Which I didn't get an answer for," he realizes, knowing that with both Jackson Hunt and Elena Markov gone, he may never find out why Kate Beckett was shot in the first place. He mentally wipes the frown off his face, as he sits with Kate and his daughter. Knowing the battle that must be raging in her head, he can't help but be surprised to see the detective trying to comfort his daughter, knowing the newfound tragedy she is dealing with herself.
"Are we okay?" he asks the three women sitting in front of him as he walks into the family room.
"Yeah, Dad, I'm okay," Alexis answers, and nothing on her face tells him any different. He wonders if the relief is visible on his own face.
"We're good, Castle," Kate tells him.
"All good, Richard," Martha responds. "But how about you? How are you?"
"Tired," he replies, suddenly aware of the weight of the past month that bludgeons his shoulders, pushing downward. In this instant, all of his energy seems to leak out in large gallons, and he finds his legs giving out as he plops on the loveseat across from the women.
"But hey - I'm out of jail, and I'm out of the hospital," he jokes, rubbing his forehead. "Never thought I would gauge happiness on such simple scenarios, but . . ."
He lets the thought hang in the universe, as the women consider his statement – and his state of mind. All three recognize the stress that he has been under, and each knows him well enough to recognize his coping mechanisms.
"Well, life is interesting," Kate muses, her face flat, devoid of emotion.
"That it is," Castle agrees.
For his part, Castle recognizes that she's been through the ringer, too. And while he has his mother and daughter there with him – for him – it strikes him that, outside of her father, Kate Beckett is alone. And whether by her choice or his, Jim Beckett seems to pick and choose his moments for inclusion into his daughter's life. Meanwhile, the man who mentored her, who she trusted, apparently, more than any other human being, turned out to the biggest betrayal of her life. He wonders how she will recover from this; if she will recover from this. Esposito and Ryan can't be of much help, because they would be beyond pissed to find out what she hid from them. Lanie, too. It's Kate's own fault, she made this rodent-infested bed of hers, but he still sympathizes with her. He still cares for her.
The knock at the door startles everyone, and, given the past couple of weeks, not one of the four is anxious to see what new adventure awaits on the other side of the door.
"Shit," Castle says, standing up and walking toward the door. "What now?"
"Richard!", Martha exclaims, not approving of or appreciating the language used around her granddaughter.
"He said it before I could," Kate thinks to herself as she watches Castle open the door. To the surprise of everyone – save Martha – Elena Markov walks in.
"Elena," Castle welcomes her with a surprised smile. "I thought you . . ."
"You thought what?" she replies, a look of interest on her face as he struggles for words. He immediately feels guilty. He realizes that this woman has given him no reason not to trust her, not to take her at her word.
"Nothing," he replies. "I'm just glad to see you."
Elena merely smiles. If she doesn't believe him, she chooses not to press the issue. She nods her head at Kate Beckett as she walks toward the family room.
"Detective," she greets Kate.
"Please, it's Kate. Or Beckett. Whatever you prefer," Kate tells her.
"Perhaps someday, Detective," Elena smiles in reply.
"What are you still doing here?" Alexis asks, her surprise evident, then quickly adds, "Not that I don't want you here. I just thought you had left us."
"I am staying for . . . a while," Elena acknowledges to the room.
Kate stands, stunned at the news. She figured – logically – that when Hunt left, his assassin, his daughter, would leave with him. It never occurred to her that Elena would ever even consider staying with her brother. Clearly this worries her, because the woman is a dangerous assassin who kills people for a living. Why would she be staying? Shouldn't the danger to all of them be over now?
"Why?" Kate asks, her surprise not hidden in the least. "I mean, I know it is none of my business –"
"Yet you still ask," Elena interrupts, smiling that fearful smile that disarms Kate instantly. The smile softens as Castle intervenes.
"I just think Kate is surprised, that's all," he says, "as was I upstairs when you told me you were sticking around."
Kate is grateful that Castle takes up for her, as right now she doesn't know who to trust. It's a horrible place for her to be, and she – like Castle earlier – understands that this bed was bought, made and slept in by her, by her own choice.
For almost a year.
"My brother and my . . . my niece have need of me," Elena says simply, glancing at Alexis as she speaks.
