Chapter 14
O'Leary downed his coffee in one slug, apparently not needing to breathe since the mug and amount was tiny in comparison to his maw. "C'n I get another?" he asked hopefully.
"Sure," Castle agreed.
When he returned from the kitchen with fresh coffee, O'Leary was sitting at the table, a wary gaze centred on Beckett, who was still as far away as possible but was at least sitting down. Her back was to them, and it didn't look like she was going to move any time this side of 2050.
"What happened?" O'Leary asked, transferring his full attention to Castle.
"Roscoe cops called. They wanted her to go get her father. She said no. They tried guilting her. She handed them their asses and then spent most of the evening miserable. Then she snuck out and in the morning I found her asleep out here."
O'Leary hummed to himself. "An' then what? You have a fight?"
"No." Which had the advantage of being absolutely true, since O'Leary was watching him rather suspiciously. It occurred to Castle that size didn't preclude intelligence – and none of Beckett's friends were dumb. It behoved him to employ caution. "She'd barely got to the table when you arrived."
"Mmm. You din't sound too pleased with her." Pale blue eyes drilled into Castle.
He shrugged. "I wasn't."
O'Leary blinked, clearly not having expected that.
"She shouldn't be sleeping outside on the ground any time, and she sure shouldn't be doing it when she's not properly healed. She can't lift herself out of the pool so she's not fixed."
"Fair enough." Castle breathed more easily. "Now, how's about the rest of it? 'Cause I'm sure that ain't all."
Castle's opinion of O'Leary's intelligence rose another few notches, although he really didn't appreciate it being used to interrogate him.
"You don't have the right to ask me that."
"Mebbe not, but I'm askin' all the same."
"And I'm not answering, all the same."
O'Leary developed a slow smile. "Guess we're at a stand-off, then." The smile broadened. "How's about I tell you a bit 'bout Beckett 'n' me, while she ain't here to shoot me for it?"
"Knock yourself out," Castle said more happily, "but shall I get a big pot of coffee and some pastries? I've got cinnamon buns."
"Sounds good."
The major necessities of caffeine and sugar provided, Castle regarded O'Leary expectantly.
"Waalll," he drawled, " I met Beckett when she was still a rookie. She'd been put out on a Vice op, an', waal, I arrested her. She...um...din't take it so good, till I stuffed her in my unit."
Castle could well imagine, and grinned appreciatively.
"Anyways, we got talkin', an' then she got put in my precinct – I was still an officer then too – an' we worked together a bit. Got let do some softenin' up of the bad guys – everyone thought I'd be the mean one an' when she let rip it got them so turned around they'd spill. Nothin' important, though. Real detectives did that." He took an enormous slurp of coffee and disposed of a cinnamon bun in one bite. "But she was driven even then. Never stopped. Din't know why, though eventually she told me 'bout her mom, an' it's not like she's chatty 'bout anythin' outside the job."
"Not then either, most of the time."
"Waal, I guess that's true too. Anyways, she din't say anythin'. Soon enough, the Twelfth picked her up – Captain Montgomery'd had an eye on her for a while, she got made detective, I moved to Central Park an' got made detective a bit after. But we stayed pals, even though we din't work together any more."
His huge, moon face drooped. "Then I called her one evenin', 'cause she'd been a bit distant an' I thought a drink might fix it. She was totally wasted. I'm still not sure she knew she'd told me where she was. She was down in a bar in the Village. So I went down after her – she din't ask, I just showed up. Watched her throw them back an' took her home when she couldn't drink any more. She din't say why."
He disposed of another two cinnamon buns and a full mug of coffee.
"So I din't ask. Figured she'd tell me if she wanted me to know."
Castle winced.
"So that was it," O'Leary said with satisfaction at discovering the truth. "She wouldn't talk to you an' you were mad at her. Thought you'd been followin' her round long enough that you'd know that's a losin' game?"
Castle declined to be baited, and drank his coffee instead, capturing a cinnamon bun before O'Leary could eat the lot.
"She'll talk if she wants to. Till then, best you leave her to it. She'll come out of the sulks eventually."
Castle looked over to the small, hunched figure on the grass. "I wouldn't call it sulks. She's miserable."
