Chances are... (Chapter 1)
Originally posted by izzylicious1013 at Chances are... (Chapter 1)
So, my first RPF ever! Til now I stuck to TV-shows, stole the characters and had my own wicked way with them. But this was just way too tempting. Hope you enjoy reading!
Title: Chances are...
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Stana/Nathan
Author's note 1: I couldn't help but wonder what really happened between our most fav TV-couple - to more or less obvious make them "hate eachother". This idea got stuck in my head for over a year by now... and after my best friend encouraged me to just go and give it a try... here we go. If you ask me, something like what's written below FOR SURE happened *evil grin*
Author's note 2: I'll have to seperate Chapter 1 into 2 parts - I simply came up with too many words....
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Author's note 3 (last one, I swear): Special thanks to Cathy, my bestest friend in all the world! Thanks for bearing with me and listening to my random "Stanathan"-babbling. And a special thanks to Lisa - you little fangirl! - who I managed to draw into the Castleverse. Ship Ship hooray!
Oh and one last thing: I neither know nor OWN any character/person mentioned in this story (if I would I for sure would make them do other things lol). I'm sure even Kris is a super nice guy but... hey, every story needs it's villain, right? Please don't hate me lol If you in fact think you like me and my little wicked idea please leave a comment! I'm dying for feedback!
Falling feels like flying.
It’s not like you make the decision to fall. No, life is doing that for you. But once that decision was made, once you start falling, nothing can stop it - and it’s the most wonderful feeling you will ever experience. For the first time ever you feel free, really, truly free. Suddenly there is no pain, no sorrow and no fear. It’s like floating on the wings of happiness and love. All you experience that very moment is the wind tickling your skin, the newly made promises of everlasting joy filling your heart, your lungs, your everything. No misery. No endless or sometimes worthless efforts, no trying to make things work out the way you would want them to, because they just do.
All you see from a distance- what seems looking through a foggy wall- are people that sometimes, way too briefly, came into your life just to vanish again in the blink of an eye. Friends, lovers, even strangers you recall passing on the street on your way to work. Friendly faces that don’t mean to harm you, but so often did.
Still, inside you don’t feel anger or rage. Just a strange calm peace.
But no matter if it’s a stranger or friend, all of them share the same thing: in all their lives there’ll come a moment when they’ll fall. No matter if it’s out of wanting to fulfill dreams, or finding that one true love... they’ll fall. And all of them are going to enjoy the feeling, the freedom you feel the first moments.
Until you hit the ground.
All of the sudden there is nothing left, just fear and silence - for a never ending moment. Before being able to process what just had happened, how this wonderful feeling of joy and bliss suddenly turned into something dreadful, you hear the strangest of all sounds, one you will never be able to forget. A cracking, breaking sound. Maybe someone clumsily threw a glass to the floor. Maybe a car crash some miles away?
But then you know. Something inside is telling you it wasn’t the sound of cracking glass, it was the sound of breaking dreams and hopes, pieces of life’s illusions flying everywhere - your broken heart falling to the floor and dying.
Then once more there is nothing. Nothing left to hope for, nothing left to dream of. Just a shattered mirror that once reflected the person you were before you started falling - while you were falling.
Some of these pieces on the floor, are too small to even matter. Though once, a lifetime ago, they meant the world to you and they used to be the biggest parts of who you once were.
Others are so big you don’t even know how to touch them, but you have to. Touch them, pick them up. Put them back together. Why? Because it is the only thing you have left now: the will to try, at least once.
But soon you’ll notice you can’t. The puzzle is incomplete because some parts went missing. Of course you try, you want to try, but before even being able to touch these shards you know if you would they’d cut you into a million pieces. Then, when you finally stop trying and see there is nothing left to do, nothing that can be done, you give up. You sit there in the middle of your broken heart, your broken soul and suddenly you start falling again. This time it’s not the kind of nice fall you have experienced before. It doesn’t feel like floating anymore.
Darkness surrounds you, covers you, deadly calm, stillness, emptiness. What once was something bright and colorful, fades into dark and a meaningless black.
Indeed, falling felt like flying - until I hit the ground.
Tears start forming behind my eyes and I squeeze them shut in order to prevent them from giving me away. Suddenly memories of my childhood come to my mind. I remember how my mom always told me that big girls don’t cry, so at some point I just didn’t anymore. Well, not really. I learned I could cry, just not in front of other people. Back then, whenever I felt tears stinging behind my eyes, I went to my room.
