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A one time thing
Chapter Five - Breaking point
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If it only takes a moment for your life to change forever, can a 'one time thing' right the wrong? An AU Caskett meeting.
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Breathing deeply through his nose, Castle stands still as Beckett withdraws from the doorway and he appreciates the silence as he's left alone in the precinct's bathroom. He now has to face a father - a grieving father - who has lost his child and he honestly has no idea how he is going to do this and hold it all together.
He hasn't in the past. This isn't the first time he's been in this situation. But again, he has no choice.
Following Beckett, he bypasses those milling around the corridor, cuts through the exchange of gossip, before coming to a stop next to his new partner.
"How'd we get an ID on the girl, Beckett?"
With her hand on the doorknob, she shrugs, one shoulder lifting as the material of her sweater shifts across her breasts. Not that he is in any way paying attention, it's just that a flash of black lace winks at him and he can fill in the blanks. Closing his eyes for a moment, he ignores the image. He's using her, using her to distract him from what he doesn't want to focus on, and, he swallows the guilt.
He's better than that. She's better than that.
"Her photo went out to all the schools in the district, and we got lucky. Had a hit straight away."
He nods, grateful that something has gone their way this morning. Sometimes it's never that easy, sometimes there are days or weeks of combing through missing persons and that's if they get a hit at all.
"Espo and Ryan swung past on their way back from the crime scene. Picked up the father. He's waiting for us." Her head tilts toward the door, toward interrogation room one, and anger flares, his blood racing as it boils.
"Is this how you do things here? Pick up a father who's lost his child and treat him like a thug?" The curved ends of his nails dig sharply into his palm and his gaze drops at the sudden pain. His hands are in fists, skin taut over his knuckles, and he sucks in a breath, relaxes his muscles until they are again loose, both limbs hanging freely by his sides.
"No, Castle. It's not how we 'do things' around here. But the alcohol on his breath was enough to arouse suspicions, and, when asked if he knew where his daughter was, he shrugged."
Shit.
Raising his head, he stares into her eyes, his remorse falling heavily between them, and he nods.
"So how do you want to play this, Beckett?"
Her mouth lifts, just a small pull to the right, but she does smile, letting him off the hook – at least this time – for jumping to conclusions. "Let me do most of the talking. I know it's not your first time, but until we find our rhythm…"
Smiling innocently, he elevates an eyebrow. "Really? 'Cause I thought our rhythm was pretty damn perfect."
"Do you recall hearing a noise last night, Mr. Johnson? Anything that would indicate an intruder?" She asks calmly, and unfortunately, she's not surprised when his only response is a shake of his head.
"What time did you go to sleep?" Castle leans forward on the table, and she breathes heavily through her nose. It had taken less than three minutes according to her watch, before he started talking, and she would very much like to take her shoe to his shin. Except they actually do have a natural rhythm to their approach. They're working exceedingly well as partners – at work.
"I don't recall. It was late." The father has yet to make eye contact with either of them, has done nothing but stare at the dirt caught under his fingernails and it's raising all kinds of red flags.
It could be grief, everyone expresses it differently, but…
"Do you remember what time your daughter went to sleep?" Her voice remains steady despite his response. Another 'no' causes his overgrown fringe to swish from side to side across his forehead and beside her Castle's fingers extend, flexing across the surface of the table.
"So. You didn't put her to bed at a regular time? Didn't read her a book before tucking her in? Didn't at some point throughout your entire night together glance at a god damn clock to see what time it was?" The tension within the room crackles as Castle asks each question, his tone becoming as hard as steel and she reaches sideways under the table, placing a hand across the top of his thigh in warning.
"Mr. Johnson, I understand that things can get hectic in the evenings. Trying to get through it all and ready for the next day. But we need to establish a timeline of events so we can get justice for your daughter. For you."
His neck bends as his eyes meet hers for the first time since she'd entered the room with Castle. Beneath the tattered jacket his shoulders shrug, his indifference crystal clear.