"Much has happened in their lives these past weeks. I mean to assist them as they recover," she continues. "Besides, I am to blame for many of Richard's current pains – at least the physical ones, that is."
She glances at Kate Beckett as she says these final words. Kate recognizes the shot leveled at her feet, yet surprises each and every person in the room with her response.
"I accept that," she says softly. "Not sure how I can make up for my part in all of this."
"You can begin by not running," Elena tells her evenly. "Running has not served you well in the past. Perhaps now is the time to stand firm. Detective, we all must decide when and where we – once and for all - plant ourselves, make a stand for ourselves and those we claim to care for."
Elena's words cause Kate to rewind just a few days, when Castle was still recovering in the hospital, his hand holding hers, telling her to stop running. Castle, for his part, gives his neck a work-out, swiveling back and forth between the two women during their exchange. Two women who talk as though he were invisible.
"They do see me, don't they?" he muses to himself.
"It's not always that easy not to run," Kate tells her, just as evenly, just as fiercely. Finally, she gives the assassin a glimpse of the resolve that Castle so admires. "Sometimes a retreat is the smarter path, wouldn't you agree."
"True, Detective," Elena smiles, and Kate notices that the woman seems to be making an effort to keep any menace out of her voice. "But a retreat insinuates there will be an eventual re-convening, a subsequent re-engagement. Stepping back to assess and regroup is a retreat. Stepping back to never engage again is a surrender. I sense the latter has been more appropriate in your case."
Kate considers her words for a moment, and begins to speak when Elena cuts her off.
"But no matter. The question was not why are you staying around. The question is why am I staying around. I stay because I see no reason to retreat at the moment . . . and let us just agree that surrender is not in my nature."
Castle cannot contain the audible smirk that leaves his mouth at her declaration. No, he has no doubt that surrender is not in this woman's vocabulary.
"However," Elena continues, "my position remains – today might be a good day for you to change the course of your river, Detective. Food for thought, yes?"
Castle is – once again today – surprised to see Kate Beckett simply nod her head at this woman who has entered his life. He idly wonders if the detective is capable of a different response. He has known her for four years, and nothing in her make-up screams the ability to change like this.
Elena suddenly steps forward. She reaches upward and places a soft kiss on Richard Castle's cheek.
"I am welcome to stay, yes?" she asks, and it somewhat startles him that she would ask. He's not used to someone not just barging in, making assumptions. His own mother comes to mind.
"Yes, you are," he smiles. "Honestly, I'm looking forward to getting to know the baby sister I never had."
"Baby sister?" she smiles, allowing a bit of the menace to leak through. She then laughs at his response. "I am . . . what is the word . . . kidding with you."
She turns and walks toward Alexis, motioning the younger woman to stand. "With me, little one," Elena tells her, walking toward the back door leading to the beach. "It is late, but it is dark. Perfect for your first lesson."
"Lesson?" both Castle and Kate exclaim, highly concerned to say the least, about Elena Markov's intentions with the young woman. Elena turns and stands firm at the door, with Alexis in tow.
"I said that I intend to assist my brother as he recovers, and my intention is the same with his daughter. Her first lesson begins this very evening," Elena tells them evenly, as she holds the hand of the young red-head.
"Believe me, young one," she continues, "I mean to change you, to develop you so that no one – man or woman – abuses you again. Allow me to teach you, yes?"
"Yes!" Alexis almost screams, happily and with great relief, while Richard Castle fights the internal battle going on inside him. Alexis has been seeing a therapist, she has her father, her grandmother. Perhaps all of this really isn't enough for what the young girl went through. None of them know the horrors that Dunn put her through. She doesn't speak – at least to Castle or Martha – about such things. But it is clear that an intense fear has taken ahold of his daughter. A fear that is matched only by an equally intense anger. Castle knows, now from first-hand experience, how a single match can cause an explosion with this mix.
Perhaps this – more than protecting or helping him – is the better reason for Elena to stay after all. Elena finally makes up his mind for him.
Elena opens the door and points Alexis outside. The young woman-in-training gives her dad a single questioning glance. After a few seconds, he simply nods his head with a small smile. The smile that radiates off from Alexis' face tells him he has made the right decision, albeit a reluctant one.
