Dead to the World (5/X)
Name: Dead to the world
Author: lizparker6
Pairing/Characters: Castle/Beckett, Jim Beckett, Martha Rodgers, Alexis Castle, rest. of the cast
Genre: Romance, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, future fic, but probably AU
Word Count: approx. 2900 words
Rating: lets say R, for some language
Spoilers: 4x23 Always
Summary: Months she’s been gone, months in which Castle’s been forced to believe that Kate was dead. Eight months in which he’s missed her, craved her, mourned her. Now she stands on his doorstep, two coffees in hands, and Castle’s world collapses. Direct spoilers for 4x23 Always.
Previous chapters here....
Thank you wp1fan from fanfiction.net for the beta. You are awesome. Also ppl, who hasn't read it yet, go and check out her newest story - The Fix. It absolutely wonderful!
CASTLE
A few days before the call from Gina, asking him for his Frozen Heat manuscript, Castle decides to crawl out of his hole a little, be a decent person for a couple of hours and not wallow in his own grief. Because there are other people hurting over Kate's loss, maybe even more so than him. People Kate would want him to look after the same way he once asked her to look out for his daughter if anything ever happened to him.
He hasn'tseen nor talked to anybody from the 12th since the funeral, and he still can't face them, not with so many shared memories of Kate. Yet there is one person he could, and definitely should, call. That night, Castle picks up the phone and calls Jim Beckett.
They meet in a dinner the next day for lunch. The meeting is …awkward to say the least. But Rick leaves with a slightly lighter heart, seeing for himself that Jim Beckett seems to be doing - the circumstances considering - very well.
Truth to be told, Castle has been a little scared what he might encounter; he isn't naïve after all. Of course he thought about what he knew from Kate used to be her father's weakness in the times of need, and he was more than a little anxious of what to think, how to act, if it came down to Jim Beckett starting drinking again.
He knew it was something that would break Kate's heart, but he also knew there was not much for Rick to do in the matter. Jim was not *his* father and he could hardly step into the man's life and demand for him to sober up if Jim decided to pick the liquor as his favorite poison once again. Castle even couldn't begrudge him that. Still, seeing Jim sober and obviously well fed and rested - the man definitely looked better than Rick himself - brought a tiny piece of relief for Castle.
That day, Castle makes a mental promise to make sure it stays that way. Two weeks later, he makes the same call to Jim, asks him on another brunch. By their third meeting in another two weeks, it becomes sort of an unspoken routine for the two men.
There aren't many topics at first, so they stick to the classics. Weather, sports, food. Later, they switch to family, Alexis, Rick's mother, Jim's memories of Kate, although that topic is breached only on particularly optimistic or particularly bad days. They never talk about that day; for Jim, Castle will always remain Kate's friend, her partner. But Rick has a feeling the man knows more, at least definitely suspects there was more between him and his daughter. On some days when Castle simply cannot pretend, it's Jim who offers words of consolation, offers pieces of Kate, tries to guess what his daughter would say or think or do if she were there. On one hand, it weights heavily on Castle, the knowledge she's never going to be there to do-say-think it herself. But what Jim offers really does sound like Kate, and in a strange way, it often offers a balm to his aching soul.
His mother offers a surprisingly steady rock for his existence. She is there for him and Alexis on a daily basis. She literally glues the family together. She takes care of Alexis on days where he shuns the outsides of his bedroom; brings him out of his depression - even by his ear, if she has to; force-feeds him food; plans his daily schedule he isn't willing to stick to. She chooses uncomplicated activities that offer an easy way to spend some so much needed quality time with his daughter but little effort on his part. Later, she forces him out the loft, walks with him in the park with their arms intertwined, chatting to him animatedly although she knows he's lost in his own thoughts. It helps.
There are things she does for him he is not particularly proud of. He knows how she keeps his daughter occupied and busy, all to unload his duties as her father. So that he doesn't feel like the failure of a parent he is currently being to his daughter. She wordlessly wipes away sick still sticking to his mouth after his occasional hot date with a bottle of bourbon, hides the evidence of his weight-loss by silently restocking his closet with new shirts and pants. Envelopes him in her arms wordlessly, deliberately oblivious of the dampness in his eyes as she strokes his hair in a manner that reminds him of being a little boy again.
She does it all, and on top of it, with a flare and grace of a true actress. She is being the mother he always dreamed she was,only now he realizes he'd never needed her to be, not until now. He really doesn't know how he would have survived without her help the first few months.
