Kairos – Chapter 23
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DISCLAIMER: Most of these characters are not mine at all, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe. The others? Yeah, they're mine.
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Monday Morning – April 29, 2013, 9:45 a.m., On an airline flight bound for Los Angeles
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"I have maybe another couple of minutes before they shut the door," Castle tells Kate, as he leans back into the large, first-class seat.
He glances around briefly, and all of the passengers seem to have boarded the plane. He hasn't noticed anyone new getting on in the past minute or two, and another quick glance at his watch tells him they should be pushing back soon.
For her part, Kate has extracted herself from her family this morning, leaving their home and coming around the corner to the small deli to pick up some bagels and croissants for breakfast. At least that was the reason she had given Bracken and Madison. In reality, she had called Castle as soon as she got here, knowing what time his flight leaves for Los Angeles.
"Okay, babe," she tells him. "It's so weird putting you on a plane . . . like this," she tells him hesitantly.
"Don't I know it," he replies in agreement. It is a weird, surreal moment for both of them. In some ways, they are used to sneaking around. But not like this.
She isn't happily married in her mind. Not to that man, daughter or not. So why does the fact that she has left her home under false pretenses to make this phone call make her feel like she is . . . cheating on him somehow. And it appears that Castle is of the same mindset.
"I love you," he tells her. "So why does it feel like I am betraying someone simply by having this phone call? Why does this feel . . . damn, Beckett, it almost feels . . ."
"Wrong," she finishes for him. "I know what you mean, and I don't know why. I don't –"
"It's because you're married," he tells her. "Happily, whether you accept it or not. And I am in the exact same boat as you – happily married whether I feel it or not."
"Something to drink before we take off, Mr. Castle?" a perky and overly-attentive flight attendant asks him, interrupting his phone call.
"Water, please," he replies, smiling his best and brightest smile. It's not his usual smile. He feels it. It's an entirely fake smile, with no intent or warmth behind it. It's not him and it scares him. It scares him that he might be becoming someone he isn't.
He allows his head to fall back into the headrest in his seat, alongside the small window. He hears Kate talking in his blue-tooth earpiece.
"Why didn't Kyra come with you?" she wonders aloud to him.
"Well," he begins, "apparently she is my wife and my business manager. She's lining up a few other media sessions for me, for later this week out here on the east coast."
"She sounds charming," Kate tells him, and despite her best efforts, she is unable to keep that little green element out of her voice.
"She's actually been quite . . . she's been a tremendous help," he decides, quickly changing the words he was going to use. "I suppose that the Senator has been of similar help?"
Yeah, that puts her on the defensive a bit. Although that was not his intention. He is just pointing out what appears to be obvious now, at least to him. Unconsciously, subconsciously, call it what you will, but they are – without realizing it – easing into this timeline. Something neither did, something neither wanted to do after their first trip back into the past.
And it's only been a couple of days! How will things be in a week? In a month?
"Besides," he continues, "it also appears that Kyra doesn't like to fly all that much. Which is why – most of the time – it seems she sets things up for me here in New York. So she can be with me for these events without getting on a plane."
Kate has to stifle a laugh – it's just nervous laughter as she struggles with what she is hearing . . . much as she struggled with what she was feeling and saying last night to a certain Senator when he arrived home.
"So why do you have to leave this time?" Kate asks. "If she sets up most of your meetings here in the –"
"It's Katie King, and apparently she is somewhat big-time, and has her own weekly show, her own set out in California in his timeline," he replies, and immediately regrets his words, as the head of the gentleman next to him quickly whips in his direction at the words "in this timeline." Castle plays it off, putting a finger to his lips and smiling while shaking his head and then pointing to his phone. The ruse works, as the man quickly smiles and nods his head appreciatively.
For his part, Castle is alarmed that his own response came so quickly, so easily. Without even thinking about it.
Regardless, it is actually a good thing that Kyra is staying her in New York. Kyra not being there on the plane next to him allows him to speak freely with Kate. And just thinking such a thought brings another pang of guilt that he doesn't understand.
"By the way, it seems you aren't the only one flying out today," she tells him. "Bracken has been called back to D.C., for some 'executive meeting' that he's being pretty mum about."
"What do you think it's about?" he asks.
"I don't know," she replies, subconsciously looking around the deli to see if anyone is paying attention to her.
"Well, if you're a U.S. Senator and there is an executive meeting, there's only one executive I can think of that can summon a Senator," Castle muses aloud.
"I was thinking the same thing," Kate agrees, taking a sip of a cup of coffee that somehow doesn't taste the same anymore. And I'm not sure if that's how he is in this timeline, holding secrets and all," she tells him, "but I kind of doubt it."
