Chapter Six
"Alright, Ryan. Let me know when you have him in custody."
"Yes, Captain."
Hanging up the phone, she takes a deep breath. Perfect timing as always, Ryan. She still doesn't know how to answer Rick's question. How did he convince her? By sticking around, by pushing her, by burrowing in and being obnoxious.
But he doesn't. Not anymore. Clearly, that man is gone, and she hates how disappointed the truth of it makes her feel. Reconciling that Castle with this one is impossible, the differences harsh and striking, and she's unable to decide where they go from here.
"Everything okay?" he asks, drawing her attention away from her phone and out of the melancholy hole she's begun to fall into.
"Yeah, sorry. Just a big case and I asked my detectives to keep me informed of developments."
"Do you need to…"
He points his thumb toward the café's door, his eyebrows raised as he silently finishes the question, and she hesitates. Does she want to leave? Espo and Ryan are fine without her, but how long is she willing to sit here being reminded of what she's lost? Of what she didn't even have in the first place?
He's patient with her, his eyes kind and relaxed, and she chews on the inside of her cheek. Maybe it's time to let the other Castle go. Maybe it's time she remembers that that man didn't belong with her.
They've both finished their coffees, the sun is shining, the city peaceful, and she answers him with a shake of her head.
"Want to go for a walk?"
Rick drops his arm to his lap, surprise coating his face, but then he smiles and nods, and she curls her lips into a small grin. He may not be the same, but that doesn't mean he can't still be good for her. It's only a first date, after all.
They stroll along the city sidewalk, weaving in and out of the other pedestrian traffic in silence. He keeps glancing over at her, peeking to the side every minute or so, and she wonders what he's thinking, what he sees when he looks at her, if he's having a hard time accepting the reality of her after so many months of expectations. If he even had expectations in the first place.
"So tell me how you learned Russian?"
She stumbles at his question, grabbing his arm to steady herself as she looks up at him.
"Kate, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry. Just surprised me." Untangling herself from his grip, because somehow his right hand is tucked under her coat, sitting just above her hip, she takes a step forward, trying to ignore the phantom burn of his palm.
He catches up, falling into step beside her and she watches him from her peripheral. His hands are in fists by his sides, his eyes trained straight ahead, and they settle back into a matching pace.
"I did a semester in Kiev. Fell in love with the culture, the people. I read to keep the language and because Russian novels should always be read in Russian. The way they were intended to be read."
"Wow. Will you say something?"
Laughing, she looks over at him, happy to find that he's relaxed again, and the tension drains from her own shoulders.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Anything."
"Мне бы хотелось узнать о тебе побольше."
It takes her a second to realize he's no longer walking next to her, and she pauses, turning to see what's happened to him. He's about five feet back, frozen in place, with his mouth hanging open, and she has to laugh at him, at the ridiculous picture he makes.
"Come on, Castle. It's not that impressive."
Running to catch up, he laughs. "What are you talking about? You clearly have no idea how sexy that is. What does it mean?"
"Hmm. Maybe I'll tell you someday."
Ducking her head, she tries to hide her blush from him, and thankfully he seems to let it go. It's really not that amazing. Just another language in a sea of languages to learn, but she's proud of it. Of how much work it took to learn, how much work it's taken to hang on to. She's proud and she's glad to know that the benefits extend beyond her own pleasure.
"Wait. Did you just call me Castle?"
"Ha. I guess I did. Old habits die hard as they say."
"They do say that." His teeth flash through his grin. "Castle. No one's ever called me that before. Say it again."
She rolls her eyes at him, but indulges his request anyway. "Castle."
"Hmm. I like it. And that makes you Beckett. I like that too."
Beckett. It's a name she's gone by for too long, but the syllables are different when he says it, the gruff baritone of his voice cracking on the K and the pair of Ts. She shivers and the feel of his touch on her side flares again, making her feel unbalanced and restless.
Confused, she tries to shake it off and pay attention to their conversation. "Is there anything you don't like?"
He's quiet as he thinks, his eyebrows drawn together, seriously considering her question.
"Any boy that my daughter brings around."
"Of course. Must be a dad thing. Mine hasn't liked any of my boyfriends either."
He nods, contemplative and withdrawn. "I used to take great pleasure in hazing any potentials, but with Alexis living in California… Well, I just don't get the opportunity anymore."
She reaches over and grips his coat sleeve, halting their progress on the sidewalk and causing a collision with the couple behind them.
"Sorry," she directs to them while she pushes Castle toward the building on their right, getting them out of the flow of foot traffic. He goes without complaint, tripping over himself as he turns around, but the question burns in his eyes. What is she doing?
"I'm sorry, Castle. About Alexis."
"It's not your fault, Kate."
His back bumps against the building's brick wall, his hands stationary at his side, and she still holds his sleeve, her knuckles blanched with the force of her grip.
"I know. I know, but-" She looks away, wondering why she wants so badly to do this, to say the right thing, to ease the pain and bitterness that comes with where Alexis has chosen to live. "She loves you, you know? She didn't leave to hurt you."
"Kate."
"She didn't leave to hurt you."
His eyebrows draw together when he meets her gaze, and she stands her ground. That broken little girl hiding in a grown woman's body who Kate met that day in the hospital deserves this.
"How can you possibly know that?"
"Because I know heartache and I know abandonment. The girl I saw in the hospital, the one who was facing the very real possibility of her father's sudden death… The one wishing desperately for a miracle. That girl didn't leave because she wanted away from you. She loves you, Castle."
He pulls from her grip, stalking away from her without saying a word, and for a moment Kate is blindsided by his abrupt escape. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched up around his ears, and he never turns back - not once - to see if she's following him.
