Disclaimer: Don't own
A/N: Next chapter will be posted Thursday at the latest, barring something unforeseen happening. Thanks for your patience. It'll be worth the wait, though. Lots of drama in chapter 6...
The Art of Living 5/8
Beckett entered the interrogation room that held Arthur Fitzwilliam. She was done playing nice.
"You lied to me, Mr. Fitzwilliam." Beckett stood across the table from him. She rested her palms on the smooth metal of the table and leaned forward. "You told me you could think of no one who would want John Crombie dead. And yet we found this," she slid the photo of the blackmail letter across the table, "in John's studio, along with one hundred thousand dollars." She watched him for a reaction. "We also have a witness who saw you and John arguing about blackmail threats."
He was clearly startled. After a moment, during which she watched the debate take place in his blue eyes, he sighed heavily. His straight-backed posture lost a little bit of its starch.
"I should have told you the truth upfront, I admit," he said.
"You should have," Beckett agreed.
"I'm sorry I didn't," he shook his head ruefully. "If I had, then maybe Mr. Castle would not have gotten hurt." He looked at Beckett, then, an eyebrow raised in concern. "The blogs are saying he lost part of his spleen." He was clearly fishing, even if he was doing it very smoothly.
"That's between Mr. Castle and his doctors," Beckett replied, feeling protective of Castle. Truth was, Fitzwilliam wasn't the first to fish. She'd been hounded by more than one reporter since Castle had gotten hurt and she found the dogged invasion of his privacy appalling. Luckily, Captain Gates insisted on fielding each and every call from the media personally, so Beckett could refer them all to the captain and save her focus for the case.
Fitzwilliam smiled slightly, eyes dancing with what Beckett was tempted to call amusement. All of a sudden she felt transparent. She shifted slightly, but refused to break eye contact.
"I didn't mean to pry." He put his hands up in a gesture of apology. "I do hope he's okay."
"Richard Castle will make a full recovery," she replied formally, and then used the opportunity to shift them back to the interview. "But that's not what we're here to discuss."
"Of course," he said. "My ... omission is the reason for this interview."
Beckett knew how to use silence as effectively as actual questions. She said nothing, only watched Fitzwilliam patiently.
He cleared his throat uneasily.
"John had been acting strangely recently. Nervous. On edge," he began. "At first, I thought it was because he wasn't taking his medication. Paranoia was not uncommon for him. But then, he asked me for money. A lot of it. I refused to give it to him unless he told me why. That's when it came out," Fitzwilliam said. He spoke as though the truth tore at a deep part of his heart. "He was being blackmailed."
"By whom?" Kate took a seat across from the agent, easing her antagonistic body language slightly.
"I don't know," he said helplessly.
"Did you give him the money, Mr. Fitzwilliam?"
He nodded. "John was like a son to me. I couldn't refuse." Fitzwilliam leaned forward, earnest. "I begged him to tell me who the money was for, what the blackmail was about, but he refused. He could be so stubborn when he wanted to. He said he was dealing with dangerous elements." He dropped his eyes to the table. "I had to let it go. To my eternal shame and regret, I let it go. I thought that if Johnny gave the money to whomever was blackmailing him, he'd be safe."
"Mr. Fitzwilliam," Beckett waited for him to look at her. "You must have some idea as to what this was about. John was like a son to you."
The agent hesitated. "John worked so hard to get to where he was." He looked Beckett in the eye, "I don't want to see him lose all that. If the truth gets out ... I don't even know what it is. How can I protect him?"
"Mr. Fitzwilliam, the best you can do for John now is to help him find his justice."
He nodded. "You're right," he said reluctantly. "Of course, you're right." It took Fitzwilliam a moment more to convince himself, and then he said: "John started hanging out with a disreputable crowd, just a few months ago. People he'd known from back in his foster kid days. I didn't want them dragging him down, but he insisted they were like family to him."
"You think someone from his past had a hand in this?"
Fitzwilliam nodded. "I was serious when I said that fame brings all sorts out of the woodwork. When people think you've hit it big, they see you as an easy ticket."
"Do you have any names?"
"One of them was named Rocky, I think?" Fitzwilliam said. "That's all I know. John didn't say much about them, and after a while, I just stopped asking."
