Chapter Eleven: The only thing that's stopping me from falling down.
Five months ago. . .
His father disappears for four terminally long days.
And that leaves Castle stuck there . . . in an empty villa - with only a Greek speaking late sixty-something female housekeeper whose very kind and who smiles at him a lot but whom he can ask nothing of.
She doesn't even attempt to speak to him – however she cooks for him all the time. He's had no real appetite since the first day he woke up here - but she's after him with delicious looking balanced meals three times a day. And it dawns on him after the second day of it that she's very clearly been told by Gabor to ensure that he eats – to try and keep his strength up.
So of course by the fourth day all its doing is driving him totally bat-shit crazy.
This entire situation is driving him bat-shit crazy . . . and the scariest part – he's so desperately lonely he thinks he could die – and he's acutely aware that he's only four days into this . . . with no idea of how long this enforced exile is going to be.
How cruel that seems to him. That he cannot even cross the days off of a calendar with any satisfaction at all because there is no end to his torment within sight.
Castle's always been aware of the fact that he needs people around him. He's just the type of person who craves interaction – it's a big part of what makes him who he is. So being so isolated like this, being left all alone, well not since he broke up with Kyra and before he met Meredith has there been any real period of his adult life when he was spending the days truly on his own.
And ever since Alexis was born he's had both companionship and responsibilities constantly - he's so not used to this – to pure unmitigated solitude . . . and he's finding he doesn't know how to cope with it at all, he has no skill set for this.
Especially here - stuck on an island . . . where apart from the beach and a library full of books to read - there seems to be absolutely nothing else for him to do.
So he's ridiculously grateful – despite the fact he's angry as all hell at the man - when he wakes up on the fifth morning to discover that his father has returned.
The writer is up early, as he has been every morning since he got here – uncharacteristic for him when he's not on any set schedule but the fact is he's been sleeping very poorly. He spends his night time hours tossing and turning in bed, waking fitfully from half-remembered dreams as he searches vainly for Kate in each and every single unconscious moment.
It's both the most unique and also the purest form of torture he can imagine.
There is a constant ache deep in his heart, painful - pressing upwards against his lungs and making him feel like he can't ever take a deep enough breath. His writer's mind keeps actively torturing itself with visions of Kate taking crazy dangerous risks while she's searching for him; and it's made much worse by the fact that she no longer has the protection of a badge or partner or a gun. She's just a civilian now . . . so he worries constantly about her . . . does anyone have her back without him there - or is she starkly vulnerable . . . all alone?
There is no way for him to know – and it cuts just so deep.
And God he hopes . . . he needs to keep believing that Alexis and Kate are working to support each other through this – because it's been better than he hoped for actually – their relationship since he and Kate finally got together. Alexis is such an understanding soul by nature – but she'd clearly built up resentments towards his partner on his behalf over the course of the previous year, and they would manifest sometimes . . . without any warning – so all he can pray for is that it isn't happening again right now.
If his mother, Kate and Alexis have all banded together – then he knows they'll somehow get each other through this – but if not . . . then he also knows the situation will be so much harder on Kate if her relationship with Martha and his daughter has fallen apart.
Still . . . his fingers are crossed that it isn't happening . . . and maybe his toes too.
He wanders into the kitchen expecting to see Dianthe making coffee and setting the table for breakfast but encounters Gabor instead, he's instantly both relieved and furious – then confused when it feels weird to him that his father's face positively lights up as soon as he sees him.
It's like he can instinctively tell that 'delight' is an expression that rarely - if ever - crosses the other man's face.
"Richard – good morning . . . your timing is excellent – the French press on the table there is hot and fresh."
Castle doesn't know what to say in the moment so he swallows the recriminations sitting there on the tip of his tongue and instead forces a tight smile to cross to his face. He nods at the older man and pours himself a cup of coffee before he wanders out through the perpetually open French doors and sits himself on the uncomfortable, uneven white stone wall, instead of at the table and chairs. It's perverse – he's well aware of it, but he can't seem to allow himself to get comfortable here . . . not when he caused this.
Gabor joins him with his own coffee a few minutes later.
"Where have you been?" Castle grumbles as the older man pulls out a chair. He's totally torn between being happy Gabor has returned so he has someone to talk too – ask questions of – and outright resentment of the man for this enforced captivity.
A small frown ghosts over Gabor's face before he smiles – and Castle can tell the man is trying to be both open and reassuring.
"New York." The spy replies casually, unaware that just the city's name stabs Castle in the heart. "Snatching you was highly risky, and while I have complete access to all CIA surveillance from here . . . I was already scheduled to meet with Valez two days ago anyway. I thought it highly prudent to make that meeting - to assess his reaction to these events in person. Make sure his plans for Kate hadn't been altered . . . that he was still happy to wait on his full revenge."
Yeah – Castle has also been brooding about that.
"And?" He asks nervously. "Please tell me that they're all still safe."
Gabor nods. "Valez doesn't know I have you – in fact no one does, apart from a few trusted colleagues and in order to sneak you here that was unfortunately unavoidable. A driver, a pilot . . . some medical assistance were all required . . . right now Valez is under the impression that you have been killed – just a whole lot more quietly than he'd originally planned. . . and we need to hope he keeps on believing that. "
Castle gasps, looking truly horrified.
"How . . . how did you get him to buy that?" He asks with no small amount of trepidation – but as he looks into his father's s electric blue gaze the author realizes he already knows the answer . . . he can see it written on Gabor's face.
"Oh my God" He whispers. "You've led Valez to believe you killed me for him – as some sort of a favor. I'm right aren't I? But you've told him you took me out very quietly . . . because no body . . . no crime."