The day comes when Frozen Heat appears in the bookstores. He doesn't do any promo, any advertisement and despite Paula's feeble protests, no book signings. However, he does a private gathering in The Old Haunt, inviting Jim and their closest friends from the 12th. It's a small and quiet gathering, spent with a lot of stories, memories and a couple of tears from Lanie and Ryan. They don't talk about the dedication, there's really no need to.
"Knowing you made me a better writer, loving you made me a better man. I hope wherever you are, you've found your peace."
He knew Paula and Ginadidn't like the dedication much; it appeared too dark and morbid for their liking. Castle doesn't really care though and they didn't dare oppose him on that one. He didn't care if the whole world considered his last statement as an author to be morbid, sappy, romantic or downright distasteful. He knew why he wrote what he wrote and he didn't want to change a thing. Besides, he always had an inclination to melodrama, so it only seemed fitting.
At the end of the evening only Rick and Jim remain. They talk for a while after the others have already left, their conversation about sport stats and Alexis starting courses lulling somewhat. They are both nursing a glass of water, an odd sight in a bar, but they both have their reasons.
Jim is the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and more than a little hesitant. "You must have loved my daughter very much to offer such a dedication."
His openness, as well as the statement itself,startles Castle. He doesn't know Jim Beckett like this, so direct and bold. He isn't sure he likes it, and his eyes shy away.
"Yes I did," he answers after a beat, voice strangled and raw with pain.
"You know Rick, I think she loved you too," says Jim, and that odd sparkle of resolve in the older mans eyes rings a warning bell in Castle's mind. He doesn't know why, but something about the way Jim delivers the statement sends chills up his spine. He is so perplexed in fact, that he isn't in a state to properly appreciate the sentiment behind Jim's words. He eyes him for a moment, holds his gaze, searching for something yet Jim is the one to break the eye contact first, uncomfortably squirming in his seat.
Castle shakes off the odd feeling, gulps the water down his suddenly dry throat, wishing it was something stronger.
That's when Jim comes with his odd request. He takes out his copy of Frozen Heat, slides it across the table towards Rick, a pen perched on the cover.
"Could you sign this for me?" he asks and Castle gulps. He doesn't know how to feel about it, but he nods slowly in the end - he finds it impossible to deny Kate's father anything in a similar way he wasn't able to deny her. But as his hand reaches for the pen and book, Jim's own stops him, pinning his fingers to the cover.
"This may sound like an odd request, but could you please…" he stops, squeezes his eyes shut, looks away. He has Castle's full attention now, "Would it be possible for you to sign the book as if this were a copy for Katie?"
Air whooshes out of his lungs, he can barely breathe. No. Absolutely not, he cannot sign a copy for Kate, cannot write another personalized dedication on top of this already heartbreaking one. He doesn't even try to rationalize the twisted logic behind Jim's request; he just can't and won't do it, period. He is just about to gently yet resolutely refuse, but something inside of Jim's eyes stops him, makes him reconsider. There is that familiar deep seeded pain and sadness in the man's eyes, the kind Castle hasn't seen in Jim since the funeral, though he certainly doesn't remember much - doesn't *want* to remember much - from that day. He is looking at Jim, looking at the man who is Kate's father and sees his own still too raw pain reflected back at him. What choice does he have? He slowly nods, cannot deny him, once again. He is Kate's father, for heavens sake. If this gesture would even hypothetically bring a smile to Kate's face, he's willing to do it.
He reaches for the book, takes the pen and opens the cover. His thoughts are one huge mess. He doesn't know what to write, what to tell her. The pen hovers above the page, but the words won't come. Jim appears to notice his hesitation, his struggle to come up with suitable words.
He lays his withered hand on the page to get Castle's attention and when he catches his eyes he says, "Just write something as if she were still alive, not dead. Something that you think she'd want to hear, maybe something to make her smile." Again, there is this strange twinkle of urgency in Jim's eye, but Castle doesn't have time to dwell on it, because he's struck by an idea. Before he loses his nerve altogether and changes his mind, he starts to scribble down furiously, not in his most neat but definitely most enthusiastic handwriting, his tongue sticking out in concentration as his words protract more and more:
"Kate, I know you'd kill me for pouring out my heart for you on the very first page of a Nikki Heat book - I still don't think it's a slutty name, though Nikki certainly IS kinda slutty and don't argue, I know you actually like that about her despite that you'd rather be busted down to traffic than to admit to that - anyway, back to the topic - you, killing me, for declaring to the whole wide world that I love you. I know it seems like going behind your back of sorts, especially since I was barely able to tell you in person on the meager number of precisely two occasions. But seeing the light catch in your hair as it transformed into liquid copper under those early rays of sun on that morning I made you my famous marshmallow omelette only so you could refuse and go for pancakes instead, kind of gives me the right to shout it at the top of my lungs for the whole world to know. Still, sorry if that upsets you."