Beckett stepped into the observation room, where Ryan and Esposito were watching Fitzwilliam through the glass.
"Does the name Rocky ring any bells?" she asked.
They both shook their heads.
Beckett ran a hand through her hair. "Alright. We need to dig through Crombie's past. He was a tagger, he has a record. Did you make any progress looking into old associates?"
"We did," Esposito said. "But the name Rocky didn't come up. We'll run their names again and see if they acquired any new aliases."
"And we'll make sure Fitzwilliam's story checks out," Ryan added. "Call in for his financials. Should be here by morning."
"So you can go home and rest that headache you're pretending you don't have," Esposito said, shoulders squared.
Beckett looked at the two, challenge brewing in her eyes and on the tip of her tongue. Then she noted that they both had their stubborn faces on. Beckett sighed. She might have been able to fight Ryan on this, but not Esposito. Besides, she was nearing 40 hours without sleep and she couldn't deny that her fall yesterday was taking a toll on her. The dull ache at the base of her skull was starting to sharpen, as was the soreness in her muscles. A warm bath would do just the trick.
She smiled at them, touched by their support.
But they didn't get mushy with each other, so she settled with: "Call me if anything comes up."
"We will, boss."
"Bet on it," Ryan said warmly.
The next morning, somewhat refreshed – she'd managed six straight hours of a deep, dreamless sleep due to sheer exhaustion – and only somewhat stiff, Beckett sat at her desk reading through everything the boys had pulled on Crombie. An empty mug of coffee was already resting on the pictures of graffiti Crombie had painted in his earlier days. She had to catch up before the boys showed, after all.
Beckett was just about up to par when Ryan and Esposito walked in.
"Morning, Beckett."
"Morning, guys," she replied.
Ryan walked up to her desk and set down a take-away cup of coffee. "Strict instructions from Castle," he explained.
Beckett didn't even consider hiding her smile. "Thanks."
"For Super Becks, he told me." Ryan and Esposito were both grinning.
Of course. Beckett sighed, half-amused, half-embarrassed. She was not going to live that down any time soon.
"I also have Fitzwilliam's financials," Ryan said. "A withdrawal of one hundred thousand dollars from one of his many nest egg accounts."
"So he was telling the truth." She warmed her hands on the fresh cup of coffee.
"Man." Ryan shook his head. "Imagine dropping a hundred thousand just like that."
"They must have been really close," Esposito said.
"Or desperate," Ryan commented.
They both looked at Beckett, who couldn't help but remember the time Castle had done much the same, just to give her a chance at finding the truth for her mother.
"Alright," she said, standing up. "Crombie has a couple of arrests under his belt, all misdemeanours, all for tagging." She turned to the two men.
"No gang activity," Ryan said. "No drug running."
"There are a few of guys he was known to associate with at the time," Esposito continued, "but none who go by the alias of 'Rocky'."
"Of course not," Beckett said wryly. "That would be too easy."
"So either Rocky is a new alias," Esposito began.
"Fitzwilliam was mistaken," Ryan continued.
"Or he's lying," Beckett concluded. "His financials corroborate his story, though."
All three stared at the murderboard.
"Castle was useful at times like this," Ryan said.
Esposito jabbed him in the side with his elbow, throwing a surreptitious look at Beckett and muttering, "dude, no."
"We've solved cases without Castle before," Beckett reminded them, amused by their antics, but feeling the need nonetheless to assert that everything wasn't about to fall apart just because Castle was … hurt. "You'll do just fine without him to hold your hand. Or," she teased, "do you miss sharing notes and braiding each other's hair?"
"Detective Beckett?"
The three detectives turned at the sound of Alexis' hesitant voice. Esposito and Ryan exchanged concerned, curious looks.
"Alexis?" Kate stared at the girl. Alexis was just about the last person she would expect to see in the precinct when Castle wasn't around. "Shouldn't you be in school?"
"I'm actually on my way to the hospital," she explained. "They're releasing Dad today."
"Right, of course," she said, and then not knowing what else to do, added: "Please, have a seat," she gestured her towards Castle's usual chair. "Is everything okay?"
