When the Bough Breaks
Her fingertips dance over the crescent of his lobectomy scar.
"How about…you make me lose my breath?" he says.
"Oo, that's a good one."
(She'd lifted the ban on lung-loss jokes and puns.)
"Or you make me out of breath," he says, wiggling his eyebrows. She giggles, her brow falling onto his shoulder. She's never had pillow talk punctuated by so much laughter.
"I steal all the air from your lungs," she teases.
"Nice one!"
He lifts his hand for a high-five and she meets him in the middle for a satisfying clap of their palms.
She leans in for a kiss, smiling, but a sharp and polite double-knock on their suite door interrupts her progress.
They'd been famished after their second round of vigorous lovemaking and decided to order in. Castle got every junk item on the menu, while she'd insisted on the fruit and salad bowls.
The writer quickly swipes his mouth against hers before slipping from the silken bedsheets and grabbing the robe she'd enthusiastically ripped off him earlier.
"Oh, hey, throw me my wallet?"
She tosses him the black leather billfold from the nightstand in a graceful arc, only for him to fumble the catch. She hides her smile at his clumsiness, finding his awkward recovery and mumbling about not being a sports guy, thoroughly adorable. As he sifts inside for cash and liberates more than a few twenties for the room service tip, she notices something flutter to the ground.
She retrieves her own robe from the floor and secures the belt snugly around her waist. And when she nods that she's ready, Castle opens the door to pay the attendant.
After the food hand-off, the writer hollers a hearty thanks and rolls their feast toward the rug for another fireside picnic, while she chooses to investigate the mystery of the fallen item.
It turns out to be a folded-up square of notebook paper and as her curious fingers uncrease it, Castle reignites the gas fire with a press of a remote button and collects throw pillows for them to sit on.
His familiar neat and blocky scrawl materializes, along with the words BUCKET LIST, and…
Her heart trips and stumbles.
1. Be with Kate.
"What's that?" he asks, holding his hand out.
She flips the paper toward him.
"Be with Kate?" she says, awed. "That's your number one?"
His eyes widen in panic. "How did you—" He snatches the paper from her grasp, flushing red from embarrassment.
She bunches her legs under her and settles onto a floor cushion next to him. "When did you write this?"
He rubs the back of his neck. "Like two months ago? After you came over for dinner the first time."
He'd only been shadowing her for a week.
"That's so sweet." She cradles his face in her palms and kisses him softly, warm affection flooding her veins. "You're so sweet," she repeats, overcome. And then she pulls at the paper, gentle but insistent. "Can I read the rest, please?"
"Promise you won't make fun of me?" he pouts.
"Castle," she huffs and they play a little game of tug-of-war until she fixes him with a stern glare and orders, "Give it or I'll break your hand."
He immediately relinquishes the notebook-lined paper to her.
"You drive a hard bargain."
She grins in triumph and pecks his lips with a thank you kiss.
BUCKET LIST
1. Be with Kate
2. Raise an amazing daughter (DONE)
3. Make amends with Idina Menzel (DONE)
4. Get Hamptons house back from Patterson
5. Have one of my books made into a movie
6. Get arrested for something awesome
7. Own a cool pet
8. Convert entire apartment into blanket fort
9. Fly a rocketship
10. Get married and make it last
Oh.
Is that why…? Her heart beats fast and her eyes find his.
"You want to get married again?" she blurts out.
His face flushes.
"I know my track record might suggest otherwise, but I don't know, looking back on it now…I think I was more motivated by doing what was best for Alexis both times. I wasn't sure I could be a good enough father for her, and she deserved to have everything I didn't." He sighs. "I'm just lucky I didn't screw her up even more than I did."
Oh, Rick.
"Castle—you're an amazing dad. It's kind of one of the first things that made me fall for you. And Alexis is amazing because of you."
Tears spill from him and he chokes out her name in gratitude as his head collapses onto her chest.
She holds him to her, stroking his neck soothingly and kissing the top of his head. "And who knows, maybe third time's the charm."
He pulls back to look at her with gut-punched awe, eyes shining gold. "Yeah, could be." He smooths his thumb over the hollow of her throat. "How about you? Ever torn a picture of a wedding gown out of a magazine?"
"No," she laughs and runs a hand through his unruly hair. "But when it comes to marriage, I'm more of a 'one and done' type."
"I see," he hums thoughtfully. "Any serious candidates?"
She shrugs, nonchalant. "There's this one guy I'm considering."
He grins playfully. "Do I know him?"
"Hmm, he's this ruggedly handsome renegade." One of her palms cups his jaw, her thumb gliding over his cheekbone. "And I get lost in his big blue eyes sometimes."