"So'd I be." O'Leary looked very seriously at Castle. "You can't fix it for her. Took her months to tell me what'd been goin' down that night. Blamed herself for months more. Don't push her. She'll run, an' I don't guess that's what you're hopin' for. She'll come to you, iffen you let her be."
A sudden flashback to the day of the shooting: Beckett on the podium and (he was now sure) telling him through the eulogy that she'd chosen him to stand with her. She'd come to him, in that speech, long after hope had died with Montgomery in an aircraft hangar.
"We'll see," he temporised, and drank the rest of his coffee.
Some considerable time later, O'Leary and Castle were pretty pleased with each other. O'Leary had spun a series of tales of Central Park life, including the two drugged-up lowlifes who'd tried to swear they'd been menaced by a panther. "Which is totally dumb, because even toddlers know that there ain't panthers in the city. I guess it was Hallowe'en an' someone got a really good costume."
"Or they'd been watching too much True Blood."
"Most like."
There was a noise as of small rockslides, and O'Leary blushed. "Guess it's lunchtime. I'll go down into town" –
"No way. I've got plenty of food and soda. Beer if you want, but I'm guessing not if you drove up."
"Naw, thanks. Soda's fine."
They both glanced at the still, somehow bedraggled figure out on the grass.
"Should we try?" Castle asked.
"I'll do it. I don't know where anythin' is in your house an' anyways a man's kitchen shouldn't be messed with. Pete hates it if I mess with his cookin'." O'Leary magnificently ignored Castle's amazement. "'Sides which, Beckett can't hurt me. An' I c'n pick her up an' carry her."
"So could I," Castle said rather indignantly.
O'Leary assessed him speculatively. "Really? You work out a bit more than you let on, then." He grinned evilly. "You know, put on a tight t-shirt an' some well-fittin' shorts an' I know a couple of clubs with guys as would really like to meet you..."
Castle spluttered.
"Gotcha. Wouldn't be much point, now, would there? You're interested in Beckett. More'n interested, if what I heard was right." There was an indeterminate mutter, at which O'Leary grinned wider. "Guess I heard it right."
Food arrived on the table in stages, between which Castle cast glances at the shadowy bulk of his newest friend, who appeared to be squatting by Beckett. She didn't appear to be receptive to anything he was saying.
"I'm not hungry," she snapped. "Leave me alone."
"You can have nothing to eat if you want, but you gotta have a drink. You'll get sunstroke."
"I won't."
"Don't be dumb. If you won't eat with us, take a drink and go sulk in your bedroom. Likely you'll spoil my lunch anyways, scowlin' like that."
"Just go away, O'Leary. I don't want company." Castle could hear the stress fracturing her voice.
"I saw that. You're gettin' it like it or not."
As he watched, O'Leary plucked her up from her spot. It didn't go down well.
"What the hell? Put me down."
"Naw. You're all cross because you're hungry an' you need a drink."
"I need to be left alone." More fracturing. Castle would have bet on Beckett damming up tears, but he wasn't stupid enough to say that or to get involved.
"Get a drink, an' we'll leave you to your bad temper."
"Fine."
She stalked over to the table, very obviously ramming down some severely angry commentary, and scowled even more blackly. "Could I get a soda from the fridge, please?" she asked, perfectly civil and polite. Her eyes glistened, and her mouth was tightly pinched.
"Sure. You know where it is."
Castle felt very strongly that he was not going to interfere with O'Leary or Beckett. He enjoyed living, and was keen to keep enjoying it for many years to come.
Beckett took a soda, totally controlled, and turned to go back outside. In the way was her pet mountain, who appeared to have a plan in mind. On any other person, that would have been suicidal. On O'Leary, it might merely involve a few insect-bites and – if Beckett were to draw the gun she didn't have – a wasp-sting.
"Excuse me," Beckett bit out. O'Leary, astonishingly, didn't move. Normally mountains moved when Beckett used that particular command tone. Maybe O'Leary was first cousin to a tectonic plate?
"Naw. You're upset an' you're hungry, an' that's not a good combination. Sit down an' have some lunch. We left a cinnamon bun for you."
"I'm not hungry."
"You used to tell me that every time you were upset, back in the day. I don't believe you any more than I did then."
"It was true than and it's true now."
