A/N: Thanks for your response and all of the support (and hate!). I love all of your ideas, though mine isn't nearly as clever and intricate.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
000000000000000000000
"Hey girl, I got your full tox report." The voice jerks her from her thoughts. Kate straightens in her chair a bit, still stares down at her desk, blows out a steadying breath and raises her head with a last swipe at her eyes. Lanie's reading off of the page, not looking at her. Good; she's got a few extra seconds to compose herself. "You're not going to like it," she says, as she plops down in Castle's chair.
No, not Castle's chair. Just a rickety piece of furniture that resides by her desk. The same one that was here before him. It'll still be here after him. She's giving it more symbolism than deserved. Only, if it's just a damn chair, why does it hurt so badly to think of him never occupying it again?
She sighs. "Results clear?"
"As a bell. Like the prelim suggested, nothing in his system."
Kate takes her notepad and crosses off the small list of suspects one-by-one, until she's left with none. That's the same amount she started with this morning when she picked up the case from Detective Stevens. He had hit a brick wall and asked for a fresh set of eyes before filing it away. Though, she's not sure how fresh hers are right now, with stagnant tears pooled in the corners that she's struggling to keep from dropping again.
Kate lets the curtain of her hair fall, covering her face, the smudged make-up, the twin tears leaking without her permission. If she looks half as bad as she feels, she's going to be forced into talking about it. She doesn't want to talk about it. She needs to get Lanie out of here.
"Thanks. I'll call you if I have any questions."
"No problem." The legs of the chair scrape against the floor when Lanie rises to get up. Kate glances to her left, stills sees her shoes. Lanie's quiet; she's never quiet. Shit. "Girl, what did you do?" She hisses it, knows.
"What I had to." She finally looks up, stares at her friend, silently begs her to let it go.
"You didn't," she whispers accusingly, furrowed brow, concerned etched all over her face. "Tell me you didn't do something stupid."
"I had to."
"Oh my God, Kate. Where is he?"
"He left." She stands, can't take the heat of her friend's glare combined with the guilt and sorrow weighing on her shoulders. Her muscles are tense with the stress of her grief. "He left," she repeats. It's over.
"Go find him. Don't be an idiot." She's tugging on her elbow and pulling her towards the elevator. She lets Lanie's pull and her own momentum drag her into the box. She grabs the railing for support, presses her face into the wall.
"It's over, Lanie."
"You know Castle's going to talk to her, get this all straightened out, right? It'll all be fine. You know how persuasive he can be." The M.E. is trying to draw a smile out of her, but she thinks all of her smiles left with him. She hurt him so deeply. He was stunned, paralyzed with emotion and trying to grasp for answers that she couldn't give him.
"I didn't tell him why." It wouldn't be fair, would be even harder on him. That's the whole reason she's breaking her own heart, so he doesn't have to.
"What the hell did you tell him?" Her friend pushes the red button on the elevator and it jerks to a stop, makes her stomach lurch. "No. No. I know that man, Kate Beckett. He's nothing, if not persistent. He's not going to say 'Oh, you want to break up? Well, okay, sure.' So, what did you say?"
"That I didn't want him, want to be with him." The sorrow that shuddered through him at those words is a memory that is already haunting her. He nodded slowly, turned, and kept his promise—left her alone. The doorframe at her back was the only thing keeping her from crumbling to the ground.
"So you lied." She's blunt, unapologetic. Sometimes Kate forgets that these people that she loves and that love her—her family—they love Castle too. She can only imagine she looks like death warmed over, the way Lanie's expression softens when she really looks at her. "Honey," Lanie coos sympathetically. "You're hurting him. And yourself. This is a little rash, don't you think?"
"I'm not asking him to choose me over his daughter. He'll pick her. He should pick her. I'm just saving him the anxiety."
"That shouldn't even be a choice, Kate. You're two separate parts of his life. He can love you both."
"Lanie, you were there." She's crying again and angrily swipes at her traitorous eyes. "Their relationship would be under constant strain if he's with me. That's not fair to either of them. He's the only grounded parent she has." She shakes her head, unyielding. "I knew that Alexis had reservations about her dad working with me, but I didn't realize she detested me. I should have thought about that before I started this. Leaving him would be easier if we'd never—if we weren't together."
"You know that's not true," Lanie reminds her. "I think Alexis just overreacted. She was surprised." The M.E. sighs and stops her rant when a staticy voice echoes around them asking if everything is okay. Without an explanation, she brusquely informs the speaker that they're just fine, not to send help, and the stairs are in perfect working order. A clicking sound confirms that the message was received loud and clear. "Anyway," she continues on a deep exhale, acts like it's perfectly ordinary to experience a self-imposed detainment in an elevator, "she walked in on us talking about you and her father knocking boots."
Kate snorts, exasperated. "We did not say anything of the sort."
"It was implied," she clarifies with a grin of pride. "We were together for the first time three and a half weeks ago," Lanie imitates (in a voice that sounds nothing like Kate's). "First time for what? Holding hands? Going out for ice cream? The girl ain't dumb, Beckett—she knows what you meant. And that's got to be awkward and embarrassing. Plus, finding out second-hand probably made her a little angry. So, she says some irrational things? And then you go and do some irrational things. You're even."
