Thanks for the continued support dearest readers . . . one more before the weekend.
Chapter Five: I'm tired of learning life the hard way.
Five months ago:
"You're who?" Castle says stunned, blue eyes wide with incomprehension. It's not that he hasn't wondered about this moment, written it for himself a thousand times (if only in his head) – but now that the moment is actually here . . . the circumstances are just too . . . bizarre. Even for Richard Castle.
"I said I'm your father." The older man repeats. He doesn't smile at Castle . . . instead he just watches, his expression painted heavily with contrived neutrality and betraying exactly . . . nothing.
The writer feels his stomach begin to cramp up again and he winces in pain. The heat out here is beginning to become a bother, and the drugs still disappearing from his system are gleefully playing with him as they depart. Hurts.
And he's struggling, completely spiraling as even his vivid imagination cannot in this moment write him a scenario where any of this makes a lick of sense.
So Castle closes his eyes for moment, blocks it all out and concentrates simply on just trying to breathe through the most immediate demand – the stomach pain.
He feels his father's hand clasp his elbow again but he shakes it off.
"Don't. I'm fine." He lies.
Gabor isn't buying it.
"You're in pain – I'm sorry. You should really eat – it will help. So if you feel up to a little walk – please . . . why don't you come with me?"
Another cramp almost doubles Rick over.
"What – you mean I'm not imprisoned to my room?" Castle grinds out between his teeth as he gasps through the agony and forces his eyes open again, his eyebrow climbing with the sarcasm.
Richard Gabor shakes his head with a soft smile.
"No. No need my son. Even if you leave the villa – trust me there is nowhere for you to go. So you will be free to come and go here as you please."
The cramp subsides and Castle unsteady straightens up, his face clammy.
'I'd like to go home if it's all the same to you." The writer replies.
The soft smile on the other man's face disappears as quickly as it came, replaced once more by that painfully blank mask, eyes closed off and divulging nothing. There is however the faintest trace of regret in his voice when he speaks next.
"If that were possible I would return you to your loved ones in a day. I'm sorry Richard . . . but you'll have to content yourself on being my guest for the foreseeable future." He turns to go.
"Come." He says as he turns again at the door. "Come and eat and then you can explore wherever you like or return to your room if you wish to rest some more. Your strength will return with nourishment and you have my word there will be no more need for narcotics."
Castle shakes his head.
"No. You need to start talking Gabor . . . I need to understand what the hell is going on here. Why can't I go home?"
The other man sighs, but comes back into the room until he stands just inside the balcony.
"Come. Eat. We'll talk. I'll tell you as much as I can Richard. It won't be everything I'm afraid . . . there are some things you are safer not understanding. But I'll tell you enough that you'll comprehend what compelled me to bring you here."
The author barks out a laugh.
"Bring me here. You make it sound like a vacation. You abducted me . . . and for all I remember you hurt Kate to do it. I don't want to go anywhere with you."
His father's blue eyes darken, and Castle finds it creepy, to see his own eyes in another man's face. His captor hesitates, and Castle swears he can almost sense an anger rising in Gabor – as if he's completely unused to having any instruction disobeyed.
"She is not my first concern but Kate is safe this way too. And that's what you want most isn't it Richard? Even at the expense of your life if necessary – to ensure her continued well-being?"
The writer's stomach twists but he nods.
"More than anything." He admits. "My mother, Kate and Alexis, that's it – nothing else matters." He adds.
Gabor inclines his head.
"You have no reason to believe me – especially considering the circumstances, but I do understand Richard. I know what it means to be willing to make any sacrifice for those you love." And for a tiny moment Castle sees it in his father's eyes – that same absolute tenacity in love that exists within him – but then it's gone.
His father continues. "They are all three safer right now because of this . . . trust me, at least until I've explained. Now come and eat, over food I'll begin to fill you in." He says.
The older man turns to go once more and Castle debates, but in the end he sees the futility in further protest at this time and so he reluctantly follows him. Gabor is right about at least one thing – the author knows he'll feel so much better after some food and if he tries to make a break for freedom from here he's going to need all his strength to do it.
Leaving the bedroom that Castle woke up in behind them, Gabor leads the younger man down a short corridor that opens up and becomes a landing - connecting the room to the rest of the house. A large semi-spiral stone staircase winds down before them to the floor below and both men descend it. Once they are on the ground floor of the villa, Gabor shows Castle into a spacious kitchen, with huge wooden doors flung wide open, leaving almost one entire side of the room looking towards the ocean and a patio beyond. A large ancient table and four chairs sit under the shade of a semi-circle of olive trees, helpfully blocking the seating area from the heat of a direct sun.
Castle looks around at the functional but decidedly un-modern room. Flagstone tiles and white stone walls, furniture that looks a hundred years old - his writer's imagination is just whirling. Everything about this place – from the sun, to the smells, the feel of the villa itself, well it reminds him of . . .
"Are we in Greece?" He blurts out suddenly.
Gabor turns to him looking somewhat surprised and then he nods.
"First guess – I'm impressed." He says, with a genuine smile, before he ignores the shocked, make that totally incredulous look on his son's face and turns back to pulling bread, meats and cheeses from the kitchen's large refrigerator.
"Seriously . . . Greece?" Castle says again, as he wanders out to the table on the patio and slumps – stunned – onto a worn-smooth wooden chair, resting his head in his hands. Another stomach cramp comes – a lesser one this time but as it hits him he lowers his head still further to the surface of the table moaning softly. He feels so abjectly miserable, and he's never been any good at not feeling well. He wants Kate . . . wants her soft strong hands and her gentle soothing voice and he misses her . . . he just - he misses her . . . so much - already.
Again the pain passes and the writer forces himself to pull it together.
Get him talking . . . get the information. He thinks. Then you can start to formulate a plan.
"Greece." He mumbles into the table top. "Okay . . . how?"
Gabor doesn't answer, but a plate with a generous hunk of bread and cheese on it is placed before him. It smells good and Castle lifts his head, starving now he comes to think about it. He eyes his companion warily as Gabor takes a seat next to him and places another plate loaded with cold cuts of meat and olives in the center of the table before them.
"Greece." He confirms again. "Now . . . eat."
Castle digs in, makes a show of proving that he's strong enough to continue this conversation already, and Gabor seems to sense his son's frustration level rising because he begins to speak, to offer information to placate him.
"Your Detective Beckett . . . she's . . . extraordinary – just like your mother is . . . I have to give you that."
Castle bristles at the mention of Martha even as he's flooded with some sort of dumb pride that this man he's never met approves of his choice in a girlfriend. Ridiculous. He doesn't need anyone's approval and his mother . . . what was she ever to this man?
"My mother was a one-night stand – I'm flattered you remember her." He says defensively.
Gabor looks angry.
"I understand why you've been brought up to think that Richard – why even your mother must think . . . and she knows how we loved each other in that one night we were given. But don't presume on my memories young man . . . I never forget anything . . . and the last thing I would ever wish is to forget even one second spent with her."
Castle is shocked by the depth of Gabor's declaration.
"You loved my mother?" He asks quietly. "But you only knew her a day." He says.
Gabor nods nonetheless.
"I love her still." He says gently.
Castle looks confused.
"Then why would you . . . I mean you never saw her again . . . you've never seen me . . . what possible explanation can you have for that and still claim to care about her?" He demands.
Gabor sighs.
"And this is where we start the explanation . . . from there to here . . . its all one and the same."
"What does that even mean?" Castle asks.
"It means Richard . . . that I'm CIA."