Castle watched with admiration as O'Leary applied a craftsman's skill to Beckett's lack of communication, completely ignoring everything he'd told Castle about leaving her to talk when she was ready. Every time she tried to close down, he tapped another wedge into the conversation to re-open it, gradually steering it to what he wanted to know. Clearly pretend-hayseed-dumb O'Leary was a very bright cop indeed. Castle continued to stay discreetly out of the way. Lunch would keep.
"An' you must be sore from sleepin' out. What was that all about? Din't have you posted as an astronomer. You never even read your horoscope."
"That's astrology. And it's nonsense."
"So why were you sleepin' out?"
"The stars were pretty."
"Don't try that, Beckett," O'Leary said sternly. "C'mon. We're pals. We been pals forever. You ain't right an' it's not just that you got shot an' then broke your arm. I know your dad's back drinkin' an' I know you got guilted by those dumbasses up in Roscoe." Beckett flung a look of furious betrayal at Castle. "Seems to me, though, you're back blamin' yourself for your dad. That was dumb last time and it's dumb now."
O'Leary's tone was measured, but his words clearly stung.
"How would you know?" Beckett bit back. "He looked after me for weeks and I'm just leaving him to kill himself with whiskey. How's that for gratefulness, huh? Use him up and destroy him." She shoved at O'Leary's immoveable bulk. "Just like with everyone else. Use them up and destroy them because I can't give anything back." She shoved again, twisted, emitted a piercing cry of pain at which a shocked O'Leary dropped his arms, and fled, pushing past Castle into the house.
"Waal. That was unexpected," O'Leary rumbled.
"I don't think that worked so well," Castle grated. "Where's that got us all?"
"Leastways now you know what the problem is," the other man pointed out. "Same dumb idea as she always did have. Thinks that askin' for help is askin' too much. Thinks she never gives out any help."
Twin disgusted noises hit the air. Castle got in first.
"And all that empathy with the victims' families isn't giving out help?"
O'Leary opened his mouth, looked oddly uncomfortable and embarrassed, and closed it. Castle, intrigued and also inclined to do a little reversal of the interrogation score, regarded him keenly. "What? Are you about to say she doesn't help them?"
"No. But... other stuff, you know? There's a lot more that I don't guess you know, an' it's not...um..."
"Promise I won't tell her."
"Not worried 'bout that."
"Yeah?"
"Um... you gotta not write about it, okay? I read those Nikki Heat books, an' you're liftin' cases an' personalities pretty much straight from reality. You ain't taken anything, um, private or sensitive, but..."
"I wouldn't do that. Nobody'd ever talk to me again. Private is private. I'm not a page six gossip hound."
"Better not be," O'Leary said menacingly, "because you won't like the outcome if you spill."
"Trust me or not," Castle growled back at him. "You don't know me and I don't know you."
"Naw. But I know Beckett and I trust her judgement, an' she trusts you. So unless you screw up, I'll trust you too."
"Okay. I won't write about it." It was too serious, from O'Leary's face, to try the Scout's Honour line.
"Waal..." O'Leary didn't seem to be in any hurry to start. Instead, he sat down at the table, and started to assemble a platter-ful of lunch, in which pursuit Castle readily joined him, hoping that the comfortable atmosphere would encourage speech.
"I said we met on a Vice op. Waal, back in the day thin's weren't as...um...tolerant as they mostly are now" –
"Mostly?"
"Now, I got seniority. An' after we have a little chat, as you might say, they see the error of their ways."
"I see," Castle said to O'Leary's vicious grin.
"Anyways, Beckett pegged me for gay straight off the bat – seems the other cops had copped" – he sniggered – "a feel, an' I din't. Not professional, I gotta say, but they got theirs a while later when we took 'em sparrin'. Man," he said reminiscently, "that was a fun session. Beckett took her best game to the park, an' she worked out with me. An' when she was done, I had a go, just for kicks. An' then we told 'em why. They weren't too happy, an' they were even unhappier when we pointed out that they could both be up on report for harassment of a fellow officer. They crawled out of there like whipped puppies."
"Serve them right."
"That's what we said, y'know. But back in the day, thin's din't always go like regulations would want it, an' a few people got a bit curious that I wasn't pickin' up an' datin' girls. So Beckett offered. I din't want to come out the closet then. Wouldn't've helped anythin'. So she made like we were datin'. Stopped all the talk cold. Meant she din't get to look for anyone, but I guess she din't get hit on either, so it worked out 'bout even."
