Welcome to the last chapter. Thank you all for hanging in there so long, it means more than you will ever know!
With a heavy sigh, he entered the confines of his treasured apartment after a day that had turned into a great deal of frustration, misguided bravery and fear.
His lids felt heavy, heck every single bone and sinew in his body protested loudly, reminding him that detective work and writing rarely mixed well.
His goals had been simple; grab a couple of snacks and a healthy glass of wine, unwind in the relative privacy of his office and go to bed cursing everything that led to the nightmare this godforsaken case had morphed into.
He had made it to the slice of French bread covered in garlic butter and two thick pieces of salami before his temporary peace was disturbed by a heavy sigh belonging to his mother.
"Yes?", he answered half-heartedly while reaching for the half-empty bottle of Riesling, taking a long sip out of it before bothering to look for a glass.
"Aren't you a little old to bury your problems in carbs and wine, Richard?", she challenged and walked up to the large kitchen island, still wearing the flowery dress from her acting class earlier in the day.
Stopping mid-sip, he looked over at her, then finished his gulp before smiling victoriously.
"You said the same thing when I started writing. And now it pays the bills."
The sour undertone wasn't lost on his mother and Martha shook her head dismissively, before stepping closer.
"And what exactly are you planning to accomplish? It doesn't seem to me that stress-eating will solve your problems. I know it's been a long day, so why don't you go to bed. Get some rest. And evaluate things after your mind and body have had a chance to…to recover."
Moaning theatrically, he cut another slice of bread, buttered it and added two pieces of salami before handing it to his mother.
"Garlic butter solves a lot of problems."
"Not enough, my dear.", she countered and accepted the treat before reaching for the back of his hand, grasping it gently, "Something went wrong with wrapping up the case, didn't it?"
"No.", he replied too fast and shook his head, "It's just…"
At the sheer mentioning, he found his words getting lost again, as though everything inside was trained to make up for Beckett's reckless behavior, doing so with the logic and gentleness that had been bred into him early on.
Even now, after everything was said and done, his conscience still attempted to justify her actions, even though every last bit of common sense couldn't.
"You tried to tell her again?", Martha insinuated, causing him to scoff.
"What? That I love her? No. There…there was no time for that. I just…I tried to stop her from doing something dangerous…something…frustratingly reckless. I tried several times and she just wouldn't listen. She walked right into a carefully laid out trap even though I warned her all along."
Taking a bite out of her late-night snack, Martha frowned deep in thought and finished chewing before speaking up again.
"She respects your opinion so much. Maybe it was something entirely different that made her choose to ignore you this time around."
"And just what could that be? Pride? Survival instinct? Hating my aftershave? I mean, what more can I do to keep her from killing herself?"
With a distinctive headshake, Martha set down her sandwich and pointed at his chest.
"Have you asked yourself if that might be the problem? That she…that she is so independent that you worrying about her and trying to steer her into the right direction is actually causing the opposite?"
Thoroughly offended, he sneered stubbornly.
"So, you just want me to stop caring?"
"No dear, but maybe the key is to stop hovering.", she explained evenly and weaved her arms above her head as though she was reciting her next play, "And understanding that in her job, the risks are real. She's quite aware of that. She knows that every case can lead to death, and she's accepted that. She needs to, in order to be a great police officer. Just let her do her job and deal with the risks."
He bit his lip so hard that he felt blood seeping along his tongue, the copper taste mixing with the acid that was threatening to consume his body.
"But what if she gets hurt? Or worse? How many more times am I supposed to watch her nearly getting killed before it actually happens?"
Unaware at how much he had raised his voice, Castle hesitated when his mother didn't say anything for many long moments, then glanced over at the slice of bread in his hand that was now a crumpled mass.
"Richard, honey, you picked a police officer of all people.", she reminded him sternly and reached for the open bottle of wine, taking a large gulp before proceeding, "Trust me when I say that there isn't a thing you can say or do to stop her, or keep her from getting hurt. It's fate, really. The best thing you can to is to be there, support her and love her. Everything else is out of your hands. So instead of griping, why don't you cherish her for who she is? And if…if the worst-case scenario comes true, you can relish in the fact that you loved her unconditionally and let her live her life to the fullest until the very last moment."
Unable to come up with a fitting argument to rebut Martha's words of wisdom, he drew in a deep breath, trying to shake off the haunting sights and sounds that had overcome this case and anything in its wrath.
Mixed in amongst it all was that overpowering fear for her life that had been the thread tying everything together. Did Martha not realize just how often things went awry? When was the last time she looked at the wrong end of a gun? Because he sure had done that a lot lately; and it wasn't a good feeling. Now add in the amount of times he had tried to warn Beckett of impending danger just to see her invalidate his instincts with a warm smile and move onward anyway.
Yes, there were risks associated to the job, and then there were unnecessary risks; those that came from pushing the limits, seeing how far one could go.
In the end, the only thing he feared more than Beckett dying was that his love for her wouldn't be strong enough to withstand that storm.