They are both quiet for a moment, and she wonders if she has just said something wrong – although she can't figure out what it could be. Castle answers that question.
"You know," he begins, "I'm starting to get tired of using and hearing the phrase 'in this timeline'," he whispers while turning his face toward the window, not wanting to draw the attention of the man next to him again.
"It's confusing, it's depressing. And to be honest, Kate . . . like it or not, this may be life for the foreseeable future."
"I know," she agrees, sadness in her voice. "I've been thinking the same thing."
They don't know what this means, long-term. Sure, they could always go back to Kronologix . . . but three times in as many days? For what purpose? How would they explain it?
But the more frightening aspect – that both realize – is that neither has made a real effort, a serious overture of sorts to even suggest a return to the facility yet.
The flight attendant interrupts his thoughts.
"Time to shut your phone down, Mr. Castle," she tells him, as she brings his water to him. Only now does he notice that the plane is backing away from the gate.
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Monday Evening – April 29, 2013, 7:00 p.m., at an elaborate studio set in Los Angeles
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The studio audience is small, and respectful. He wasn't sure what to expect, given that he wasn't expecting an audience of any type with Katie King. He figured this was going to be one of her classic one-on-one interviews that he researched into the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes King has an audience in the studio while other times – most times in fact – she does not. For this event, however, the star reporter and media correspondent has opted for a small audience – given the notoriety of her guest.
He finds himself relaxed . . . refreshed – and with the bright lights, the audience, and sitting in the hot seat, so to speak – he finds it oddly comforting. It's familiar territory for the writer, and for the first time in the past few days since all of this time-travel nonsense began, he feels 'at home' in more natural surroundings.
And yes, 'nonsense' is how he has grown to consider the past few days. Both his mother and his daughter – his real mother and daughter, as he calls them – both warned him against chasing aimlessly after Kate Beckett, acting rashly, doing anything and everything to further endear himself to the woman.
His thoughts go back to his decision – almost five years ago – asking Javier Esposito to give him access to Johanna Beckett's murder file. Rash.
His thoughts take him back to telling Kate he's dropped her case, yet he goes home to his own, high-tech murder board he has set up. Rash.
His thoughts take him back to the Dick Coonan case, where he thoughtfully . . . or should he say thoughtlessly offered Kate Beckett a hundred thousand dollars to help advance the case. Rash.
And now, despite warnings from Esposito, Kevin Ryan, hesitancy from Kate, and a reconstructive biology lesson that would have scared off any rational human being . . . he had jumped into this.
Yeah, rash.
He has decided he should have listened. Listened to that inner voice in his head that – each time over the past five years – was screaming to him to wait, to hold on, to think things through.
Oh, he doesn't regret falling in love with the detective . . . who is now the District Attorney. He doesn't regret chasing her, wooing her, courting her. But it should have stopped there. Why did he have to keep pushing, keep searching for a way to . . . to . . . hell, he doesn't even know what he was trying to do, anymore.
All of that is out of mind, however, for the next hour, as Castle is back in his element, enjoying himself on Katie Live! for the evening.
He had arrived here in Los Angeles just after three-thirty in the afternoon, after a layover in Dallas, and immediately went to his hotel and took a short one hour nap. It had to be quick, since he originally thought the interview was at eight. In reality, it is at seven in order to be broadcast live on the east coast. He awakened surprisingly refreshed, had a bite to eat in the hotel lobby, and gathered his thoughts. The Richard Castle of this timeline has his own persona. That man has his own carefully crafted and well-deserved reputation . . . one that Castle aims to displace, and replace with one more to his own suiting.
Since his arrival at the studio, he has been everything Katie King has not expected. He's been attentive, sure. He's been suave, of course. But something else. She finds him to be nothing like his reputation, certainly nothing that she anticipated.
He's charming, yeah, as she has heard. But in a real, honest way.
He's funny, yeah, as she has heard. But not in the biting, jackass, sarcastic way she also has been warned about. He's warm, he's witty, and he's captivating.
"So, tell me about your family, Richard," she asks, now half-way through the interview, clearly enjoying herself. She tosses her long blonde hair to the side – something of a signature move on her part, he learned, designed to reel a guest – usually a male guest – in for the kill. Of course, since he knows nothing of Katie King other than what he learned early this morning, and his heart is somewhere else, her pseudo flirtations that usually disarm a guest are having no effect on him.
That is not lost on his host, either.
"Katie, please, my friends call me Rick," he reminds her.
"Are we friends now?" she asks, winking at the audience.
