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A one time thing
Chapter Fifteen - Stepping back
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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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Beckett turns the key of the cruiser and the motor comes to a stop. The silence inside the car, the stillness from her partner, stretches across to the driver's seat until she is drowning in it. Of all the cases, of all the weeks, why did they have to be assigned a dead nanny and a missing child now?
"I can talk to the O'Connors by myself. Or get Esposito and Ryan to handle it." Drawing the corner of her lower lip between her teeth, she stares straight ahead at her hands as they encircle the steering wheel, her fingers blanching white with the pressure she is placing them under. The pressure she is placing herself under. "You don't have to interview the parents, Rick."
The nothing that comes from the passenger seat, not a word, or a movement, leaves her inhaling deeply, sucking in as much courage as she can. Angling her head to her right, she stares at the side of his, and waits.
She can be here, can wait quietly for him, at least for a minute or two.
They do have a job to do though.
"I'll be fine." His mouth contorts for a fleeting moment, half smile - half grimace, and giving a sharp nod of his head, he turns to face her. "I can do this- Just…"
Reaching over the center console, his fingers hover above her thigh, and, dropping her hand, Kate squeezes. She's gentle, barely contracts her hand before wiggling her fingers into the small spaces between each of his, and, interlocking them, she joins them as one.
Time stretches as they sit soundlessly, and it morphs reality, makes it appear as if several minutes have passed, but, as Castle presses his fingers against hers before withdrawing them, a check of her father's watch shows that really it has only been one.
Opening the passenger door, he leaves the car, but she lingers for a moment longer, watching him through the glass.
Trepidation crawls its way up her spine, tightens the muscles of her shoulders, creates a thumping between her eyes as a headache begins, and her first impulse is to exit, grab ahold of him and drag him back in. She could drive away; take them somewhere. Anywhere but here.
This has trouble written all over it.
Walking through the O'Connors' open front door it strikes him how normal it all looks. The shoes in rows on the porch, the welcome mat underfoot, the photographs that line the entrance wall.
Everything - the colors, the furnishings - is bright, shiny. Alive. That won't last, not if their little girl doesn't come home.
Once upon a time, he'd had this. Pictures of his life had adorned the grand piano, the kitchen counter was home to school projects awaiting his opinion; his loft had been full of love, laughter, life.
It only takes a moment for it all to change.
"Who are you?"
Pulling himself out of the past, he stares at the FBI agent before him, the dark suit and squared shoulders a giveaway, and shifting his jacket, Rick flashes him the badge at his hip.
"Detective Castle. And this is Detective Beckett. We're here about the nanny."
"Agent Stevens. FBI."
"Any leads on the missing girl?" Lifting an eyebrow, Beckett looks at the Fed, but Castle can tell her attention is already past the man in front of them, is doing exactly what he was doing not a minute ago. She's making note of every detail, recording all the information that nobody else notices, and later they will combine the pieces to complete the puzzle.
It's what they do best. At least during work hours.
"None. The parents are in the sitting room."
Flicking a thumb down to the right, Stevens indicates to the doorway, and, together they nod their heads in thanks. The respect that he has for the agent isn't expressed with words, but offering a sympathetic smile, Castle follows Beckett as she heads toward the O'Connors.
He has been on both sides of the fence and the grass isn't greener, regardless of where you stand.
"I understand that the FBI has taken your statement. But we are here about your nanny, Erin." Beckett begins the interview as he stares across the coffee table, the sharp white lines of the clinical décor are jarring, and he attempts to get a read on the parents.
Mrs. O'Connor smiles in response, but her expression is fraught with exhaustion. "Anything we can do to-"
The ringing of a cell slices through her platitude, and Castle's attention jerks to Mr. O'Connor. He's reaching into the pocket of his jacket, bringing the phone to his ear, and as a group, they collectively hold their breath, even with the Feds storming in through the doorway at the noise.
If this is a kidnapping, this could be their lead.
"Hello."
The room becomes a vacuum, Mr. O'Connor drawing everyone's focus, and, the pressure inside Castle has him curling his fingers, creating a fist. The pain of his nails digging into his flesh barely registers as he waits, they all wait, for what seems like a lifetime.
The phone calls are hell. They hold such possibility until the moment that they are answered and what could be becomes reality. And reality was never what Rick wanted to hear. The dashing of hope was dreadful, until the news that there was no hope. That was indescribable.
"No. No, I'm not coming into the office today. I thought the memo went out."
Like a deflating balloon, everyone's shoulders sag, bodies slumping, and Rick lowers his head under the weight of what is lost. Although, it could have been worse. So much worse.
Filing out of the room, the FBI leave, and shoving all of his own experiences away, Castle redirects his concentration back to the O'Connors.
"Look, I might be able to swing past later this afternoon, with any luck this will all be over. I need to get on top of the merger, anyhow."
Rick's upright, three strides toward Mr. O'Connor, when Beckett calls out his name, and he falters for a fraction, stumbling. The sound of her voice is enough to bring him back to himself - reminds him why he is here and why he has no choice but to control himself.
Grabbing ahold of a victim's father and knocking the shit out of him isn't okay.