"How's your dad doing?" Ryan asked as Alexis and Beckett both sat.
"He's alright. The doctors were initially going to keep him another night, but I think the nurses are threatening to go on strike if he isn't released today."
Ryan and Esposito chuckled, but with only the slightest tilt of her head from Beckett, they got the hint. Quickly, though admittedly without much finesse, offering excuses about following up on leads, they made themselves scarce by going back to their desks.
Beckett focused her attention on Alexis. She noted the dark circles beneath the younger girl's eyes.
"How are you?" she asked.
Alexis shrugged.
"Are you getting any sleep?" Beckett persisted.
"Well, I was so exhausted last night, that when Gram and I got home I just collapsed into bed. But..." Alexis trailed off, nervously picking at a groove in Kate's desk.
"Nightmares?" Beckett asked sympathetically.
Alexis nodded slowly, head bowed.
"It's not unusual, Alexis. This is a very stressful, emotional situation to be in. Your body has to process it, and sometimes that can mean bad dreams."
She cleared her throat, wouldn't make eye contact with Kate. "Well, I couldn't really sleep this morning, so I woke up early," she was rambling, speaking quickly, each word clipping at the heels of the last. Much in the way Castle did when he was nervous. "And I didn't really have anything better to do and I wanted to, well, apologize for my behaviour yesterday and thank you for being so nice even though I was a complete jerk so I made you cookies." She reached into her purse, pulled out a container and handed it to Kate. All without making eye contact.
Kate was left a little dizzy by the whole thing. She looked down at the container as she took it from Alexis.
This was just about the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. It was no wonder Castle was so continually enamoured with his daughter. By all rights, Alexis should be furious with her, not giving her homemade cookies. Then again, this was the girl who'd snuck into a store to pay for what her friends had shoplifted, the kid who'd cried because she had once – under mitigating circumstances – skipped paying the subway fare. Guilt, Kate thought, is the last thing this girl needs to carry around.
Kate put the cookies down on her desk and took Alexis' fidgeting hands in her own.
"Please," she said, waiting until she caught the young girl's eye. "Don't apologize."
Alexis looked like she was about to cry again, looking so full of regret. "But what I said to you…it wasn't right … I reacted terribly and-"
"It's okay, Alexis," Kate cut her off before Alexis was forced to struggle anymore for what she wanted to say. "You were angry and worried, and that's perfectly alright."
"I'm still sorry," she mumbled, shamefaced.
"None of that," Kate said firmly.
Alexis didn't look convinced. "But-"
"There's no need to apologize." Kate said again. "Trust me: I understand how you must have felt. And it's okay." She offered a reassuring smile. "I don't bruise easy."
Alexis was now staring at her, some unidentifiable expression on her face. So Kate squeezed Alexis' hands one last time before letting go. She reached for the container of cookies and pried open the lid.
"You know," she began conversationally, eyeing the delectable treats in the box. "Your dad usually brings me a bear claw if he comes in early enough in the morning." She gave Alexis a conspiratorial wink, grinning slyly. "This is way better."
Alexis laughed, which is what Kate was aiming for.
"Are you working on Dad's case?" Alexis asked, looking around Kate's desk.
With a quick glance to make sure Alexis wasn't traumatized by the idea of it, Beckett decided sharing a few details wouldn't hurt.
"We're working the case we were working before your dad became a…" Beckett could hardly say victim. "An unintended casualty."
"A well-meaning unintended casualty," Alexis interjected, but she was smiling.
"Of course," Beckett agreed, relieved with how Alexis was handling this. Relieved and admiring.
Sensing the coast was clear, Esposito and Ryan wandered back to Beckett's desk.
"Hey," Alexis said as her eyes caught the pictures of Crombie's early graffiti. "That looks like Cranker's work."
"Cranker? Who's Cranker?" Esposito asked as he dug into the container on Beckett's desk to pull out a handful of cookies. His look dared Beckett to challenge his right to oatmeal butterscotch chip. When Beckett didn't protest, Ryan followed suit and grabbed his own handful of treats.
"He's an anonymous street artist," Beckett explained as Ryan and Esposito munched on the cookies. "Paints on the sides of buildings, bridges, even concrete dividers. Usually some kind of political statement. No one knows his real identity."
