A/N: See disclaimer in Chapter 1. Unbeta'd, but only because my beta only gets Internet on his porch in -30 weather.
Chapter 12: Stack
Rick isn't entirely sure he's awake. The screaming bundle on top of him jumping up and down tells him otherwise, but he buries his face in his pillow, wrapping the ends around his head in an effort to block out his daughter's enthusiasm at too-early o' clock.
"Alexis..." he groans, finally lifting his head to glance at his clock. "It's seven a.m. on a Saturday morning. You don't get up this early even for school."
"But Papa," she whines, "Today's the first day of the carnival! Papa, we always go to the carnival!"
Rick immediately perks up, and the sight that greets him melts his heart: Alexis, dressed with her shirt on backwards and Nutella smeared all over her face… and all over his bed. "Oh, really?" He pretends to forget. "I don't remember doing any such thing."
"Papa…" It's Alexis' turn to groan. "If you don't get up now, there'll be so many people and we won't to get to see everything!"
"All right, all right," Rick finally chuckles. "But go wash your face first and put your shirt on right. I can't believe Grams didn't help you."
"Oh," Alexis remarks offhandedly. "She's busy with Uncle Jim. And Papa, I'm almost four. That's old."
"Err…" he wisely chooses not to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of his mother and Jim and the word "busy", instead saying, "Why, yes, Alexis. But if four is old, then your dear old Papa must be a dinosaur!"
And then he pretends to "eat" his daughter with his blankets, Nutella be damned. Alexis shrieks with laughter, and flees the room, yelling, "Grams, Grams, help! Papa's trying to eat me!"
He gently closes the door behind her, and surveys the mess. He strips the sheets off his bed, and throws it all into his hamper – he'll deal with all of it when he comes back from the carnival. Hurriedly, he throws on clothes and makes himself more or less presentable before leaving his room.
Maybe it's for the best Jim is here, he thinks. He can ask about the Dunlops' with both his mother and Jim present –
– That thought stops abruptly as he sees who is in their living room. Jim isn't the only Beckett in the room.
But before he can do anything – or erupt – his mother's stopped him at the door, and points to what Kate is doing in their living room. She's talking in a low voice with Alexis, and his daughter isn't shying away from her. He strains to hear the conversation the two of them are having, but his ears can't pick up any of the words. He decides against pushing past his mother; it looks like his daughter has everything well in hand.
He can feel his mother's arm tighten around his as they both watch Kate help Alexis tidy herself up, and Rick grudgingly feels that maybe, maybe he has misjudged the girl after all. That feeling only solidifies as he sees his daughter smile up at Kate, and reaching for her hand.
And then he hears his daughter say, "Peter Rabbit missed you too, Katie." Peter Rabbit?
As he and his mother come out into the kitchen, he makes no indication that he's heard the conversation, and strikes up a general conversation with Jim instead. After they've all – really, just Rick – have had breakfast, they leave for the carnival.
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Rick decides he will never allow his mother to do any event planning ever again, as he sits watching Alexis, Kate, Jim, and his mother on the merry-go-round. It's been awkward all day, and he doesn't feel like his usual sociable self, and maybe, he admits to himself, he's more than a little jealous.
Jealous at Kate, for making Alexis laugh so – how rarely does he see his daughter happy! And for someone who's hurt her – someone, who by all accounts, should make her more upset than happy. And maybe he's a little jealous of Alexis, too, being able to let go of being hurt so easily.
Has his wallowing slowed her progress? He hates feeling like a bad parent, like he's superimposing his feelings on his daughter instead of letting her feel on her own.
He looks at the things they've all accumulated today, and sighs. At least his daughter's having fun. All he has to show for today is a Yogie Bear stuffed animal. He doesn't even like Yogie Bear.
Why can't he be happy? Everyone else is (it's true; everywhere he looks someone is laughing or smiling). Why is he such a downer?
He's got that list Dr. Petersen's made him jot down, the one where he's listed out all the things that make him broken. It's a long list, and every time he looks at it he can't help but feel like it's the end of the world.
But he can't forget that Dr. Petersen wanted him to write something else too: what is it that you think can make you whole again? It's not that he doesn't want to work on it. Far from it – there's a sense of resolution that will come, he thinks, once it's done. But he can't bear to bring himself out of this place; it sucks, but it's comfortable and he knows how it feels and what to expect.
He's not used to people bucking the trend – that's what's making him uncomfortable around Alexis' interaction with Kate. In his comfortable place in suck-tastic land, people can't be redeemed and they could never change; he can go on hating them because they're bad.
His breath hitches as he realizes what he's done; he's reduced his world to black and white, a place where someone is either good or evil… the very thing he had told Alexis the world wasn't. Where have all his shades of grey gone? Where is his understanding of the human psyche, and his ability to empathize and to step into someone else's shoes? When has he become the sole focus of his own life, his misery his only concern? When has he stopped enjoying life and stopped taking responsibility for his own actions? And how can he hold on to hate when his daughter, who's been hurt far more than he, has let go?
He buries his head in his hands, his eyes burning, shame coursing through his body.
