She's staring at the phone in her hand. The first call to him that didn't go straight to voice mail. His phone is on. Relief floods her at the realization that he didn't block her number. She's tempted to call him again and again until he picks up. But another thought crosses her mind … When his phone is switched on that means that he probably got her messages, even if he didn't listen to her voice messages, he at least saw that she called him.
Her heart is now racing fast in her chest, it started running at the first ring, now it has probably crossed the ocean. The only question is whether it is running towards him or away from him.
Her hands are still shaking, she has no idea if from the adrenaline of calling him or the fear of him not calling her back. Are the messages she left even enough reason for him to call her back?
"What's going on, girl? Did he call?" Lanie looks at her, coming back from her quick run to the restroom in the diner her best friend basically forced her to to get her to eat, and even though she was annoyed and angry with her at her audacity, she's also grateful for this much needed break and the so much more needed food. She was starving despite the lunch and snacks she had.
"Um … no. But this is the first time the call went through."
"Did he pick up?" Kate only shakes her head.
"What are you waiting for? Call again! Do it, you don't know if he even listens to your messages. You need to talk to him, girl. So call him until he is so annoyed that he has to pick up. He probably won't turn his phone off when Alexis or his mother might want to reach him."
With a shaky exhale she picks up her phone and calls again. It rings and rings and rings until it lands on his voicemail again. She helplessly shrugs at Lanie but she only beckons her to call again. And she does. And again. And again. And then he picks up, sending her heart flying somewhere so high she can't catch her breath anymore.
"Stop calling me, Beckett. I have nothing to say to you." His voice is bitter, brittle with anger, and full of venom, piercing right through her heart, shattering her whole body. Her worst-case scenario coming to life. He's done with her. She opens her mouth to say something – anything, but he already hung up. Her hand's too weak to hold her phone and it falls to the table with a loud clatter, taking her head with it and hiding her tear-filled eyes behind her hair.
She's strong. She's strong. She doesn't need anybody. She can do it all alone. There is no reason for Lanie to see her tears, to see her in her weak moment. She'll get through it. She'll manage. She's been through worse.
"Kate?" Lanie's voice is soft, so full of compassion and understanding that her stomach turns and she sprints to the restroom to empty the delicious food there, finally allowing the tears to fall.
A warm hand at her back gathers the stray strands of her hair, holding it back while she keeps emptying her stomach as if her soul is trying to escape with it, just to stop feeling the pain. Lanie whispers soft words in her ear to calm her, rubs circles on her back until her body finally is finished.
Her best friend hands her a few wet paper towels to clean her mouth and cool her burning face before she helps her get up, holds her upright when the dizziness hits her without saying a word. She is strong. She can do it alone. She doesn't need anybody. But why is this mantra she keeps telling herself for ten years now making her want to cry?
"Thank you," she murmurs without looking Lanie in the eyes, softly detaching her arm from Lanie's grip and stepping to the sink to wash her mouth, face, and hands without even glancing in the mirror. Her hands gripping the cold porcelain so hard her knuckles whiten. She just wants to get back to the precinct, bury herself in this exhausting case, and forget everything, especially everything that happened between her and Castle.
Lanie is standing right next to her, waiting for her to speak, to explain, she can sense her without seeing her. And she's known her for far too long to be sure that she'll never leave her alone if she doesn't tell her what just happened. Especially not since she spent so much time holding her hand while she lost control. Suddenly, she feels guilty. Lanie deserves better than this. Everybody deserves better than this.
She stares at herself in the mirror, her pale face, the sunken cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes. She looks terrible. No wonder everyone treats her with kid gloves.
"He told me that he doesn't want to have anything to do with me and hung up before I could say anything," her voice is raspy either from the retching or the pain it causes her to speak these words, she's not sure.
"Oh, honey," Lanie says proving her how bad it really is, making her eyes water again. She's way too emotional.
"What am I supposed to do now, Lanes?" Her voice breaks and Lanie pulls her into a crushing embrace, holding her through her sobs. This is not her, she doesn't break down in a public toilet, especially not in the arms of her friend. Never. And still, here she is, bawling her eyes out.
"Do you think he listened to your voice messages?" Kate shakes her head, no.
"But I can't really remember what I said to him. I was just babbling random things, about cases we had or have. I just couldn't bring myself to say the words."
Lanie huffs glaring at her. "What words?"
"All of them," Kate admits in a whisper.
"All of them?", Lanie echoes with big eyes, Kate only nods. Not ready to say them out loud, at least not to Lanie. Somebody else is supposed to hear them first. "Well then, girl. What are you doing now?"
Kate lets out a shaky, exasperated breath. Yeah. What is she going to do now?
The rain is drumming hard against the windows today, the clouds so dark and heavy with more rain to come it barely gets light. Even the fire roaring behind him can't resolve the cold he feels. He's sitting on the couch, staring either into the fire or out of the windows in the moody day that will soon turn to night again, his laptop sitting idly on his lap. He already wrote one of the chapters he's due but is stuck since – his thoughts keep wandering off. How is he supposed to concentrate on his books like this?
"The weather won't change no matter how long you'll stare out of the window", a soft voice chuckles behind him, handing him a cup of tea before sliding onto the couch next to him. "It'll probably snow soon, maybe even today. Nanna felt it in her bones this morning." Castle finally tears his eyes away from the window to look at the beautiful woman in front of him, her fiery red hair falling in soft waves on her shoulders, framing her pale face, and her big eyes reminding him a lot of Alexis.
Oh, he misses his daughter far too much already. She sent him a short text message this morning to say that she had arrived home safely and that the first two hours of school had been canceled so that she could sleep in.