He lets out a melodramatic gasp.
"Oh my god, am I going to have to duel Ryan for your hand?"
They're talking about marriage and a past version of herself would already be gone in a poof of dust like the Road Runner, but she can't help the joy that radiates throughout her, warm and light, at the thought of him waiting for her at the end of an aisle.
She didn't think she could ever have forever with someone.
She snorts a laugh, her forehead burrowing into his neck. "I think the more important question here is…" her eyes flick to the bucket list curled in her other hand… "—what on earth did you do to Idina Menzel?"
He hunches his shoulders sheepishly.
"I jumped on a Macy's parade float and kind of crashed her solo performance of Let It Go. Sang along like it was a duet, which is just wrong."
"Your public intoxication arrest," she recalls.
He nods. "Alexis had left for LA earlier that summer. She said New York wasn't home anymore, and that's why she wasn't coming for Thanksgiving. So I thought it was as good a time as any to have my Ferris Bueller moment." Regret shadows his features. "But I just ended up stealing Idina's moment, you know? Ruined everyone else's day because my life felt ruined."
She circles his wrist with her fingers and squeezes in sympathy, her heart breaking for him. His lips lift into a melancholy smile.
"So how'd you make it up to her?" she probes gently.
"Mame house tickets, a fruit basket, and a sincere apology go a long way."
"Really? That worked?"
"And I said I'd promote her clothing line in my book."
"Oh my god," she realizes. "Is that why you made Gemma have a theater background and an obsession with Wicked?"
"Part of it," he chuckles. "I also didn't want to make her an exact copy of you. Plus, the winter line for Encore by Idina Menzel is the perfect look for her—effortless, chic, and sophisticated. It's a win-win."
"Wow, maybe I need some clothes from Encore by Idina Menzel." She piques her eyebrow, a small smile flirting at her lips. "Guess I'll have to remind you when my birthday's coming up."
He puts a hand to his chest in mock affront.
"Why Captain Beckett, was that a hint you just dropped?"
Her smile grows.
"Why, Mr. Castle, I do believe it was."
"Shameless," he tuts.
She giggles girlishly.
"And I'd like to remind you my birthday is in three weeks," he says, eyes twinkling. "No pressure though. I know it's a little soon, so you don't have to get me anything."
She peers at his bucket list and bites her lip, a mirthful glint in her eye.
"Maybe there's something I can give you right now."
"Oh?"
She slowly sets the paper aside and slides onto his lap in an effortless straddle and then suddenly, she slams him into the rug with his hands above his head and in her most sultry bedroom voice, she husks, "Mr. Castle, you are under arrest."
His eyes alight in understanding and he gasps in delight.
6. Get arrested for something awesome.
"On what charge, Officer?"
She nuzzles her nose with his.
"Being too damn sexy."
"Oh, this is so totally awesome," he crows. He wriggles underneath her. "And kinky."
She grins, a dazzling thing. "You have the right to remain silent—" she leans in, grinning wider.
"So shut the hell up."
His stomach growls before things really heat up and she breaks from him, laughing, while he groans in disappointment.
"I'm my own worst enemy," he grumbles as he re-ties his robe. She waves an onion ring in his face and he brightens and chomps onto it like a toddler.
She laughs again. "There's more where that came from."
They dig into the spread, which includes an array of chicken tenders, cheeseburger sliders, a large basket of beer battered fries, and a monstrous banana split sundae (it counts as healthy because it has a fruit, he claims).
She gets him to eat some greens with sweet kisses and dirty promises.
"I don't know about this rocketship one." She munches on a fry and points to number nine on his list.
9. Fly a rocketship.
"How else am I going to visit my plot on the moon?"
She smothers a giggle and he points at an item further up the list. "This one might be achievable."
5. Have one of my books made into a movie
"Oh?"
"Gina has this producer friend in LA," he explains. "She slipped an advanced copy of Frostbite to her and they're interested in buying the film option. But they want to see if we can drum up a little more buzz around my comeback first. So Paula, my publicist—she's been trying to put some interviews together. Cosmo's interested in doing a profile apparently. On both of us, actually."
"Both of us?"
"They think it's an interesting angle. A writer and his mu—"
She raises an eyebrow.
"Inspiration," he corrects. "And they like how it would be an authentic behind-the-scenes look at real police work."
She plucks the cherry from the top his sundae and pops it in her mouth, considering.
"But you don't have to be in it if you don't want to," he says in a rush. "I know it's a big ask and you're a private person."
She nods, thinking, and swallows. Then resolute, "But you're a public persona. And if we're going to be together, I have to eventually come to terms with that."
