Forty-Seven: Chapter 6
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you, Mr. Marlowe.
Still Tuesday Afternoon, March 27, 2012 - at the entrance to Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn
Detective Kate Beckett is a mess by the time she reaches the entrance to the cemetery. She offers a quick thank you to the heavens as she sees the cab still there. Marco Divac is reading a book, unaware of her approaching. When she opens the door and slides into the back seat, he is startled and releases a small yelp.
She smiles through her tears, which he quickly sees. Obviously, Marco has no way of knowing what has happened in there, but here is what he does know: A cop runs out of a police station, commandeers his cab on a cat-and-mouse espionage jaunt – yes, that's how he's going to tell this story when this is all over – through the city and into the tunnel to Long Island where she – yes, the cop was a she – stops and runs into a cemetery – yes, a cemetery – after her perp. A little over a half hour later, she returns, alone and in tears. God only knows what has gone on inside those arches over there, and He isn't talking.
Yeah, this will be a good story, Marco thinks to himself. The taxi version of a big fish tale.
"Where to, Detective?" he asks, recalling her badge.
"Anywhere but here," she tells him, and he puts the taxi cab into gear when he receives his second surprise visit. The back door flies open a second time, as Richard Castle slides into the back seat, bumping her physically over to the other side of the cab.
"Castle?" she questions loudly. "What the hell?!"
"At least let me catch my breath if we're going to fight again," he offers her. It turns out that her brisk walk was a bit faster than he is used to. He had waited, motionless, at Johanna's grave for roughly a minute after Kate had left, wondering if he had – in fact – heard her final words accurately.
Thankfully, it's still and quiet in a cemetery, and so her words – even though she wasn't facing him, even though she was retreating away, even though her words were not meant to be heard – her words were still audible. They hung in the air long enough, and after waiting for years to hear those words, rest assured, there was no way he would miss them.
"I love you, Rick."
He takes a couple of deep breaths to stabilize his breathing, and rolls the window down to allow the fresh air to blow against his face and hair as the cab picks up speed, heading north towards the tunnel entrance.
"What's so funny?" she asks, irritated, as she notices the smirk on his face. Right now, she doesn't see any humor in anything that has happened today.
"I was just thinking," he begins, as his chuckles grow a bit louder. "I waited until you were in a cemetery, half conscious before I told you I loved you. And you wait a year later, in another cemetery, walking away from me where I can barely hear you, before you reciprocate."
She nods her head, it's a movement that is barely perceptible.
"You heard," is all she says.
"I heard," he acknowledges.
She can't help but chuckle at life's taunting irony. She stares out the window, taking a deep breath. Perhaps they can salvage this thing after all.
For the next few minutes, neither says a word as Marco steers the cab back into the tunnel, heading towards Manhattan. Once they clear the tunnel and the tall buildings of Manhattan come into view, Castle breaks the silence.
"Back at the precinct. If I hadn't been standing there . . ." he begins, rubbing the bridge of his nose. She knows what is coming next. She has hoped he wouldn't ask. She won't lie to him, not again. But she knows he won't like her answer.
"If I hadn't been in the viewing room and heard what you said . . . would you have ever come clean? Would you have ever told me, Kate?"
She turns her head, facing him. He'll know if she's lying.
"I don't know," she replies evenly.
He turns away, glancing upward at the buildings that begin to whisk by.
"Well, thank you at least for not lying," he says softly.
"One lie, for almost a year, is more than enough," she replies, her voice barely audible now. She, too, now turns her face away, choosing the scenery outside her window, passing by, rather than face what is inside the cab right now. Her thoughts, her words, however, continue.
"I thought we were getting closer, Castle. I thought we were almost there. I was certain of it. You started talking to me about missed opportunities. I was starting to share . . . share my feelings, but we'd get interrupted. Always an interruption," she muses sadly.
"I thought . . . well, my plan was to let us get started, to let us begin . . . something new," she tells him. "To let us take things to the next level without having to . . . without . . ."
"Without having to confront what you said you didn't remember," he finishes for her. Yeah, perhaps it is the cowardly way out, but hey – after holding on to a lie for so long, maybe the best way, the only way to move on is to start anew. To ignore what obviously does not want to be remembered.
But life just doesn't work that way, does it? In the end, it all comes out in the wash.
Castle . . . Rick," she replies, opting now to do what she rarely does. She uses his first name, trying to get his full attention, and make the point.
"I'm going to ask a favor of you," Kate continues, "and I admit in advance, this is a big favor. Maybe one I don't deserve, I don't know. What I am going to tell you now is something that I am afraid you are going to just blow off. I'm afraid – because you now know that I lied to you – that you are going to wonder if I am lying now. My ask, Castle, is that you don't look at me as the little girl who cried wolf. I have told you a lie – one lie – and I know that I have kept the lie up for a long, long time. But please, don't let it overrule all of the other times I have told you the truth. Times like right now, with what I want to say to you."
