A/N: your patience is appreciated :) and your kindness to both myself and this story always makes me smile ... Diane I hope this aids your recovery a little. HUG!
Fuck yes, he would!
Castle stands shocked as the realization washes over him, the truth of his confession yet another fist to his gut - it's taking a battering tonight.
He would. That is the simple truth of it. He would give up the chance at a job he's dreamt about for years, for her, because she might be a dream of a different kind.
They have ... something. Something real, something intense, something beyond chemistry and banter that he's not sure - even with all the words that circumnavigate his head - he could even touch on describing.
It's new, small and fragile, and if he has a chance in hell of letting it grow - of convincing her it could - he needs to go after Beckett and explain.
Scrubbing at his face and turning back towards Paula, Castle feels his rage bubble up and spill over.
"Yes, I would." He growls in her direction.
The woman turns toward him, swiveling on the tip of her heel so she can face him. She smirks in disbelief, rolls her eyes as if she's heard this all before. "Don't be stupid." Paula scoffs. There is a lisp to her words that has never ever bothered him before, but now he finds it fucking aggravating. She seems to draw it out just to mock him "Look, I know you were in a bad place before her."
She growls the reference to Kate, biting at the her in a way that proves his point exactly. She has no fucking clue what she's talking about. But before Paula can launch into defense of her assumption she grabs his arm, making him flinch, and hisses 'smile' as a group of people stutter passed.
He does, weakly, inanely, shaking Paula off as quickly as he can and using the brief respite to scan the crowd again, looking for Beckett.
Did she leave?
"You'd just killed Storm and Gina was breathing down your neck." Paula continues, following him even when he cuts his eyes in her direction. She doesn't heed the warning as anything other than a need to keep her voice down, whispers coiling around him, viper-like slithers of each sentence embedding themselves in his brain. "The words had dried up -"
"Paula." Castle swings back around to face her, her name becoming a deadly threat that she scurries passed blindly.
Yes, he had writers block before Beckett. Before meeting her, before working with her. Before he'd sat down opposite her in an almost sterile room and callously guessed part of the story of Kate. Before her broken, shining eyes had captured his attention and long before the woman behind them had laid claim to his heart.
Then the words came roaring back, demanding freedom, pouring out of him in a thick, fast rope of twisted imagery and dialogue, plot and fiction all wrapped up in the truth of knowing the woman who inspires him.
And he hurt her. Shit.
Castle sways, his heart plummeting through his stomach, face falling through variations of emotion. From anger to pain, the ache in his chest intensifies and god, she must think he's every bad thing she ever imagined him to be.
So I can be another one of your conquests?
Her words - from that very first case, the one that started it all - slam into him like bullets. He needs to fix this. Now!
"Rick." He turns, not wanting another argument, but whatever the woman sees when she looks at him stuns her into silence.
She says his name again, quieter, the change of tone almost rewriting the person before him, less the callous on the job bitch and more the Paula he has known for years. The woman he actually considered a friend until moments ago.
And it hits him then, again, hard and urgent and unrelenting. His love for Beckett must be written all over his face.
It's as though Paula's realization of the truth has crept up on her just as fast and unexpectedly as it did on Castle himself.
She sighs, " I meant what I said. The book. It's one hell of a love letter."
Their eyes meet and the urge to scream at her drains away. The anger blistering at his skin simmers quietly until he no longer hears the rushing of his blood in his ears, just the dull thud of his heartbeat. Shared knowledge passing between them in silence, until she speaks.
"You're in love with her!"
It's not a question, it's not even really a statement that needs a response, but he gives one anyway.
"Yes." Castle all but gasps, still in awe of it and clearly catching them both off guard as his confession flies free for the first time, and to the wrong person. "Yes, I am."
"She left."
Castle whirls on the spot, his eyes wide in shock as he comes face to face with Montgomery. The older man's standing directly behind him, clearly having overheard every word of his conversation with Paula.
"She - When?" Castle searches desperately through the crowd, his eyes roaming.
"She's gone, Castle." Roy states, with iron behind every word, no leeway. Not yet.
Castle tears his attention away from the room with difficulty, wrenching himself free of the need to look for Beckett and instead focusing his attention on her Captain.
"She went home, Castle. Maybe you should do the same." It's not a suggestion. It's not a threat either, but it does feel like a challenge.
"No." Castle is adamant, closing down the distance between them, "I need to see her, we need to talk." He's rigid with the belief he can fix it, steel determination through the blue of his eyes, cracking up the length of his spine as he stands tall, his hands balled into fists at his side. "I have to explain."
They face each other there, the writer and the captain, eyes locked for seconds that unwind so fucking slowly years could have rumbled by in the space they leave behind, the depth that each tick and tock carves out between them.
His chest heaves, but the captain stares unblinking into his eyes, just waiting. Waiting for what he's not sure. For Castle to step up, to show some sign of being the man he believes him to be?
Castle feels his nails bite into his palms, and he squeezes his eyes closed for a moment, teeth to his tongue before he bites out.
"Please."
He's not begging, and he knows Roy can see that, but there is a molten undercurrent of yearning to do the right thing that shouldn't catch the captain by surprise, but it does anyway.
That fucking hurts.
Castle feels the flare in his chest and a spark of annoyance settle hot and painful under his skin. Anger burns inside him once again, that this man could think so little of him to treat Beckett this way deliberately and he knows - he knows - it looks bad. Looks worse than fucking terrible if he's completely honest but all he wants - needs - is a chance.
Castle steps closer and opens his mouth, fully prepared to beg now if need be. But with a short, sharp nod, Roy extends a hand, interrupting him, "She forgot this." He shoves Beckett's purse into the writers chest and turns to leave. "Her address is inside."
"I -" Castle starts, stops, sounding ashamed and grateful and panicked all at once.
Something like hope rises up inside him, pounds through his bloodstream, pokes at his heart until the muscle stampedes away in a frantic rhythm. For the first time since Beckett pushed him away from the kiss that he is determined will not be their last, Castle feels like he might have that chance.
"Don't make me regret this." Roy threatens, striding away, throwing the words over his shoulder as he goes "She'll have my head as easily as she'll take yours."
But Castle misses it all, already halfway across the room, out the door and heading towards Beckett.