New York, July 1999 - January 2000
Richard Castle, Watcher
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon PIctures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: There had to be one responsible, mature individual in this family. If only she was older than 5.
New York, July 1999
“Alexis? I’ve got something important I need to ask you.” Richard Rodgers stated.
His five year old daughter looked up from the book she was reading - or trying to read. “Yes, dad?”
“If I and mum split up, who’d you like to stay with?” He shouldn’t ask like this. He shouldn’t put his daughter on the spot like this, shouldn’t force her to choose between her father and her mother. She was just five year old. She would be traumatized. But it was what this divorce would come down to. There wouldn’t be a shared custody. There wouldn’t be weekends with the other parent. Alexis’s parents would be living on different continents. And he had to know what his daugther wanted, before he filed for a divorce in New York.
“I’d rather stay with you, dad.” Alexis said, as serious as a girl her age could be. She wasn’t crying, either, or not yet.
Richard had to fight not to smile or to cry, or to do both together. Instead he hugged his daughter.
“You need me, mum doesn’t.” Alexis added, nodding sagely while she patted him on his back. He winced a bit at that statement - he wasn’t that bad, was he? “Does that mean you’ll be getting a divorce?”
He blinked, and pulled back, looking her into the eyes. “Where did you hear that word?” She was five years old!
“Gran explained it all to me.” Alexis nodded sagely again.
Richard turned his head to the living room. “Mother! What did you do?”
His mother appeared in the door. “Don’t shout, Richard. Someone had to explain things to Alexis, so she could make an informed decision about her future. And you obviously wouldn’t do it right.”
“She’s five years old, mother!” He let go of his daughter and stood up, facing his mother.
“And generally more mature than you.” Martha Rodgers shot back.
“That’s rich, coming from you!” Richard was gathering steam.
“Don’t fight!” Alexis yelled, frowning at them.
Both Martha and Richard Rodgers fell silent. Richard stared at his daughter, standing there, looking both serious and terribly cute, and started to laugh. “To think that the most mature in this family is a five year old child…”
Of course, Martha would have to have the last word. “See, Alexis? Even he admits that you’re the responsible one in the family.”
Alexis nodded again, sighing, while Richard glared at his mother.
*****
London, August 1999
“Is this all?” Mary’s voice was cold enough to drop the temperature by a few degrees, but Richard was almost certain she was secretly relieved. In hindsight, it was a surprise they hadn’t broken up sooner, given the amount of fights they had gotten in. It was mostly a matter of pride, he thought. And that it hadn’t been her idea. Though filing for divorce in New York probably hadn’t helped her temper. Richard didn’t care. She was not suing for custody of Alexis, and that was all that mattered. Well, that, and he still would be rich after the settlement. That was important too. If he ever married again, he’d certainly get a pre-nup though.
“Yes. Everything left belongs to you or the Council.” He handed her the keys to the flat. The apartment itself was part of the settlement, and was going to be hers.
“You’re quitting everything and everyone then.” Mary stared at him. She didn’t call him a coward, but he knew her opinion on his courage, or lack thereof.
“I am not quitting my family,” he shot back. She didn’t flinch. Not anymore. “Alexis needs me. She needs a father she doesn’t have to worry about because he’s hunting monsters at night. Besides, the Council has things well in hand.” The Slayer had prevented an ascension a few months ago, and was still alive after almost three years on the hellmouth. Buffy Summers - and who in their right state of mind would name their daughter ‘Buffy’? - got results, even if she was a bit hard on her Watchers. After Rupert, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had been fired as well. Mary was probably hoping she’d get the position this time. He hoped she’d not - both Rupert and Wyndam-Pryce had stayed in California instead of returning to England, and he’d rather have an ocean and an international border between himself and Mary.
The two glared at each other until Richard nodded at her and left what had been his home for so many years. He wouldn’t dwell on the past though, or not too much. He had a future to look forward to. And he had to figure out how to get a flamethrower to New York.