He is quickly running out of page and he has to scale down his script a considerable amount to squeeze all the words onto the single page, yet he still manages to scribble in the tiniest writing possible, finishing at the very bottom of the right corner: "PS - I also know you'd argue you'd get your peace if I ever stopped spinning my crazy yet awesome alien-CIA-mobster-zombie theories, but c'mon, Beckett, I know you love those too!"
He finally finishes, punching the dot for the exclamation mark with surprising vigor. He doesn't realize until he's finished that he is smiling, smiling so wide it nearly makes his face hurt. It catches him off guard. He looks at the book again, rereads what he's written and the smile slowly fades, like the sun disappearing behind a cloud. As if only then, he realizes this is not his copy of the book, this is a copy he wrote for Kate's father, and blood suddenly rushes to his cheeks. There is no way he can handle Jim Beckett back this book.
Panic rises in his chest as Jim makes a move to remove the object from his hands and Castle's digits come to clutch at the book, unwilling to let it go. His confession appears way too personal and intimate for anyone, let alone Jim Beckett, to read.
Jim raises his eyebrow, a spark of amusement in his eye, making Castle clutch the book even tighter. Jim's eyes soften and he covers Rick's hand with his own.
"Whatever it is Rick, I am sure I'll like it." Seeing the panic and doubt in Castle's eyes, Jim amends, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Alright, I won't *judge* then."
Slowly, ever so slowly, Castle lets the book go, already regretting it when he sees Jim turn it over and start reading his words. He quickly brings the glass of water to his lips, desperate for some liquid to moisture his suddenly dry throat yet has to curse inwardly for being so reckless and downing it all earlier in one huge gulp. He knows the moment Jim hits the part mentioning their 'morning after', for his eyebrows raise considerably, his mouth shaping a single surprised 'Oh'. Castle wishes for the earth to swallow him whole, right here, right now.
Jim finishes slowly, but when his eyes move to Castle's again, there is no accusation, no distaste. Just quiet contentment, a hint of an amused spark even.
"Thank you, Rick. Thank you so much for this. Katie would have loved it," he is being so earnest, so genuinely grateful for this simple deed, Castle's throat closes on emotion with an iron fist.
There is a moment when neither man says anything then Jim uses his finger to tap a certain point on the page, his eyebrows raisingquestioningly, another hint - this time of playfulness - playing in his eyes. Castle can't understand how the man can handle this so well when he himself feels so tight, so on edge, he could snap apart into a thousand little brittle pieces. He looks at the spot Jim is pointing, tries to decipher his hastened untidy handwriting upside down.
"light…cat-ch…in your ha-hair…"
Oh. His chest constricts painfully. The memory still seems so fresh, so crisp and bright, especially in comparison with some others he has of her. He is scared to forget, scared he's forgetting already, so quickly. Some memories disappear nearly as quickly as her scent from his sheets and it terrifies him. He looks at Jim and despite his inner turmoil and sadness gives the man a sheepish look.
"We, uhm…" he clears his throat and hides his eyes, "Just once." He offers his meager explanation and finally dares to look back at Jim, knowing he'll understand his meaning. That playful twinkle in his eyes grows and it makes Castle's chest clench even tighter, filled inexplicably with remorse.
Does this mean they'd have her father's approval? He would have wanted it so badly. But why is Jim smiling? Why is the man smiling like there is nothing wrong with this world, this huge sad world with no Kate Beckett in it? Doesn't Jim's heart splinter in his chest the same way Castle's currently is?
"It was the morning she got killed," Castle suddenly blurts out, his filter gone with this moment of maddening heartache and his eyes fill with tears.
All the amusement is immediately gone from Jim's eyes, surprise and something akin to dreadful comprehension clouding his eyes. "I'm so sorry son," he whispers, trying to catch one of Rick's hands, but he pulls them quickly off the table, brings one to his face to hastily wipe at his eyes.
