Every time I have a brush with death, I call my Dad. Some of it, I think, is comforting to me. I hear his voice, and that's enough to take me back to the time when I would find refuge in his arms. And some of it ends up being a comfort to him. I don't always tell him, he doesn't need to know every terrible detail. But somehow he always knows. Dads have that ability, guess. He didn't want me to join the force. He already lost his wife, he would fall apart if he lost me too. But he supports me. He wants me to be happy, and this is what makes me happy.
When I called today, it's like he was waiting by the phone. It only rang once before his voice came on the line. He let me drone on and on, about my lack of a social life, my mountains of paperwork, and the new combat instructor before he interrupted. "So what happened today?" I told you, he always knows. My nerves kicked up a notch as I tried to figure out the best way to tell him.
I settled on, "you know that writer that's been following me around? He kind of saved my life." And that, Mr. Castle, is not a sentence I thought I would ever say. I don't think anyone would have seen that coming. Even the boys wouldn't have taken that bet. Dad was quiet on the other end, giving me time to explain, so I told him everything. I told him about how you were driving me nuts, talking about deep fried twinkies, and how even your ex-wife had wormed her way into my precinct. I told him about how you used your own books as expert advice. I told him about your stupid vest, and how I thought you were a liability, and how you can't seem to stay in the car. And then I told him about the champagne bottle. I told him how your quick thinking allowed me to get another shot in. I told him that without you there, I could have died.
He took it all in as best he could, quiet as always. Finally, he asked me to shake your hand for him. Then he asked me to let you out of the car more often. I promised to at least think of it.
Here is my dilemma. If something happens to you, and your daughter becomes parent-less, I would never forgive myself. I know what that's like, and I will not subject Alexis to that pain. But, without you, I would not be here. You have proven yourself more times that I thought possible in the last few months. And sometimes, your insight actually helps. So maybe, letting you out of the car every once in a while wouldn't be a terrible idea. As long as we have the right backup, of course.
I don't think I can truly express how grateful I am to be breathing right now. I have you to thank for that, Castle.
-Beckett