January 2010
Beckett shook the slush from her boots, kicking them off and wrinkling her nose at the scattering of melted snow all over her entrance hall. Stepping into the puddle outside her front door had been one more thing on the very long list of ways today had sucked.
The boots were probably ruined.
Later. She would deal with it later. But right now all she wanted to do was curl up on her sofa, tub of ice cream in hand, and binge watch Temptation Lane. Or maybe Nebula 9. She blew out an angry breath as the tears that had threatened all day finally made good on their promise and spilled down her cheeks.
She sniffed, pulling a tissue from her pocket and running it over her face. Walking through her apartment, she pulled her laptop from where she'd left it on her bed this morning. She carried it back into the living room, switching it on and rifling through her DVD collection while it booted up. Hmm. Temptation Lane might actually be a little much. Nebula 9 it was. She slid the disk into the drive, sinking onto the couch as it loaded, the menu lighting up the screen.
For the first time all day something akin to peace infused itself into her veins, the balm of the ritual soothing. The wound still festered, but as far as a band-aid solution went, the familiar characters on screen - Captain Max, Lieutenant Chloe - played their part.
As the first episode ended she hit play on the second, taking her blanket from its place atop the sofa and pulling it over herself, snuggling into the cushions. If she could just stay here for the rest of the night, and maybe tomorrow as well…
The familiar ring tone of her cell pulled her from that fantasy, and for a split second she considered letting it go to voicemail. But she wasn't paid to ignore the phone, so she reached down to retrieve it from where it had fallen onto the sofa, biting down on her lip when she saw the caller ID.
Castle. They hadn't spoken since she'd phoned him from the bath the other day; she'd kept the conversation short when she'd realized he would be able to hear the slosh of water every time she moved.
Could she deal with him, today of all days?
Her fingers swept across the screen, accepting the call. "Beckett." Apparently she could, even if her brain couldn't quite keep up with her decisions.
"Hey, Beckett." His voice was like liquid on the other end; caramel or honey, sleepiness infusing his words, and she shook her head to clear the image because no, Castle was not honey, or caramel, or any of those things her obviously warped mind was conjuring up. "Are you there?"
"I'm here," she said at last, her lips curving into a smile in spite of herself, because damn, why did it suddenly feel so much cozier in here now she had Castle on the line?
"Good, I'm glad."
"What can I do for you?" she asked.
"Just-" he paused, and she frowned as a silence grew between them before he chuckled. "What are you doing?"
"I'm- nothing!"
"Well… what are you watching?"
"Nothing!" she said again, stabbing at the space bar on her laptop to pause Nebula 9 as her cheeks warmed. "I was just, uh-"
"Having a movie marathon?"
She smirked at his knowing words, shaking her head. "TV, if you must know."
"Wanna watch together?"
"You-" Beckett frowned, dipping the laptop screen as if to stop Castle from seeing it. "You don't even know what I'm watching, and you probably don't have it."
"I have a huge collection of DVDs," he protested. "And most of them are here with me. We can totally watch together, just tell me what-"
"Nebula 9," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "I'm watching Nebula 9, okay?"
The laughter that boomed into her ear was almost enough to make her hang up on him, but she swallowed the impulse.
"Shut. Up," she managed through gritted teeth.
"Sorry," he apologized, but she could still hear the grin in his voice. "It's just- and don't take this the wrong way, but Nebula 9 is terrible!"
"Well it's a good thing you're not watching with me, isn't it?"
"Do you have something better we can watch?"
"Castle! It must be nearly midnight there. Tell me you have something better to do - like sleep - than stay on the phone with me as we watch an episode of television together."
"I..." The pause spoke volumes, and she swallowed. She'd had this sense from him before, in their other phone calls, that something was amiss. As if he were, perhaps, a little lonely. "No, I just- I know what today is, for you, Beckett. And so," Another silence hung between them before he cleared his throat and continued. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Oh." She breathed out as everything fell into place. This call wasn't about him. No, this time he was actually worried about her. "And... and you called me?"