Some nights I welcomed the darkness, the comfort of it. Some others I was lying in bed restlessly, having nightmares about monsters and gargoyles that would swallow me in one piece because they saw me crying; because they saw I was scared. Children’s stuff some may say.
During these nights I sneaked out of my room, pretending to be brave. I tapped down the long dark hallway of my parent’s house, trying to breathe even. trying to be strong. Not a bit scared of the darkness and the eyes lurking out of the dark corners, regarding me as prey, waiting for the right moment to attack. My heart always started beating so fast and loud it sounded like footsteps behind me - following me. But I never dared turning around. And I never started crying. Instead I quickened my pace and ran outside. Once my feet touched the cold pavement and the fresh night air drew me into a welcoming embrace, all the fear was gone.
By the time I was finally able to make my heartbeat to slow down I gazed up, getting caught in the most incredible beauty of the star-spattered sky. Some nights I even tried counting the small light bulbs that made the sky look like a giant village where everyone just got home and turned on the lights. Most of the times I just sat down in the grass, looking up, wondering how many of them still existed. Wondering, how many like me are out there right now, looking up this very moment - eventually wondering the same.
When a star dies it simply stops being - without any further notice. We don’t even waste a thought on it. Until years, centuries later we notice we just stopped seeing it - it just stopped existing. Like so many other things in life, good things, bad things, once you turn around, it’s gone.
But no matter how sad the thought of dying stars made me, I always went back to sleep with this indescribable happiness inside my heart. Because every time I looked up to the sky a distant voice, one only I could hear, told me about that one special person somewhere out there counting stars as I did; and that once the right time came he would beat the unbeatable foe, fight dragons and sea monsters just to be able to be with me.
I know this might sound childish and all cliché. But I believe in it. I mean I USED to believe in it... until I hit the ground of reality, got my heart broken and still, after all this time, don’t know how to fix it. How to make it right again. Giving up on believing in love didn’t really do the trick - yet. At least by now I know love is meant for movies and books where it causes rainbows to suddenly appear and thunderbolts to split the sky and butterflies to do flip-flops and all these things… where the hero moves mountains and crosses oceans to be with his one true love. TV-shows where the writer would do anything for his detective, the one and only woman he loves. One and only my ass…
I let out a loud sigh and look up to the sky. By crossing my arms over my chest I try to make the chill I feel inside vanish. But it’s not cold air that makes me shiver. The nights in L.A. are so much warmer than in Chicago. I even feel hot in the thin black summer dress I’m wearing. One might think after all these years I finally got used to it, still, I find myself doing that crossed arm thing over and over again. But the cold never fully leaves my body.
“Old habits die hard”, I say out loud and manage to make myself smile. There, that’s better than starting to cry.
A laughing crowed from somewhere inside the building makes me turn around and my eyes wander over the ‘oh so familiar’ studio complex. I can’t quite remember how many times I have been standing here, wondering where the road will take me. Yet I have to admit I won’t miss it. Different, yes. I will miss this place and the people that have become family over the past 8 years, but I for sure won’t be missing one person. I’m glad I won’t have to look him in the eye anymore, every single day. I’m more than glad I can finally put that chapter of my life behind me. I finally can move on to chapter two: “How to put a broken heart back together”.
After what happened I really wish I never would have done what I did that night so many years ago. We would probably still be friends. We wouldn’t have to pretended to work ‘oh so well’ together on screen - keep the sparks between Castle and Beckett flying. On the other hand, it wasn’t my fault. He screwed up. He was being a dick, screwing up everything we could have had one morning. That’s why I hate him, right? That’s why I made myself hate him instead of crying over him every single night.
Funny I’m still around… you might think some dragon already should have sneaked out from under my bed and ate me up for shedding tears.
Again a small smile forces it’s way onto my lips. Not a comfortable nice one. It feels bitter. I became bitter.
Time heals all wounds they say, I guess just not this one. It seems time can’t heal a broken heart.
I was foolish to believe we could just run away, lock behind doors made out of dreams. Live the illusion of “happily ever after” fairytales are made out of and just ride into the setting sun on a milky white stallion. But sleeping beauty didn’t get woken by a kiss of her knight. The kiss of reality woke her - made her look around and figure out “happily ever after” really just belongs into fairytales.