He shakes his head. He really doesn't need this man's apologies. Not when he was the one to let Kate out of his door and sight that day. He never thought he would tell this to anybody, her father out of all people, but once that door's been opened, Rick cannot find the force to slam it back shut. "She said she was just going to change her clothes," he half-shouts in a trembling voice full of incomprehension and despair. "See, hers were crumpled and dirty after she got drenched in the thunderstorm the previous night." He explains. This memory is still way too fresh, maybe because he feels so damn guilty about it every single day. "She wasn't supposed to be long, she* promised* to be back by lunch." Castle looks at his hands nervously twitching in his lap, tries to breathe, tries to quell the awful flutter of his heart in his chest, the tight pressure on his ribcage. "I offered to go with her but she declined…" a tear falls from his eye, but he doesn't seem to notice, "I should have gone with her, I should have gone…" his voice breaks and he looks at Jim then, helplessness and guilt and challenge to blame him for all of this, mixed in his eyes.
"Rick," Jim starts, but obviously doesn't know how to continue, what to say. But that's alright, because there really is nothing to be said. He should never let her go alone. Jim half stands in his side of the booth and Castle thinks he's about to leave, but then her father merely bends over the table, stretching out so he can get a hold of Castle's hands, dragging them back onto the table with his own.
"Listen to me Rick," he squeezed Castle's hands, his own eyes suddenly glassy yet voice firmly determined. There is a message he needs to pass along to Castle, for his daughter's sake. "Whether you had or hadn't gone with her that day, it probably wouldn't change a thing."
"You don't know that," Castle utters desolately.
In fact, Jim knows, but he can hardly tell the man currently breaking into pieces in front of him. He shakes his head. "What happened to Katie wasn't your fault, it wasn't anybody's fault but the men who chose to destroy our lives fourteen years ago."
Castle's still not convinced. He put her in the crosshairs, he dug the damn file up, he let her leave on her own that morning.
"Listen Rick," presses Jim, still holding his hands, suddenly looking impatient and aggravated. "I think, no, I actually *know* for a fact my daughter would never want you to blame yourself for this, alright?" Castle drops his gaze.
"With all due respect sir, neither you nor me know what she'd have wanted, because she is not here." His voice doesn't hold any hostility, just tired resignation. Jim lets go of him then, runs a frustrated hand through his grey hair. He looks restless, angry even. There is not much more to be said. After a while, Castle breaks the silence.
"Thank you," he says, some of his composure returning, the blame he so carefully hides locked up tight inside of him again. Jim looks at him questioningly and Castle's eyes fall to the book.
"It really made me feel good there for a while," he says with a hint of a smile, wistfulness reflected in his eyes.
"No, thank *you* Rick. You have no idea…" he stops abruptly, obviously agitated, "Gosh I wish I could…" he stops again, slamming an angry fist against the table, shaking his head in fury, chewing on his lip as he ponders about something, hard. The gesture reminds Castle of Kate. He doesn't know what brought this sudden outburst, but he is glad Jim's finally shown at least some sign that he is too, going through the grieving process. Because his rather calm and understanding attitude started to unsettle Castle a great deal more.
Jim finally turns back to Rick, an odd mixture of resolve and defeat on his face. He grabs the book, cradles it tightly to his chest.
"You hang in there tight Rick, alright?" he lowers his head to catch the younger man's eyes. "I promise you, it won't be like this forever."
Castle wants to believe the man, so badly. But right now, the wound is still too fresh and there are certain types of wounds Castle doesn't believe even time will be able to heal. Still, he gives the man a nod, out of respect and because he sees how much he is trying. And suddenly Castle knows, he just knows, that Jim is doing this for his daughter, the same way Castle keeps an eye on him too. What they share in not just the loss of Kate, a beloved person, daughter and lover, but the will to hang on and protect what was so dear to her.
Jim rises to his feet, offering a hand to Rick. When he takes it, Jim yanks at it with surprising strength, enveloping Castle in a sudden one-armed hug. "Hang in there, son! She always had you for a fighter. You better not go letting her down now."
With those words hanging in the air, Castle watches Jim Beckett walk away.