Standing abruptly, Castle's chair screeches as it slides backward across the floor, and, propelling himself forward, he closes the distance between himself and what is supposed to be a grieving father. He slaps his palms against the table, his nose almost touching the now stunned Mr. Johnson.
"What did she do that left you so fucking uninterested? Did she talk too much about her day? About how wonderful life is? Did she ask for too much? Want dinner on the table? Clean clothes for school? Let me guess. The ungrateful little girl you had to raise told you one too many times that she loved you. Despite the shit hole of an existence you created for her, she still had the gall to tell you that you were loved!" Both of Castle's hands smack down, hard, and Beckett startles in her chair, her attention focused solely on the coil that's become his body.
"SHE WOULDN'T STOP COMPLAINING!"
There's a pause, a moment of stunned silence before the suspect continues in a whisper, "I just wanted her to shut up."
Jerking her horrified stare from Castle and onto Mr. Johnson, her eyes widen at the words that have exited his mouth, his confession echoing in the interrogation room.
How…?
Castle's knee hits the hard surface of the table, his foot almost coming in contact with her head as he lunges across it. Arms outstretched, he continues to fall until his body slams into their suspect, fingers wrapping themselves around the man's throat.
Oh. Shit.
There are stars, shots of light that splinter the darkness as a result of squeezing his eyelids too tight. His chest heaves with shallow breaths, air entering and exiting in quick concession as Castle leans over the table, his face barely inches from Mr. Johnson.
He needs to hold it together. He needs to hold it together.
"SHE WOULDN'T STOP COMPLAINING!"
His body shifts, a rapid uncoiling of muscles as he pitches himself forward. The sharp sting against his knees as they slam into the table's surface, the crack of his spine as his arms stretch forward are nothing compared to the chunks of his soul that this prick has hacked off with a single sentence.
Every one of his fingers digs themselves into the son of a bitch's throat creating ripples of skin and flesh, yet there is no satisfaction. It's not helping the hole in his heart that was made long ago, and he squeezes, harder. The movement adds to the already precarious situation and Mr. Johnson's chair tips backwards, taking both men with it and they crash as one to the floor – Castle's grip unwavering.
"Did she see it coming? Did she know that her father – the one man in her life who should've protected her – was going to take her life?"
His elbows bend as he lifts the asshole's head off the ground an inch before slamming back down.
"Castle. Rick."
Beckett's words sliver through the storm clouds gathering around him as her fingers grip the back of his shirt, tugging, pulling the material tight across his throat, and yet, he doesn't let go – he can't let go.
"Did she cry? Did she plead with her daddy to save her?" His pleas go unanswered, their victim's father only rasps a choked noise of pain in reply, and it does nothing to smother the fury raging through his every nerve ending. The need for answers is too strong.
"Espo! Ryan!" There's a shrill edge to her scream that she doesn't recognize as it comes from her own lips, but there's no one else in the room, just her and her panic. Her new partner is about to strangle their suspect and she hauls herself forward, again, tries with everything she has to pull Castle off, but to no avail.
She's experienced just how much power is confined within his biceps, how much strength his broad shoulders contain, and she has no chance of wrenching him off. But there has to be some way of getting through to him?
Scooting around so her body is hard against Rick's right side, she ignores the angry red painting Mr. Johnson's face, instead inserts a hand between the two males, her fingers blindly reaching for Castle's left ear. Tracing the hard edge of his jaw, she gravitates higher, traps the cartilage between her nails, and, twisting sharply, she attempts to turn his head toward her own.
It may be the pain of having his ear bent, or the fact that she is now so close to him, but without warning he snaps his head in her direction, his body startling, his fingers releasing their choke hold, and she uses the moment to drag him into her – away from the very nearly unconscious Mr. Johnson.
The sudden change in position has her toppling onto her back, pain rippling across her shoulders as she hits the floor, and even though her claw like fingers retract from Castle's ear, he still ends up on top of her.
His jaw smacks into her collarbone, before his head drops into the arch of her neck, his face buried within the strands of her hair. A sob begins low in his abdomen, a fluttering of muscles, and, as it travels up to his chest, her own body absorbs the shudder.