"He became an international phenomenon after last summer, when his works showed up in Europe," Alexis continued.
"And now defacing property is art," Esposito said disapprovingly.
"Hey, one person's garbage is another's art."
Beckett raised her eyebrows at how Alexis' response was almost an exact echo of her father's.
Esposito wasn't scowling at Alexis, but it was a near thing.
Beckett opened the browser on her computer and searched works by Cranker. She held the photos they had of Crombie's earlier work against the screen.
"You're right," Beckett said, looking from one image to the other. It was a rather ingenious observation, actually. Once pointed out, the similarities weren't too hard to spot. Alexis had a good eye.
"Well I'll be." Ryan was impressed.
"You may just have earned us our paycheque," Esposito joked.
Alexis was beaming.
"So Crombie," Beckett said, picking up the marker for the murderboard, "Is actually Cranker." She drew an arrow connecting 'blackmail' to Crombie's picture. "Which means," she turned to face her colleagues, "whoever was blackmailing Crombie was also blackmailing Cranker."
Ryan was already at his computer screen, pulling up the rap sheet for 'Cranker'. "It says here that a Rockefeller Gates was arrested under suspicion of being Cranker only six months ago. And," Ryan gave a Castle-esque dramatic pause, "Rockefeller also goes by alias 'Rocky'."
"I'll put out an APB," Esposito said, already flipping open his phone.
Kate grinned at Alexis, who was watching the sudden flurry of activity with breathless interest. "Thanks, Alexis."
"No problem," the redhead replied. "Wow," she marvelled. "I can see why dad enjoys coming here so much. It can be..."
"A rush?" Kate supplied,
"He must be like a kid in a candy store here," she said, looking around the precinct like she'd never seen it before.
"Yeah," Ryan replied. "But we like you better."
Esposito nodded in agreement as he put away his phone. "You come with cookies."
Kate entered the elevator in Castle's building and leaned heavily against the wall. The day had been draining. They'd put an APB out on Rocky aka Rockefeller Gates, but until he was apprehended, there wasn't much Kate and her team could do. Except, that is, attend a press conference on the mayor's orders.
She was dreading the headlines tomorrow. Her only hope was that Castle was not as big a celebrity as he thought he was, and the article would be buried somewhere between obituaries and used car classifieds.
In other words: she had very little hope.
The stress of that ridiculous press conference had only exacerbated her low-grade headache. And she still wasn't fully recovered from being pushed off the fire escape. She'd finished the last of the painkillers in her drawer before the press conference. So after a long day, not only her head but her back and shoulders hurt too.
Despite it all, though, she couldn't fathom going home without first checking on Castle. It helped that she'd reached a detente of sorts with Alexis, an understanding. It made it easier for Kate to live with herself. So here she stood, Remi's burgers and milkshakes in hand, waiting for the elevator to reach Castle's floor.
Castle sat next to Alexis on the living room couch, watching repeats of Game of Thrones. Since the stabbing incident, she'd been especially clingy and solicitous towards him. To be expected, Castle thought, but he didn't like the worry that was constantly lurking in his usually upbeat daughter's eyes. He held her close as they cuddled, mindful of his stitches and the dull ache in his side. At least he was able to stay awake for more than five minutes now, and move around, so Alexis could witness for herself that he was doing okay.
"Dad?"
"Yes, pumpkin?"
"I was so scared when Detective Beckett told me what happened."
Castle hugged his daughter more tightly. "I'm sorry, Alexis."
"And angry," she continued. "I was so mad." She shifted so she could look at him. Guilt shrouded her. "I may have said some terrible things to her the night you got hurt." She looked away. "I may have yelled."
Castle went still. He hadn't thought … hadn't expected-
"I'm sorry, Dad."
"It's not me you need to apologize to," he pointed out. "But I'm sure Beckett understands, honey."
"I went to the precinct this morning, to say sorry." She looked up at him again, expression now earnest. "I baked Detective Beckett cookies."
Castle would have gladly given away half his comic collection just to see the look on Kate's face at being handed a tin of cookies by Alexis, in the middle of the precinct. He couldn't help his smile.