TBC
I know, it's so sad and I am so mean. Still, reviews might prompt me to write more cheerful stuff...Nah, probably not. Still, they'll definitely make my day, so send them on! *makes grabby hands*
Author: lizparker6
Pairing/Characters: Castle/Beckett, Jim Beckett, Martha Rodgers, Alexis Castle, rest. of the cast
Genre: Romance, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, future fic, but probably AU
Word Count: approx. 2900 words
Rating: lets say R, for some language
Spoilers: 4x23 Always
Summary: Months she’s been gone, months in which Castle’s been forced to believe that Kate was dead. Eight months in which he’s missed her, craved her, mourned her. Now she stands on his doorstep, two coffees in hands, and Castle’s world collapses. Direct spoilers for 4x23 Always.
Previous chapters here....
Thank you wp1fan from fanfiction.net for the beta. You are awesome. Also ppl, who hasn't read it yet, go and check out her newest story - The Fix. It absolutely wonderful!
CASTLE
A few days before the call from Gina, asking him for his Frozen Heat manuscript, Castle decides to crawl out of his hole a little, be a decent person for a couple of hours and not wallow in his own grief. Because there are other people hurting over Kate's loss, maybe even more so than him. People Kate would want him to look after the same way he once asked her to look out for his daughter if anything ever happened to him.
He hasn'tseen nor talked to anybody from the 12th since the funeral, and he still can't face them, not with so many shared memories of Kate. Yet there is one person he could, and definitely should, call. That night, Castle picks up the phone and calls Jim Beckett.
They meet in a dinner the next day for lunch. The meeting is …awkward to say the least. But Rick leaves with a slightly lighter heart, seeing for himself that Jim Beckett seems to be doing - the circumstances considering - very well.
Truth to be told, Castle has been a little scared what he might encounter; he isn't naïve after all. Of course he thought about what he knew from Kate used to be her father's weakness in the times of need, and he was more than a little anxious of what to think, how to act, if it came down to Jim Beckett starting drinking again.
He knew it was something that would break Kate's heart, but he also knew there was not much for Rick to do in the matter. Jim was not *his* father and he could hardly step into the man's life and demand for him to sober up if Jim decided to pick the liquor as his favorite poison once again. Castle even couldn't begrudge him that. Still, seeing Jim sober and obviously well fed and rested - the man definitely looked better than Rick himself - brought a tiny piece of relief for Castle.
That day, Castle makes a mental promise to make sure it stays that way. Two weeks later, he makes the same call to Jim, asks him on another brunch. By their third meeting in another two weeks, it becomes sort of an unspoken routine for the two men.
There aren't many topics at first, so they stick to the classics. Weather, sports, food. Later, they switch to family, Alexis, Rick's mother, Jim's memories of Kate, although that topic is breached only on particularly optimistic or particularly bad days. They never talk about that day; for Jim, Castle will always remain Kate's friend, her partner. But Rick has a feeling the man knows more, at least definitely suspects there was more between him and his daughter. On some days when Castle simply cannot pretend, it's Jim who offers words of consolation, offers pieces of Kate, tries to guess what his daughter would say or think or do if she were there. On one hand, it weights heavily on Castle, the knowledge she's never going to be there to do-say-think it herself. But what Jim offers really does sound like Kate, and in a strange way, it often offers a balm to his aching soul.
His mother offers a surprisingly steady rock for his existence. She is there for him and Alexis on a daily basis. She literally glues the family together. She takes care of Alexis on days where he shuns the outsides of his bedroom; brings him out of his depression - even by his ear, if she has to; force-feeds him food; plans his daily schedule he isn't willing to stick to. She chooses uncomplicated activities that offer an easy way to spend some so much needed quality time with his daughter but little effort on his part. Later, she forces him out the loft, walks with him in the park with their arms intertwined, chatting to him animatedly although she knows he's lost in his own thoughts. It helps.
There are things she does for him he is not particularly proud of. He knows how she keeps his daughter occupied and busy, all to unload his duties as her father. So that he doesn't feel like the failure of a parent he is currently being to his daughter. She wordlessly wipes away sick still sticking to his mouth after his occasional hot date with a bottle of bourbon, hides the evidence of his weight-loss by silently restocking his closet with new shirts and pants. Envelopes him in her arms wordlessly, deliberately oblivious of the dampness in his eyes as she strokes his hair in a manner that reminds him of being a little boy again.
She does it all, and on top of it, with a flare and grace of a true actress. She is being the mother he always dreamed she was,only now he realizes he'd never needed her to be, not until now. He really doesn't know how he would have survived without her help the first few months.