"Hold on Kate," he replies, and he actually takes this time to move more toward the car door, away from her. His movement does not go unnoticed by Kate, and her eyes momentarily drop in sadness as he begins speaking again.
"Call it the heavens, God, the universe, I don't know – but evidently someone out there has decided that you and I have kept enough from each other long enough, and today is come-clean day. I have never lied to you, Kate. It's just not something I would do. But what I have done, although not a lie, I know it isn't something you're going to be happy about."
"What are you talking about, Castle?" she asks, her detective-oriented radar now fully operational.
"Just how badly is this day going to disintegrate?" she thinks to herself as she watches him fidget in the seat beside her.
He runs a hand through his head, and begins. Once again, he holds her gaze in his eyes.
"You were shot last summer. A sniper. You lived because of good doctors, and by the grace of God. You know this, already."
She nods her head, so he continues.
"What you don't know is why the sniper who tried to kill you hasn't tried again. What you don't know is why the killers who hired him didn't keep the contract alive and in place."
Her stomach is doing flips now, and a queasy uneasiness is putting a very bitter taste in the back of her mouth. She has no idea where he is going. How could she? But the preamble, the set-up – this doesn't sound like good news.
"They didn't get you the first time, but trust me, there was going to be a second time, and a third time. As many times as it took, they were going to keep trying until you were dead."
He pauses, not for effect, but just to make sure this comes out right. He knows her tendency to run, to take flight, much like he did earlier this afternoon from the precinct.
"The reason no one tried to kill you again is because I made a deal to keep you alive."
He intentionally pauses again, this time to allow the words to settle in her spirit. He knows her, he's spent enough time with her to know how she processes things. He watches her little quirky response, how her lower lips quivers. Okay, time to drop the other shoe.
"After you were shot, I received a phone call. Anonymous. At first I wish I hadn't answered it. But later, I came to understand that if I hadn't answered it, you'd be dead," he continues, talking a little faster now. "The man identified himself as a Mr. Smith. I'm sure that's not his real name, but that's not important. What is important is that he told me that Roy Montgomery left you one final gift."
"Roy? What gift is that? And what deal are you talking about, Castle?" Kate asks, her voice terse, her tone clipped.
"Roy had information in his possession – sensitive information – information that had been keeping the people who want you dead off your back," Castle responds. "Information that was keeping you alive. However, when it became clear to him that he – Roy, I mean - wasn't going to make it much longer, he sent this information to this Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith, in turn, notified these certain people that if anything happens to you, then this sensitive information will be released."
Kate begins to speak, and glancing down at her clenched fists, seeing the fire in her eyes, Castle knows this isn't going well. But he has to finish this – now.
"Smith called me to tell me that your safety, and the safety of your family, friends – it all depended on you staying away from your mother's case. That was the deal that Roy had in place for you, I suppose, for all of these years. And when he could no longer guarantee that you would stay away from the case, it cost him his life," Castle says softly, his voice breaking.
In truth, Richard Castle considers Roy Montgomery's death to be his – Castle's - fault.
In Castle's mind, had he not pushed and pushed and encouraged Kate Beckett to keep digging, keep searching, then Montgomery would still be alive. Yes, Roy's actions as a young, wet-behind-the-ears officer helped set this gruesome scenario into motion. And yes, Roy had hidden all of this for his own reasons, and not all of them focused on Kate Beckett's safety. But in the end, the ex-captain had grown to love and respect his top detective, and when it became clear that her on-again/off-again search for justice was going to get her killed, he opted to stand in her place, to step in for her. It was a noble sacrifice after years of deception, but Castle knows that had he kept Beckett away instead of encouraging her, Roy would still be alive. And given that Roy has been dead for almost a year now, and they are still no closer to the man or woman pulling strings behind the scenes, well it's not like they've made a lot of progress that makes Roy's sacrifice 'worth it,' if there is such a thing. There is so much he would want to say to Roy Montgomery now, things that he wishes he had said, or even known to say, a year ago.
It makes him think about two days from now, about the ceremony with Martha planned for that evening. He has so much to say to her.
He finally pushes these thoughts away, as he sees Kate staring at him, with anger and confusion and hurt and more questions all competing for dominance behind those beautiful eyes for which he has fallen so hard, so deep.
"Roy is dead, and he died because you and I kept digging, kept searching. He had tried to keep you away, steer you away for so long. And that's why you were alive. Thriving. Getting promotions. Expanding. Yeah, there was always your mother's unsolved case, but you were still alive, still going places despite that. You and I changed that whole dynamic when we redoubled our efforts to open your mother's case again, even unofficially."
Kate opens her mouth, but Castle shoots her down again.
"Not yet, Kate. I'm not finished. You'll want to hear all of this first."
He turns back toward her, facing her, his back now to the car window on his side of the backseat of the rapidly accelerating cab.
"Smith told me that Roy's death was so unnecessary, but your death would be just as unnecessary. He said that Roy kept you alive for almost a decade, and now it was my turn to do the same. Roy was gone, and someone else now had to step into his place, to keep you alive, to keep you away from the case. He said that Roy had told him I was that man. And if I said no, he told me you'd be dead within the week."
