Disclaimer: The wording is mine but the characters aren't
NB: Still writing this so, the updates won't be daily, sorry.
Collaboration
OOOO
"They're as human as you and I. No one's time can stop forever."
"Even if it's not safe for them? It'll be hard," she dropped her eyes away from his too clear gaze. "You might not know what to write."
"Then that would be a sign that I'm doing something right."
Her eyes lifted to him again, and she could feel her frustration and a little desperation in them.
"Just because they're fictional, it doesn't make their life any easier, Kate. Making them continue on is the difference between readers and writers."
You're already moving. Baby steps at a time.
OOOO
She had been so busy typing from the set of notes he had left with the dictation program that she hadn't even noticed when he had first fallen asleep.
Sometimes he would dictate for her. That's how it had started. He had spent so long thinking about scenes when he was at the precinct that when they made it back to the loft they spent hours committing the ideas.
She spent all day at the precinct itching to get back to the loft because when she looked over at his chair as she did paperwork, she saw the squint and knew he was writing in his head. She looked forward to the new chapter. What random things had he managed to weave into today's work?
Not only that but she found herself wanting to write.
Her detective's habit of listening in to other people's conversations seemed to match his writer's curiosity, because some of the things she wondered at made guest appearances that night.
He had told her that she would make a good writer, that she had good instincts.
The more they wrote, the more fine tuned she became to his narrative and soon she began making suggestions, overcoming the remaining sense of failure.
The characters were so much closer to themselves this time around that she enjoyed writing the dialogue and Castle loved weaving her comebacks into the story.
He had asked her to write some of the police-only scenes. He gave her basic sentences to type and asked her to add any embellishments that would make them more authentic. And she did while he was content to read over shoulder and make comments.
Then there was the seduction scene. That was the first full chapter that she had written by herself.
Baby steps. That was what he wrote on her pages.
And he had promised that we was going to use the scene somehow.
Because it was too hot not to use. Heat from the real Heat.
She had yet to see how he had edited and combined it with his own version, though they had talked over them both and she had a rough idea. As much as she wanted to read the final result, and see the combination of their words and ideas, he was always just off her shoulder, and she wasn't going to read it with him right there.
He probably did it deliberately, hoping to catch her reactions when she inevitably found it.
Since then she had been writing increasing amounts. His dictation had slowed as he read over her shoulder, watching to see what words she changed and what sentences of her own she incorporated before he continued.
Last week, she had taken a night off to have a girl's night with Lanie, but found herself scribbling lines on a napkin, leaving Lanie watching her with something like concern and much more like humor.
Most nights they settled on the couch, with the laptop on her knees and her angled into his chest so she was comfortable and he could read. When she doubted his genius she also learnt that it put her on a perfect position for him to tickle. This was never appreciated.
The fact that he could only do it one handed was very much appreciated. How he knew her spots already, she didn't know.
At other times she would just hold on as he unleashed his creative genius to start bringing the whole thing together. She worked scene to scene, but he worked large. He was always urging her to add some comment which she would argue and rework to flow into the current chapter. The next chapter she would see the way it linked and foreshadowed.
In the end, she stopped arguing and let herself be flexible. It was a lot better than actually telling him he was right.
She thought back to the last time she had heard him talk. They had been talking about the last action scene in the book; he had been moaning about a review which had said that his scenes were unoriginal.
She replied that it was a comment made by one of Martha's friends.
They had been throwing around possible scenarios: a gun was the easiest, but the most clichéd. She informed him just how many people were attacked, held hostage by and killed by guns, and assured him it wasn't clichéd; it was accurate.
But he had set his chin and announced that there weren't going to be any guns or knives or explosions. He was going to prove everyone wrong.
And had fallen asleep.
Both of them had their feet up on the coffee table, a habit she had never been able to kick and he seemed to have picked up. Alexis hadn't looked very pleased the first time she caught them. One of his feet slid half way off, jerking her.
She sighed and looked up at him from where she was tucked away into his side but he didn't wake.
He was a heavy sleeper apparently. He hadn't started snoring yet, a habit of his she had discovered weeks ago. She had been tempted to use that against him for the bigger piece of pie at dessert, but was worried he might have noticed that she had dribbled a little on him.
Beckett let herself examine his relaxed face for a second longer before looking back down at the pages she had typed since he had fallen quiet. She had gotten caught up in the scene and had started typing quietly while he took a break with the TV.
She wondered when he had stopped following her words.
Because in front of her was the final takedown scene in the book they hadn't named yet. It had guns. But more than that, it was a confession.
No more baby steps.