"Yeah, and so- are you? Okay?"
"I'm okay," she said, dabbing at her eyes and brushing away the welling tears. She could skip the details; there was no need to tell him about the visit she'd made to the cemetery. Nor did she want to talk about the coffee she'd had with her dad. The annual 'stare awkwardly at one another' was not a tradition she needed to relive until she and Jim dredged up old hurt and did it all over again next year. "I- you didn't need to call. I'm really fine. And you don't need to watch a movie with me, or a TV show that you hate."
"I know I don't have to," he huffed. "So, uh."
"Yes?"
"Have you eaten?"
"Castle, unless you've flown back to New York, you can't eat dinner with me. You know that, right?"
He chuckled. "Beckett. It's nearly midnight here. I have already eaten. You on the other hand… tell me you've at least got plans for dinner?"
"Nope."
"Did you eat today?"
"Well…" She guessed coffee didn't count any more than the sandwich she'd pushed around her plate.
"So, what do you want? Chinese, right?"
Beckett didn't reply, silent as she listened to the tapping at a keyboard, and a triumphant "a-ha!" before he spoke again. "Chicken or beef?"
Really? Beckett closed her eyes, bringing her thumb up to her mouth and biting on the nail for a second before switching her cell to speaker, setting it down on the coffee table next to the laptop. Clearly Castle wasn't going to hang up any time soon, and if she was completely honest with herself there was a small - minuscule, really - part of her that was okay with that. A little bit. Even if this whole thing was a massive invasion of her privacy and her right to deal with the ninth of January in her own shitty way.
"Ka- ah, Beckett? Are you there?"
She rolled her eyes at the slip, because when did Castle ever call her Kate? "I'm here," she assured him. "Just trying to figure out what you're talking about."
"Keep up," he instructed. "You haven't eaten. I'm online and I'm ordering you dinner."
"Right." She blew out an exasperated breath, the hair that had fallen into her eyes momentarily out of her face before she gave in. "Chicken. And spring rolls. And rice."
The sound of a few mouse clicks reverberated through the phone. "Done. Fifteen to twenty minutes and they'll be there."
"Thanks," she said. "You do know that I'm capable of ordering my own dinner, right? Or, you know, I could have even cooked!"
The snort he offered in response resonated through her living room.
"So, anyway… what's going on at the precinct? Does everyone miss me? Oh! How's the espresso machine? Is Ryan cleaning it? I told him to make sure it gets cleaned properly, I don't think-"
"You really don't have to do this, you know."
"Do what?" he asked.
"Stay on the line. It's late there, and you need to sleep, and it was very… sweet of you to make sure I had dinner, but-"
"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I didn't call out of some obligation, I called because, well, because I care about you, and, you're- Well. I'm not there anymore. And someone has to make sure you're okay."
She closed her eyes again, swiping at her cheeks and wiping away the moisture that was gathering. This was the side of Castle she'd always lov- She stopped herself. The side of Castle she'd always liked. The gentler aspect of his personality, rather than the larger than life image he liked to portray at the precinct. She'd been so intrigued by Castle as a father, a son, a friend, rather than the publicity loving playboy. The way he could behave so outlandishly one second, only to be chastened and humbled by his daughter the next was one of his more redeeming features.
His home, too, reflected that, and she found herself picturing him in the loft now. But no. He was across the Atlantic. Beyond the bare basics - telling her it was a two bedroom apartment and that his daughter was noisier than he'd ever realized - she knew nothing of its layout, its decor. That fact sat wrong all of a sudden, and she felt a rush of disorientation at the notion. Who was he over there?
"But if you don't want to talk on the phone, we could always skype," he continued, and she laughed, the sound coming out as more a strangled sob.
"Yeah, I think I'm kinda glad we're not on skype," she said. "I'm," she paused, unwilling to tell him she was crying, her eyes red and her face puffy. "I think this is better." She swallowed, a knock on the door interrupting them. "Hold on. I think my food's here."
