April 30, 2011

He had been away again, embarking on the second leg of his tour. Two weeks of signings in bookshops across the Tri-State area and she had missed him. Missed talking to him, missed seeing him at the precinct, missed his reassurances that everything would work out, one way or another.

She was staring at his front door; the idea of knocking seeming incredibly daunting. The last time she was here she was greeted by an uncharacteristically unwelcoming Alexis. She understood why, but that didn't make it any easier of a pill to swallow. She had been invited this time, though. He had reached out, let her know that he was home and that he wanted to see her. A simple text, will you join us for dinner tonight? No further explanation.

The 'us' told her they wouldn't be alone, so there might not be much opportunity to discuss things. What was she meant to do? Were they to ignore the elephant in the room? Act as if everything was normal?

Or maybe, while he was away, he had decided that he didn't want this anymore. That he wasn't willing to step up and be there for a child that potentially wasn't his own. That she wasn't worth it. Maybe he had invited her over to break the news in person. That wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, was it?

She shook the negative thoughts from her mind, choosing to focus on fact rather than whatever fiction her polluted mind could create. Fact: he wanted to see her. That's all she needed.

She summoned the courage to knock; her knuckles rapped against the door. Seconds felt like hours, her stomach coiled nervously as she waited for someone to answer. Finally, the door opened revealing the man she had been longing to see all day.

He smiled brightly, triggering the release of that coil in her stomach, the lightening of the weight she had been carrying in her shoulders. "Hey," he greeted.

"Hey," she responded eagerly.

There was that small voice in her head that told her to hide her happiness, that she shouldn't be so enthusiastic when there was still so much uncertainty, but she was too busy relishing in his smile to listen.

"Come in," he instructed, stepping aside, and motioning with his hand. "Dinner is almost ready."

As soon as she stepped into the loft, the aromas flirted with her senses - the sizzling of the pan, the smells so fragrant she could almost taste them. She looked to the kitchen where the two redheads were working together, preparing the meal. They moved effortlessly around each other, like a well-rehearsed dance. Cooking together, as a family, was obviously not an uncommon occurrence. She smiled, the thought that maybe one day she could possibly be a part of this, made its way to the forefront of her mind.

His hand on her lower back, guiding her forward, brought her back to reality. His touch seared into her, invoking a flurry of emotion, conflict. It felt so right, yet so wrong. She had spent the past two weeks trying to come to terms with the guilt she had been feeling. All efforts seemingly diminished.

"Dinner smells amazing," she complimented as they walked toward the kitchen, ignoring her growing discomfort.

"Alexis has caught the culinary bug and has been cooking up a storm all week," Martha explained with extravagant hand gestures that Kate couldn't help but smile at. "We are simply reaping the benefits. She's insisted on cooking each night."

"I didn't realise we were having guests tonight," the teen discerned with unmistakable disdain.

And just like that, any thoughts of being a part of this evaporated. Dust, blowing away in the breeze.

"Alexis," Castle warned, his voice stern.

Alexis looked up at her father, straightening her posture. "I just hope there's enough. That's all." Her smile was big, beautiful, and very obviously forced.

"I'm sure there will be plenty to go around." Martha rounded the counter, walking toward the detective. "Katherine, darling, it is good to see you."

She wrapped her arms around Kate, enveloping her in a warm hug. She held her embrace until Kate pulled away.

"Richard has been talking about this meal all afternoon." The woman smiled, before turning back to her granddaughter. "It must have slipped Alexis's mind," she explained, apologetically, an obvious attempt to diffuse tensions.

"I appreciate you guys having me over." Kate smiled, cautious. She did not want to provoke any further hostility. Hostility she, no doubt, had earned.

She wondered, momentarily, just how much the girl had seen during those weeks of radio silence. She had cut him off completely, leaving him to process everything by himself, leaving him to grieve the loss of her. And now, she was back, offering the girl no explanation for hurting her father. No apology, no promise to not do it again. She couldn't blame the girl for feeling protective, defensive.

"You're always welcome here, darling," Martha assured, walking back to her granddaughter, and giving her a gentle tap on the elbow, prompting a reaction from the girl.

"Always," she forced a smile, much more subtle this time. But Kate could still feel the ice.

"Please ignore her," Castle whispered.

"Maybe I shouldn't be here," she countered, matching the low tone of his voice. "I don't want to cause any trouble here." But she already had. The tension in the air didn't create itself. Alexis was hurting because her dad had been hurt. Because Kate had hurt him.