"I can't blame her. Everything she said was true."
And it is. All of it.
'You've strung my dad along for years.'
'Being around you puts him in constant danger.'
'You're going to wind up getting him killed.'
'My dad deserves better than what you can give him.'
Kate presses her fingers hard into her eye sockets and groans. She wills away her headache, though it might make for a welcome distraction, something to keep her mind off of the deep seated ache in her chest.
"Kate. Castle is a grown man and can make big boy decisions. He made his decision a long time ago, and without consulting anyone, I'm sure. Hell, he didn't even consult you," she teases. "And you were the one he was claiming in his heart, wanting to claim in his bed."
God, they were so good. The way they made love. She's never been with someone where the emotion has been on equal plane with the physical, and when their bodies moved together it was magnetic, striking, and completely overwhelming on a level she'd never even dreamt of. To her, sex had always been a release, a little bit of fun, a natural progression—she could give up her body when her heart wouldn't cooperate. And it never fully cooperated. But, with Castle, it was a packaged deal; her heart came out to play. And when it thumped wildly as he worked over her body, it wasn't purely for carnal reasons. It was beautiful. Amazing.
And finished.
"It was selfish of me to allow it." Kate smacks at the buttons on the elevator's panel until the gears roar back to life, lifting them back towards where they came from. "I need to get out of here."
"You're running. Fine. Run as fast as you want, but you won't be able to get that man out of your head," Lanie says plaintively with a click of her tongue. "I'm talking to Alexis. I'll straighten your melodramatic mess out if you won't."
"Don't you dare," she warns. "Promise me, Lanie. You talk to no one. Leave it alone. The worst is over."
"Fine. But spending the rest of your life wondering 'what if' and missing him will be the worst part. You're just getting started." Lanie steps off of the elevator first, resolute and irritated. "For what it's worth, I still think you're a fool, but if you need me, I'm here."
Esposito walks up carrying two boxes of files and stops in front of the two women. "Were you two," he nods his head towards the elevator, "the ones in there? I've had to make three trips with these heavy-ass boxes. What's going on?"
"Quit whining. And mind your business." He huffs at Lanie, but smiles when she takes the smaller box from him, easing his load.
Kate heads towards her desk, hopes Lanie follows Javi so she can sulk in peace. She can't even appreciate their banter, is envious of it. Never again will that be them, the writer and his muse, the cop and her shadow. Inspiration-less, partner-less, and lover-less. Everything is in shambles. She has to get a grip. A shaky breath spills from her lips. She's going to have to dive into work, her old standby. That, she can do.
"Yo, Beckett?" Kate half-turns, a weak acknowledgement of Esposito. "How's your case going?"
"Dead end." Lanie answers for her.
"Good. Well, not good good. But we could use an extra set of eyes on these financials. You game?"
"Maybe in a little while. I'm going to go over these phone records another time to make sure I didn't overlook anything." She thumbs through the stack of pages on her desk, looks at the top sheet, but can't even make out the numbers through the blur. "Actually, you know what? I've already been over this stuff. So has Stevens. I'll let him know to put it to bed." This is what she needs. A distraction—her friends.
"Hey, are you okay?" Kate sees Lanie opening her mouth to run interference on where this conversation might be going, but she shakes her head, can take care of this.
"Yeah, Espo. I'll be alright." It sounds smooth coming out of her mouth, though she's not sure she believes it, even if she adds the silent 'eventually' to the end. "Bad day. Trying to get back in the swing of things, ya know?" She attempts a smile, but it falls flat, hurts to try.
He seems uncomfortable, like he wants to help her, but can't. She knows this feeling all too well, how powerless it is. "Well, maybe it's contagious," he adds, then looks guilty like maybe he's betraying a confidence, but continues anyway. "Your boy's been off today, too. Ryan's been in there trying to cheer him up with some outlandish theories about this case. He sucks at it, but Castle's trying to make him think he's cool. Kinda pathetic, really." He smirks on a shrug and shifts the box he's holding in his arms.
"Castle's still here?" Lanie asks, panicked or excited—it's hard to differentiate.
Um, panicked would be the correct reaction here.
"Yeah," Esposito drawls out. "Why wouldn't he be?" He flicks his questioning gaze back and forth between the two women.
"Because I have a prior engagement. I have to run."
She sucks in a breath at his voice, spins his way before she can stop herself. He looks like hell, shirt untucked from his pants, face pale, darkness lining his eyes. This is a train wreck, and she caused them to jump the track, but she can't look away from the ruins.
"Bro—," Esposito protests, "seriously? You're going to leave us with the monotonous stuff? And dinnerless at that?"
"Sorry. I have plans with my mother and Alexis tonight." He glances to his watch, taps the face.
Oh. They were supposed to tell them tonight about their relationship, come out of hiding. It was supposed to be momentous, yet another new level of closeness for them. But now…
"Ah cool. Special occasion?"
Kate can hear Lanie sigh at Esposito's question, hates that everything needs to be censored for her.
Castle meets her eyes, then—they're dead, unblinking, angry. "No. Nothing special."
A/N: And?