"After a seven and a half hour flight, I sure hope so," he laughs out loud, once again putting the reporter at ease.
"I have a wife, who is absolutely fantastic," he begins, knowing he is being truthful, yet also knowing the pain his words will likely cause his time-traveling companion.
He's already warned Kate Beckett that he would be saying some very personal, almost intimate things about his wife. He isn't doing this just to play a role. He's doing this because he knows Kyra deserves it. He's doing this because he suspects this is the sort of thing that Richard Castle doesn't do for his wife here. At least not in public, and certainly not when cameras are rolling.
He can tell, from all he has discovered, that she has made him a better person, trying hard to give him a moral compass in their marriage. For the most part, she's been successful. He hasn't screwed around, he's been a good husband, dutiful in all ways, and romantic as hell. But still a narcissist at heart.
"Anyway, not everything is about you, Kate," he thinks to himself, and he pauses, inadvertently, when he realizes the thought that he has just had. Less than a week ago, he likely would never have dreamed such a thought.
Thankfully, the pause is only a second or two, not long enough for anyone to draw any conclusions.
"She's a wonderful woman, Kyra," he continues, "and somehow she manages to be both my wife and my business manager . . . and let me tell you, Katie, either of those roles would tax a mere mortal."
The laughter from the audience – and the host – are sincere, as they are surprised again by his pointed humility and lack of ego, clearly not the man they all had expected to show up.
"But somehow, she manages to do both, and do both in the most exquisite manner," he tells the host. "And then there are Alexis, my daughter, and Peter, my son. Unfortunately, neither are living with me. I consider that to be the greatest, most horrific mistake of my life."
The statement surprises his host, who now places the notepad in her hand on the table next to her. It seems that the pre-designed questions are going out the window now.
"Care to explain, Rick?" she asks, now leaning forward. His divorce, the custody – none of that is news to Katie King or her audience. It's all a part of the Richard Castle legend. But it is also a legend that he has never – ever – even insinuated he was dissatisfied with.
"My first marriage ended in divorce, as you know," he replies. "Neither of us were . . . well, let's just say it was both of our faults, as it often is. Perhaps Meredith and I were too young, or too selfish. I don't know. We were too something. But I let it spill over into the kids. We split, and I let her take them, without much effort. I should have fought for them – I should have fought hard. For that, I will always be disappointed with myself. And I say disappointed, Katie, because the real word in my mind isn't one that your network would be willing to air, trust me."
"So tell me about your children," she continues, pressing the issue. She had hoped for something juicy to come from this, but it is rare for celebrities to give away personal information unless it dramatically benefits them – unless it makes them look better. But there is nothing that Richard Castle is saying that can be even remotely construed as positive toward the writer. He's all but said he abandoned his kids.
"They are great kids, great people," he tells her. "And they like their privacy, so I will grant them that. But let me just say, I should have fought harder for them, fought to keep custody of them. I have so much in my home back in New York, but the only thing there of any importance is Kyra. And that's too bad, because I could have had so much more. Little feet growing up in the home, little dreams growing up in the home. I missed all of that. And they missed it with me, because I was too stupid, and too selfish, focused only on my career. If there was one thing I could go back and do all over again, it would be those three or four months when Meredith and I split, and I just let them go with her. I have all of these awards, all of these accolades, and they mean nothing. Nothing at all."
"I wouldn't call an Oscar and two Emmys 'nothing'", King interrupts.
"They are statues, Katie," he tells her, drawing an appraising eyebrow raise. "Nothing more. They shine, but that's about it. They don't make up for not having Alexis and Peter. They don't ask for help with the homework, or play laser-tag, or tear up the kitchen, or have recitals, or sporting events, or ask to be tucked into bed."
"Wow," his host replies, not sure where to take this now. Fortunately, he has enough to say that doesn't need further prodding on her part.
"For a long time, I was a real bad boy in the city, and I have to tell you that the media ate it up," he tells her. "It helped my image, it helped create the playboy persona of Richard Castle – and my publishing company loved it because it helps sell books. That's how it was – that's how I was. Until Kyra. Kyra changed all of that. But I've still been a horrible father. I don't see my kids nearly enough. Sure, I send them gifts, but hey, it's easy to buy presents. It's much harder to give your time, your love – and that's what they really needed. Fortunately Meredith remarried, and Jeff is a good man. He's taken on . . . he's taken on the responsibility I laid aside."