It should have been from Nikki's point of view but instead she found herself writing Rook. Rook watching the scene spin out of his control and watching Nikki take a stand alone.
She had wanted to help, to fight, so badly.
So did Rook.
But this time what kept both her and Rook locked into immobility was a more insinuating helplessness: PTSD.
She had locked herself into Rook's point of view, into the scene with him so tightly that she felt her chest tighten in the familiar sensation of panic.
Because there was no way Rook could have taken that bullet and not have PTSD. She wasn't even sure of the source of his anxiety. Because Nikki was being shot at, or because he was reliving his own shooting?
But this wasn't his story and it wasn't hers. It was Nikki's and she wouldn't have PTSD, would she?
No. Nikki Heat was a perfect, kick ass cop.
She closed the laptop softly and gently extricated herself from Castle.
What was she doing?
OOOO
She felt like she was going out of her skin the next morning waiting for him to arrive. She hadn't even managed to try and convince herself that he might not come in today; he hadn't missed a day in the last three weeks since he had broken his hand.
Every time she heard the elevator stop or felt a presence too close she would look up and treat herself to a somersault of relief when she confirmed it wasn't him.
Because she couldn't keep doing this and she didn't want to have to tell him.
By the time he did make his appearance she was almost glad despite her trepidation, because she wasn't sure her nerves could take the waiting anymore.
His hand had improved enough that he wasn't in his sling and he was able to use his hand to support two cups in the palm of his good hand.
He gave greetings to the bullpen, laughing with the boys before he stood at her shoulder and waited for her to take one of the cups so he could sit down.
"No," he told her as she took the more precariously perched of the two. "That one is mine."
"Oh, sorry," she set it down next to his elbow and took the other.
"I didn't hear you leave last night," he offered as she went to take a sip, hoping to get rid of the sudden sourness in her mouth.
"Yeah, sorry. I was pretty tired," she set the cup down and tried to look at him evenly despite the sudden overworking of her throat. "I tried to wake you but you sleep like the dead."
"So, I've been told. So what do you want for dinner tonight? I was thinking of attempting salmon as my one handed-fry pan skills have been certified. Alexis said my pancakes this morning were perfect."
"Actually we caught a break on that cold case, so I'm not going to be able to make it."
All of the fresh cases they caught had been easy solves meaning they had been spending more time on some of the older unsolved. She almost wished for a fresh new case that would keep them all busy and Castle sufficiently side-tracked.
"Oh. Well, thanks to you I'm actually ahead of all my deadlines for a change, so a few days won't make any difference."
"Great," she forced a smile and made a quick exit for Ryan and Esposito's desk.
She had a week to think of a good reason as to why she couldn't help him anymore.
OOOO
Kate avoided him for a week about writing. The first two days he had tried to engage her in the break room and she had tried to tamp down the interest she felt at all the new ideas he was sharing. There were so many, she wasn't sure how he ever eliminated them.
For three weeks they had been extending their breaks, kicking around lines, planning the action scenes play by play, even bickering over clothing and meal choices. It was so hard for her now to feign only a token interest.
But eventually it worked.
The enthusiasm which had him so high began to sag and he slowly stopped talking. Not just about his book, but in general he went quiet despite her attempts to remain as light and normal with him as normal in all other parts of their days together.
He didn't stay and help her with paperwork though he was as hands-on as ever in the interrogations and wading through evidence.
Thankfully it was more of a distracted silence than a hurt silence. She hoped her instincts were right, because the last thing she wanted to do was loose Castle over this.
But on Thursday he didn't come in at all and he didn't message her.
She put aside her pride which dictated she would never chase him, and sent a text just after lunch asking if he was coming in or not.
A few minutes later her screen lit up with an incoming call from him.
"Hey, Castle."
"Yeah, hi. Sorry for the call but texting, even on my smart-phone, still isn't very fun."
"Yeah, I know. Sorry if I caught you at the wrong time. You're not in a meeting are you?"
Please be in a meeting and you're not just ignoring me.
"No, no meeting. I just got caught up with something at home. I don't think I'll be able to make it in today."
"Is everything okay?"
"If you consider my Mother rehearsing her lines in the living room okay, then yes. Any breaks on the case?"
"The boys are bringing in the neighbor's son for questioning this afternoon. His best friend has a pet snake which matched the venom. "
"Shut the front door! That's not fair."
"You snooze you loose, Castle."
"That was uncalled for," he protested and she felt herself breathing easier at his light tone.
"Okay, well I better go and start prepping."
"I'll be in tomorrow for sure," he assured her. "I want to hear all the details."
"I think that could be arranged."