Anyhow. I flew, I fell, I crashed onto the ground and now am moving on. After all I’m married now. If that didn’t show him exactly what I think of him then I don’t know. I moved on without him. I should have taken a picture of the look he gave me when he found out. When I told everyone around me how happy I was - making sure it was loud enough so he could hear it. Yes, I wanted to hurt him. Badly. And I did.
When the director called it a day, he came to my trailer, furious. He started yelling at me, as he so often did the past two years. But this time I didn’t start crying. I smiled. A mean smile filled with hate.
“You think you can hurt me with that , Katic?”
“Yup.” I kept the smile in place, satisfied over my final victory.
“I always thought u were smart… but I was wrong.”
“It’s not like you ever thought I was. Or was anything more than one of your cheap, blonde bimbos you can release some tension with, right, Fillion?” I was calm. Calmer than I ever thought I could be around him. Making sure he notices the disgust in my voice when saying his last name.
After a long pause, not filled with mean lines or witty remarks. “I thought we could…” For a millisecond I saw his face change when he stared into my eyes, waiting for me to answer a million questions that all of the sudden seemed to cross his mind. He didn’t wear the impression of the ignorant asshole he has been around me since I left his house that one morning. For a brief second he looked like the man I fell in love with, the second we met in the hallway at the casting. The kind, sweet, funny guy that helped me cut my blouse because I thought I wasn’t sexy enough to actually get the part I so badly wanted.
But within the blink of an eye he changed back to the man I learned to hate. “Sure. Fine. Whatever.” With that he turned his back on me and left.
Yes, he was right. It’s not like I ever loved Kris the way I…
Another sigh leaves my mouth.
The way I loved him. I never desired Kris the way I desired him. And he never made me feel anywhere close to what he made me feel. But Kris was there and he was an easy person to be with. After all I know him for a lifetime by now… satisfy the manly needs and you can live in peace. After all the bullshit I have been through, the press, the pretending on set, the mean accuses whenever Fillion and I were in the same room… the tension, the desire, the hate.
Kris was easy. A guy, easy and simple to handle. I told him what I expected from him and he did exactly as asked - well, how men work around me. Probably too much for him to handle though but he is ok with playing along. Kris has his own life, so do I, but we still got married and that way managed to make all the rumors flying around vanish into thin air. We always fought. That’s what our relationship is made of, however during the first year of marriage, it was worse than ever. But things calmed down. He had his affairs, I had mine. And everything was ok.
I remember one night he told me a real couple does have sex every now and then. All I could do was laugh and tell him we do just not with each other - and that’s perfectly ok with me. I’m not sure how badly I hurt his ego but that was the last time he even tried to touch me. Being with him never satisfied me in any way. So at some point I simply decided “why keep trying if it’s lame anyhow?” And now, another year later, he settled down… no, that’s the wrong word. He jumps around from one big blonde with giant boobs to the next but it tends to last longer. Sometimes I really wonder why he ever agreed on marrying me. He probably knew my reasons and wanted someone to show off with. Eventually he even thought for a moment we could make “us” work.
Me on the other hand… I gave up on looking for someone who actually could put up with what I wanted… with what I needed. The only companion I have in lonely nights is my hand, but we two do get along quite well. No fighting, no drama, no anything. Just comfort. And who else could ever know what I want the moment I want it than me, right?
I didn’t notice I started to wander around the passageways of the Raleigh Studios while I got lost in thoughts and memories. For so many years this place was like a second home to me. I had a second family, friends, fun…
Without noticing I was touching the ‘way too much bling bling’ ring on my hand and when I look up I find myself in front of studio 12.
“And you have to end up here…”
I should just continue my little evening walk, finish the drink I brought along and then go back to the party. It’s a goodbye party… the last cast party we will ever have. So why waste time with getting lost in old and painful memories. I should head back, get drunk, say my goodbyes and ‘let’s stay in contact’ promise we might not be able to stick to thanks to our busy lives -, successfully avoid him and then get a ride home.
I pause for a moment, take a sip out of the glass in my hands and want to walk back. But something keeps me from doing so. I stare at the door with the huge 12 written on it and can’t resist. One last time, one last memory of happy times I could take home with me. And then I would finally be able to move on for real. It probably will be locked anyhow.