He dropped his hand from where it rested on her back, stepping around her and cutting off her view of Alexis, breaking her trance. Her eyes fluttered up to his. He dropped his gaze to her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers, so delicately, before bringing his eyes back to hers.

"Come," he tilted his head toward his office. "We can talk while we wait."

He began walking towards the office, pulling her hand behind him. She hesitated, noting the way the two redheads eyed the intertwined hands with curiosity. As Castle kept walking, her arm crossed over her body, and she had to give in. She turned towards him, following his lead until they were away from prying eyes.

"I'm sorry about that," he began, shutting the door of the office. "She's just..."

"Looking out for her dad," she finished his thought, the words he wouldn't say aloud, with the warmest smile she could muster. "She has every right to be mad at me."

Silence overcame them. Any rebuttal he had was futile, they both knew that.

"I never meant to hurt you, Castle."

She would regret her decisions for the rest of her life. Using him, abandoning him. She held so much anger. For that, she would never forgive herself.

"I know."

"I'm trying."

Trying to fix this. To fix them. To repair his wounds, and hers, so that they can move forward. Trying, so hard, to make this simple.

"I know that, too."

It wasn't simple, though. There was no overnight fix. No magic cure for a stupid mistake.

"I missed you."

He had plagued her thoughts, her every spare moment spent wondering: what was he doing, was he thinking about her?

He smiled. "I missed you, too."

"Are-" she paused, unsure if she actually wanted an answer to her question. They still hadn't addressed, well, anything really. How was this to work? She wasn't sure, but she pushed on. "Are you coming back to the precinct, now that the tour is over?"

"I wasn't sure about coming back," he confessed.

Her stomach dropped, nauseated. "You don't want to?"

"No, of course I want to," he reassured. "I just... things are-"

"Complicated?"

"Right now, yeah." He paused, hoped she will say something, but she didn't. "Look, I know we agreed to carry on as usual until we find out for sure..."

"But, how do we do that?"

"Exactly."

She swallowed hard. This could be worse, she reminded herself. She was here, with him, sorting this mess out. So, yes, it could be much worse.

"Have you talked to Josh?" he asked before he could change his mind. She shook her head, no. "Don't you think..."

"Castle," she groaned. Why was he so insistent on her telling Josh? Didn't he see that that would just complicate things even more?

"I'm not- I would never even consider telling you what to do, okay?" He tried to calm her down. "I just - I would want to know. That's all I'm saying."

"And if we get the test results and he's the father then, yes, I will tell him. Obviously. I just don't see the point in telling him right now when there's a good chance this baby is yours." She had lowered her voice to a whisper, but she still glanced through the spaces in his bookshelves to make sure his mother and daughter hadn't overheard. "Is that okay with you?"

She wasn't really asking. She didn't really care. She wouldn't tell Josh, couldn't tell Josh, not unless she absolutely had to. She couldn't face him, not yet. Not until she found a way to deal with this guilt.

"Yes," he conceded.

"Okay." Done, end of conversation, case closed.

"Okay," he agreed to her silent terms.

She had done it again, misplaced her anger. Taken it out on him. The silence was palpable. She couldn't keep doing this, but she didn't know how to stop. It came out of nowhere, and she didn't recognise it until it was too late.

"And you haven't changed your mind about us?" he implored, daring yet cautious, a walking contradiction. He was happy to do this at her pace - diving into it right now, or waiting until things were less... complex. He didn't mind either way. What he truly wanted to know was that she hadn't changed her mind altogether. That she hadn't managed to convince herself it was too much, too risky, not worth it.

Truthfully, she had changed her mind. A million times over. She would convince herself that this was right, that she should risk it all and dive in head first. But then the overwhelming need to protect her heart would step in, shut down the dreamer in her, respond with logic. "No." She shook her head. "I need to know, first."

"I told you, that doesn't change how I feel about you."

"I believe that when you say that, you mean it. But the reality is... we don't know how we are going to feel if this doesn't go the way we want it to."

The way we want it to. He hadn't misheard that; she wanted this baby to be his. She wanted to be a family. The way we want it to. He would fixate on those words, hold them near as a reminder of what was possible.

"I understand that." He was a patient man, and he would find ways to reassure her that she was all he wanted.

"I just can't let myself trust in something so fragile. I can't handle the possible fallout. I'm sorry."

"I understand that, too." He was so close to having everything he had wanted for so long. He knew it was fragile, he knew the possible fallout. But he wouldn't give up.

"You do?"

"You think I'm not worried? I'm worried that this baby isn't mine. That you'll tell Josh and he'll want to be a happy family. Where does that leave me?"

