Disclaimer: Do I have to? Y'all know the drill.
Improbable Cause
Chapter 2 – A Moment of Clarity
Kate drifts along the hallway like a ghost, now on the wrong side of his front door. Not wanting to leave, no, definitely not that, but feeling that she really has no choice, since Castle basically just threw her out.
She presses the call button for the elevator, rests her forehead against the cool metal of the doorframe, salty tears still drying on her cheeks, making her skin feel uncomfortably tight.
Finally, the elevator dings to announce its arrival, and Kate throws one last look over her shoulder, one last chance for Castle to perform an about-face and come out begging for her to come back. And she would go, oh how she would go to him. But…
Nothing. Silence.
So she prepares to drag her exhausted, grieving body into the elevator car when the doors slide open, and…
"Darling! Oh how love-ly... Kate, dear? Whatever's the matter?" asks Martha, her face going from unconcealed delight to worried horror in the nanosecond it takes to rearrange her facial muscles.
"Oh…hi…Martha. I…I'm sorry. I should really…" she stumbles, blubbers, barely managing to stop from throwing herself into her boyfriend's mother's arms. (Is he even her boyfriend anymore?)
"Honey, talk to me. You look - and please don't take this the wrong way, kiddo - but, a little less…uh, put together than you normally do, darling. So, tell me, what thoughtless stunt has my son pulled this time?"
"It's not…um…Rick, he…oh Martha," chokes Kate, finally giving in to her own despair, tears welling up in her eyes once more, distorting everything like a fisheye lens.
Because right now she's prepared to say goodbye to pride, and goodbye to privacy, if she can only find a way to fix this, and Castle's mother might just be the best ally she could recruit for this mission.
"Why don't we ride downstairs, dear? Get some air? Hmm?" suggests Martha kindly, bracelets jingling as she leads Kate into the elevator before the doors can close on them.
Kate looks over her shoulder one last time towards the front door of the loft, her eyes wild, frantic with worry to be leaving him behind without having resolved things. But Martha keeps a firm grip on her arm, turning them both until they're facing front as the elevator quickly descends to the lobby.
Eduardo, the doorman, nods good evening to both women, giving no hint of surprise at seeing Martha come straight back down at this time of night. He opens the building's front door for them, bowing slightly, discreetly averting his eyes from Kate's obvious distress as they head across the street to the small corner restaurant where they can still get good coffee at this late hour.
Martha raises a hand to wave at the waitress, the multi-colored, Pucci-print silk of her sleeve sliding down her thin arm from wrist to elbow as she signals for a table for two.
"Decaf Americanos, two," she requests, holding up two fingers and firing the order from halfway across the room, voice projecting as if back on a Broadway stage so the waitress will leave them alone as they settle down by an open French window, two of only five patrons left in the whole establishment.
"Now, I make it a policy never to interfere in my son's love-life," Martha begins, clearly playing the straight man tonight.
And despite the situation, Kate almost laughs out loud at what she knows to be the complete lack of truth in Martha's statement. However, she manages to bite her tongue and let the woman continue, just grateful to have someone to talk to right now.
"But, and believe me when I say this is a one-time thing, I like you, Kate. And more than that, I respect you, darling. You're smart and kind and beautiful. You have a good head on your shoulders, and God knows Richard has made more than his fair share of mistakes when it comes to women over the years."
Kate cringes at the thoughts and images this statement conjures up, wondering if she really wants to hear what comes next.
"So, I was delighted when the pair of you finally worked things out. You're good for him, Kate, and call me biased, but I believe he may be good for you too," she suggests, ducking her head a little, a small, encouraging smile on her lips as she tries to catch Kate's eye and gentle her out of whatever this is.
Kate gives her a small, press-lip smile in response, then dips her head to stare at some graffiti etched into the worn tabletop, curls tumbling forward to conceal her face. And although it's really more grimace than actual smile, she tries for Martha's sake, because she likes and admires this woman a lot, for her self-belief, her resilience, and for the pretty darn good job she's made of raising her son all by herself to become the man that Kate Beckett has fallen in love with.
That thought, that simple kernel of truth - that she is in love with him, truly, completely in love with him - sends a startling resurgence of hope and determination through Kate as she listens to Martha continue to speak. But it also stirs a sadness and an anxiety within her that she was so easily swayed from her path of absolute trust in her partner, her lover, by the opinion of others and a few scattered facts that seemed to point towards a different truth.
"So, to find you looking so distressed tonight, my dear…" Martha continues, reaching for Kate's hand at this point, her chunky, aqua cocktail ring catching the candlelight being given off by the single, scented votive set inside a miniature, decorative hurricane lamp.
She only withdraws to her own side of the table when Maria, their server, approaches with two solid-looking, white ceramic mugs and a half-full Bunn carafe of inky, black coffee.
"The machine break, Ms. Rodgers. We waiting for part," she apologizes to Martha, explaining the rather stewed brew.
Maria slops the coffee into both mugs, quickly but skillfully, without spilling a drop, before producing a little container of sugar and sweetener sachets from the front pocket of her black apron, placing them on the table between them.
