May 6, 2011
She sent Josh a text last night. Late, purposefully, knowing that at that hour he would either be asleep, or working the late shift. Either way, she knew she wouldn't have to deal with his response until morning. She typed it out three times - no, four times - before finally working up the courage to send it. She understood now why his phone call had come after a few drinks.
The message was vague, just letting him know that she was back in town, as she had promised to do. The ball was in his court now. If he was serious about what he had said, he could reply. And if he wasn't, then he could simply ignore her message. Whatever he chose, she would accept. But if he did choose to reach out, she had decided that it was time. She would tell him about their... situation.
Before she dealt with that, however, there was something else she had to do, someone else she had to see. She had been avoiding him for the past few weeks, their monthly catch-up well overdue. It was time.
She pressed her phone to her ear, listening as the line rang out, no answer. She hung up without leaving a message, a big part of her relieved the call hadn't gone through. Her relief was short-lived, however, when her phone began to buzz almost immediately. She took a deep breath, answered the call.
"Hey, Dad," she greeted, softly.
"Katie." The man's voice filled her with a welcomed sense of calm. "Sorry, I missed your call. Is everything alright?"
"Yeah," she hesitated. "What are your plans for today?"
He cleared his morning for her. Not that he had anything important planned, nothing that couldn't be postponed or rescheduled. Even if they couldn't, he would cancel any plans for his daughter.
He arrived at her apartment just after 8am, with coffees and breakfast burgers. He didn't know the protocol for this, he didn't know what he would be walking in to. All he knew is that his daughter - his fearless, tackle the problem head on and never look back daughter - had broken down in tears, unable to speak to him. For the first time in years, he wasn't a safe place for her to unburden herself. That only seemed to feed his concern. His heart broke.
They ate in silence, tentatively dancing around the giant pink elephant in the room: her puffy, bloodshot eyes, the occasional sniffle and hiccup in her breath that highlighted the fact that she had spent the majority of her morning in tears.
To be more accurate, he ate in silence. She mostly just picked apart the burger, taking the occasional nibble and swallowing it down with a gulp of coffee.
She had missed real coffee... even if it did taste slightly off. It was still better than decaf.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, still unaware of what exactly the problem was. He just knew that he couldn't sit there in silence any longer.
She shook her head, no. "I'm just... working things out."
"Does that have to be done in solitude?" he asked. He knew his daughter needed space, time, distance. That was her method, that's how she got through things. But she looked so broken. He just wanted to make everything okay again.
She sniffled, combed her fingers through her hair, moving it off her face. "I broke up with Josh," she compromised. A small insight into her life, without delving in too far. She had asked him to come to her, asked him to comfort her. The least she could do was offer him something.
She wished all this came easier to her. Easier to them. She wished she knew how to say I'm not ready, but sooner or later I'll need you. Will you be there?
He took a moment to contemplate this new information, deciphering what she had meant by the tidbit. Was the break up the cause of her emotional state? Or had it been a reaction to whatever war was raging in her head? It wouldn't surprise him, if she was running. No, that wouldn't be anything new.
"I'm sorry to hear that." He placed his hand atop hers, calming the anxious twitch of her fingers. "Are you... are you working through your grief?"
She scoffed, pulled her hand from his. "I don't need a therapist, Dad. If I did, I'd talk to someone a little more qualified." She rose from her seat at the table, gathered the remnants of her burger and stormed to the kitchen. She tossed the scraps of food into the trash can. Regret instantly filled her core. She could feel it sinking, settling in. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, regained herself.
Jim leant back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "Feel better?" he asked with an amused smirk. Flashes of his teenaged daughter were darting through his mind: a wildly frustrated girl, trying desperately to regain control of her emotions. If it weren't for the tired lines under his daughter's eyes, he could have sworn he had found himself fifteen years in the past.
She turned to him, puffed air through her nose. "A little," she relented. She returned to the dining table, settling onto the seat with a huff. "I've had a lot going on. So, no, I haven't really been dealing with anything. But I'm doing that now. I'm stepping out of denial and into acceptance."
"I think you're missing a few steps there, Katie."
"Mm," she forced, gruffly. "Probably."
"So, what's been keeping you from dealing with this?" he pushed.
"Bigger problems." She remained aloof, readying herself to face the truth. She picked at her nail beds, trying to avoid her father's heavy gaze. "I don't want to disappoint you," she eventually confessed.
"What makes you think I would ever be disappointed in you?" he asked sincerely. He studied her face, waited for her response. Her bottom lip trembled, another crack in the façade she had barely managed to hold together. "Katie, if you're in trouble-"
"I'm not in trouble," she reassured him. "It's nothing that I won't eventually figure out. I just... I don't really want to talk about it. I just wanted to see you."
"Okay," he conceded. "I'm here when you're ready, though. You know that, don't you?"
She remembered why she wasn't good at this. Why she couldn't just say I'm not ready, but sooner or later I'll need you. Will you be there? It was because she never had to ask. He just knew. He was just... there. Always.
She smiled, a sense of security seeping in through the cracks. Things may have been a mess right now, but she wasn't alone. He would never allow for her to be left alone. "I know. Thank you."
May 7, 2011
She stood on the curb, staring at the little café in front of her. Josh had replied to her text, had asked her to meet him here at 10am. It was 9:48 and she had walked the block twice already.