The day comes when Frozen Heat appears in the bookstores. He doesn't do any promo, any advertisement and despite Paula's feeble protests, no book signings. However, he does a private gathering in The Old Haunt, inviting Jim and their closest friends from the 12th. It's a small and quiet gathering, spent with a lot of stories, memories and a couple of tears from Lanie and Ryan. They don't talk about the dedication, there's really no need to.
"Knowing you made me a better writer, loving you made me a better man. I hope wherever you are, you've found your peace."
He knew Paula and Ginadidn't like the dedication much; it appeared too dark and morbid for their liking. Castle doesn't really care though and they didn't dare oppose him on that one. He didn't care if the whole world considered his last statement as an author to be morbid, sappy, romantic or downright distasteful. He knew why he wrote what he wrote and he didn't want to change a thing. Besides, he always had an inclination to melodrama, so it only seemed fitting.
At the end of the evening only Rick and Jim remain. They talk for a while after the others have already left, their conversation about sport stats and Alexis starting courses lulling somewhat. They are both nursing a glass of water, an odd sight in a bar, but they both have their reasons.
Jim is the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and more than a little hesitant. "You must have loved my daughter very much to offer such a dedication."
His openness, as well as the statement itself,startles Castle. He doesn't know Jim Beckett like this, so direct and bold. He isn't sure he likes it, and his eyes shy away.
"Yes I did," he answers after a beat, voice strangled and raw with pain.
"You know Rick, I think she loved you too," says Jim, and that odd sparkle of resolve in the older mans eyes rings a warning bell in Castle's mind. He doesn't know why, but something about the way Jim delivers the statement sends chills up his spine. He is so perplexed in fact, that he isn't in a state to properly appreciate the sentiment behind Jim's words. He eyes him for a moment, holds his gaze, searching for something yet Jim is the one to break the eye contact first, uncomfortably squirming in his seat.
Castle shakes off the odd feeling, gulps the water down his suddenly dry throat, wishing it was something stronger.
That's when Jim comes with his odd request. He takes out his copy of Frozen Heat, slides it across the table towards Rick, a pen perched on the cover.
"Could you sign this for me?" he asks and Castle gulps. He doesn't know how to feel about it, but he nods slowly in the end - he finds it impossible to deny Kate's father anything in a similar way he wasn't able to deny her. But as his hand reaches for the pen and book, Jim's own stops him, pinning his fingers to the cover.
"This may sound like an odd request, but could you please…" he stops, squeezes his eyes shut, looks away. He has Castle's full attention now, "Would it be possible for you to sign the book as if this were a copy for Katie?"
Air whooshes out of his lungs, he can barely breathe. No. Absolutely not, he cannot sign a copy for Kate, cannot write another personalized dedication on top of this already heartbreaking one. He doesn't even try to rationalize the twisted logic behind Jim's request; he just can't and won't do it, period. He is just about to gently yet resolutely refuse, but something inside of Jim's eyes stops him, makes him reconsider. There is that familiar deep seeded pain and sadness in the man's eyes, the kind Castle hasn't seen in Jim since the funeral, though he certainly doesn't remember much - doesn't *want* to remember much - from that day. He is looking at Jim, looking at the man who is Kate's father and sees his own still too raw pain reflected back at him. What choice does he have? He slowly nods, cannot deny him, once again. He is Kate's father, for heavens sake. If this gesture would even hypothetically bring a smile to Kate's face, he's willing to do it.
He reaches for the book, takes the pen and opens the cover. His thoughts are one huge mess. He doesn't know what to write, what to tell her. The pen hovers above the page, but the words won't come. Jim appears to notice his hesitation, his struggle to come up with suitable words.
He lays his withered hand on the page to get Castle's attention and when he catches his eyes he says, "Just write something as if she were still alive, not dead. Something that you think she'd want to hear, maybe something to make her smile." Again, there is this strange twinkle of urgency in Jim's eye, but Castle doesn't have time to dwell on it, because he's struck by an idea. Before he loses his nerve altogether and changes his mind, he starts to scribble down furiously, not in his most neat but definitely most enthusiastic handwriting, his tongue sticking out in concentration as his words protract more and more:
"Kate, I know you'd kill me for pouring out my heart for you on the very first page of a Nikki Heat book - I still don't think it's a slutty name, though Nikki certainly IS kinda slutty and don't argue, I know you actually like that about her despite that you'd rather be busted down to traffic than to admit to that - anyway, back to the topic - you, killing me, for declaring to the whole wide world that I love you. I know it seems like going behind your back of sorts, especially since I was barely able to tell you in person on the meager number of precisely two occasions. But seeing the light catch in your hair as it transformed into liquid copper under those early rays of sun on that morning I made you my famous marshmallow omelette only so you could refuse and go for pancakes instead, kind of gives me the right to shout it at the top of my lungs for the whole world to know. Still, sorry if that upsets you."