He has both been there and done that, and was lucky not to lose his job.
"Mr. O'Connor. Very sorry to interrupt but I can assure you that it won't be over this afternoon. While everything is being done to find your daughter, we're still investigating Erin's murder."
Aiming to keep his tone neutral, supportive, he still throws a quick glance toward Beckett. Her expression is tight, lips thin, eyes darting between where he and Mr. O'Connor stand, just a few feet apart, but she doesn't appear panicked.
He's pulled it off. For now.
"Mr. O'Conner, please, have a seat." Indicating with her hand to the chair he's just vacated, Kate pauses, arm outstretched. Castle at least, sits down next to her again, although his body remains coiled, spoiling for a fight. Understandably, there's a tension in the room, the anxiety palatable, but their interview has to go on.
"I don't need to be told to sit down in my own home."
Her eyes widen, her jaw opening before she snaps it shut. Each person handles grief and stress in their own way and she's not here to judge; the guy's an asshole but his daughter has been kidnapped, and she has no doubt that at least half of his responses have been attempts to reclaim normality. She does however, place her hand between herself and Castle, god forbid he leap off the sofa again and she's forced to hold him back.
"How long has Erin been your nanny?"
"Nearly two years. She takes care of Leanne before and after school." Mrs. O'Connors' fingers tremble as she answers and Kate nods, grateful to be moving forward; continuing with their usual questions, she's not shocked to hear the standard answers.
Everything was fine. No complaints with Erin's work. No concerns about her.
She's heard it all before.
"What about Erin's home life? Did she have a boyfriend, any friends that could be helpful?"
"She's hired help. Why would we worry ourselves with that?"
Joining in on their conversation for the first time, Mr. O'Connor looks up from his phone. He's been pacing back and forth behind his wife, ignoring their questions until now, but, as Kate swallows down her retort, he positions himself next to the coffee table.
"Look. We've been accommodating enough. And while this is horrible, we need to focus on our daughter and getting her back."
Castle stands, her hand too late to snag his pants, and she hastily mimics him, makes it appear that they are presenting a united front, that she's not worried about his behavior in any way.
"The more information we have to solve Erin's murder, to find your daughter, the quicker this will be resolved, and you can go back to work once more."
There are nothing but steel edges in Castle's tone, and her eyes close for a moment; he's personalizing this and while she can't blame him, they have to leave - now - before something more regrettable is said.
"Thank you for your time. If you can think of anything that could help, whether it's about Erin, or your daughter, please call us."
Pulling out one of her business cards, Kate holds it out for Mrs. O'Connor, situates herself between her partner and Mr. O'Connor, creating a buffer to prevent any more ill-mannered comments from exiting either of their mouths.
With a shaky hand, Mrs. O'Connor takes it from her fingers, offers a resigned smile, and Beckett returns the gesture, before placing a hand to Rick's bicep, the muscle a knotted ball underneath her fingers, and she ushers him out of the room.
"I need you to be honest with me, Castle," she starts, when they make it out to the front yard. "I need to know if you can keep it all under control. Because…"
Stalking away from her, he moves to stand next to the car. His head is bent, shoulders a hard line and her fingers ache to touch him, to run her hands along the constricted muscle, to knead away the tension inside of him.
"No one will think any less of you if you need to walk away."
She certainly won't.
He doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge her in any way, just opens the door, and sits down in the passenger seat, staring ahead, his eyes glazed with a past she understands all too well.
Perching herself onto the edge of the desk, Beckett faces the murder board, her fingers tapping one after the other against her thigh in a constant rhythm. The photo of Erin is front and center as Castle places himself next to her.
"Hey."
She angles her head, lips curving into a smile at his greeting. The car ride back to the precinct was a long one, each unable to find the words needed to break the shroud of silence. It wasn't helped when Castle headed straight to the bathroom, and it took all her self-restraint not to go in and make sure that he was okay.
"I made you a coffee."
Placing a hand against his thigh, Kate creates some stability, and arching back, her fingers catch the handle, pulling the warm cup across his desk. As she brings it to him, Castle's hand covers her fingers where they grip his leg, and it's only then does it become apparent what she has done.
She's normally much better at being discreet, and she brushes her actions aside, withdrawing her hand quickly while holding out the cup of coffee for him.
"Thank you."
He takes it from her gently, wraps both hands around the porcelain before raising the cup to his mouth for a sip. She should say something, ensure that he is all right, but the "Are you okay?" remains unsaid.
She despised hearing that after her mother's murder. To this day, she cringes when people ask her this, but the right words for their situation are eluding her, and she closes her eyes.
Maybe saying nothing at all will still be enough for him?
Inhaling deeply, she returns to the board before her, reiterates the tiny bit of evidence they have. As if saying it enough times in her head will shake something loose. They have nothing but questions and no one willing to answer them. And if that wasn't enough a little girl is out there.
Hopefully waiting to be rescued.
"So Ryan and I went through our victim's apartment and came up empty handed."