She knew that meeting for coffee was a bad idea. As soon as she ordered decaf - or tea, or anything other than her usual latte with a pump of vanilla - he would pick up on it. He would know something was different and he would ask questions. She couldn't control the conversation if he was asking too many questions. And she needed to remain in control of this conversation. She was losing it in too many other aspects of her life right now.
She shifted nervously on her feet, knowing she would eventually have to work up the courage to go inside.
What if he was already here? What if he was right inside, seated by the window, watching her?
Her eyes frantically scanned the faces inside the café - the ones that weren't hidden by the sun's glare on the glass - for his face.
"You okay?" she heard from behind her. The voice pulled her from her internal panic.
She turned to face the voice, to face Josh. She took a moment to absorb the sight in front of her: Josh, happy and healthy, not lying in an alleyway. She didn't realise how much she needed this, needed to see him, to know that he was okay. He had cut his hair shorter, and was sporting more stubble than usual, but he looked good. He looked like Josh, her Josh. Not the angry man from their last encounters together.
"Hi. Yes," she answered his question, finally. She knew she had been quiet for too long, had stared at him for too long. But he didn't comment on that, he just smiled. "It's pretty busy. Maybe we could go for a walk instead?" she offered.
He looked down the road, toward Central Park, then back to her. "Sounds good," he said.
She hung her head and began pacing her way toward the park, her stride matching the velocity of her thoughts.
"What's the rush?" he asked with a slight chuckle.
She slowed her pace. "Right. Sorry."
Once he reached her side, they began walking together at a more casual pace.
"How's work?" he asked after a few yards. "You said you were out of town?"
"Yeah, Los Angeles." She filled him in.
"Oh wow, far from home. How'd you end up there for work?"
His question felt like a punch to her already bruised heart. The wound was still fresh, toofresh. But when she looked up and met his eyes - like gold sheen obsidian - the pain seemed... bearable.
"You remember Royce?" she asked, not expecting him to remember. Everything with Royce fell apart early on in their relationship, she really hadn't told him that much.
"Training officer, right?" he answered, surprising her. "I thought you had a falling out? Is he okay? Some sort of trouble?" Genuine concern filled his voice.
"Um, yeah, I guess you could say that." She pondered how much she should actually tell him, how much he actually cared. But he continued to watch her, as they walked. Continued to wait for her to talk, if she needed. "He was murdered, actually."
He stopped, a hand on her arm. "I'm so sorry to hear that."
She stopped walking, stopped by his touch, tears beginning to prickle her eyes. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. It still seemed like a bad dream. Royce is gone...
"You catch the guy?"
She smiled. He considered that a small win. "Yeah. Yeah, we did."
The 'we' was a slip. A slip of the tongue that coiled her stomach tight and sent a bolt of anxiety straight to her chest. She looked up at him, expecting some sort of reaction, but his smile returned.
"I'm glad."
They entered the park, walking the path aimlessly, silently. Minutes passed without a single word uttered, but it was comfortable.
"I'm sorry for calling you like that," he started, breaking the silence. "I was at a friend's birthday dinner and obviously had a few too many."
"That's okay," she smiled. "It was good to hear from you, actually. It came at a good time, given what I was in the midst of."
"Right."
She saw this moment as her segue, her laneway to the conversation that needed to be had.
"Royce and I weren't on good terms," she started. "And now that he's gone, knowing that we will never have the opportunity to fix what was damaged... it sucks."
"You think you have all the time in the world," he mused.
"No one does," she muttered under her breath. No one does. She stopped walking, turning her body to face his. She looked at him, eyes bright with emotion, with unshed tears she was fighting to keep at bay. "I'm so sorry, Josh."
He turned to face her, mirroring her own stance, giving her his undivided attention.
"I never meant to do that to you. I never meant to hurt you like that. I know it probably doesn't matter but I thought we were done. When you left... it felt-" she stopped herself before her emotions rose too close to the surface. She took a deep breath, allowed herself to continue. "If I thought there was any chance you were coming back, I wouldn't have done what I did."
"I know," he acknowledged. "I saw it on your face, when you saw me at your apartment. I know you felt horrible about what happened." He paused, allowed a moment for her to process his words before he continued. "I forgive you."
Her first instinct was that this was a joke. Some cruel joke. "You do?"
"You made a mistake," he justified.
"I-" she stopped talking, looked to the ground, tried to process the thoughts that swirled around her mind. That is, after all, exactly what this was... wasn't it? A mistake? She had thought that, herself. Running to Castle so quickly, when the dust hadn't settled yet. But she couldn't deny that she had feelings for Castle. Strong feelings, that only seemed to be strengthened by this 'mistake'.
But Josh forgave her. Isn't that what she wanted? His forgiveness?
She could feel him crowding her space, he was so close she could feel him. She looked up to him and he leaned in, kissing her.
Shock surged through her like a bolt of electricity. His hand to her face, his lips against hers, it just felt... deceptive. There was so much he didn't know, that he needed to know. She should have stopped this before it happened. But there was a familiarity there, a comfort in his lips, in his touch.
She needed to tell him about the baby, that's why she was here, after all. Slowly, he began to pull away, her hesitation shaking his confidence. It was time...
... but she wasn't ready. Not yet. And so she did the one thing she shouldn't have done.
She chased his lips as they pulled away, crashing into them with an urgency she hadn't felt before.
Her mind cried out, loud and piercing: stop.
Fingers tangled through her hair as she ignored the thoughts of Castle that emerged in the chaos.
He forgave her, but she knew that forgiveness would be conditional. And she was ready to give it up, not just yet.
So much for remaining in control...