The door to the interrogation room flies open as Esposito and Ryan come barreling in and the sound of it hitting the wall engulfs any noise made from them on the floor. It provides the cover Castle requires to draw in a large gulp of air and she encourages him off her with an arm against his shoulder.
Attempting to sit up with one hand stretched behind her, she uses the other to tug at her sweater, which has ridden up in the debacle. The decent sized strip of skin is hidden once more and she propels herself forward until she is sitting tall, a rod for a spine – unflinching.
Both boys shift from foot to foot, eyebrows raised high, yet they remain framed inside the doorway – apparently unable to move into the room - and she takes advantage of their lack of progress. She searches for an explanation that would make sense of their current positions.
"Mr. Johnson fell backwards. We were… helping him up." Okay, so that doesn't justify the image that they are witnessing, doesn't explain why she was lying on the ground or why Castle is presently still hiding his face in her hair, body half covering her own. She lifts a hand to push Castle again, and he rocks backward enough to sit at her feet. Now free, she stands, glaring at Espo and Ryan, her meaning clear – don't say a word.
"Anyway, Mr. Johnson is ready to explain what happened last night so you guys are in charge of taking his statement." Nodding quickly, she shows the boys her silent appreciation for taking over, her gratitude softening the edges of her demands, and they exchange a hesitant look of understanding before nodding themselves.
As they pass Castle, Javier claps him on the back in understanding - she's seen him cross that line in the past - before joining Kevin in hurling Johnson and the chair up in one fluid movement, returning everything to how it was.
Espo angles his head in her direction, eyes purposely flickering between her and Castle, and she reads his expression easily – go deal with her partner, they have her back. Curling her lips into the smallest of smiles, she wraps a hand around Castle's bicep, and, as she tugs, he stands slowly.
Confusion lines his features as he glances at the boys, before locking eyes with her, his mouth opening to speak and she cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. They're a team and they look after each other. Whatever the reason for Castle's snap, they'll close ranks around him. He may only be new but he's one of them now.
Although, that also means it falls to her to chew his ass out for pulling such a stupid move.
A potentially case destroying move.
She huffs to herself as she exits the room, Castle, hopefully, following behind. This is going to be a challenging situation – a situation that's made more difficult due to their previous personal relationship.
His head bounces into the wall behind him, as he looks anywhere but at Beckett, who is destroying the floor pacing back and forth. Three steps, pivot. Three steps, pivot. It's been close to five minutes of this silence as she apparently battles for the right words, and his mouth has open and closed over a dozen times as he's gone to justify what he did. How much he fucked up. Except he can't – he won't.
He doesn't share. Ever.
"Do you…" She pivots again as she speaks, and without moving his head from the wall he looks down at her through half closed eyelids - waits for the rest to come.
"What you did…" Her fingers tear through her hair, catching on the knots that have formed throughout the day, and his hand lifts, before common sense kicks in and he drops it listless to his side. The last thing he needs to do is run his fingers through her hair.
Well, the last thing he should have done was strangle their suspect but…
"You need to go home. Now." Finally stopping her manic moving to and fro, Kate comes to a stop before him, and all he can see is the pity in her eyes as she repeats her command. "You need to go home. I need to deal with this… mess."
Thrashing side to side in muted protest, he bites the inside of his cheek, refuses to plead with her to change her mind.
"I'm not asking if you want to, Castle. I'm telling you. Come back tomorrow when you have your head screwed on right and just hope in the meantime that you have a job to come back to." She stalks away from him, down the isolated corridor that she had brought them to, but at the last minute she looks over her shoulder to softly reaffirm, "Go home, Castle."
His head arches back, eyes focusing on the ceiling before he closes them in defeat. The whole reason for this entire shit storm - why he snapped in the first place - is that he can't. He can't 'go home'.
He remembers all too well what it is to have one.
He knows all too well what it is to try and survive without one.
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Thank you all for being amazing with your reviews, the support for this story is the most beautiful ray of sunshine xoxo
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Thank for to the ever beautiful Jo and Jamie, not just for the beta but for being there for me xoxo
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Thank you for reading xoxo