I take a deep breath and reach out for the doorknob.
Open. Interesting.
As I enter the set a familiar scent surrounds me. We have spent so many days here. Happy days. We laughed, we fooled around…
I slapped him here - the first time in front of everyone - and then went running to my trailer so no one would see my tears.
This is where it started. This is where it got worse and this is where it will end.
Castle’s loft almost looks like we never left it. We shot the last scene here almost a week ago but still everything looks in place. The cameras, the cranes, the huge table that always was filled with food and drinks for the breaks.
In the first 5 years I have to admit this was my most favorite set. It always made me feel all fuzzy and warm. Before everything went bad. Then I started to hate shooting in here because I knew it always would lead to me having to kiss him, touch him - the way a couple does.
From day one on, I always had the feeling the two characters we put to life were meant to be together. Sparks flying, secret looks… there just wasn’t any other way this could possible have end.
I’m not sure anymore if giving the fans what they wanted the most was the smartest thing to do. Who knows what would have happened if Caskett would just have stayed a fairytale, a fantasy people dream of and write about in fan fictions.
Well, would have, could have, should have…
It all doesn’t matter anymore. It’s past, it happened and no one in the universe can make it come undone.
I probably could have by just not returning for the final season. Keep saying I was too busy shooting other things and couldn’t make room for the last Castle season.
But somewhere in the back of my head I kept thinking maybe with the summer break and the time apart, the tension probably would have left the building. Probably we could just put whatever happened behind and work together - just the way professional people like us do. But boy was I wrong. And the fact I was married to someone he disliked didn’t make it any easier. Maybe I thought him getting engaged would change stuff too.
Two years of fighting, struggling, accusing, being professional and trying to keep an even more professional distance didn’t do anything. It didn’t change a bit.
The heart wants what the heart wants. How badly I wish I could just make that little bastard shut up. No matter how hard I try, it always keeps whispering at nights, telling me about the things it would want the most. And I try to ignore it. I try to make my head answer. But all it does answer most of the times is “but…”
I take a few more steps into the room and my eyes wander over the bookshelves, the interior, the fake walls. Funny how this room, missing one wall, still doesn’t feel like a stage. My hand reaches out to touch one of the walls I want to walk around. I stop.
Why not… one last time.
I take a step back. Suddenly I feel stupid and foolish but I still reach out to touch the door. For the very last time I enter through the main door, somehow awaiting Castle to greet me, or Martha, Alexis. Susan and Molly always were more than just good company - somehow feeling like a mom and a little sister. It was amazing to watch Molly grow, turn into the young adult she now is. She was just a child when we started shooting the series, unsure and scared. I remember her coming up to me a million times asking how to do this and that. Good times.
As I push the door open there is nothing. For a long moment I pause, not sure if I should just stand there or do something, think something, say something. But no one wrote any lines for me today. No one marked a spot where I’m supposed to stand.
I look around and finally my eyes come to rest on the black couch. I can’t remember how many countless times I sat there. During shooting, on breaks, laughing, crying, even singing once when everyone decided to be stupid and created a hilarious scene that didn’t make it into an episode. God knows why. I think I never ever heard such a brilliant cover version of Joe Cocker’s “You are so beautiful”. More and more people kept running into the picture, singing along until the whole crew was in the picture. In the end we were at least 30 singing 50 different voices. It was hilarious.
“Cut!” I remember Rob Bowman saying after he was finally able to stop laughing and got up from his kneeling position in front of the couch. “Wonderful people, but I’m afraid we’ll have to redo that scene…”
I move closer to it and without any further hesitation sit down. I’m starting to feel a little dizzy, lightheaded even. I don’t know if I should be laughing right now as it’s finally over, or crying - because it IS over. An uncomfortable silence finds its way into my heart as I put my arms on my knees and burry my face in my hands. My hair comes down from behind my back and creates a sheltering curtain around my face. No one would be able to look past it. And this way no one is even going to notice that I give into the tears I’m trying to hold back for so long now. I can feel how the hot liquid starts running down my cheeks and I start sobbing. Why fight it? Just let it go, Stana and then go back to being perfect and normal and brave and strong and smart and… god knows what else.
While the tears keep streaming down my face and I’m trying to pull myself together again, I lean back and without wanting them to, my thoughts wander back to a time when things were still ok - a lifetime ago.
