Author's Note: See notes on Chapter One for a more complete introduction. This chapter again deals with what we didn't see over that first summer break before episode 2.1 Deep in Death. This time, I'm coming from Beckett's perspective.

Disclaimer: Castle and its characters do not belong to me, I make no money from this, and no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just enjoying some time with a few of my favorite characters. The story is mine, however, except where I'm directly quoting the episode.

Richard Castle, Grown-Up

Chapter Six: I Don't Care Anymore

He cleared his voice, then launched in. "Uh, hey. It's me."

You think I didn't know that? Why else would I have ignored my ringing phone if I didn't know it was you?

Richard Castle would not leave her alone. He kept calling, even though she never answered her phone nor returned any of his calls. If it wasn't such a hassle, she would have changed her number last month. The paperwork within the department would have been horrible, though, so she decided to wait him out. Liar, her mind accused. You know he'd have no way to get in touch if you changed your number and you want to see how far he'll pursue you. You are just looking for a reason to let him back in.

She continued listening to the message. More of the same; he wanted to explain himself. As if I wanted to hear it. Kate hit the number necessary to delete his latest speech. He'd leave another one within a few days.

She had to hand it to him, though. The man was tenacious. Castle had tried pleading: "Please call me back. Please. Please. Please," continuing until the message system cut him off. He tried a more formal phone call. "Detective Beckett, this is Richard Castle. I was hoping you could find it in your heart to call me back and allow me to explain my actions." Castle tried his Christopher Walken impression on her, again. "Please, call Mr. Castle. He has vital information to whatever case you are currently working on." She recalled telling him that particular impression needed work—her opinion hadn't changed. He even reverted to a whining nine-year-old at one point: "Come on, why won't you answer my call?"

Her phone began ringing once more. She looked at her caller ID and shook her head. She couldn't help but smile, just a little bit. She waited until it went to voicemail and checked her call log. It was full of "missed" calls from him. This would be call number what—five-hundred-thirty-eight? He had left at least one message each day, and that didn't begin to count the calls where he had just hung up after realizing it went to voicemail again. At least some things never changed: Castle was still ridiculously excessive.

Her phone beeped, alerting her to another message. She sighed and put the phone to her ear, ready for another outlandish listening experience. This one was not what she expected, however. It was different, his voice quiet and almost sad. "Kate, I miss you. Please, call me and let's talk about this. Please." With that, he simply hung up. It almost felt like he had shed all pretenses, had cast off his pride and given it one last genuine shot at communication. She steeled herself against the compassion that welled up within her. He is a master manipulator, I'll give him that. This time she hit the delete button with more force than was required.

A few days passed. No messages. He had finally gotten the message, so to speak. Good, she told herself. She couldn't completely deny that she missed him, but she'd get over it soon enough.A few more days came and went, still nothing from him. Kate convinced herself that she wasn't keeping track of how long it had been.

About a week later, her phone rang. She had almost gotten to the point of automatic answering again, but glanced down this time for some reason. Kate's breath caught as caller ID displayed Castle's name, her finger hovering over the accept button. Determined to be done with this game once and for all, she returned the phone to her pocket. Minutes passed, then an hour. No message. It was finally over.

He must have tried everything in the book—everything except admitting that he had been wrong. That's all I really wanted to hear. Why can't they just say they're sorry?