He feels a light hand on his shoulder. Finally, after a moment or two, he looks up, expecting his mother. To his surprise, it's Kate – his mother and Jim are still on the merry-go-round, watching over Alexis and snapping a dozen photos a minute.
His first reaction is to bristle and recoil – to shove off the hand on his shoulder. But he doesn't; he's paralyzed.
"Are you… all right?" he hears her ask, her tone careful.
"Yeah," he replies instinctively, but then shakes his head. "Actually… no. I feel like I should still be in bed, under my covers with the blinds drawn."
It's another moment before she replies. "Look… I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting Alexis, and having you pick up the pieces after my Dad."
He has to think of his reply, no witty repartee coming to mind (And maybe it isn't a time for wit, not right this moment). "I'm still angry about that, you know. You might have screwed Alexis up irreparably."
"But I didn't," she replies quietly. "And, look, I'm sorry, but I really don't think you can base your life on what-ifs or might-haves."
Rick snorts. "No, but I sure as hell can protect my daughter from them."
She shrugs. "That's your choice." She looks him straight in the eye. "Look, I just came over to apologize. I'm not expecting you to be my friend. I just want to set things right because I happen to like your daughter, and my mom always taught me to be responsible for my actions. And I don't want to make things awkward between my dad and your mom, because if you hadn't noticed, they're really good friends. You can take it or leave it, and if you don't want me around Alexis, I'll respect your wishes."
She hops off of the picnic table he's occupying, and makes her way back to join the others, who by now have made their way to the spinning teacups.
Maybe he's the childish one. Damn.
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Rick sits alone in the kitchen, nursing a scotch as the other three sit in the living room watching a movie. Alexis is long gone to bed, exhausted by her exciting day at the carnival. Hopefully she'll sleep until an acceptable time tomorrow morning.
He looks up as he hears the sound of muffled steps on his hardwood floor approaches him. Kate.
She sits on the bar stool next to him. "Can I join you? Your mother and my dad are about to get into a discussion…" – Rick hears the subtext, 'a heated discussion over the merits of the movie – "And I don't really want to get involved."
He nods, but makes no attempt at a conversation. She pours herself a glass of the scotch, glancing at him to see if he'll refuse her the drink. He doesn't – her dad is here; she's not going to do anything reckless… he hopes, at least.
They sit in silence.
"If you're going to be around my daughter," Rick finally says. "I'm going to have to set some ground rules."
"Fine," she replies.
"If you can…" he eyes her carefully. "I'd like her to see you regularly. I can't have you disappearing on her again."
He's being over-the-top protective, setting standards he knows are unreachable and unreasonable. Why should Kate want to spend time with his daughter? For all he knows, she just plays with Alexis whenever she sees Alexis because his daughter is adorable.
"I'll come with my dad," she answers back; he's surprised.
"And you can't hurt her – " He begins to warn before he's interrupted.
"With all due respect, Mr. Castle," she replies firmly. "I can't promise that. As far as relationships go, I'm old enough to know that people who care about each other hurt each other all the time. Look, I like Alexis. I really do. And I would never willingly hurt her. I-I didn't even know that she thought I'd abandoned her. You might be grieving, but I lost my mother, Castle. Cut me a little slack."
"I don't get it," Rick replies, after a long, awkward wait. "Why do you want to spend so much time with my daughter?"
It's her turn to be silent. "I-I…" she pauses to gather thoughts; it's surprising to him how articulate she is when she gets going. "You know… it's probably because the happiest memories I have of my mother were times when Alexis came over to our house. And I know Alexis looked up to Mom… she used to tell me all the time she missed her own mom and how much she loved mine. And maybe? I'm not sure, Castle, but I feel a little responsible for her. Because we've both lost our moms, and we're both trying to find our way around the world."
Kate smiles, something Rick doesn't recall ever seeing. "And… I," she shrugs. "I want to show her that people can be good. Even if they sometimes do bad things. And I want to know there's still good out there – and Alexis, your kid, she's a good reminder."
He hates feeling speechless.
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He manages to catch Jim at the end of the evening. His mother's retired to bed, and Kate's asleep on the couch. He notices Jim looking sadly at his daughter, but decides not to comment.
He doesn't need to. "Katie…" Jim sighs. "She hasn't been able to sleep for months. This is the first time I've seen her this relaxed."
As if she's heard her father, she turns on the sofa, a content smile on her face.
She looks… young, Rick thinks. So different from her usual hardened expression, the one he's noticed in recent days – where it seems like she peers into his soul and finds him unworthy. Or perhaps it's simply his literary imagination gone wild, and it's merely the look of someone hiding their grief behind thick, wary walls.
Rick shrugs. "Alexis is the same, though she's bounced back more quickly than I could've imagined."
"At least your daughter still comes running to you," Jim replies softly, his eyes visibly betraying his sadness as he gazes at his daughter. "Mine runs away from me."
"I'm sure she just has to come around," Rick tries to reassure Jim. "I think today's a good indication that that's happening."
Jim nods reluctantly. "I didn't want to see my daughter ever grow up. It feels like just yesterday I was holding her for the first time, and Jo –" He chokes a bit. "Jo just beaming up at me, radiant even after being in labour for ten hours."