Shit.
He's fuming. Raging.
Looking to punch something.
Or run.
He needs to run. Pounding the pavement, the force reverberating through his limbs, knocking his anger free until exhaustion makes him collapse, to forget everything except the staccato of his heart and the rapid pace of his lungs.
Until he can get Kate's words out of his head. What does she know about his daughter? And who the hell does she think she is? Waltzing into his life, flipping everything upside down. Even turning his own mother against him. And now his damn daughter too.
He growls and makes the next right, searching the traffic for a taxi. A million taxis in this whole city and the one time he actually needs one, the roads are free of that obnoxious bright yellow.
Damn it.
Subway. He'll take the subway.
Pausing to get his bearings and figure out what street he's actually on, he turns in a small circle, and that's when he sees her twenty feet back, speed walking with her sights set on him. Her eyes widen when she realizes he's looking at her, but her steps don't falter or slow.
Breaking her gaze, he spots a strangely convenient subway entrance across the street, and he takes off, ignoring the honks from angry drivers as he cuts through the traffic.
"Castle, stop!"
But he won't. He's not interested in more of her observations about his parenting failures. She's had a day, maybe, to get to know his daughter, to get to know him, and she thinks she's some sort of expert? Hell no. He doesn't need this.
He rips his wallet out of his pocket, searching out his subway card as he flies down the stairs. The air is warm and stuffy the lower he goes, and it's a harsh change from the salty breeze he's enjoyed at the Hamptons over the last few months, but it's also a reminder of home. Of reality. And he breathes it in, the smell, the sounds of the Saturday morning crowds, the screech of cars on the subway rails.
Swiping his card, he pushes through the turnstile, searching each sign for the platform he needs to head home. A crash against his back, slender fingers wrapping around his wrist and jerking him to the side causes him to stumble and he spills a string of curses. When he turns around to see who it is he trails off, but the anger doesn't dissipate.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Kate's mouth drops open in a clear expression of disbelief, and he crosses his arms over his chest, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible.
"What am I doing? Seriously? What the hell are you doing? Where are you going?"
"I'm going home."
"What? Why? What did I say?"
Dropping his arms, Rick paces away as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Is she seriously asking why he's leaving? And he turns back.
She hasn't moved. Instead, she's watching him, waiting for him, defensiveness blazing in her eyes, but there's a fierceness too. She's not going to let this go.
He stalks toward her, his height an advantage, but she doesn't look away, doesn't back down. She matches him, strength to strength.
"You know nothing about me, my daughter, or what led to her choices. You spent one day with her? I've had her for twenty-one years. You don't know anything, so don't pretend otherwise."
With each word he growls at her, she deflates little by little. If he were in another frame of mind, he might feel badly about it, but instead he's just glad. Glad to make someone feel as little as he does, as weak as he does.
Because that's what he is. Weak. A terrible father, not even good enough to keep Alexis on this coast, to keep her from choosing her absent, flighty mother over him. A terrible writer, too. He's never failed so miserably before, never hit rock bottom so hard, and Kate is only serving to remind him of just how far he's fallen.
Not that his tirade prevents her from letting loose.
"I may have only spent one day with her but I'm not blind. You didn't see her in that hospital just waiting for someone to tell her that her father was dead. She was terrified. I don't know her - you're right about that - but I can swear to you that no matter what happens, no matter what a father does or doesn't do, his daughter never stops loving him, stops wanting to make him proud. She's an amazing girl, Castle, and she deserves better from you."
Spinning on her heel, Kate stomps away, and he stands there staring while she races up the stairs.
Well, that didn't go as he'd expected at all. So much for a new friend.
He turns his back on where she's just disappeared, rolling his shoulders and blowing out a frustrated breath before he continues down another staircase for the right subway platform. Time to head home and move on.
Time to forget about Kate Beckett.
She turns in the direction of the precinct instead of her empty apartment. She's angry and embarrassed at how royally she'd screwed that up. One minute they were fine, teasing and laughing at each other, and the next they'd descended into clearly dangerous and sensitive territory. The warning signs were there, but she'd pushed anyway.
Because that's what she does. She pushes others into facing their deepest and darkest secrets while carefully ignoring her own, but up until this point, it's only been for work, for a case. She's out of practice when it comes to her personal life, and having already been off balance with him, she'd completely missed the line, instead sailing right over it and slamming him straight back out of her life.
Shit.
She makes it to the Twelfth in record time, bursting through the front doors and jogging through the empty lobby. The elevator takes her to the fourth floor, and she slips into her office to grab her gym bag before heading up the stairs to the locker room. She needs to hit something. She needs to sweat and work it out until she's free from this feeling.
Stripping down to her underwear, she throws a sports bra on followed by a fitted tank and pants. When her feet slip into her tennis shoes, a sense of rightness settles over her. This is good. This feels like freedom.
Two hours later, she's alone in the locker room standing beneath the scalding spray of the shower with her head tilted back and her eyes closed. After her run this morning and the kickboxing workout this afternoon, she's exhausted, but that's nothing a cup of coffee can't fix.
Her eyes spring open at that thought. Coffee. One of her most treasured vices and now it's tainted with memories of today. She shakes her head, turning around to finish her shower and move on. The boys will hopefully be back by now and she's anxious for an update on their case.
She's anxious for a distraction, something mindless to bury herself in. Work has been the one constant over the last fifteen years, the only thing she's been able to count on since her life was ripped to shreds less than two months after she'd turned nineteen.
She's strong and one bad date won't change that.
*runs and hides*
Don't worry. We're not done yet.
x, J