There is an indescribable sorrow in his father's face as Castle says this. And when Gabor nods hesitantly there is shame visible on his rugged face as well. And when he speaks, he speaks very softly – as if he's trying to cushion the both the writer and himself from a blow.
"It was . . . harder than I thought it would be – to sell him this lie. But Valez bought it – in the end – once I made a show of pointing out to him how very much worse Kate's despair would inevitably be when after months of searching in vain for you – believing you'd been abducted but still hoping you were alive – he got to be the one to tell her you were simply dead – and why."
Castle stomach rolls, and bile crawls up his throat, but then he thinks about it, really stops and thinks about it. Gabor has a somewhat solid plan, it can work, and at least this way Valez is in a holding pattern with regards to his punishment for Kate, happy to sit back and watch her struggle - and everyone that he loves still has hope that he's actually alive.
It's the best of a bad situation in point of fact, because if Gabor hadn't convinced Valez that Castle was dead . . . then who knows how he might have decided to exact his revenge on Kate then.
And that – that does not bear thinking about.
Castle bites his lip and studies his father quietly.
"Thank you." He says after a long pause. "For convincing Valez to believe that, for acting to keep Kate safe; I don't think I would survive it if anything were to happen to her now – especially if happened because of me." He confesses.
Gabor's shoulders noticeably relax and he smiles broadly, and as Castle studies him for a long moment he's suddenly very much able to see himself in his father when all the sternness vanishes like this from the other man's features.
"I know that Richard." Gabor replies kindly. "And I know this is very hard for you . . . but I do mean to get you both through this – you and Kate. I'll get you back to her somehow – back to your life together . . . in the end."
Castle nods and takes a sip of his cooling coffee.
"So . . ."He asks. "Will you tell me what you plan to do?"
Gabor looks hesitant, torn, like he wants to share . . . but ultimately doesn't think it's such a great idea.
"What little I can divulge to you . . . I will. But this is a complicated operation my son –classified. And I didn't exactly get concealing you sanctioned. The agency let me act to prevent your murder – but all I was just supposed to do was stop it - warn you, and then leave you alone. If I'd done that Valez would simply have tried again . . . and again or just thought to hell with it and killed Kate outright. Balancing the Agency's needs against my own desire to protect you at all costs . . . and deal with Valez . . . it's going to take time. The Agency is not going to let me shut Valez down until they get what they want – namely intel on the key cartel leaders that only Valez can supply. Once I have that . . . then he goes down. Once I have that . . . then you're safe . . . but it's going to take time Richard – I would be lying to you if I said otherwise."
Castle sighs heavily, forces himself to reluctantly ask . . .
"How much time are we talking about here . . . just a ball park?"
His father looks apologetic.
"Months." He says. "At the very least"
Shit . . . seriously?
"I'm going to go crazy – you know that right?" The writer responds. "I'll go quietly stark-raving mad here with nothing to do . . . and you coming and going. Without Kate I . . . I'm going to go crazy. And that goes for my family too – so Gabor you have to tell them. You have to let at least Mother, Kate and Alexis know that I'm okay . . . I can't do this to them – you can't do this to them."
Gabor pushes back from the table and stands, coffee cup in his large hands. He joins his son on the low stone wall, seating himself sideways so that he can look at him. He speaks sternly.
"Understand this Richard – because this is the way it is. Cesar Valez is ruthless – and he's watching them. He has cops on his payroll – hell he has members of the FBI on his payroll and he has eyes and ears all over the city. If the people that love you knew – if they truly knew that you were alive . . . safe . . . well . . . if they had communication with you of any kind – it would show at some point. Right now Valez is perfectly content to sit back and watch Kate Beckett suffer through your disappearance only because all that pain and confusion and loss is so perfectly genuine. The fact of the matter is – because they are all so broken up, so worried, all acting so appropriately – that is the only thing that's keeping all of them all safe. Don't you see – if they knew and had to 'act', if they were to slip – even for a moment – they would give the truth away and then it might mean Kate's life. So you must accept and accept right now that this is the only way."
Castle closes his eyes and tries to take a calming breath - doesn't work. The thought of months . . . endless months stretching out in front of him without his daughter . . . without his love – he can't do it. He's never going to make it deprived of her voice and her scent and her touch . . . he's addicted to her – it's a simple and as complicated as that.
He feels a hand come to rest on his back, realizes that he's struggling for breath – panicking at the thought of struggling through so much time on his own.
"I can't . . . I need her." He whispers brokenly. "I need Kate."
The hand at his back slides up to his shoulder and squeezes. He hears his father sigh heavily – resigned.
"Richard I have something to show you." Gabor tells him.
So Castle opens his eyes.
The author has been all over the villa in the five days he'd been stranded here. Apart from his room, which is set in a wing of the building that's built into the cliff itself and therefore only exists on the upper floor – there are four other bedrooms, three bathrooms, a library, the kitchen and a spacious lounge. That's pretty much it – or so anyone exploring the place would be led to believe.
But of course this place belongs to the CIA – so Castle should have known there had to be more.
Gabor heads up the stairs ahead of him - to the upper floor, at the stair-head he turns in the direction of Castle's room, but halfway down the hallway he stops, there is a painting on the wall, large, three feet wide by six feet tall – it conceals a door.
There's a narrow corridor behind it - rough-hewn where its carved from the stone of the cliff, which ends after about fifteen feet in a circular room, and everywhere Castle looks there is a screen.
Holy shit.
Gabor smirks slightly and the writer realizes he's spoken the words aloud, then the spy heads for a work station, enters some commands into a keyboard – speaks an authorization code and every screen in the room promptly jumps to life.
And there she is – as Castle looks around the entire room she is everywhere – she is all he sees . . . Kate.