Chances are... (Chapter 1, Part 2)
So, my first RPF ever! Til now I stuck to TV-shows, stole the characters and had my own wicked way with them. But this was just way too tempting. Hope you enjoy reading!
Title: Chances are...
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Stana/Nathan
Author's note 1: I couldn't help but wonder what really happened between our most fav TV-couple - to more or less obvious make them "hate eachother". This idea got stuck in my head for over a year by now... and after my best friend encouraged me to just go and give it a try... here we go. If you ask me, something like what's written below FOR SURE happened *evil grin*
Author's note 2: I'll have to seperate Chapter 1 into 2 parts - I simply came up with too many words....
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Author's note 3 (last one, I swear): Special thanks to Cathy, my bestest friend in all the world! Thanks for bearing with me and listening to my random "Stanathan"-babbling. And a special thanks to Lisa - you little fangirl! - who I managed to draw into the Castleverse. Ship Ship hooray!
Oh and one last thing: I neither know nor OWN any character/person mentioned in this story (if I would I for sure would make them do other things lol). I'm sure even Kris is a super nice guy but... hey, every story needs it's villain, right? Please don't hate me lol If you in fact think you like me and my little wicked idea please leave a comment! I'm dying for feedback!
Falling feels like flying.
It’s not like you make the decision to fall. No, life is doing that for you. But once that decision was made, once you start falling, nothing can stop it - and it’s the most wonderful feeling you will ever experience. For the first time ever you feel free, really, truly free. Suddenly there is no pain, no sorrow and no fear. It’s like floating on the wings of happiness and love. All you experience that very moment is the wind tickling your skin, the newly made promises of everlasting joy filling your heart, your lungs, your everything. No misery. No endless or sometimes worthless efforts, no trying to make things work out the way you would want them to, because they just do.
All you see from a distance- what seems looking through a foggy wall- are people that sometimes, way too briefly, came into your life just to vanish again in the blink of an eye. Friends, lovers, even strangers you recall passing on the street on your way to work. Friendly faces that don’t mean to harm you, but so often did.
Still, inside you don’t feel anger or rage. Just a strange calm peace.
But no matter if it’s a stranger or friend, all of them share the same thing: in all their lives there’ll come a moment when they’ll fall. No matter if it’s out of wanting to fulfill dreams, or finding that one true love... they’ll fall. And all of them are going to enjoy the feeling, the freedom you feel the first moments.
Until you hit the ground.
All of the sudden there is nothing left, just fear and silence - for a never ending moment. Before being able to process what just had happened, how this wonderful feeling of joy and bliss suddenly turned into something dreadful, you hear the strangest of all sounds, one you will never be able to forget. A cracking, breaking sound. Maybe someone clumsily threw a glass to the floor. Maybe a car crash some miles away?
But then you know. Something inside is telling you it wasn’t the sound of cracking glass, it was the sound of breaking dreams and hopes, pieces of life’s illusions flying everywhere - your broken heart falling to the floor and dying.
Then once more there is nothing. Nothing left to hope for, nothing left to dream of. Just a shattered mirror that once reflected the person you were before you started falling - while you were falling.
Some of these pieces on the floor, are too small to even matter. Though once, a lifetime ago, they meant the world to you and they used to be the biggest parts of who you once were.
Others are so big you don’t even know how to touch them, but you have to. Touch them, pick them up. Put them back together. Why? Because it is the only thing you have left now: the will to try, at least once.
But soon you’ll notice you can’t. The puzzle is incomplete because some parts went missing. Of course you try, you want to try, but before even being able to touch these shards you know if you would they’d cut you into a million pieces. Then, when you finally stop trying and see there is nothing left to do, nothing that can be done, you give up. You sit there in the middle of your broken heart, your broken soul and suddenly you start falling again. This time it’s not the kind of nice fall you have experienced before. It doesn’t feel like floating anymore.
Darkness surrounds you, covers you, deadly calm, stillness, emptiness. What once was something bright and colorful, fades into dark and a meaningless black.
Indeed, falling felt like flying - until I hit the ground.
Tears start forming behind my eyes and I squeeze them shut in order to prevent them from giving me away. Suddenly memories of my childhood come to my mind. I remember how my mom always told me that big girls don’t cry, so at some point I just didn’t anymore. Well, not really. I learned I could cry, just not in front of other people. Back then, whenever I felt tears stinging behind my eyes, I went to my room.
