Author's note: You're all wonderful. I truly appreciate the response to this story. I'm having a beer at the moment, and I duly tip it ever so slightly in your direction.
Now, uh, here's the thing…
Beckett dropped her purse on her kitchen table and kicked off her heels. She padded across to a window and pulled the edge of the blinds aside to look out, but Castle's taxi was already gone.
She side her coat off, and she could smell just a hint of Castle's cologne from where she'd been pressed up against his left side for much of the evening.
Her phone buzzed and she crossed the room again to take it out of her purse, seeing that it was a text from Lanie.
Home now. Javi dropped me off first! You still there with your writer?
Beckett sighed and tapped out a reply.
Nope, home too. Shared a cab. Kind of started to talk, but didn't get anywhere. Going to call him tomorrow.
She saw the thought-bubble icon appear below her sent message immediately, indicating that Lanie was typing a reply. After several seconds, the new message slid onto the screen.
Well figure out what you're gonna say. No time like the present. Night x
Beckett slid the phone into her pocket and then fetched a glass of water before walking into her bedroom.
The duty rota for the week had been amended after today's case closed, and her team was off duty tomorrow. They'd only be called in the event of a major incident, and not for regular body drops. Tomorrow was Friday, which meant a rare three-day weekend.
On a whim, she picked her phone up again and typed a text to Castle, then sent it before she could think better of it.
Thanks for the cab - forgot to give you money. What time is good to call you tomorrow?
She set the phone down and then went into the bathroom to change and get ready for bed, and when she came back out five minutes later and pressed the phone's Home button to activate the screen, there was a message waiting.
Beckett swiped the banner and entered her PIN to unlock the device, and the message appeared.
Don't worry about it. Back to work on Monday.
She sighed in frustration. "We are going to talk, Rick," she muttered to herself, typing quickly.
I really want to talk. I'll call at 10AM. OK?
This time it only took a minute or so for the reply to arrive.
OK
"Good," she said to herself, plugging the phone into her bedside charger.
She pulled back the covers and lay down, turning to face the windows along one wall of the bedroom. There was a low table running along that wall, and it had several of his books neatly lined up on it.
Storm Rising was turned so that she could see the back-cover jacket shot of Castle. He was a bit younger in the photo, and she considered getting up to turn her copy of Heat Wave around instead, but she just sighed and switched out the bedside lamp instead.
It was some time before she fell asleep.
Castle dropped his phone onto his desk and put his palms flat against the mahogany surface, taking slow, deep breaths.
With every inhalation, he could smell her perfume lingering tantalisingly around him.
"Trouble," he muttered, then pushed himself upright and walked back through to the open-plan living and kitchen area of the loft, switching on the cold tap. He stared at the stream of water for a few seconds and then flipped the lever to seal the plughole. The sink began filling with water, and when it was just over three-quarters full, he turned the tap off.
"Definitely trouble," he said, then he plunged his head into the icy water.
It did the trick. The scent of her perfume vanished instantly, and he felt his heart-rate slow.
Alexis watched curiously from halfway down the staircase, barefoot and clad in her pyjamas and a robe.
Uh-oh, she thought.
This was the beginning of a ritual that he had performed exactly twice before: when her mother left, and when Gina did.
Several seconds passed, and Alexis felt a swirl of panic in her chest. She started down the stairs but then froze again when she heard bubbles of air rising from the sink, and then she saw her father pull his head abruptly up and out of the water, taking a heaving gulp of air.
He took another couple of breaths in quick succession, blinking water out of his eyes, then allowed himself to just hang over the sink, droplets of water falling from his eyebrows, cheekbones and chin and spattering into the sink.
He pressed the lever again to open the plughole, and the water quickly began to swirl downwards and away.
"Better?" Alexis asked from behind him, and he spun around, leaving an arc of wetness across the tiled floor.
"Jesus," he said under his breath, looking at her for a long moment before reaching for a dishcloth and dabbing at his face.
"I didn't think so," Alexis said, then she walked over to the kitchen area and perched herself on a stool.
"I'm fine, pumpkin," he said, running the dishcloth around his jawline and then pressing it against his fringe, which was now plastered against his forehead. "How was your day?"
"Don't change the subject, dad," she said, giving him her best enough of your nonsense look.
He smiled wistfully at her, and she knew he was remembering the past.
"Really," he said at last. "Nothing to worry about. I've just been doing some thinking."
"And drinking too," she said, sniffing the air melodramatically.
He shrugged. "Guilty as charged. Now why aren't you asleep?"
"It's not even midnight."
He glanced around at the clock on the nearby wall, and his eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Huh. Thought it was later. Feels later." As if on cue, he yawned extravagantly, and a moment later Alexis was yawning too.
"I think we could both use some sleep," he said, with an affectionate smile. He closed the distance between them and put his arms around her, and she slid her arms around his waist, her palms resting against his back and her right cheek pressed against his chest. She could feel his heart beating.
"I guess so," she replied. "But if you want to talk about anything, you know where I am."
He grinned into her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. "I'm pretty sure I'm meant to be the adult here."
Alexis pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. "I'm very proud of you you for finally figuring that out."
He laughed, and felt some of the tension in his body slip away. He kissed her on the forehead, making a loud smacking sound, then stepped back.
She beamed at him, hopping down off the stool and crossing to the foot of the stairs. She turned and looked at him again.
"Dad?" she said, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Is everything OK with… Detective Beckett? And you, I mean?"
Castle carefully schooled his features from long practice.
"Fine, honey," he replied. "Everything's fine."
She looked at him for a long moment, then she exhaled. "OK," she said. "Night."
He waved at her retreating form. "Night."
He waited until he heard her bedroom door close before rubbing his eyes wearily.
Got to get a grip, Rick, he thought. One way or another.
Beckett was going to call him at ten the next morning, and right now he had absolutely no idea how he felt about that. He walked through to his office again to fetch his phone, then continued on towards his bedroom.
The evening had been bizarre. Comfortable and normal on the surface, but actually intensely strained. And she had been behaving very strangely.
Like she was flirting, but nervous about it. Or–
He stopped dead just inside the doorway of his bedroom.
Was this some kind of pity play?
She knew he was pulling away, and it was affecting their working relationship. She also knew how he felt about her. If she was trying to bring him back into the fold by giving him what she thought he wanted, but she was uncomfortable about doing it…
He shuddered.
No. That's not her.
He ran his fingers through his damp hair, feeling sluggish from the alcohol.
She's got me completely messed up, he thought. Can't even think. Well, I'm going to take that call tomorrow, and I'm going to get some clarity. This has got to stop.
He flipped the mute switch on his phone and threw the device onto the bed. It bounced a couple of times before coming to rest near a pillow.
He kicked his shoes off and then undid his belt, coiling it up and sitting it on a side table. He was about to start undoing his shirt buttons when he heard a faint buzz from behind him.
He glanced around and saw that the phone's screen was lit up, then it went dark again.
"Not now, Kate," he muttered, nevertheless walking around the bed to pick up the phone. He pressed the Home button and the screen illuminated, displaying a banner indicating that he had a missed call ten seconds ago.
A deep crease appeared across his forehead and his pulse accelerated as he read the name printed beside the green icon.
Kyra Blaine