Rick smiles at the image that conjures. "That certainly sounds like Johanna."
"I can't believe she's gone," Jim sighs heavily. "And to leave behind such a mess."
"A mess?" Rick asks, his ears perking.
"She'd been having trouble at work," Jim says wearily, a flash of grief crossing his face, and maybe regret? Rick isn't sure. Jim continues, "Someone just called me yesterday for her files, but I've no idea where they are. I told them to back off the case; before she was killed, Jo was sure someone was following her home every night. I told her to call the police, but she just shrugged me off."
At Rick's questioning look, Jim clarifies, "You know, because of what she did – standing up for people who may or may not have been unjustly put behind bars – she wasn't popular with the police."
"That… unfortunately makes sense," Rick responds. "What was it that she was working on that made her…and you so…"
"Paranoid?" Jim finishes wryly. "She was telling me that her newest case – her client was a mobster – might be her biggest one yet. I know she spent the most time in her office those last weeks before she was…killed."
"A mobster?" While Rick was aware of what Johanna did, he hadn't known many details.
Jim nods. "She didn't usually take cases with mob-related ties – she wasn't willing to compromise her morals – but this one caught her attention. She said something about how even mobsters shouldn't be framed for a crime they didn't commit, even if they had once gone astray. Anyway, the weeks leading up to her death she was calling home every night from the office to tell me she was coming home… like she wanted to make sure that someone was keeping track of her. And on top of all of that, Jo is – was – meticulous, but I haven't even found head or tail of her files on this case."
Rick looks at Jim thoughtfully. "You know, Jim… this might be a little off-topic, but what did that detective say to you that day at the police station?"
Rick sits quietly as he sees Jim visibly struggling to decide whether or not he should confide in Rick. He glances around – as if he thinks even Rick's place isn't safe – and in a hushed tone, says, "Raglan," – it takes a moment for Rick to place the name; oh, that sleazy detective - "Said that he knew I knew something, and that it wouldn't be long before he'd find something to get me on."
He pauses. "Which doesn't make any sense. I haven't had any interaction with him other than Jo's investigation… What on earth do I know? What does he think I've done?"
Jim takes a ragged breath. Rick says nothing, waiting for Jim to go on – waiting to see if Jim has anything else to say.
He does. "I suspect Jerry's death has something to do with Jo's death."
Rick murmurs his affirmation. "I've come to that conclusion too; Johanna's death and the Dunlops' deaths are in different areas – it's a hell of a coincidence that Raglan is working this homicide."
Jim shakes his head. "It's not just that," he says, "I noticed Jerry giving me strange looks the past few weeks, but I thought it was because your mother and I spending so much time together. But now that I look back on it, it looked like he wanted to tell me something."
Before Rick can ask about Jim and his mother, Jim is already moving on. "Anyway, the case Jo was working on… she believed there were corrupt cops involved, and possibly corruption all the way to the top."
"And…" Rick taps his chin contemplatively. "If we're right about Raglan, then it very well might be that he's one of the cops Johanna was investigating."
"Possibly one of the people responsible for her death," Jim says quietly, but Rick notices Jim's fists are gripped so tightly together that his knuckles are turning white.
"Are you thinking of getting involved?" Rick asks.
Jim visibly sags. "No. I still have Katie. I won't drag the remainder of my family through this – losing Jo has been far too high a cost."
But you're already involved, Rick wants to argue, though he says nothing.
"And Rick?" Jim glances towards the younger man. "You and your mother have been wonderful these past few months. I don't know if I could've gotten through the last bit." He laughs wryly. "No, that's not true; I'm sure I would've been an alcoholic if it weren't for your family." His tone becomes serious again. "Rick, listen to me. I know how much Jo was an influence in your life, how important she became – we became – to you. But Rick, promise me this: don't get involved. My wife wouldn't have wanted you to throw your life away over her death. In fact… she wanted more than anything to see you continue your writing."
With startling clarity, Rick realizes that Johanna's death is no longer just a story to him; he craves justice, where the bad guys get thrown behind bars and a happily-ever-after happens to the protagonists, just like as in his books.
"I… won't," he responds finally. "Jim, I think you and I… we're already involved. Or at least, you're already involved and my mother is as fiercely loyal to her friends as I am to mine. I don't know if we can pull out. Or even if we should. But if we can… and you're asking me to give it up, then I will." His eyes gleam. "But if you are involved or if they come after you, then you can bet everything that Mother and I will be behind you."
A/N: I'm not sure about this chapter at all. Exploring Rick - especially my increasingly non-canon, more mature Rick - is quite difficult, and I hope I'm striking a good balance with him. We'll see his sense of humour come back soon... likely as he spends more time around his family and Kate! I hope you enjoyed the interaction between Rick and Kate this chapter. Also, if you're wondering, "why on earth is Kate being so mature all of a sudden", I can explore a little bit of that in Addendums, if you like. Please leave me a review! Also, the offer still stands - I'd love to write an Addendum for you. Cheers, Ce'Nelenia