"Know this, Richard," Elena says firmly. "Your father wished very much for Alexis to accompany him. She is a couple of years older than I was when he took me in. I informed him that I – not he – am much better suited to guide her, to teach her. Know, too, that this was not a decision he readily accepted."
The words – not intended as a threat – are clear to Castle, and to Kate, who stands next to him now, watching the scene unfold. Jackson Hunt's intentions were to take the young girl with him. Much as he molded a physically abused and confused young girl decades ago, he meant to repeat history with Alexis. And Castle has his new-found sister here to thank that this did not occur. His 'pumpkin' remains in his house, with him, because of the direct intervention of Elena Markov, who evidently would not allow her father, her mentor, to take in the young woman.
"She can become much like me, Richard," Elena continues, "yet not like me." With those words, she is gone, the screen door closes, and he watches two shadowing forms retreat from the house out towards the beach.
He stares for a few more seconds, until the deafening silence in the room can hold no more. He glances at Martha, now in the kitchen putting away a few glasses.
"Did you know?" he asks her.
"I suspected," she replies with a wistful smile. "When Elena left with your father a while ago, while you were still upstairs, it was . . . let's just say it was a bit of a tense moment. She literally dragged him out of the house by his arm. It was clear which of them was in control, and it was equally clear that they were not of the same mind. I assumed it was Alexis that was the point of contention between them."
"Dad would have . . . would he really have taken Alexis? Without asking? Without warning?" Castle asks, incredulously. Kate finds her hand touching his arm, in support, as she realizes yet another battle that has been avoided – one that this man next to her would certainly have lost. She shudders to think how Castle would respond to a life without his daughter in it.
"I believe, Richard," Martha replies, "that in his mind, in his world, your father would say that he has probably given you plenty of notice, probably told you his intentions."
"But –"
"Even though he may not have spoken the actual words," Martha continues, interrupting, "he believes his intentions to you were clear."
"Oh they were clear enough," Castle muses aloud, now fully comprehended some of the innuendo and hints his father had dropped about the young girl over the past week or so. He finds himself even happier that the man is gone now. And he finds himself more indebted to the strange, exotic woman that is now out on the beach, sitting in the sand next to his daughter, their arms outstretched horizontally.
"C'mon," Kate tells him, pulling him away from his thoughts. "Where are your car keys? I will drive."
"What? Where are we going?" he asks.
"Out. Away from here for a while. It's barely 9'o'clock. There's got to be a bar opened somewhere out here."
"We have plenty of drinks here in the –"
"Richard," Martha interrupts, forcefully. "Go! Now."
"But what about you? What about Alexis?" he counters, now suddenly unsure of himself, unsure of what to do if alone with the dark-haired woman who waits for him at his front door.
Martha begins to laugh as she takes in her son's discomfort. "Oh Richard, Alexis is probably the safest human being on the planet right now," she laughs, throwing her head towards the back door. "And I am tired and headed to bed."
Castle glances incredulously at his watch. Martha Rodgers in bed before 9 o'clock? He starts to say something, but thinks better of it.
"I would keep those thoughts to yourself, Richard," she warns him, as she turns out the kitchen light, and grabs a final glass, a nightcap, and heads toward the stairs.
"Call a cab to bring you home if it gets out of hand, Katherine," the matriarch tells the younger woman. Kate simply nods her head, gratefully.
Resigned, Castle grabs the keys from the kitchen island and walks toward the front door, tossing the keys underhanded to Kate, who catches him in one motion. She opens the door and walks out, with Castle following closely behind. Half a minute later, they are in sports car, pulling away.
"You just wanted to drive my car," he muses softly after a minute of silence.
"You see right through me," she smiles back.
"Actually, I don't think that I know you at all anymore, Beckett," he says just as softly. It's not an antagonistic statement, she recognizes this. He's not trying to start an argument. It's simply a statement of fact.
"That makes two of us, Castle," she replies so softly he can barely hear her. "I'm not sure who I am anymore either."
"And we're going to find that out tonight?" he wonders aloud.
"No," she comments. "But we can at least take a first step." She glances sideways at him as she drives, noting the questions painted across his features.