That didn't sound too onerous to Castle, and it surely didn't sound like the help O'Leary had implied.
"But then I met Pete, an' thin's got a lot more complicated pretty quick. Beckett gave us cover, but... she got a lot of shit about the three of us always bein' together. People made a lot of suggestions 'bout what we were doin' together, an' they weren't exactly clean, or kind." The mountain winced. "An' she just took it. Batted it back like she'd done it all an' enjoyed it." He blushed at the memory. "Guess she'd seen it all in Vice, but all the time I knew her before you showed up I only saw but one boyfriend, an' he was more straitlaced than my sneakers. She took a lot of shit an' grief for us, an' still listened every time I wanted to talk. Din't matter what time it was, she was there." He met Castle's eyes. "We'd like to get married, now it's gonna be legal. That's comin' in tomorrow, you know? We c'n start to plan."
He stopped, as if being sappy wasn't for Bigfeet.
"Anyways. She was there. Every time, no matter what. Same as she was there every time for her dad till she worked out she couldn't fix him. Covered for us till it din't matter any more, din't matter what it cost her. 'Part from Pete, she's the best friend I got."
He munched down on his sandwich, which disappeared in short order and was replaced by another. A soda vanished, and a second one.
"But that wasn't all. Most of this I heard on the QT. Scuttlebutt over the grapevine. I got a lot of pals, though they ain't as close pals as Beckett 'n' me, an' I hear a lot of stuff. You gotta know that Beckett's got a bit of a reputation as a ball-breaker."
"A bit?"
His face lit with reminiscence again. "Guess that came from the two we had the sparrin' session with, but I did hear as some lowlife called her a bitch in Interrogation, an' all she did was look him up an' down an' say, 'That's Detective Bitch to you.'."
Castle snickered.
"Anyways, she got a reputation, like I say. Funny thin' is, though, you'd think no-one would go near her. An' most of them, they din't. Scared off."
"Not surprising. Beckett's hardly soft and fluffy."
Booming belly laughter shook the table. "Naw. But, see, iffen someone was an asshole they got chopped off at the knees – on a good day. But iffen someone was her folk, it was a bit different. When they were dumb, they still got reamed out for it, an' man, she never pulled her punches. Girl c'n make a grown man cry."
"Still doesn't pull them," Castle said, thinking of the day and night before an aircraft hangar.
"But if shit went down, she was standin' in front of them takin' it. An' when home shit went down, she was there listenin'. That baby-faced Irish cop with the bad taste in ties an' sweater-vests, Ryan? You know he used to be in Narcotics?"
"No," Castle replied, astounded.
"Undercover. I heard" – there was a remarkable lack of specification as to how he'd heard – "as he was havin' a few problems with the aftermath. I heard – an' not from either of them – as she made sure he got through it, an' I heard she covered over a few times when the memories got in the way."
"Oh."
"An' then there's that Esposito-macho-man. Most times, I heard, he used t' be able to start a fight in an empty room, iffen he thought the table was lookin' at him wrong. He got into a bit of trouble when he first hit the Twelfth: a case went down badly an' a kid got caught in the crossfire. Beckett went into bat for him when some dumbass got in his face about it an' it looked like a fight was gonna start: stood in front of him an' faced Espo down till he slunk off an' then rained down hell on the dumbass. Heard it wasn't the last time, till he calmed down a bit. You know his previous partner was supposed to've gone rogue?"
"Yeah. Turned out he was working a long term undercover op."
"Well, he din't know that then, an' it wrecked him for a while, an' scuttlebutt has it that if it hadn't been for Beckett hauling his ass into line he'd'a been takin' a long, long break."
"I never knew any of that," Castle said wonderingly.
"She don't talk about it. Likes hidin' behind the rep. I guess she don't want to be seen as a soft touch, or shoved into doin' girly stuff. So she does the ball-breakin' bitch bit, an' sure it's real right down to the core, but it ain't the whole story." He paused. "But there ain't anyone standin' takin' the shit for her, 'cause she don't let 'em. Don't tell 'em. 'Cept mebbe you."
Silence fell, under the Hamptons sunshine.
Thank you to all readers and reviewers.
Lots of you are frustrated with Kate. Just to say, it's only been 4 days in story-time since she walked out on her dad.