A/N: Please see disclaimer in Chapter 1. I also hold no intellectual properties of James Patterson, Michael Connelly, or Stephen Cannell. Un-beta'd.
Chapter 11: Balance
He's surprised to find the Beckett family still in his kitchen once he's come out of his office, looking fully like a reprimanded toddler as he trails behind his mother.
"Kate, Jim," his mother announces. "Richard has something to say to you both."
"Katie does as well," Jim says firmly, his tone brooking no protest from Kate.
His mother is right, Rick realizes. They are both acting like children.
"I'm sorry, Jim," Rick says, feeling like a three year old who's been caught for the first time with his hand in the cookie jar. "It was immature and beneath me to say those things." Before his mother can reprimand him, he rushes on. "And Kate… I'm sorry… It wasn't my news to tell, and I really have no business telling you what to do or telling your father things about your life."
His mother nods with approval, but he doesn't stop there. "But I don't approve of what you've done to my daughter, just so we're clear."
It's Jim's turn to nod. "Thank you, Rick. Katie, what do you have to say to that?"
She wants to run, Rick can see. She hides between that cold exterior and thinks everyone thinks she's all right. She mutters a quick "Sorry", and then retreats behind her father, moving towards the door.
Rick can tell Jim is upset at Kate's response, but his mother, ever the charmer, pipes in, "Well now, we're all all right again." She beams, and Jim offers back a tentative smile. "Why don't we all go have brunch?"
But Jim shakes his head. "No, that's all right, Martha. Katie and I have things to talk about, and I wouldn't want to intrude."
Martha protests, "But Jim, you wouldn't be intruding at all!"
"Maybe another time, Martha," replies Jim. "But we're still on for the Thursday night game, right?"
"I don't understand why you like baseball, Jim," sighs Martha, but Rick can tell she's only being overdramatic. "But yes, yes, I'll be there."
Rick opens the door, and Jim is out the door first. As Kate leaves, he notices that her eyes are watery, though her face remains impassive. "I am really sorry, you know," she whispers. "And…would you tell Alexis for me?"
Rick makes a noncommittal sound; but then adds, "If you really are sorry, you should tell her yourself. Own up to your mistakes."
He wonders if she's heard him, she's so quickly gone out the door.
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His head isn't in the game tonight, and he can foresee himself losing a lot of money… which, he admits to himself, he can afford. And coming to these things isn't about the money; it's about digging these people's brains for new ideas, for character plausibility, and well, for everything to do with writing, really. These are the best of the best in his field: on his right, Stephen J. Cannell; on his left, James Patterson; in front, Michael Connelly, and to his side, his protégé, Teresa Walters.
Cannell is onto him, he knows; his mentor is probably going to pull him off to the side tonight later when they all go out for drinks (winner buys, thank God). He's got a straight in his hand, but Patterson's eye is twitching; he's got a flush or higher, for sure.
He folds. He doesn't have enough energy to bluff with his usual charming self.
"Ricky, you all right?"
"I know that look," smirks Patterson. "Story trouble."
"No, actually," Rick shakes his head. "Derek Storm is coming along quite nicely. My draft's with Black Pawn already, and it should be out in less than half a year."
"Probably that murder his mother's involved in," quips Walters.
"My mother is not involved," replies Rick pointedly. "Could we all stop talking about my personal life and move on with the game?"
Cannell mockingly puts his two arms in the air. "Fine, fine."
Rick doesn't really hear the things they talk about – he's only won a round since they started, having folded most other times. But in the lull in the chatter at the table, he suddenly blurts out, "Say I had three bodies, all interconnected to one family – but it's not a serial killer. But maybe there's a corrupt cop… Never mind."
"That's it?" asks Connelly. "That's a new low, even for you."
"Well, I just haven't wrapped my head around the story," replies Rick distractedly. "But that's literally all I have at the moment."
"I'd point at the corrupt cop being the killer," suggests Walters.
"That's too easy," retorts Patterson. "Where's the twist?"
"I'd say that either one of the victims' family members are the perpetrators," muses Cannell, "Or, they're being targeted somehow."
"Hmm…" Rick ponders for a moment. "Say a member of one victim's family is the perp; what would their motivations be for killing so many people?"
"Revenge?" pipes up Walters again; she seems determined to get her opinion out in the open.
Rick shakes his head again. "No, the original victim had nothing to do with the latter two; revenge wouldn't really play into it, I think."
"I'd say they're trying to distract the police," Patterson muses.
"But what if they're targets? Why would they be killed?" Rick asks.
"Contract killing?" suggests Connelly. "To keep someone quiet about something they've discovered?"
"Or maybe it is a serial killer," says Walters. "One who's more methodical than your usual serial killers and likes obscure connections."
The others all look at her for a minute, and then back at each other.
"I like Connelly's idea," Patterson tosses his two cents in. "What do you think, Ricky?"
"It… fits," Rick admits. "Oh, well, it's not like I'm looking to write that anytime soon."
"Mind if I take some of the ideas?" asks Walters – Rick is sure he wasn't half so bold as a beginning writer.
"No, go for it," Rick replies, after a minute. "So, Patterson, where are you with Alex Cross?"
The rest of the evening is spent bluffing at each other and calling each other piss-poor authors (Cannell may have used… stronger words), and Rick, once his mind is distracted from the things that were plaguing him, is not a bad player, so much so his pocketbook is not much emptier than when he first entered, and perhaps even a tad heavier.