"Castle, have you and I ever just gone out for drinks, no agenda, no case to debrief, no cause to be celebrated. Just two people wanting to spend time with each other?"
He stares at her, wondering just who in the hell this woman is driving his car. It is not the Kate Beckett he has known, and immediately it strikes him. Perhaps this is not the old Kate Beckett. Perhaps something is changing inside her. Her life has changed massively in the past week. He knows first-hand what this is like. He knows that he is not the same Richard Castle that he was a month ago. His life has changed. He is changing. Why not her? She interrupts his thoughts with a final statement, the night wind blowing her hair back.
"I don't know where to go, Rick," she begins, her eyes focused on the road ahead. "I don't know what to do. I don't even know for sure who I am anymore. And I know that I have myself to blame for so much of this. I have no choice but to . . . I have to . . ."
"What, Kate?" he asks, glancing at the woman who is very deep in thought at the moment.
"Wherever I go, whatever I do . . . tonight, right now, is the first moment of that journey. I'd like you to be there for that first step," she says softly, risking a glance over at her passenger. "I'd just like to sit somewhere and . . . and . . . hell, I don't know anymore, Castle."
"Start over?" he says, now staring through the windshield ahead.
"Is that even possible?" she asks.
"Under normal conditions, I would say I doubt it," he admits, offering a glance her way again.
"And this is how you define normal conditions?" she laughs disgustedly, turning the blinker on as she prepares to make a right turn into the small bar and grill.
"Point taken," he acknowledges with a small smile. "Definitely not normal conditions these past weeks."
"How about a year's worth," she counters, and he can only nod his head in understanding. She brings the car to a stop, and he opens the door and pulls his large frame out. He glances over at her, and she is already out of the car.
"I guess I should have asked if this place is okay," she offers.
"This is fine," he nods. "You will like it."
He walks toward her and she joins him as they walk from the parking lot toward the front door of the local establishment. She isn't up for seafood right now, not after dinner. But a drink or two would be nice. With good company. They are quiet as they enter, and opt for a booth along the window instead of a spot at the bar. Minutes later, a glass of moscato and a tumbler of Malibu on the rocks sit in front of them. He glances across the table at her as she raises her glass.
"New beginnings?" she offers.
"New beginnings," he agrees, and takes a long drag from the clear liquid, chewing on a single cube of ice.
"I know I could use it," she says between sips on her drink.
"As could I, Beckett," he agrees, as he sits back, exhaling, allowing a bit more of the stress from the past month to seep away.
"Kate," she says suddenly, with a hopeful smile. "My name is Kate."
A/N: So, this ends this particular story in this AU. I hope these first two stories (Magic, and The Long Game) have accomplished what I wanted: To re-set an AU where Castle and Kate both actually act like grown adults, realizing that both have withheld truths, where neither decides to descend into the child-like hell of arguing whose lie/omission was worse. And finally, an AU that gives us a very different world that included a far more sinister Ray Montgomery, a Jackson Hunt who seems supportive on the surface, but beneath the surface harbors both professional and personal intentions that are in conflict with his son. And finally, (at least in my humble opinion) a much more interesting Elena Markov and Sheila Elizabeth Bracken, two women who I continue to believe could have been so much more interesting and useful in canon. Two women we will see a lot more of in this AU.
The next story in this AU will deal primarily with Richard Castle, and how he comes back from the betrayal he feels from his father, from the woman he loves, and just the physical (and, as he shall see,) emotional recovery from being shot. Something a certain detective might know something about, and be able to help with.
And, of course, there is Alexis, and the plans Castle's sister may or may not have for the young girl.
Thanks to all of you for staying with me in this story. I know many people read Castle fanfic purely for Caskett stories. Most (not all) of my storylines eventually get there, some sooner than others. But getting there in a way where both admit their mistakes, and actually stop making the same mistakes over and over is a goal of my stories. I realize it isn't everyone's cup of tea. So again, I offer a humble thank you to all who read my stories. I love the interaction we end up sharing You all know who you are.
I'll be moving my focus to Hunt the Hunter next, a Kate-oriented story in the Wonder AU, and a new story from the Season 6/Season 7 timeline. But I'll come back to this AU soon enough.