Castle looks down, rubbing his forefingers with his thumbs, only to give himself another second.
"I asked him how he could be so sure," Castle continues, now fully into story-telling mode. "That's when he convinced me. He reminded me that you and I were sitting in a diner when Ragland was shot through the window. By a sniper. He reminded me how easily that could have been you. Or me. He then reminded me that you were shot in the cemetery. By a sniper. He reminded me how easily that could have been me. Or Alexis. Or Javier or Kevin. He reminded me that these people could get to us any time they pleased, without warning, without us even having an inkling that something was wrong. Those people could shoot us in this taxi cab without us ever knowing."
That last bit about getting sniped at in a taxi cab is what gets Marco Divac, who has been listening in on the entire discussion. He had slowly been losing interest, as during the first mile or two from the cemetery, the discussion had been focused on some lie the woman in the backseat had told the large man. So what, people lie all the time. So much for the great espionage story he could tell his bar friends. All this was turning out to be was a he-said/she said disagreement between a fighting couple.
But then things started getting interesting. There was espionage, and police cover-ups, a hint of mob work, and God-knows what else. This was getting better by the minute. There was a juicy story in here after all.
Until, that is, Castle talked about someone sniping at a cab. Suddenly, Marco pulls the taxi over to the curb, tires squealing as both Beckett and Castle are tossed about.
"Get out!" Divac orders the couple. "Now!" He has no time to mess around with people who have contracts on them. He knows enough to know when to be involved, and when to not be involved. Taxi cab drivers tend to become innocent bystanders, collateral damage. Well no, not Marco Divac, by God. He's getting the hell out of here.
"Get out!" he screams again, adding, "I don't want your money. Just go!"
Reluctantly, Castle and Beckett get out, flustered. He first, then holding his hand out, he guides his detective out of the cab onto the curb. She is barely out of the cab when Marco hits the gas, accelerating away, pulling back into the street and almost causing multiple collisions in the process.
"And that, Kate Beckett, is why I made that deal," Castle says, now chuckling at the turn of events as he points toward the fleeing taxicab. He grabs Kate by the arms, turning her to him, ensuring she doesn't run, ensuring he hears what he says.
"Anyone – you, me, my daughter, our friends, an innocent cab driver, an unsuspecting waiter in a restaurant . . . anyone was a potential target, and there was nothing we could do about it. So I agreed. I told him I'd do it. I'd take Roy's place. I'd keep you away. I'd keep you alive. Since that time, it's been a phone call and a meeting in a garage, where . . ."
"You met him?" Kate asks, her voice rising. Castle tries to interrupt but she doesn't allow it. He has said enough, and she honestly is not sure how she feels about this. She hates that he has made a deal behind her back. But the logic he has laid out is unassailable. If she were placed in a similar situation, she probably would have reacted in the same way. Still, logic aside, she is pissed. She doesn't like not being in control.
"You go behind my back, and make a deal for my life – my life! And you don't tell me about it?"
Once again, it is the wrong thing to say, today of all days.
"Again, don't talk to me about keeping secrets, Beckett," he warns, her last name rolling easily off his tongue once again. "Kate Beckett, if you aren't careful, if we aren't careful, you're going to end up bleeding out on a street, or ambushed in some alley, or God-forbid, hanging off the ledge of some building. I can't allow that. I won't allow that."
"Arrgh!" she screams, running both hands into her head briefly before spinning and walking – briskly – away. She doesn't know where she is going. Just that she has to get away.
For the second time today, flight is the option chosen by both the detective and the writer. This time, it is the writer who gives chase. As angry as he had been earlier, he still recognizes that – so far this afternoon – they have finally started to have something that has eluded them for . . . well, since they have known each other: a meaningful conversation. No vague innuendo, no subtle hinting. They are laying it all out, wearing feelings on their sleeves so to speak. Being honest.
It is refreshing, and it is not something he will allow to walk away so easily. He catches her half a block down the street, almost having to break into a run. When he catches her, he also catches a glimpse of the diner out of the corner of his eye. In one motion, he grabs her arm with his left hand, while pulling her over to the door that he pulls opens with his right hand.
"Castle, what the-" she demands loudly, but immediately cutting her comments off as she is dragged into the small eatery and a dozen or so heads turn to see the cause of the sudden commotion at the front entrance.
She follows him – reluctantly – trying to loosen his grip as he still has her arm in his now. Undaunted, he takes her to a table near the rear of the diner before releasing her arm. She sits, flopping herself into the booth and sliding in so he can join her, which he does.
Comically, neither says a word for a few seconds, and both allow their heads to fall back on the headrests, exhaling deeply. Both chuckle at the notion that – even now, in the midst of what has to be the biggest argument they have had – they still remain 'in tune' with one another. After a few more seconds, Castle turns to Beckett with a sigh.
"So . . . where were we?"