Walters… Walters is interesting, he thinks, as he counts each person's winnings at the end of the night. She's a much better player than her earnings suggest – he knows, because he's been observing her all night. He's pretty sure she's had at least a four-of-a-kind tonight, but folds almost every time. And every time she wins, it's small change – there's no major action, just sheer bad luck on the part of everyone else at the table. Strange. When he was a rookie writer sitting at a table full of these literary – all right, genre – giants, he wanted to impress them straight off the bat. But not only has she not won much, she also hasn't said much of value.
Rick mentally shrugs. It's probably most likely the general populace, and, thus, most people, are less narcissistic about themselves as he is. He grins, and swirls the gin around in his glass before taking a swallow. He jumps slightly at a tap on his shoulder.
"Ricky, Ricky, Ricky…" Rick turns to the wrong side. He hates when Cannell gets the best of him.
"Stephen," he replies evenly, trying not to be irritated.
"Thought I was going to get the best of you tonight," Cannell chuckles. "Turns out I'm the loser instead." (He lost the most, Rick thinks. Or maybe Patterson did. Connelly's too slippery for Rick to really know).
"Well, you know of my ongoing affair with Lady Luck," grins Rick charmingly.
"She's fickle, that one," Cannell shoots back. "I'd be careful, if I were you."
"Is that a threat, Cannell? Want to lose it all again next time we play poker?" Rick challenges, but there's humour in his voice, and the banter leaves nothing but comfortable silence between the two men as they sip their alcohol.
"Ah, Ricky…" Cannell shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye. "How's your mother doing, these days?"
"You know my mother," Rick grins again cheekily. "All drama all the time."
"And Alexis?"
Rick sighs. "Better. Thank God. I love her, but she tires me out all too easily."
"That's the way children are," Cannell remarks. "Cherish'em. You won't have them for long." And Rick knew he was talking about his son who'd passed away, one who'd be about his age now if he'd lived.
He shivers, a sense of foreboding suddenly upon him. He suppresses it with another swallow of gin.
Cannell doesn't notice. "And any future Mrs. Castle?"
"No," Rick replies. "Between my mother and her drama and Alexis, I don't have space in my life for much else besides writing."
"Well, that's a shame," Cannell says, placing his glass down on the counter and looking Rick in the eye, "Because I've got an extra invitation to an event, and I'm told Senator Jason Laurie will be there… and your books are on his reading list."
Castle's heart gives a jump.
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He arrives home to find Sophia sitting at the kitchen island, chatting with his mother.
"Darling, why didn't you tell me you'd met this beautiful young woman?" Martha bursts out as he enters through the door. "And not be here when she arrived. Really, Richard."
Sophia, here? In his kitchen?
"Sophia?" he croaks, finally.
"It's not Rick's fault, Mrs. R," Sophia laughs nervously, though Rick senses she is anything but. "I thought I'd surprise him. It's my fault, really."
"Well, I'll leave you two kids to it," Martha announces. "I need my beauty sleep, you know. Not as young as I used to be."
When his mother is out of earshot, the remainder of the sentences fall out of his mouth. "You're… here. In my kitchen. Chatting with my mother."
"She's a lovely woman, Rick," Sophia smiles. "I knew you'd be along in a bit. I just wanted to let you know all the forms have been cleared and you're free to consult. I didn't think you'd want to be knocked out and dragged to headquarters again."
Rick shudders at the unpleasant memory. "No, no, you're right. Thanks for letting me know and letting me shadow you."
"You're quite welcome," she replies. "Now, I better be on my way…"
"Are you sure?" Rick quickly interjects. "I mean, stay for a cup of coffee or tea, at least. It's the least I can do for you since you came all this way to give me the news."
"I couldn't possibly intrude," she protests coyly.
"No, no," Rick insists. "Look, my daughter and mother's in bed. And hey, I can grill you on all the basics while you're here, right? It's a win-win situation."
She leaves shortly before dawn breaks, and Rick is sad to see her go, though he is sure to regret staying up all night talking when his daughter wakes up. "Hey, Sophia…" he says as he opens his door to let her out. "I enjoyed this."
"As did I," she replies, and winks. "I'll see you soon, Richard."
As he closes the door gently behind him, he lets out a deep breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in. Sinking to the floor, he gazes blankly in front of him, seeing, but not understanding. The past hours – no, days – have been a lot to take in, and he feels the urge to crawl into himself and not come out.
Which, of course, he knows is not the best idea. And he won't, he promises himself.
Maybe it was time for another session. He pulls himself up with the intention of leaving himself a post-it note on his desk to call Dr. Petersen tomorrow, but as he enters his office, his eye catches his murder board, sitting inconspicuously against the right wall.
What had Connelly said? Contract killing.
He really needs to ask his mother about the Dunlops' tomorrow, but at the present moment, he needs sleep, something he's reminded of as yet another yawn threatens to overtake him. He slaps a post-it on his desk, and closes the door to his office, lumbering off to bed for precious winks of sleep.
But had he turned around, he might have noticed a small addition to the opposite wall to where the murder board lay, tracking his movements.
A/N: Sorry for the delay! I managed to catch both the stomach flu and the flu (or so says the doctor, but I still think it was food poisoning) last week, hence the late posting. A belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you!
Just a quick question - did I do something wrong last chapter? Because I received fewer reviews than my usual - where've all of you been? :-) Also, House of Cards - Addendums is up. I've decided that I'd like to take requests for what you'd like to see (more Rick/Alexis interactions? more Alexis/Kate interactions? Alexis/Johanna? Alexis/Martha? Johanna/Jim? Johanna/Kate?). Think of it as a gift for being such an excellent audience.
As always, thank you so much for reading, and please, leave me a review! I do enjoy feedback... and I suspect you have a number of things to ask me about after this chapter ;-)
Until next time, Ce'Nelenia