*****
New York, January 2000
Richard Edgar Castle. The name of a rich, successful author. His name. Officially now.
“Are you playing with your new business cards again?” Martha Rodgers shook her head at him on the way to the kitchen in his new, expensive apartment. She was visiting often since he had moved back to New York.
He dumped the stack of cards in the drawer in his desk and yelled: “No, I am not!”
His mother appeared again, one of the canapes from last night’s party in her hand. “Though I have to hand it to you - for a clean break, a name change works wonders. Now if only Mary wouldn’t know your new address…”
“She’ll hardly show up here, mother. She’s quite happy in Merry Old England.”
“I am not sure Mary will ever be happy.” Martha sat down on the seat in his office, and studied the various melee weapons hanging on the wall. “Did you actually split those things between the two of you?”
“Each of us kept their own weapons.” Those on the wall were harmless props. His actual weapons were hidden in a concealed safe, or secured so no six year old, or older, kid, not even a very bright one, could get to them.
Martha shook her head. “To think that both of you are crazy for medieval reenacting. Or were - she stopped attending conventions with you years ago, didn’t she?”
“She did yes. But she still is quite fond of her weapons.” That should have been a first sign things were not going well, he thought. They had had such fun, dressing up.
“A very weird hobby, even for a British woman.” Martha stated, though she was looking at him with an unreadable expression.
“Her parents have a collection.”
“And so do you, now.”
“I do research for my books, mother. ‘Vampire Hunter’ is a successful series since I take care to get the details right.” At least among the fans of medieval weaponry.
“Such as the sizes of your heroines?” Martha finished her canape. “Just remember to use Gina as a model for the next vampire villainess. She’d never fit the hero role.”
“Mother!”
“I am serious, Richard. Mary turned out to be a bad fit, but Gina’s a gold digger.” Martha shook her head at him. “Which you’d realize if you were thinking with your head.”
“She’s a very competent agent, not a gold digger.” And she was very attractive too, and she admired his talent as a writer.
“Kiddo, all agents are gold diggers. Both want to screw you and take your money.” Martha Rodgers shook her head.
“You make her sound like a whore.” His mother hadn’t liked any of his girlfriends, as far as he could remember. Maybe Anne Bartlet, but that had been in pre-school.
“She manages to do that just fine by herself. A pushy one at that.”
“Was there something else you wanted to talk about, mother? Or did you just come by to raid my fridge and berate my life choices?” Richard asked while starting up his computer.
“Alexis told me you carry a “lucky stake” around, to ‘fend off vampires’. She also lectured me to never invite anyone into my or your apartment, since ‘vampires cannot enter uninvited’. And she always wears a cross.” Martha leaned forward. “I know I raised you better than to believe in superstition.”
“Yes, you did.” He should have had this talk long ago, Richard knew. But there never was a harmless chained up vampire around when he needed one.
“Alexis is sensible and mature for her age, but she believes in that… stuff. She takes it very seriously. And she said Mary taught her the same rules.”
“Yes. Very thoroughly, too. With quizzes even.” He tried to make light of it - and failed.
“Richard, it’s one thing for a successful author of vampire books to carry a stake and a cross around with him. Eccentric, ironic, an ice breaker at a party - though your bank account balance works much better for that now that you’re rich. But for him to indoctrinate his daughter is another thing.”
“Did you ever wonder why I only wear shirts with a collar?” he asked and started to unbutton his dress shirt. To his surprise, Martha remained silent until he pulled the shirt off and the undershirt back. She hissed at the sight of the scar on his neck. “I was bitten by such ‘superstition’, mother. Without Mary I would have died.”
She was eyeing the weapons on the wall with a different expression now. And him as well. He sighed. She’d not believe him without actual proof. Hopefully, that coroner contact of the Council hadn’t heard of him quitting, and had a potential fledgling on ice, ready to be staked. He’d rather not chance visiting a demon bar, if he could find one. With or without his mother.