Some nights I welcomed the darkness, the comfort of it. Some others I was lying in bed restlessly, having nightmares about monsters and gargoyles that would swallow me in one piece because they saw me crying; because they saw I was scared. Children’s stuff some may say.
During these nights I sneaked out of my room, pretending to be brave. I tapped down the long dark hallway of my parent’s house, trying to breathe even. trying to be strong. Not a bit scared of the darkness and the eyes lurking out of the dark corners, regarding me as prey, waiting for the right moment to attack. My heart always started beating so fast and loud it sounded like footsteps behind me - following me. But I never dared turning around. And I never started crying. Instead I quickened my pace and ran outside. Once my feet touched the cold pavement and the fresh night air drew me into a welcoming embrace, all the fear was gone.
By the time I was finally able to make my heartbeat to slow down I gazed up, getting caught in the most incredible beauty of the star-spattered sky. Some nights I even tried counting the small light bulbs that made the sky look like a giant village where everyone just got home and turned on the lights. Most of the times I just sat down in the grass, looking up, wondering how many of them still existed. Wondering, how many like me are out there right now, looking up this very moment - eventually wondering the same.
When a star dies it simply stops being - without any further notice. We don’t even waste a thought on it. Until years, centuries later we notice we just stopped seeing it - it just stopped existing. Like so many other things in life, good things, bad things, once you turn around, it’s gone.
But no matter how sad the thought of dying stars made me, I always went back to sleep with this indescribable happiness inside my heart. Because every time I looked up to the sky a distant voice, one only I could hear, told me about that one special person somewhere out there counting stars as I did; and that once the right time came he would beat the unbeatable foe, fight dragons and sea monsters just to be able to be with me.
I know this might sound childish and all cliché. But I believe in it. I mean I USED to believe in it... until I hit the ground of reality, got my heart broken and still, after all this time, don’t know how to fix it. How to make it right again. Giving up on believing in love didn’t really do the trick - yet. At least by now I know love is meant for movies and books where it causes rainbows to suddenly appear and thunderbolts to split the sky and butterflies to do flip-flops and all these things… where the hero moves mountains and crosses oceans to be with his one true love. TV-shows where the writer would do anything for his detective, the one and only woman he loves. One and only my ass…
I let out a loud sigh and look up to the sky. By crossing my arms over my chest I try to make the chill I feel inside vanish. But it’s not cold air that makes me shiver. The nights in L.A. are so much warmer than in Chicago. I even feel hot in the thin black summer dress I’m wearing. One might think after all these years I finally got used to it, still, I find myself doing that crossed arm thing over and over again. But the cold never fully leaves my body.
“Old habits die hard”, I say out loud and manage to make myself smile. There, that’s better than starting to cry.
A laughing crowed from somewhere inside the building makes me turn around and my eyes wander over the ‘oh so familiar’ studio complex. I can’t quite remember how many times I have been standing here, wondering where the road will take me. Yet I have to admit I won’t miss it. Different, yes. I will miss this place and the people that have become family over the past 8 years, but I for sure won’t be missing one person. I’m glad I won’t have to look him in the eye anymore, every single day. I’m more than glad I can finally put that chapter of my life behind me. I finally can move on to chapter two: “How to put a broken heart back together”.
After what happened I really wish I never would have done what I did that night so many years ago. We would probably still be friends. We wouldn’t have to pretended to work ‘oh so well’ together on screen - keep the sparks between Castle and Beckett flying. On the other hand, it wasn’t my fault. He screwed up. He was being a dick, screwing up everything we could have had one morning. That’s why I hate him, right? That’s why I made myself hate him instead of crying over him every single night.
Funny I’m still around… you might think some dragon already should have sneaked out from under my bed and ate me up for shedding tears.
Again a small smile forces it’s way onto my lips. Not a comfortable nice one. It feels bitter. I became bitter.
Time heals all wounds they say, I guess just not this one. It seems time can’t heal a broken heart.
I was foolish to believe we could just run away, lock behind doors made out of dreams. Live the illusion of “happily ever after” fairytales are made out of and just ride into the setting sun on a milky white stallion. But sleeping beauty didn’t get woken by a kiss of her knight. The kiss of reality woke her - made her look around and figure out “happily ever after” really just belongs into fairytales.