"I have been told on many an occasion that I am a great listener, and pretty good at dishing out advice," Martha carries on, stirring a half-packet of Truvia into her cup. "Alexis and Richard have both been known to partake of my wisdom; to sip at the fountain of knowledge, if you will," she says airily, waving a hand with casual, imperial grace. "But I'm no mind-reader, kiddo. So how about you tell me what this little upset is all about, hmm? And let's see if we can't sort it out between us?" she asks, so kindly, her face betraying such earnest concern for her that Kate almost starts to cry all over again.
She dumps half a sachet of brown sugar into her own coffee cup, needing the hit to get her body and mind functioning again after the shock it's been through, and then she stirs for what feels like whole minutes before she finds the strength to look up at Castle's mother, finding her soft, open gaze just waiting for her. And finally she begins to speak.
"We caught a case a couple of days ago…I don't know if Rick…?"
Martha shakes her head and holds up her hand to silence Kate.
"Darling, I don't know if you've noticed, I know you've been a little busy lately," she grins, adding a wink that makes Kate blush. "But I've been trying to make myself scarce to, you know, give you two a little privacy," she says, waving her hand between them.
Kate flushes further, and her heart clenches for the closeness and intimacy she so loves sharing with her partner; a closeness she isn't anywhere near ready to give up. Because it has shocked and surprised her just how well they fit together, just how comfortable this is; being a couple, even although they're still trying to keep it from their colleagues and friends, even when it's still so new for both of them too.
"So I haven't spoken to Richard in a couple of days. What does this case have to do with you two?"
Kate explains about the murder, the evidence trail so far – Castle's fingerprint and the jewelry store footage – while Martha sits patiently across from her, entirely focused, absorbing every detail without interruption. The woman wasn't kidding – she is a good listener.
When she finishes, Kate is the very picture of embarrassment. Because saying these things out loud to her partner's mother – and frankly, repeating them to a brick wall would have the same effect at this point – only serves to clarify how stupid she's been for believing, even for a second, that Richard Castle could have anything to do with this.
Murder someone? The man who touches her more tenderly than any man ever has? The man whose eyes shine with love for her the second they are alone together? The man who can make a handshake in a crowded room feel like the warmest, most intimate, heart-melting kiss. The man who raised his daughter single-handedly to be such an intelligent, amazing, young woman? What the hell was she thinking?
Kate groans inwardly. Feeling more than a little sick, she pushes her coffee cup aside. She listened to everyone around her, instead of listening to her heart. Seemingly irrefutable evidence has been wrong so many times before, in countless cases she's investigated over the years, but she's pretty sure Castle has never lied to her, and that's the one, key fact she should have held onto, kept front and center from the very beginning.
She realizes with sudden, startling clarity just how badly she has failed him.
"Oh god. What was I thinking?" she groans, letting her forehead fall forward onto her hand, her eyes dropping closed in shame, her bottom lip slipping once again between her teeth. "Martha?" she moans, waiting for the older woman's damning judgment because that's exactly what she deserves.
Instead, what she gets is a look of extreme sympathy and another warm squeeze of her hand; the Castle-Rodgers clan's capacity for forgiveness and generosity seemingly a genetic trait.
"My dear we all make mistakes," she says softly. "I'm sure this one can be fixed without too much trouble," she reassures her, patting the top of her hand.
"He just threw me out. Well…asked me to leave. And the look on his face…" Kate moans, shaking her head as she remembers the sadness and hurt in his beautiful eyes, the exhaustion and disappointment on his face. "And who could blame him?"
"Kate, darling?" says Martha, gently reminding her that she's still here when she sees the younger woman disappear inside her head to that well of despair she carries around with her. "Richard waited a long time for you. Fought for you, actually, in his own way. You mean the world to that boy. If you love him, as I believe you do, then perhaps now is the time to return that favor, hmm? And fight for him too?"
"Do you think he'll even listen?" asks Kate, her voice small and uncertain, afraid to even hope.
Because would she if the roles were reversed?
"If I know my son, he'll protest for…oh, a few seconds at most, and then he'll welcome you with open arms, darling. He may have been married twice before, Kate, but neither of those women put the light in his eyes that you so easily do. He's a transformed man since he met you, my dear - more engaged with life, ambitious, vibrant. You two have something rare together, something truly special. You both saved one another from a poorer life apart. Don't waste the opportunity you've been granted out of pride or fear, Kate. Grab hold of it with both hands and don't let go until he hears you out," she counsels.
Kate is grinning when Martha finally finishes speaking, her whole body vibrating with energy and hope.
"Then I guess I should really…?" she says, tilting her head towards the street.
"Then I guess you should, darling. Take your time. I'll make myself scarce," Martha tells her, giving her a warm, motherly smile that has her choking up and reaching for the woman's hand.
"Thank you, Martha. I really mean that. I don't know what I would have done without…"
"Just make it right, my dear. That's all the thanks I need," says Martha sagely, raising her hand in a gracious wave as Kate rises from the table and heads for the door, knowing exactly what she needs to do now, not a second more to lose.
A/N: I've been overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter. It seems this little story needed more than one chapter to fix it, and I do love a little Martha. Kate's hearing with Rick should round things off in the next one if you can bear with me. Thank you for all the funny, heartfelt reviews. I hope I can do this justice and not just raise sales of Kleenex! Liv