Author: Starfox5
Rating: FR18
Crossover: “Castle”
Written for: TtH August Fic A Day Challenge
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS characters belong to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. Castle Characters belong to Beacon PIctures and ABC Studio. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
Summary: There had to be one responsible, mature individual in this family. If only she was older than 5.
New York, July 1999
“Alexis? I’ve got something important I need to ask you.” Richard Rodgers stated.
His five year old daughter looked up from the book she was reading - or trying to read. “Yes, dad?”
“If I and mum split up, who’d you like to stay with?” He shouldn’t ask like this. He shouldn’t put his daughter on the spot like this, shouldn’t force her to choose between her father and her mother. She was just five year old. She would be traumatized. But it was what this divorce would come down to. There wouldn’t be a shared custody. There wouldn’t be weekends with the other parent. Alexis’s parents would be living on different continents. And he had to know what his daugther wanted, before he filed for a divorce in New York.
“I’d rather stay with you, dad.” Alexis said, as serious as a girl her age could be. She wasn’t crying, either, or not yet.
Richard had to fight not to smile or to cry, or to do both together. Instead he hugged his daughter.
“You need me, mum doesn’t.” Alexis added, nodding sagely while she patted him on his back. He winced a bit at that statement - he wasn’t that bad, was he? “Does that mean you’ll be getting a divorce?”
He blinked, and pulled back, looking her into the eyes. “Where did you hear that word?” She was five years old!
“Gran explained it all to me.” Alexis nodded sagely again.
Richard turned his head to the living room. “Mother! What did you do?”
His mother appeared in the door. “Don’t shout, Richard. Someone had to explain things to Alexis, so she could make an informed decision about her future. And you obviously wouldn’t do it right.”
“She’s five years old, mother!” He let go of his daughter and stood up, facing his mother.
“And generally more mature than you.” Martha Rodgers shot back.
“That’s rich, coming from you!” Richard was gathering steam.
“Don’t fight!” Alexis yelled, frowning at them.
Both Martha and Richard Rodgers fell silent. Richard stared at his daughter, standing there, looking both serious and terribly cute, and started to laugh. “To think that the most mature in this family is a five year old child…”
Of course, Martha would have to have the last word. “See, Alexis? Even he admits that you’re the responsible one in the family.”
Alexis nodded again, sighing, while Richard glared at his mother.
*****
London, August 1999
“Is this all?” Mary’s voice was cold enough to drop the temperature by a few degrees, but Richard was almost certain she was secretly relieved. In hindsight, it was a surprise they hadn’t broken up sooner, given the amount of fights they had gotten in. It was mostly a matter of pride, he thought. And that it hadn’t been her idea. Though filing for divorce in New York probably hadn’t helped her temper. Richard didn’t care. She was not suing for custody of Alexis, and that was all that mattered. Well, that, and he still would be rich after the settlement. That was important too. If he ever married again, he’d certainly get a pre-nup though.
“Yes. Everything left belongs to you or the Council.” He handed her the keys to the flat. The apartment itself was part of the settlement, and was going to be hers.
“You’re quitting everything and everyone then.” Mary stared at him. She didn’t call him a coward, but he knew her opinion on his courage, or lack thereof.
“I am not quitting my family,” he shot back. She didn’t flinch. Not anymore. “Alexis needs me. She needs a father she doesn’t have to worry about because he’s hunting monsters at night. Besides, the Council has things well in hand.” The Slayer had prevented an ascension a few months ago, and was still alive after almost three years on the hellmouth. Buffy Summers - and who in their right state of mind would name their daughter ‘Buffy’? - got results, even if she was a bit hard on her Watchers. After Rupert, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had been fired as well. Mary was probably hoping she’d get the position this time. He hoped she’d not - both Rupert and Wyndam-Pryce had stayed in California instead of returning to England, and he’d rather have an ocean and an international border between himself and Mary.
The two glared at each other until Richard nodded at her and left what had been his home for so many years. He wouldn’t dwell on the past though, or not too much. He had a future to look forward to. And he had to figure out how to get a flamethrower to New York.
