Special shout out to speedofloveSK, because she's been awesome. Now, on with the story.
He'd said he'd wait, so that's exactly what he did, he waited. Rick was still seated on the uncomfortable plastic chair, face between his hands when Jim slumped in the chair next to his, about an hour later. Rick looked at the man seated beside him; it wasn't the same man he had introduced himself to earlier. Jim Beckett looked miserable, defeated. His eyes had reddened; Castle could tell he had been crying. Suddenly panic overwhelmed him because, it couldn't be good.
Castle opened his mouth to question him, but closed it without uttering a word. Instead he leaned back in his chair and they both stared, silently, at the wall in front of them. You couldn't tell by looking at him, but Rick Castle knew when to shut up.
He hadn't looked at his watch, so he couldn't tell how much later Jim finally broke the silence with a sigh, "Mr. Castle-"
"Rick, please."
"Rick," he breathed out, "Can I ask you what exactly your relationship to my daughter is?"
"Oh, yeah. No!" Rick exclaimed as his head jerked towards the man, his eyes widened, "It's not my kid, we're not… We just met actually."
Jim's features seemed to soften a little and he trailed his hand through his hair.
"She came to my book signing, this afternoon. I'm a writer. She's really something, your daughter. Her labor started when we were at the little coffee shop."
He nodded and tried to smile, "I could never thank you enough for bringing her here, Mr. Castle, but there really is nothing more you can do. You should go home."
"Can I see her? It's just… I'd just like to say hey."
"You look like a good man, Mr. Castle so I'm not going to lie. Katie, she's amazing, but she's had a rough couple of years. She's not well right now, hasn't been for a while."
"And the baby?"
"They don't know, yet. Time will tell," the older man answered, signing as he laid his head on the wall in back of him, closing his eyes.
Rick nodded, slowly getting to his feet. When he saw the book, still in Jim's hands, he asked, "You haven't given it her?" Because even if he was never to see her again, he at least wanted her to read what he had signed.
"I will, Mr. Castle, but you should get going. She needs to do this alone, she needs space to heal."
Rick looked at the man in front of him, he couldn't go just yet. "How about you, Mr. Beckett? What do you need?"
Jim slowly moved his head up to meet Castle's eyes. It was one hell of a question. One he hadn't thought about in years, because he'd been on autopilot since his wife's murder, since his daughter's daunting behavior. He'd chosen to bury himself in his work. He absolutely had no idea what he needed.
Rick smiled, he was good at reading people, and he could tell, so he asked hopefully, "How about I go get us both some coffees?"
Because Rick knew when to shut up; but he also knew when to not. Because one thing Jim Beckett looked more than anything, was lonely.
Rick came back with some coffee and Bear Claws a moment later, only to find the man, seated where he had left him, just there, waiting. The writer took his place beside the man and handed him his coffee and Bear Claw. Thanking him with a smile and a nod, Jim brought the cup to his lips and closed his eyes as the hot beverage filled his insides.
At first none of them talked, they were just seated, silent. Castle didn't push, if Jim wanted to talk, he could, if he didn't, it was fine too.
Jim was staring up at the small television hoisted in the corner of the room when he finally asked, "Do you watch baseball?"
And just like that they started talking. They talked about baseball, about the weather, about his books, about anything and everything, but they didn't talk about Kate and Castle didn't push. There was a bigger story there, but it wasn't his place. Really, he didn't know her; he didn't know them.
They chatted until an older man entered the waiting room and paced towards them. At the sight of him, Jim quickly got up, introducing Castle, "Rick, this is Dr. Marx, he's the one that's going to be taking care of Kate."
"It's nice to meet you Dr. Marx," said Rick, extending his hand towards the doctor which he shook. The writer could tell by the way the man was dressed, he wasn't an ER doctor.
Jim turned towards Castle, "Rick, thank you for everything, but I really need to go."
"It's really no problem, Mr. Beckett, could you keep me posted? I'd really like to know how they're doing," he said handing Jim his phone number.
Jim took the piece of paper from his hands, nodding, "I will, Rick. And you can call me Jim," he added before turning around to follow the doctor.
It was dark when Castle finally got home. Alexis was surely fast asleep, it was way past her bedtime. He quietly pushed the door to the loft, it was heavier than usual; he was exhausted. The door closed behind him and he leaned into it, sighing. It had been one of those days, a day that would unknowingly haunt him for months.