Surprise skitters over his brow and he rasps her name in wonder. "Kate."
Butterflies swarm in her ribcage.
"Though just to be clear—I don't wanna announce anything right now. I'm not ready to be thrown to the wolves just yet. And call me selfish, but I want to keep what we have together to ourselves a bit longer."
"Of course. Whatever. God, Kate. Whatever you want. As long as I get to be by your side."
She smiles.
"And I really do want to help get the word out about Frostbite. It's your best book yet and I think as many people should read it as possible."
He stares at her, rendered speechless.
"I know I'm not exactly an impartial observer, but it's my new favorite," she murmurs bashfully.
"Your opinion is the only thing that matters to me." His voice is hoarse and his eyes shimmer. "I wrote it for you. Just for you."
Her heart hammers and her pulse thumps.
"No one's ever written a book for or about me before. It's…" she searches for the right word and lands on, "...epic." Her mouth quirks impishly, "And really, really hot."
"So it's probably a good thing I have outlines for three more," he grins, mischievous.
"Really?"
"Might need to ride-along a little longer. You know…for the authenticity."
"Ah, right, the authenticity," she chuckles warmly.
"I wouldn't want it to be cliché or reductive. I'd be disappointing my number one fan."
She shakes her head, her cheeks aching with a huge, idiotic grin as she drapes her arms around his neck and brushes her lips over his.
"No, we certainly wouldn't want to disappoint your number one fan, would we?"
"After my divorce with Gina and killing off Derek, I couldn't get over my writer's block. Couldn't produce a new book. So once my contract was up, White Knight dropped me."
She drops the razor she's carefully scraping down his jawline into the bathwater.
"What?"
"Yeah, that's when I started betting on the race tracks and going to underground Triad-run poker games in Chinatown. Played against Russian mob-types and the like."
"Rick," she gasps, needless worry clenching in her chest. "You could've been killed."
The writer had suggested a bubble bath after their glutinous meal. He'd also mentioned his scars were pulling a bit and she'd been wondering what his skin felt like without the scratch of stubble.
"I think that's why I was so addicted to it. Living on the edge like that was the only thing that made me feel alive."
She frowns and asks him to be quiet as she lathers more cream on him and methodically shaves his cheeks and chin and finally, the column of his throat.
(She's not about to nick him; leave him with more scars.)
She finishes with a small sweep over his philtrum, the little valley between his nose and lips, and plants a kiss on his mouth.
"Better?" he mumbles.
She dissolves into laughter and feathers a few fingers over his newly smooth face.
"All shiny and polished."
"You make me sound like an apple."
She mimes taking a bite out of his neck.
"Just so you know, my safe word is apples."
She huffs a chuckle.
"Is that what you told the Russian Mafia?"
"Mob," he insists.
"Is there a difference?"
He ponders for a moment.
"Mafia is Italian-specific."
She rolls her eyes with a smile.
"Anyway, I lost the Hamptons house on a bad hand, but Patterson was kind enough to step in and cover my debts since I'd kind of burned through most of my savings on trips to Atlantic City and Vegas."
She stays silent as he continues.
"Alexis was still living with me at the time and she thought if she could just get me writing again, everything would be okay. So she gave me an ultimatum—write something or she was gonna move out."
"So that's what Finite Laughter was?"
He nods morosely.
"She convinced Gina things would be different. And I tried to make her happy. I tried to be enough. But then the critics lambasted what was left of my ego and she just couldn't be around me anymore. She left anyway and went to her mom after she graduated high school."
"You still supported her from afar."
"With what I had left of my finances, yeah. But I never wanted to be the parent who abandoned her."
"Rick," she chides softly. "You were depressed."
"But I could've chosen a better coping mechanism than women not much older than her. It's a wonder my mother took pity on me and moved in when she did."
Her heart breaks a little more for him. She hates seeing him so desolate and guilt-ridden.
"Your family loves you, silly. And I'm pretty sure they've forgiven you for any past mistakes you've made. They just want what's best for you."
He glances at her and something like hope flares in his gaze.
"We had our best Christmas in years while I was in recovery," he says with a wistful smile. "Alexis made sure we did all the old traditions." He caresses the ridge of her collarbone with some bubble froth. "You should've come."
"We were pretty much strangers then."
"Well, we'll just have to properly introduce you to our Winter Wonderland this year, won't we?"
But now it's her smile that falters.
"What?" he asks in concern.
She sighs. "Every winter, as soon as that chill rolls in, I'm right back there in that alley with my mom."
Instant empathy kindles in his irises.