Beckett jerks a fraction, surprised at the out of the blue statement, and as Esposito cuts through her melancholy, she places both feet on the ground to heave herself up. Raising an eyebrow, she waits for a better explanation, ignores the throbbing in her forehead at the notion that they still have no break in the case.
"It was organized, clean, but seriously lacking with the personal touches. No photos. No computer. No cell." Shrugging both shoulders, Esposito tilts his head toward Erin's photo. "This nanny had some life problems. As in she had no life."
"There must be some type of digital fingerprint out there?"
"Don't know what to tell you, Beckett. But as far as we can tell she didn't have a thing."
Catapulting himself off his desk, Castle stands, and as his shoulder sweeps past hers, he glares down at Espo. If they were anywhere else she would grab ahold of his hand, interweave their fingers, try to calm him down, but they are here, at work.
"There has to be something about her that got her killed. Some reason for an eight year old girl to disappear into thin air."
Each of Castle's words escalate in volume, and she edges sideways, bumps into him as she tries to get his attention. It works; for a second, he sets his fiery expression on her before Esposito opens his mouth and destroys her attempt.
"It's been nearly twenty-four hours, whatever chance that girl had, I'd guess it's just about gone."
There's a part of him that knows Esposito is not being cold; he's being realistic. But from the moment their breakfast was interrupted this morning everything about the day has been nothing but a reminder of Alexis, and he snaps, grabbing the material of Esposito's jacket within his tight fists.
"Castle- Rick!"
Kate's voice in his ear is a bucket of cold water; every part of him is drenched and he sags under the panic in her tone. Letting go of Javier, he stumbles back, hands falling to his side. It's then that Kate's fingers encircle his wrist, and tugging sharply, she leaves him no choice but to follow her as she strides out of the bullpen.
He's screwed up, royally. He had one goal today and that was to make it through without losing his cool and he's just gone and attacked one of his teammates - one of his friends - over a simple comment.
Trailing after Kate as she turns into a barely used corridor, his feet trip over themselves as he sees where they are. It's the same passage that she had dragged him to all those months ago when she first saw him lose control of his temper, and his shoulders slump further.
He should be better at this by now.
"I'm sorry."
There are so many things that he is sorry for. He's not good enough for her, not able to be the solid ground that she deserves. Stable. Steady. Settled. Kate is worth all of these things and he's… none of them.
"I'm sorry, and I'll apologize to Espo. I'll explain my past to the boys. I should have done it long ago. They should hear the truth."
The truth that he couldn't keep his daughter alive, that he is not worth their time, that he should move on, get out of their lives.
Out of her life.
Kate paces back and forth along the empty corridor.
She's at a loss at what to say now, how to pull him out of the rabbit hole. It's pulling him down and if she doesn't act soon, the tentative hold she has won't be enough to keep him from slipping through her fingers.
Listening to his halting apology rocks her back on her heels, and turning to face him, she sees the toll of this case - this week - etched into the lines of his face, and as he speaks of telling the boys, every rational thought flees her mind.
She was supposed to be standing by his side through this and she's somehow failed to be there for him.
"Hey. It's okay. It's going to be okay."
Her fingers drift across the ridge of his cheekbones, her thumbs settling into the black half circles that have been increasing, more prominent with each passing night of restless sleep and all night writing binges. Bringing a knee between his, she pushes her body into him, their hips nudging, her shoulders pressing into his chest as she sandwiches him against the wall, tries to hold him together by sheer pressure alone.
"Espo will understand. And if you want I can tell them. Tell them whatever you want me to." The words trip over each other in her desperation to get them out. She will do anything to make it all right. Make him all right.
"Go home. Do some writing… Just." She's grasping at straws. "I'll hand the case over to the boys, and deal-" She'll need to deal with the fallout of his actions, but she can do that, do this for him. "I'll be home as soon as I can, okay."
Tears well on his lower lids, and she can feel his pain leeching from his skin, and her heart rockets into her throat.
They'll be okay. They have to be.
"I'm sorry, Kate."
Her head shakes back and forth, strands of her hair obstructing her vision, before his fingers catch ahold of them, tucking them back behind her ears.
"No. It's my fault, Rick. I should never have let you be on this case. It's-"
His mouth descends, silencing the end of her sentence, and, as his lips widen against her own, she melts into the sensation.
Maybe everything is falling to pieces around them, but they are still standing, they still have each other, and threading her fingers through his hair, she pulls him closer.
They will be okay.
"Detectives!"
Beckett jerks backward, her body twisting out of Castle's arms. Her eyes widen as she faces the intrusion, her shocked stare clashing with Montgomery's, but it's not the sight of him that has her breath deserting her lungs.
It hadn't been his familiar voice that shattered their moment, and breaking her eye contact, she looks past Montgomery to the figure standing in his shadow. The Chief of Detectives is glaring at her and Castle, his face pulsating red.
Of all the people she never wanted to see in this situation, he is at the top of her list.
This is the rotten cherry on top of one very bad day.
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All the flails for all the wonderful words of support. Thank you so much for continuing on this ride as we slide into the final corner of events. Xoxo
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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for the late nights and early mornings and of course the beta xoxo
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Thank you for reading xoxo