He is quickly running out of page and he has to scale down his script a considerable amount to squeeze all the words onto the single page, yet he still manages to scribble in the tiniest writing possible, finishing at the very bottom of the right corner: "PS - I also know you'd argue you'd get your peace if I ever stopped spinning my crazy yet awesome alien-CIA-mobster-zombie theories, but c'mon, Beckett, I know you love those too!"
He finally finishes, punching the dot for the exclamation mark with surprising vigor. He doesn't realize until he's finished that he is smiling, smiling so wide it nearly makes his face hurt. It catches him off guard. He looks at the book again, rereads what he's written and the smile slowly fades, like the sun disappearing behind a cloud. As if only then, he realizes this is not his copy of the book, this is a copy he wrote for Kate's father, and blood suddenly rushes to his cheeks. There is no way he can handle Jim Beckett back this book.
Panic rises in his chest as Jim makes a move to remove the object from his hands and Castle's digits come to clutch at the book, unwilling to let it go. His confession appears way too personal and intimate for anyone, let alone Jim Beckett, to read.
Jim raises his eyebrow, a spark of amusement in his eye, making Castle clutch the book even tighter. Jim's eyes soften and he covers Rick's hand with his own.
"Whatever it is Rick, I am sure I'll like it." Seeing the panic and doubt in Castle's eyes, Jim amends, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Alright, I won't *judge* then."
Slowly, ever so slowly, Castle lets the book go, already regretting it when he sees Jim turn it over and start reading his words. He quickly brings the glass of water to his lips, desperate for some liquid to moisture his suddenly dry throat yet has to curse inwardly for being so reckless and downing it all earlier in one huge gulp. He knows the moment Jim hits the part mentioning their 'morning after', for his eyebrows raise considerably, his mouth shaping a single surprised 'Oh'. Castle wishes for the earth to swallow him whole, right here, right now.
Jim finishes slowly, but when his eyes move to Castle's again, there is no accusation, no distaste. Just quiet contentment, a hint of an amused spark even.
"Thank you, Rick. Thank you so much for this. Katie would have loved it," he is being so earnest, so genuinely grateful for this simple deed, Castle's throat closes on emotion with an iron fist.
There is a moment when neither man says anything then Jim uses his finger to tap a certain point on the page, his eyebrows raisingquestioningly, another hint - this time of playfulness - playing in his eyes. Castle can't understand how the man can handle this so well when he himself feels so tight, so on edge, he could snap apart into a thousand little brittle pieces. He looks at the spot Jim is pointing, tries to decipher his hastened untidy handwriting upside down.
"light…cat-ch…in your ha-hair…"
Oh. His chest constricts painfully. The memory still seems so fresh, so crisp and bright, especially in comparison with some others he has of her. He is scared to forget, scared he's forgetting already, so quickly. Some memories disappear nearly as quickly as her scent from his sheets and it terrifies him. He looks at Jim and despite his inner turmoil and sadness gives the man a sheepish look.
"We, uhm…" he clears his throat and hides his eyes, "Just once." He offers his meager explanation and finally dares to look back at Jim, knowing he'll understand his meaning. That playful twinkle in his eyes grows and it makes Castle's chest clench even tighter, filled inexplicably with remorse.
Does this mean they'd have her father's approval? He would have wanted it so badly. But why is Jim smiling? Why is the man smiling like there is nothing wrong with this world, this huge sad world with no Kate Beckett in it? Doesn't Jim's heart splinter in his chest the same way Castle's currently is?
"It was the morning she got killed," Castle suddenly blurts out, his filter gone with this moment of maddening heartache and his eyes fill with tears.
All the amusement is immediately gone from Jim's eyes, surprise and something akin to dreadful comprehension clouding his eyes. "I'm so sorry son," he whispers, trying to catch one of Rick's hands, but he pulls them quickly off the table, brings one to his face to hastily wipe at his eyes.