"She was very understanding. And … nice." Alexis fell silent for a few moments, and he waited for her to gather her thoughts. "Detective Beckett was nice that night, too, even though I said all these hurtful things to her." She studied his face. "I do like her, and it wasn't fair of me to get mad at her after what you told me, about why you were going back after the summer." She paused, still watching him intently.
He said nothing because he wasn't quite ready for where this conversation seemed to be heading.
"But I don't think I want you to go back after this," She indicated his abdomen with a wave of her hand.
"Alexis." He rallied himself for the impending chat with his daughter. He wasn't ready to give up the precinct. He wasn't ready to give up Kate. He wasn't ready to give up.
"I know you feel responsible for her, Dad, but doesn't this make you even?"
Castle didn't really know what to say, beyond 'no, not even close,' so he just held her tighter, resting his chin on top of Alexis' head.
"You're still going back aren't you?"
He nodded, his chin rubbing against her hair.
"Is it because of her?"
"It's because of me, pumpkin."
Alexis sighed.
He wanted to promise he'd be extra careful, but he couldn't quite explain to Alexis what he'd felt when he saw Kate being flung off that fire escape. It still filled him with equal parts fury and terror, just to think about it.
"Don't be mad at Beckett," he said, instead of choosing this moment to start making empty promises to Alexis. "This is my decision. Life, Alexis," he looked down to make sure he had her full attention. "Life is for living. What's the point of hiding, of being afraid, of playing it safe?" He raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips. "Bo-ooring. It's a waste. If you learn one thing from me, learn that."
"You're the farthest it gets from boring," she offered with an affectionate smile.
He tipped his head in thanks, but Alexis was back to studying him, sizing him up.
"What?"
"Is that what you're trying to do for Detective Beckett?" she asked. "You think she's hiding?"
Ever so perceptive, his daughter was. Then again, she'd read all his early drafts for each Nikki Heat novel, in which Nikki made choices Kate wouldn't dare make for herself.
Castle sighed.
"I wish I could do that for her." He ran his fingers through Alexis' hair, more to soothe him than her. "But it's not something you can do for someone else, especially not someone who's been through what Detective Beckett has. She has to get there on her own."
He saw a new light in his daughter's eyes, as she looked at him. "You're a good person, Dad."
"It took you so long to figure that out?" He feigned affront. "I'm the paragon of awesomeness, I'll have you know."
Alexis rolled her eyes.
A knock sounded at the door, causing both of them to look up.
"Ah, vindication," he said, grinning at her. "That is undoubtedly a well-wisher, come to fawn over your father's heroics." He pointed a finger at his chest. "Awesome."
"You're just lucky the mayor likes you enough to spin this story to the media," she told him. She stood up to see who was at the door.
Castle grinned. It was incredibly helpful to have a good friend in the mayor. And – yet another bright side – he had a really cool, manly, heroic scar. He'd checked when the nurse had last changed his dressings.
"Detective Beckett!" he heard Alexis say. Castle's grin widened. Both because Beckett was there and because Alexis sounded at least a little pleased at seeing who their guest was, rather than upset. He stood up gingerly and made his way to the front door.
"I brought Remi's," Beckett was saying to Alexis. "There's enough for four."
"Milkshakes! They're my favourite." Alexis took their dinner and headed towards the kitchen. "I'll get plates."
Kate nodded absently, more intent on watching him. Castle's grin was wide enough to hurt his teeth.
"Hey," he said as he neared her.
"Hey," she replied softly. She nodded in the direction Alexis had gone with Remi's take-out. "To make up for our aborted dinner," she explained.
There was something in her eyes, though. Worry? Fear? Hesitance? Guilt? All of the above?
"Alexis tells me she may have behaved horribly with you," he said out of his daughter's earshot. He watched Kate for a reaction. "I'm sorry for that."
She was quick to shake her head. "Castle," she berated. "There's no need. She was scared." Kate paused. "We all were."
She was looking at him in that way of hers, shy and brave, smiling and scolding. Adorable.
Despite the pain in his side and the tiredness in Kate, he suddenly felt very happy.