"She was killed on January 9th and we still hadn't taken our Christmas decorations down." She fiddles with the top of a shampoo bottle on a nearby ledge. "By the time my dad and I did, it was like we were putting Christmas away forever. And we haven't opened those boxes since."
"Oh, Kate."
She inhales a shuddering breath. "So every year, my dad goes up to his cabin and ever since I became a rookie, I've taken the Christmas shift because I know that there are families out there that are celebrating together in their homes and I'm keeping watch and that is my tradition."
He brooms some wet hair from her face.
"Maybe I can keep watch with you this year?"
Her eyes widen in disbelief.
"What about your family traditions?"
He shrugs.
"We'll figure it out. Make new ones. I just want to be with you in any way I can." He maneuvers behind her and wraps his arms around her as if to emphasize his point.
Damn.
She likes making plans with him; envisioning their future together. She melts into him with a contented sigh, so in love with the strength of his embrace and the sense of safety and comfort it brings her.
"And speaking of your mom, I—"
She tenses and he pauses.
But then she encourages him with a nod.
"I, uh, was wondering something about her case..."
"Okay."
He skates a hand down her arm. She breaks out in gooseflesh at his touch.
"I know you've let it go, but it kills me that you spend every day getting answers for others while you don't get any for yourself. You're their champion, a voice for the dead, fighting for justice, but you don't have anyone fighting for you or your mom." He softens his voice. "So if you'll let me, I want to help. Be your champion."
"Help how?"
"Let me look at her file. Be a pair of fresh eyes. And I have resources, connections. People in high and low places."
"What if I don't want to know? What if I'm not ready?"
She's told him how bad she can get. How hard it was to scratch and claw herself out of that rabbit hole of darkness.
"I can wait until you feel ready," he says kindly, rubbing her arm calmingly.
All her fears crest to the surface.
"But what if we find the guy and we don't have enough to put him away? What if he cuts some deal that puts him back out on the street in ten years?"
"It's different this time. You have me," he murmurs, finger-combing her damp hair, his lips at her cheek, his voice, warm and reassuring. "And you won't have to do it alone. We can do it together." He buries his nose into her neck. "I won't let you fall down that rabbit hole and lose yourself again. And when we do find this guy, we're gonna make sure we have enough. Make them pay and make sure justice is delivered. I promise, my love."
His ferocious conviction and tender ministrations wash over her, soothing the tide of anxiety building in her chest, and she relaxes into the cove of his body, the warm water lapping gently around them.
Fuck, he really loves her, doesn't he?
"Can I think about it?"
She just wants to enjoy him. Love him. Live her life for once.
Not drag herself back into everything she's trying to get away from.
"Of course. I'm here whenever you need me."
She smiles and turns to face him, winding her arms around his neck.
He's so beautiful and he's hers.
"Right now there's only one thing I need."
"Name it."
She seals her forehead to his.
"You," she whispers, "I just need you."
"I'm too wired to sleep," she confesses as they each tug on a set of complimentary, soft, and elephant-gray sweatshirts and sweatpants. She's still recovering from round three or was it four? (Jesus, she's already lost count.) "And I don't think I could go again, stud."
He smirks.
"We could always just cuddle," he winks, his voice rough and scratchy.
"God, you sound awful."
"You've been interrogating me all night!"
She chuckles. "It's a good thing neither of us has to get up early."
She'd preemptively cleared her Monday morning and didn't have to worry about anything until the early afternoon, which is when she has a standing CompStat meeting at 1PP that takes place on the second Monday of every month.
"How about we order some tea and breakfast snacks and watch something? Rest our voices."
(They'd both been really loud and vocal.)
He perks up.
"Can I pick the movie?"
They channel surf until Castle recognizes something called When the Bough Breaks, a thriller starring Ally Walker as a State Profiler and Martin Sheen as a police captain.
It's already half way through its runtime so while sipping his tea, he catches her up on the plot in a low murmur—severed hands of young girls are being found around Houston, Texas. And the main suspect is Jordan Tomas, a former foster kid who was institutionalized at a mental hospital when he was four. The strange markings on his hands match the markings on the victim's hands. And every year on his birthdays, he has seizures, which the heroine discovers coincides with the deaths of the young girls.
"And now she's figuring out he's psychically linked to the killer."
"That's preposterous."
"It will all make sense soon. Just wait."
"Okay, but what's the title supposed to mean anyway? It doesn't seem like it fits."
"It's from that one Mother Goose nursery rhyme. Rock-a-bye baby? The second verse. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall. Down tumbles baby, cradle and all."
"Kind of dark, isn't it?"