He shakes his head. He really doesn't need this man's apologies. Not when he was the one to let Kate out of his door and sight that day. He never thought he would tell this to anybody, her father out of all people, but once that door's been opened, Rick cannot find the force to slam it back shut. "She said she was just going to change her clothes," he half-shouts in a trembling voice full of incomprehension and despair. "See, hers were crumpled and dirty after she got drenched in the thunderstorm the previous night." He explains. This memory is still way too fresh, maybe because he feels so damn guilty about it every single day. "She wasn't supposed to be long, she* promised* to be back by lunch." Castle looks at his hands nervously twitching in his lap, tries to breathe, tries to quell the awful flutter of his heart in his chest, the tight pressure on his ribcage. "I offered to go with her but she declined…" a tear falls from his eye, but he doesn't seem to notice, "I should have gone with her, I should have gone…" his voice breaks and he looks at Jim then, helplessness and guilt and challenge to blame him for all of this, mixed in his eyes.
"Rick," Jim starts, but obviously doesn't know how to continue, what to say. But that's alright, because there really is nothing to be said. He should never let her go alone. Jim half stands in his side of the booth and Castle thinks he's about to leave, but then her father merely bends over the table, stretching out so he can get a hold of Castle's hands, dragging them back onto the table with his own.
"Listen to me Rick," he squeezed Castle's hands, his own eyes suddenly glassy yet voice firmly determined. There is a message he needs to pass along to Castle, for his daughter's sake. "Whether you had or hadn't gone with her that day, it probably wouldn't change a thing."
"You don't know that," Castle utters desolately.
In fact, Jim knows, but he can hardly tell the man currently breaking into pieces in front of him. He shakes his head. "What happened to Katie wasn't your fault, it wasn't anybody's fault but the men who chose to destroy our lives fourteen years ago."
Castle's still not convinced. He put her in the crosshairs, he dug the damn file up, he let her leave on her own that morning.
"Listen Rick," presses Jim, still holding his hands, suddenly looking impatient and aggravated. "I think, no, I actually *know* for a fact my daughter would never want you to blame yourself for this, alright?" Castle drops his gaze.
"With all due respect sir, neither you nor me know what she'd have wanted, because she is not here." His voice doesn't hold any hostility, just tired resignation. Jim lets go of him then, runs a frustrated hand through his grey hair. He looks restless, angry even. There is not much more to be said. After a while, Castle breaks the silence.
"Thank you," he says, some of his composure returning, the blame he so carefully hides locked up tight inside of him again. Jim looks at him questioningly and Castle's eyes fall to the book.
"It really made me feel good there for a while," he says with a hint of a smile, wistfulness reflected in his eyes.
"No, thank *you* Rick. You have no idea…" he stops abruptly, obviously agitated, "Gosh I wish I could…" he stops again, slamming an angry fist against the table, shaking his head in fury, chewing on his lip as he ponders about something, hard. The gesture reminds Castle of Kate. He doesn't know what brought this sudden outburst, but he is glad Jim's finally shown at least some sign that he is too, going through the grieving process. Because his rather calm and understanding attitude started to unsettle Castle a great deal more.
Jim finally turns back to Rick, an odd mixture of resolve and defeat on his face. He grabs the book, cradles it tightly to his chest.
"You hang in there tight Rick, alright?" he lowers his head to catch the younger man's eyes. "I promise you, it won't be like this forever."
Castle wants to believe the man, so badly. But right now, the wound is still too fresh and there are certain types of wounds Castle doesn't believe even time will be able to heal. Still, he gives the man a nod, out of respect and because he sees how much he is trying. And suddenly Castle knows, he just knows, that Jim is doing this for his daughter, the same way Castle keeps an eye on him too. What they share in not just the loss of Kate, a beloved person, daughter and lover, but the will to hang on and protect what was so dear to her.
Jim rises to his feet, offering a hand to Rick. When he takes it, Jim yanks at it with surprising strength, enveloping Castle in a sudden one-armed hug. "Hang in there, son! She always had you for a fighter. You better not go letting her down now."
With those words hanging in the air, Castle watches Jim Beckett walk away.
TBC
I know, it's so sad and I am so mean. Still, reviews might prompt me to write more cheerful stuff...Nah, probably not. Still, they'll definitely make my day, so send them on! *makes grabby hands*