"Josh and I are over," she assured him. She hadn't so much as heard from Josh in weeks. Not since that morning in her apartment.

"But a baby changes things. There's no clean break. If he wants to be a part of this child's life, he has every right. And he's not going to like me being a part of it, too."

They stood in silence, soaking up all the truths that had been spilled. This mess, a tangle of complications, was beginning to unravel. Slowly but surely, they would get there. Of that, he was sure.

"I know my promises are fragile, but I just want to say that I will not give up on you. Not until you tell me I should."

A soft knock on the door ended their conversation abruptly. The door slowly creaked open and Martha poked her head through the gap.

"Dinner is ready," she announced with a smile, before disappearing again.

"You ready?" he asked.

She nodded; they could do this. He wrapped his hand around hers again, leading her back out into the loft.


Dinner went surprisingly well, considering the factors working against them: an angsty teenager, an anxious detective, and surreptitious circumstances.

As he was washing dishes and packing away any remaining untidiness in the kitchen, his mother approached with a look that he could only describe as meddlesome. He had watched her studying them all through dinner, her eyes drifting between Kate, Alexis and himself. She was uncharacteristically quiet the entire meal, so he knew this was coming.

"It's nice to see you and Katherine on good terms again," she started, feigning a casual air that he knew wasn't authentic.

"We were never on bad terms, Mother." He passed her the wine glasses from the dish rack.

"Richard, I am no fool, and neither is your daughter," she quipped as the placed the glasses into the cabinet.

"Terms were uncertain, never bad," he divulged.

"Mmhmm. Are the two of you," she waved her hand around, as if signifying something coherently, "you know?"

"I am sure I don't know," he teased.

"You two looked awfully cosy at dinner," she pressed.

"And?"

She was growing tired of this game. Subtlety - if that's what you could call this - wasn't going to work.

"Please just assure me the boyfriend is out of the picture," she spurted out.

Ah, yes. The boyfriend.

"Not exactly," he informed her, hesitantly.

"Richard, you are not a home wrecker!"

"it isn't-" It isn't like that. "I'm not a home wrecker. It's just, complicated."

"Well, you need to un-complicate it," she warned, swatting his shoulder in a disciplinary manner. "If she's spoken for, you need to back off."

"She's not spoken for. What is this, some seventeenth-century lecture?"

"Stop deflecting. If she is single, I don't see what the problem is."

"There is no problem," he insisted, the pitch of his voice dangerously close to giving him away.

"Richard, I know you don't like to admit it, but I know you well enough to know when something isn't quite right. You're worried about something. Katherine is as skittish as a cat and Alexis is picking up on the tension. What is going on?"

"She's pregnant," he surrendered, weakly.

He was met with silence. Stunned silence, something that felt unfamiliar coming from his mother.

"Is it-?"

Ah, the burning question on everyone's mind.

"I don't know," he admitted reluctantly.

Silence. Silence so uncomfortable he briefly considered running away. Literally running out of the loft and away from this conversation.

"Richard, you need to walk away." Her voice pulled him from his melodramatic thoughts.

"Walk away?" He couldn't. He wouldn't.

"I know you have feelings for her but, darling," she sighed, concern for her son filling her heart. She placed a hand on his forearm, a mother's comforting touch is sometimes her only tool.

"This is no different to me asking her to accept Alexis," he argued.

"It is different. It is vastly different. Surely you can see that."

"How?" He begged for an explanation. Anything that would justify everyone's assumption that walking away is what's best for him.

"You're not asking her to raise Alexis. You're not asking her to step into the role of mother, for Alexis."

"She's not asking me to do that." He was exasperated, done with this conversation. "Speaking of not asking, I don't recall asking for your opinion, so-" he cut himself off before he said something he couldn't take back, something he may regret.

He knew his mother meant well. That her intentions were nothing but pure. But he wasn't a child.

"You wear your heart on your sleeve. You love unconditionally and you give without question. That is one of the many things we all love about you, Richard," she affirmed. "Just... don't let her take advantage of that."

"She's not."

"I trust you; I do. I just don't want to see you hurt."

She took her leave and headed upstairs for the night. He was alone, once again, left with only his thoughts. The chaos, amplified. The uncertainty, more nerve wracking than ever. The dull thumping in his head - a persistent presence since Kate broke the news - had intensified beyond limitation. And yet, he felt a sense of relief. This secret no longer was his own. Within the walls of this loft, he had an ally. Someone who was truly on his side, and his side only.