Anyhow. I flew, I fell, I crashed onto the ground and now am moving on. After all I’m married now. If that didn’t show him exactly what I think of him then I don’t know. I moved on without him. I should have taken a picture of the look he gave me when he found out. When I told everyone around me how happy I was - making sure it was loud enough so he could hear it. Yes, I wanted to hurt him. Badly. And I did.
When the director called it a day, he came to my trailer, furious. He started yelling at me, as he so often did the past two years. But this time I didn’t start crying. I smiled. A mean smile filled with hate.
“You think you can hurt me with that , Katic?”
“Yup.” I kept the smile in place, satisfied over my final victory.
“I always thought u were smart… but I was wrong.”
“It’s not like you ever thought I was. Or was anything more than one of your cheap, blonde bimbos you can release some tension with, right, Fillion?” I was calm. Calmer than I ever thought I could be around him. Making sure he notices the disgust in my voice when saying his last name.
After a long pause, not filled with mean lines or witty remarks. “I thought we could…” For a millisecond I saw his face change when he stared into my eyes, waiting for me to answer a million questions that all of the sudden seemed to cross his mind. He didn’t wear the impression of the ignorant asshole he has been around me since I left his house that one morning. For a brief second he looked like the man I fell in love with, the second we met in the hallway at the casting. The kind, sweet, funny guy that helped me cut my blouse because I thought I wasn’t sexy enough to actually get the part I so badly wanted.
But within the blink of an eye he changed back to the man I learned to hate. “Sure. Fine. Whatever.” With that he turned his back on me and left.
Yes, he was right. It’s not like I ever loved Kris the way I…
Another sigh leaves my mouth.
The way I loved him. I never desired Kris the way I desired him. And he never made me feel anywhere close to what he made me feel. But Kris was there and he was an easy person to be with. After all I know him for a lifetime by now… satisfy the manly needs and you can live in peace. After all the bullshit I have been through, the press, the pretending on set, the mean accuses whenever Fillion and I were in the same room… the tension, the desire, the hate.
Kris was easy. A guy, easy and simple to handle. I told him what I expected from him and he did exactly as asked - well, how men work around me. Probably too much for him to handle though but he is ok with playing along. Kris has his own life, so do I, but we still got married and that way managed to make all the rumors flying around vanish into thin air. We always fought. That’s what our relationship is made of, however during the first year of marriage, it was worse than ever. But things calmed down. He had his affairs, I had mine. And everything was ok.
I remember one night he told me a real couple does have sex every now and then. All I could do was laugh and tell him we do just not with each other - and that’s perfectly ok with me. I’m not sure how badly I hurt his ego but that was the last time he even tried to touch me. Being with him never satisfied me in any way. So at some point I simply decided “why keep trying if it’s lame anyhow?” And now, another year later, he settled down… no, that’s the wrong word. He jumps around from one big blonde with giant boobs to the next but it tends to last longer. Sometimes I really wonder why he ever agreed on marrying me. He probably knew my reasons and wanted someone to show off with. Eventually he even thought for a moment we could make “us” work.
Me on the other hand… I gave up on looking for someone who actually could put up with what I wanted… with what I needed. The only companion I have in lonely nights is my hand, but we two do get along quite well. No fighting, no drama, no anything. Just comfort. And who else could ever know what I want the moment I want it than me, right?
I didn’t notice I started to wander around the passageways of the Raleigh Studios while I got lost in thoughts and memories. For so many years this place was like a second home to me. I had a second family, friends, fun…
Without noticing I was touching the ‘way too much bling bling’ ring on my hand and when I look up I find myself in front of studio 12.
“And you have to end up here…”
I should just continue my little evening walk, finish the drink I brought along and then go back to the party. It’s a goodbye party… the last cast party we will ever have. So why waste time with getting lost in old and painful memories. I should head back, get drunk, say my goodbyes and ‘let’s stay in contact’ promise we might not be able to stick to thanks to our busy lives -, successfully avoid him and then get a ride home.
I pause for a moment, take a sip out of the glass in my hands and want to walk back. But something keeps me from doing so. I stare at the door with the huge 12 written on it and can’t resist. One last time, one last memory of happy times I could take home with me. And then I would finally be able to move on for real. It probably will be locked anyhow.
I take a deep breath and reach out for the doorknob.