As soon as the door closed behind him, his mother turned, her head popping up from the couch, eyes half asleep, she greeted him, "Hey, kiddo."
"Mother, I thought you would have taken the guest room. I didn't want to keep you."
"It's okay, Richard. You look beat, anything I can do to help?"
"You've done enough already mother, I'll take over you can go back home."
"Don't think you're off that easily, mister. Where were you? That phone call was all kinds of cryptic."
"I was at the hospital."
Martha jumped to her feet, coming to her son's meeting, "Oh, my gosh, Richard, are you okay?"
"Yeah, no. It's fine. It wasn't me."
"Who was it, honey?"
Yeah. Good question. Who was she?
"It was…Hum… She's…Ehh…This gi- No, woman…she… I met her at the book signing."
"Seriously Richard? Is that what I'm getting?"
"Mother I don't know what to say, her name's Kate, I met her at the book signing. She passed out in my arms. Then I wanted to piss of Gina. We had tea. She kind of went into labour. I took her to the ER, met her father. We had coffee and claws. And here I am."
His mother looked at him with a quizzical expression.
"I know, mother. It was a hell of a day."
A day that would turn out to haunt him.
Days had turned into weeks, eventually turning into months. It had been 18 weeks and still, he hadn't written a single word.
Castle stared at the blank page he faced; it was laughing at him. It had been weeks, months, but he couldn't get her out of his head. It happened every time he tried to write. She'd be there, in his thoughts. He'd talked with Jim frequently, but with Kate, it had only been that one time. It wasn't love, but it was something, a connection, a mystery he wanted to solve. There was something about her, because he couldn't get the woman out of his head. She invaded his thoughts, his dreams. She fascinated him. She troubled him.
"Don't get me wrong, you have a gift. Your words, they have the ability to save people. They've saved me. If you want to write the book about a kickass detective, then do it, because there is no doubt in my mind you're able to."
He stared at the blank page, painting a canvas of her features in his mind, the sparkle in her eyes when she had laughed, the timid curl of her lips as she bit the interior of her cheek. He pictured how her short brown hair curled around her ears. He had it bad. There was something about her he couldn't seem to let go of. There was her story he desperately wanted to uncover, because there was always a story. And something told him hers was one for the books. She was different. He wanted different. He needed different.
One day. They had met one day, but that day still followed him.
He typed a few words, erased them shortly after. He shook his head. He needed to forget about her. He had waited. She would have called.
It was time. They had nothing. They were nothing. He needed to let go.
There was a shy knock on the door and a little head sneaking in, "Dad?"
"Hey, pumpkin! You're home from school already?"
She laughed, entering the office, skipping, "You were writing, huh?" the girl asked as she climbed on his lap. "Because, Daddy, I was playing in my room, it's almost 6." she giggled.
"Yeah, I lost track of time," he said as he plastered a kiss on her forehead.
"Dad!" she exclaimed staring at the screen. "You wrote nothing!"
"It's part of the process honey," he lied, with a big grin.
She laughed, shaking her head, "Gina will be F-U-R-I-O-U-S."
She will be. Trying to write the female detective had been a stupid idea. He didn't even know why he had entertained it for so long. He needed to write something, anything. He needed to get back to Derek Storm, go back to the golden goose, the one he was actually able to write.
His daughter's hands made their way around his neck, her head laid on his shoulder and she whispered in his ear, "I'm hungry, daddy."
Of course she was. He needed to snap out of it.
He smiled, placing her on the floor and grabbing her hand, "Pizza?"
"Yeah!" exclaimed the 10 year old.
He looked at the overly excited child beside him. Yes. He needed to move on, because if Kate Beckett had wanted to see him again, she would have called. She had been out for a couple of weeks. He knew; he and Jim had talked.
Rick and Jim had bonded over the weeks, they had stopped calling to talk about Kate a long while ago. Of course there was always the quick update, evasive and lacking detail, but they ended up being more. They went for coffee, ball games, even went for a beer a couple of times. It wasn't weird, they were friends.
Rick didn't know the whole story, but he knew enough to get the picture, or he thought. He only knew what Jim had told him over the weeks, but it was enough. She had been hospitalised, she couldn't have any visitors and she couldn't call. It didn't take a genius to figure out where she was. Jim hadn't explicitly told him, but Rick knew, or thought he did, that Kate was in rehab. And he'd been willing to wait.
But she hadn't called.
He needed to forget about her.
Thoughts? Comments? Complaints?
Hopefully timeline wise this isn't confusing!