"Most nursery rhymes are," he chuckles. "But if you take the phrase when the bough breaks just by itself, I think it means…you've reached a point of no return. Like a sapling shedding new branches to make room for stronger branches—shedding an old part of yourself. And there's no going back to the way things were before."
"I like that interpretation."
He smiles into her hair and kisses the top of her head as she snuggles closer into his side.
For days, weeks, and months, she'd yearned to be in his arms and it's like her whole body sighs against him, as if finally coming home. As if finally at peace.
Yeah, there's no going back to the way things were before.
She's in this.
All in.
She's lost in thought, her mind replaying her night with Castle and their morning redux in the shower. The trail of his mouth, his fingers, his—
"Captain Beckett?"
She straightens in her seat, refocusing her attention on Deputy Commissioner Gates. "Yes?"
"As I was saying, your precinct closure rates are stellar."
"Oh, thank you. I have a great team of detectives."
"What about that mystery writer? I heard he's a huge help," a voice snickers.
Gates narrows her eyes at the perpetrator. "Captain Remington, need I remind you-Captain Beckett rose to this rank by her very own merit, long before the aid of any civilian consultant. But if you think Mr. Castle is such an asset, I can assign him to your precinct. Maybe then your numbers would improve."
Remington has the decency to look ashamed, but the victory is short-lived when Gates follows up with, "Speaking of, how much longer is this ride-along arrangement with your writer going to last?"
"Sir?" Beckett prods.
"I know you agreed to this...unorthodox partnership, but I can't say I'm terribly comfortable with him traipsing to crime scenes. Especially after he already got shot. We can't afford any slip-ups, and we certainly don't need to give the city any more reason to slash our budgets."
"Yeah, does he really need to hang around every day for research?" someone jokes.
"He provides an out-of-the-box mindset. And he's been instrumental in cracking some of our toughest cases," she fires back.
"Oh, I'm sure that's not the only thing he provides," she hears Remington mutter. Ugh, more like Schlemington. He still hasn't gotten over her schooling him in the potato sack race at last year's police picnic. Or the fact that she turned him down a few months ago when he asked her out.
"Excuse me?" she spits, her hackles raising.
"All right, all right, let's settle down," Gates chides. "In any case, as long as nothing goes wrong, his work with the 12th is good PR. And we could use some of that. So it's in your best interest not to cause any scandal," Gates says firmly, her stare piercing, almost like she knows about the three hickeys hiding under Beckett's scarf. "Is that clear, Captain?"
Beckett flashes her a weak smile, panic spreading through her chest.
"Crystal."
"Captain Beckett, may I speak with you privately for a moment?" Gates requests.
Kate hangs back as the other captains file out of the conference room. One of her close confidants, Carmen Cruz, the only other female captain in Manhattan, taunts her with a playful jeer of, "Oooooo," acting as if Beckett's about to be taken to task by the principal.
She sticks her tongue out at Cruz and her friend winks with a smile as she shuts the door behind her.
Beckett turns to face Gates, straightening her blazer, while the elder woman calmly folds her hands together in front of her.
"You know, I had a fantastic dinner last night." She innocently cocks her head to the side. "Have you ever eaten at The Plaza?"
Beckett's stomach drops like a stone.
Oh, no.
Oh, fuck.
"Sir, I—"
Gates flips her hand up like a stop sign.
"Don't say anything," she orders. "It's not technically against the rules, but it's better if I can maintain plausible deniability." She sighs. "And quite frankly? It's none of my business." Her gaze squares. "But woman to woman? You're a great leader, excellent at your job, and no one at headquarters has a bad word to say about you. You're meant for bigger things, Captain."
The Deputy steps closer.
"But if this gets out—what happened today is going to seem like child's play. People will question your credibility. Your successes won't be seen as your own. And they're going to think you spend more time on your back than you do pursuing killers."
Gates zeroes in on her.
"So I'd like you to ask yourself…is he really worth it?"
xxx
Fun Fact: Back in the day, when richardcastle dot net still existed (RIP), a Bucket List with 50 items was posted to the site. But if you search for Richard Castle's Bucket List now, the only thing that comes up is a list that has 15 items. A fic, Bucket List by chezchuckles, luckily recorded some of the items from the longer list and Castle mentions a few more in 5x19, but I don't know if anyone has the full original anymore. Though in all of the lists, the first item is always: Be with Kate. And the last item is always: Get married and make it last.
Fun Fact II: The Castle writers were actually referencing the 1947 vehicle When the Bough Breaks when they decided on the title for 2x05. There's also a remake from 2016 that shares a similar plot. Whereas the When the Bough Breaks from '94 that I reference here has no relation to either. Only the same title. Another glitch in the matrix!
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