Open. Interesting.
As I enter the set a familiar scent surrounds me. We have spent so many days here. Happy days. We laughed, we fooled around…
I slapped him here - the first time in front of everyone - and then went running to my trailer so no one would see my tears.
This is where it started. This is where it got worse and this is where it will end.
Castle’s loft almost looks like we never left it. We shot the last scene here almost a week ago but still everything looks in place. The cameras, the cranes, the huge table that always was filled with food and drinks for the breaks.
In the first 5 years I have to admit this was my most favorite set. It always made me feel all fuzzy and warm. Before everything went bad. Then I started to hate shooting in here because I knew it always would lead to me having to kiss him, touch him - the way a couple does.
From day one on, I always had the feeling the two characters we put to life were meant to be together. Sparks flying, secret looks… there just wasn’t any other way this could possible have end.
I’m not sure anymore if giving the fans what they wanted the most was the smartest thing to do. Who knows what would have happened if Caskett would just have stayed a fairytale, a fantasy people dream of and write about in fan fictions.
Well, would have, could have, should have…
It all doesn’t matter anymore. It’s past, it happened and no one in the universe can make it come undone.
I probably could have by just not returning for the final season. Keep saying I was too busy shooting other things and couldn’t make room for the last Castle season.
But somewhere in the back of my head I kept thinking maybe with the summer break and the time apart, the tension probably would have left the building. Probably we could just put whatever happened behind and work together - just the way professional people like us do. But boy was I wrong. And the fact I was married to someone he disliked didn’t make it any easier. Maybe I thought him getting engaged would change stuff too.
Two years of fighting, struggling, accusing, being professional and trying to keep an even more professional distance didn’t do anything. It didn’t change a bit.
The heart wants what the heart wants. How badly I wish I could just make that little bastard shut up. No matter how hard I try, it always keeps whispering at nights, telling me about the things it would want the most. And I try to ignore it. I try to make my head answer. But all it does answer most of the times is “but…”
I take a few more steps into the room and my eyes wander over the bookshelves, the interior, the fake walls. Funny how this room, missing one wall, still doesn’t feel like a stage. My hand reaches out to touch one of the walls I want to walk around. I stop.
Why not… one last time.
I take a step back. Suddenly I feel stupid and foolish but I still reach out to touch the door. For the very last time I enter through the main door, somehow awaiting Castle to greet me, or Martha, Alexis. Susan and Molly always were more than just good company - somehow feeling like a mom and a little sister. It was amazing to watch Molly grow, turn into the young adult she now is. She was just a child when we started shooting the series, unsure and scared. I remember her coming up to me a million times asking how to do this and that. Good times.
As I push the door open there is nothing. For a long moment I pause, not sure if I should just stand there or do something, think something, say something. But no one wrote any lines for me today. No one marked a spot where I’m supposed to stand.
I look around and finally my eyes come to rest on the black couch. I can’t remember how many countless times I sat there. During shooting, on breaks, laughing, crying, even singing once when everyone decided to be stupid and created a hilarious scene that didn’t make it into an episode. God knows why. I think I never ever heard such a brilliant cover version of Joe Cocker’s “You are so beautiful”. More and more people kept running into the picture, singing along until the whole crew was in the picture. In the end we were at least 30 singing 50 different voices. It was hilarious.
“Cut!” I remember Rob Bowman saying after he was finally able to stop laughing and got up from his kneeling position in front of the couch. “Wonderful people, but I’m afraid we’ll have to redo that scene…”
I move closer to it and without any further hesitation sit down. I’m starting to feel a little dizzy, lightheaded even. I don’t know if I should be laughing right now as it’s finally over, or crying - because it IS over. An uncomfortable silence finds its way into my heart as I put my arms on my knees and burry my face in my hands. My hair comes down from behind my back and creates a sheltering curtain around my face. No one would be able to look past it. And this way no one is even going to notice that I give into the tears I’m trying to hold back for so long now. I can feel how the hot liquid starts running down my cheeks and I start sobbing. Why fight it? Just let it go, Stana and then go back to being perfect and normal and brave and strong and smart and… god knows what else.
While the tears keep streaming down my face and I’m trying to pull myself together again, I lean back and without wanting them to, my thoughts wander back to a time when things were still ok - a lifetime ago.
Chances are... (Chapter 1, Part 2)