He takes a quick glance at his watch. It's shortly after noon now, so she'll probably still sleep. It's only been a little more than twelve hours and he already cannot wait to hear her voice again.
"Snow?" he echoes way too late, making the woman – Rosie – chuckle.
"Yeah. Snow. You know that stuff in New York?", she teases him, her eyes smiling brightly over the rim of her cup where she hides her smile.
"Uh, snow. I'm not sure. Can you describe it to me?"
"It's white, consists of many small crystals–"
"Why, dear Rosie. I'd never peg you for a smackhead!", he exclaims with mock indignation. She slaps the back of her hands against his chest. "Ouch, you wound me. You do know that I have friends at the police, right?" Rosie throws back her head in laughter.
"Yeah, I know. You keep telling me about your precious detectives. And I heard you also happen to have written a book about them. One that you promised me to sign."
"I will, I promise. Just give it to me later. But we have the whole week for it."
"I've never thought that one of my favorite authors would stay at this house someday and write his next books. This is so thrilling, Rick." She smiles happily at him, leans back on the couch, her feet drawn close to her body. "I already inhaled Heat wave, it's so amazing. But I also liked the Derrick Storm series, although it started to become predictable in the end." Rick just stares at her.
"You are the first person to say this to me so openly. This is exactly why I killed him. He was starting to be so boring." Rosie nods and smiles at him.
"I thought killing him was a really bold decision, not every author has the balls do to something like that. And then your comeback with Nikki Heat? Ouff, it was as if you jumped to the next level." Hearing these words is balm to his wounded soul. Meeting a beautiful and smart woman who reads and loves his books and calls him one of her favorite authors? "I also loved your first In a hail of bullets it's still one of your bests. Will you let me see now what you're writing on? Is it another Nikki Heat? Please tell me, it's another Nikki Heat!" She tries to lean over to him, trying to catch a glimpse of what he's written.
Rick chuckles and softly closes the lid of his laptop. "I don't kiss and tell."
"Oh, we don't have to kiss, you can just tell me." She bites her lips smiling, reminding him so much of Beckett when he wanted to debrief and she prick-teased him that it hurts. He clears his throat, takes a big sip from the still-hot tea, scalding his mouth.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch, damn that's hot." Rosie just laughs and rolls her eyes.
"Oh, you Americans. Don't you know that tea is made with boiling water?"
Castle's whiny "ha, ha, ha" only makes her laugh louder.
"Tell me, are all bestselling mystery novelists such big babies, or only you? I thought you have a daughter."
"I'm not sure about Patterson, but Cannell …" He starts but Rosie quickly interrupts him.
"You know Patterson AND Cannell? Who else?" Her eyes light up with excitement, biting her lip again and he has to avert his gaze.
"These two and Connelly and Lehane are a fixed part of my poker round."
"Oh, my gosh. Can you please take me back with you and introduce me?"
"We'll see about that." Castle chuckles, checking his phone again if Alexis texted. But she didn't.
"Tell me about your daughter", Rosie suddenly prompts as if she read his mind, making him squirm with unease. He never feels safe to talk about Alexis with people he just met – especially with fans.
"Nope, sorry, I only talk about her after the third date", he jokes causing Rosie to snort with laughter.
"Fine, then I'll make us something to eat. I'm starving. You want something specific?" She gets up, collects her already empty cup, and looks expectantly at him.
"Uh …Something Irish?"
Rosie laughs. "Well, hello Captain Obvious. Never thought that a cailín would actually cook Irish, huh?"
"You know Captain Obvious? This is so cool! Wait, what does cailín mean?"
"You'll never know", she whispers in his ear before she disappears into the kitchen, leaving him groaning. He grabs his laptop to search online for that word – however it is written – when his phone rings, picking it up without taking a look expecting it to be Alexis.
"You've reached the most wonderful father and hard-working bestselling author. How can I be at service today, Mylady?" Rosie laughs loudly from behind him, calls something like "How can you be so full of yourself" making him chuckle until he hears her voice and feels like someone emptied a bucket of ice water over him. With a pained groan, he presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
"Beckett, I told you to stop calling me. Please. I can't do this", his voice breaks and he ends the call in the middle of her "Castle plea–", his hands shaking heavily. He feels as if with every call she's ripping another piece of his heart out. Why does he feel like the asshole setting clear boundaries to survive her when she was the one breaking his heart?
"Rick? Are you alright?" Rosie's soft voice is pulling him back, he clears his throat but shakes his head.
"I feel like I need some fresh air. I'll be back in an hour or two. If the food is ready before that, please eat without me, will you?" He can't see if Rosie nods, just assumes it – he can't look at her, can't see the pity, compassion, or curiosity in her eyes.
And so he runs. No idea where to because even the other side of the world doesn't seem far enough away from her.
But he doesn't get far. The moment he steps out of the front door, she suddenly stands in front of it and he stands rooted to the spot. She is soaking wet, her hair is sticking to her face, she looks exhausted and miserable, just like Alexis said, but her beauty still strikes him.
"Beckett? What the hell?!" He knows he's shouting, that he's being far too loud when he sees her flinch, but he can't help it, the shock of seeing her here - in Ireland no less - is far too much. Rosie comes running, he hears her footsteps behind him, can smell her rosy scent already enveloping him.
"Rick? What's happened? Who's that?" He can see Beckett's eyes widen in horror. But he has no strength left to feel sorry for her, his heart is too fragile for any form of compassion.
"What do you want?" he asks gruffly instead.
"I'm pregnant," is all she says before slapping her hand over her mouth and pulling the rug out from under him.
"What?" His voice fails him, his mind fails him. He just stands in the pouring rain and stares at the woman in front of him.