She stood up, walking over to the door and opening it, tipping the delivery guy and returning to the sofa.
"Have you got a glass of wine?" Castle asked.
"Um… no. I mean, I didn't pour one yet."
"Get one," he suggested. "I'll do the same. That way neither of us are drinking alone."
"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes, standing again and making her way into the kitchen, pouring a glass of red from the bottle she'd opened last night. "You're crazy, you know that?" she called out. "This phone call is going to cost you a fortune."
"Since you won't skype with me, it's a good thing I can afford it," he tossed back, and she raised her glass at the cell phone on the table.
"Uh-huh. Cheers."
She sank back onto the couch, taking a sip of the wine before setting it down and picking up the take-out.
"You don't have to stay on the line while I eat," she assured him. The idea of him hanging up now sent a pang of uncertainty through her, but she shook it off. This was ridiculous. He'd called, he'd made her laugh, and he'd ordered her dinner. She couldn't ask for more.
"Are you kidding? I haven't finished my wine yet, and I only really drink scotch alone. Well, usually. To be honest, I usually end up drinking wine with my mother, because if I don't she drinks it all by herself."
Kate grinned, bringing the chopsticks to her mouth, her eyes closing in pleasure at the taste. She didn't recognize the logo on the box, but she would be looking the place up and ordering from there again. "So who's supplying your mom's alcohol now you're gone?" she asked.
"I don't know. Actually, I don't want to know, but I can tell you that I bought a case of wine the first week I was here and without mother on hand to go through it all, I've got ten bottles left. Well. Nine and a half."
She laughed again, reaching for her own glass. This was perfect. "I had no idea how hungry I was," she confessed. "But I'm starving. Tell me more about England while I eat?"
"Well," he started. "You know they call the subway the tube?"
The short, sharp rapping startled him, and he sat up, scrubbing at his face.
"Dad?" His daughter's voice was hesitant on the other side of the door, and he screwed up his face.
"Come in, honey," he said, his voice sounding like gravel to his own ears. Shit. What time was it? He reached over to the nightstand, unclipping his cell from its charger. Two hours into his conversation with Beckett he'd had to relocate from the living room to his bedroom because his battery was going flat. He blinked when he saw the time. It was only ten? So that meant he'd slept, what, six hours? Right?
"You okay?" Alexis asked as she rounded the entrance and plopped down into the chair at his desk on the other side of the room.
"Yeah, fine. Just... got to bed late." He frowned, still calculating. They'd hung up around eleven, Beckett's time, making it the wrong side of four am here. He shrugged, giving up on trying to figure it out.
"Who were you talking to?" she asked, nodding at the phone in his hand and he looked up at her, finding only curiosity in her eyes.
"Oh. You heard me last night? I didn't mean to wake you."
"I got up to get a glass of water around two."
"I was talking to Beckett, actually."
Alexis barely reacted. "Oh. Good. Tell her hi, next time. So anyway, I was thinking-"
He cleared his throat. His daughter had that familiar glint of resolution in her eyes. Whatever she was planning was as good as a done deal at this point.
"That since we're living in Europe, Dad, we need to make the most of it. You know, travel on the weekends."
He grinned. This he could deal with. "Where did you have in mind?"
Alexis' smile broadened, her entire face lighting up, and he beamed at her. "I have a map," she said. "In the living room. And I've put stars on the places I want to go to, and they're color coordinated, and I think we should probably start with France and go east from there. I have some lists of pros and cons, and obviously we need to consider the weather. Spain might be nice. Or Croatia. What do you think?"
What did he think? He thought she was going to name a city, they'd book tickets, and plan a weekend. He wasn't quite prepared for checklists or dot points. He cleared his throat. "I think I'm still waking up. Let me shower and get a coffee, then we can figure it out, okay?"
A/N: I love that so many of you seem to love this! Early seasons fic is like a drug! Thanks for the read through, Kylie and Jamie! x