Katie King is completely and pleasantly stunned now. It's difficult to get celebrities to be this transparent, and again, when they do it is typically for their own self-serving purposes. But there is something ringing true about this conversation. She realizes instinctively that the novelist is being honest – as if this is something that he long has wanted to get off his chest. Perhaps that is why his wife, Kyra, was so eager to take this interview when Katie asked. Truth be told, she thought she'd have to do a little more begging to get one of the world's top authors in the chair across from her. In the end, it hadn't been that difficult at all.
"I've been lucky," he tells her, continuing.
"How so?" she asks. It's come to this. The great and fearsome Katie King isn't really asking anything scripted. He's reduced her to two and three word questions, which are simply follow-ups to what he is already saying. There is incessant chirping in her ear from her producer, wanting more elaborate questions, making suggestions. She reaches up and takes the piece out of her ear. No, she's running with this au natural, so to speak.
"I'm lucky in that they – my kids – they haven't completely bailed on me yet. They could have. Maybe they should have. But they haven't . . . and for that, I am eternally grateful. That's why I won't be writing any more mysteries and thrillers for a while. For a long while."
Her heart all but stops, as Katie King gives her head a subtle shake, as if to make sure she has heard this correctly. He's dropping a bomb like that . . . on her show? On live television.
The audience has heard the same thing, as audible gasps and cries of 'No!' are heard around the studio. He smiles softly, not basking – but simply acknowledging their reaction.
"When you say you won't be writing anymore for a while, what exactly do you mean, Rick?" Katie asks, wanting, needing this clarification. "Do you mean books, or do you mean screenplays? Surely you aren't just dropping everything . . ."
She allows the question to hang out there, waiting for a response. He is smiling at her now, a genuine smile.
"That's exactly what it means," he replies, still smiling. "If I want a relationship with my kids, I need to make some sacrifices. Isn't that what every good parent does? Sacrifice something they want, because there is something else they want more? More time with their children. Better time with their children."
"But –" Katie begins, but he holds a hand up, gently, to interrupt her.
"I'm still writing, don't get me wrong," he tells her. "But my writing will be for them. For my kids. And others like them. I said no more mysteries and thrillers. I'm still writing - just not the grownup variety that I've done in the past, where I am writing a book and a couple of screenplays each year. That's too much. There will always be a screenplay opportunity waiting. And if not, so be it. But Peter is growing up, and I've missed enough time. Alexis is at a crossroad period in her life, and I need to be there for her. And I know that I can't just insert myself, and toss Meredith and Jeff aside – not after all they have done. So Kyra and I simply want to expand the village in their lives. And this is a way for me to give back to them."
"So," Katie begins, now picking up her notebook and writing notes down furiously. She's already thinking of tweets she will be sending out at the next break – a break she desperately wants to call for now, but she is afraid of turning off the faucet that is giving her such wonderful information.
"So, exactly what kind of books are you going to be writing now?" she asks.
He smiles again, and it disarms her. He can already see the expression on her face when he tells her. When he made this decision last night, he did a lengthy internet search – searching the Amazon site, the Barnes and Noble site, the iBooks site. He entered everything he could think of about the Potter books, and found nothing on the titles. The author, however, is here in this timeline, and she is still in the midst of a famously-received teenage vampire series.
But the Potter books? They've never been written in this timeline.
Well, he's read all of them – numerous times – and his writer's brain immediately kicked in, outlining the first two books he would write.
"I've already started a new series – this is going to be a children's series, or at least one for teenagers," he begins. "It's about a young teenage boy who discovers he is a wizard, and is sent off to a special school to hone his newly-discovered talents. I won't say much more, but let's just say he will have the adventure . . . adventures, plural, of a lifetime. And all children, but particularly children who have been sent away . . . away from one parent or both parents . . . they will relate to this. It will give them someplace to escape."
The excitement in his eyes, in his voice, is contagious, and he can tell the hook has been set. Now to reel them in.
"I've got the first two books outlined already," he continues. "And I will be dedicating them to Alexis and to Peter, and to other children around the world whose parents have . . ."
He pauses for a moment, a real and reflective pause, before continuing.
". . . whose parents have failed them, left the picture, left the ship."
For a couple of seconds there is silence between the host and the guest on the stage, as Katie simply stares at the man across from her, sending up a silent prayer of thanks for this exclusive.
"You do know," she finally begins again, "you will be walking away from millions of dollars with Derek Storm. And possibly more awards. I mean, Derek Storm is your golden goose, the kind most authors can only dream about."
"Perhaps," he tells her, "but I promise you, I won't look back. Only to the future now, Katie. Only to the future."
She has no idea what these words truly mean, as she calls for the break, leans over to hug her guest and grabs her phone, now tweeting out the exclusive news that she has just broken.