"How are you?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
"I'm great," he replied, meaning it. "Healing like a champion. Plus, the whole city thinks I'm a hero, which is so cool." He grinned when she shook her head at him in reproof.
"How are you?" he asked. By now, he had heard from Alexis and Martha about how she'd handled the situation, how she'd been a rock for Alexis. Not that he'd expected any less. Nonetheless, he didn't even know how to begin to thank her. He'd have to think of something good, something epic, something on the scale of carving her face into a mountainside or … well, he'd already dedicated a series of books to her. A series of books based on her, in fact. Should've saved his best moves for last, he thought. What an amateur play.
She shrugged. There was that thing in her eyes again. Dark and worrying. This time, he recognized it. Of course, he thought, startled. He was an idiot for not seeing it earlier. The parallels were eerie, even for him. Stabbed. In an alley.
He refused to let her fall into the dreaded rabbit hole over this.
"I'm fine, Kate," he told her, taking a step closer to her. "I'm here."
He wanted to take her hand in his, but he rarely touched her. Looking had always been just as good when it came to her. The way she filled his vision touched his heart.
"I'm sorry," she said. "For-"
"Stop, no," he said, to forestall whatever she might have wanted to say. "This isn't your fault."
She bit her lip, eyes suspiciously bright, and let out a slow, trembling breath. She stepped towards him, carefully slipped her hands over his waist, and wound her arms around him. Her body was soft as she pressed into him. He could feel her warm breath through the vee of his shirt.
Holy. Space. Cowboys.
Kate Beckett was hugging him.
He enthusiastically hugged her back, putting his arms around her and holding on as tight as the stitches in his side would allow. He breathed in the cherries of her hair.
"Totally worth getting stabbed for," he informed her.
"Don't joke," she admonished, mumbling against his chest.
He wasn't joking. Part of his spleen in exchange for a hug from Kate? Totally worth it.
Long after Castle had lost all sense of time, Kate pulled out of his embrace. He didn't comment about the sheen in her eyes, but still she awkwardly fidgeted, not quite able to look at him. So of course he stared at her and made mental notes about how pretty and enchanting she looked.
"Castle," she huffed. "Stop staring."
Like that would ever happen.
"Kate!" Martha exclaimed, catching sight of them as she descended the staircase.
She swept over to Beckett and wrapped her up in a grateful hug. "Oh, darling, thank you for looking out for Alexis. And Richard."
"It was no problem, Martha," Kate hugged his mother in surprise. She looked at Martha – or rather, avoided looking at Martha – in the same way Alexis had avoided looking at him on the couch just minutes ago. "I ... I wanted to apologize, for what happened-"
"Katherine Beckett," Martha scolded. She locked eyes with Beckett as she held her firmly by the shoulders. "Don't you dare. I've been Richard's mother for long enough to know that my darling son doesn't need help getting into trouble."
Castle watched Beckett nod slowly, but she wasn't fully convinced. The last thing he needed was her feeling responsible for what had happened. It would do neither of them any good, he thought worriedly.
"Getting out of it, however," Martha said dramatically, casting a glance at him. She was clearly trying to tease that sudden somberness out of Kate's demeanour, "is another matter altogether."
"Hey, I'll have you know I was heroically saving the city from criminal elements," he protested, catching on to his mother's ploy.
His mother gave him a glance that was equal parts fondness and exasperation, before turning her focus back on Kate.
"Tell me," she said, giving the detective a concerned once-over. "How are you? Richard said you took a tumble."
"I'm fine," she assured, "Not even a bruise."
"Super powers," Castle chimed in playfully. "I told you. Can leap from tall buildings in a single bound."
"Oh, Richard, really." Martha dismissed him with a wave of her hand. She wound her arm through Kate's and led her towards the kitchen. "You're staying for dinner," she announced instead. "I will not take no for an answer."
"There's no reasoning with her when she's like this," Castle informed Beckett, contentedly trudging along behind them. The longer they kept Kate, the more she would realize that his family held no grudge against her for his injury.
"This from the man who, only yesterday, was convinced his nurse wanted to murder him in his sleep," Martha threw over her shoulder.
"She had crazy eyes!" Castle protested. "Crazy eyes!"