*****
New York, January 2000
Richard Edgar Castle. The name of a rich, successful author. His name. Officially now.
“Are you playing with your new business cards again?” Martha Rodgers shook her head at him on the way to the kitchen in his new, expensive apartment. She was visiting often since he had moved back to New York.
He dumped the stack of cards in the drawer in his desk and yelled: “No, I am not!”
His mother appeared again, one of the canapes from last night’s party in her hand. “Though I have to hand it to you - for a clean break, a name change works wonders. Now if only Mary wouldn’t know your new address…”
“She’ll hardly show up here, mother. She’s quite happy in Merry Old England.”
“I am not sure Mary will ever be happy.” Martha sat down on the seat in his office, and studied the various melee weapons hanging on the wall. “Did you actually split those things between the two of you?”
“Each of us kept their own weapons.” Those on the wall were harmless props. His actual weapons were hidden in a concealed safe, or secured so no six year old, or older, kid, not even a very bright one, could get to them.
Martha shook her head. “To think that both of you are crazy for medieval reenacting. Or were - she stopped attending conventions with you years ago, didn’t she?”
“She did yes. But she still is quite fond of her weapons.” That should have been a first sign things were not going well, he thought. They had had such fun, dressing up.
“A very weird hobby, even for a British woman.” Martha stated, though she was looking at him with an unreadable expression.
“Her parents have a collection.”
“And so do you, now.”
“I do research for my books, mother. ‘Vampire Hunter’ is a successful series since I take care to get the details right.” At least among the fans of medieval weaponry.
“Such as the sizes of your heroines?” Martha finished her canape. “Just remember to use Gina as a model for the next vampire villainess. She’d never fit the hero role.”
“Mother!”
“I am serious, Richard. Mary turned out to be a bad fit, but Gina’s a gold digger.” Martha shook her head at him. “Which you’d realize if you were thinking with your head.”
“She’s a very competent agent, not a gold digger.” And she was very attractive too, and she admired his talent as a writer.
“Kiddo, all agents are gold diggers. Both want to screw you and take your money.” Martha Rodgers shook her head.
“You make her sound like a whore.” His mother hadn’t liked any of his girlfriends, as far as he could remember. Maybe Anne Bartlet, but that had been in pre-school.
“She manages to do that just fine by herself. A pushy one at that.”
“Was there something else you wanted to talk about, mother? Or did you just come by to raid my fridge and berate my life choices?” Richard asked while starting up his computer.
“Alexis told me you carry a “lucky stake” around, to ‘fend off vampires’. She also lectured me to never invite anyone into my or your apartment, since ‘vampires cannot enter uninvited’. And she always wears a cross.” Martha leaned forward. “I know I raised you better than to believe in superstition.”
“Yes, you did.” He should have had this talk long ago, Richard knew. But there never was a harmless chained up vampire around when he needed one.
“Alexis is sensible and mature for her age, but she believes in that… stuff. She takes it very seriously. And she said Mary taught her the same rules.”
“Yes. Very thoroughly, too. With quizzes even.” He tried to make light of it - and failed.
“Richard, it’s one thing for a successful author of vampire books to carry a stake and a cross around with him. Eccentric, ironic, an ice breaker at a party - though your bank account balance works much better for that now that you’re rich. But for him to indoctrinate his daughter is another thing.”
“Did you ever wonder why I only wear shirts with a collar?” he asked and started to unbutton his dress shirt. To his surprise, Martha remained silent until he pulled the shirt off and the undershirt back. She hissed at the sight of the scar on his neck. “I was bitten by such ‘superstition’, mother. Without Mary I would have died.”
She was eyeing the weapons on the wall with a different expression now. And him as well. He sighed. She’d not believe him without actual proof. Hopefully, that coroner contact of the Council hadn’t heard of him quitting, and had a potential fledgling on ice, ready to be staked. He’d rather not chance visiting a demon bar, if he could find one. With or without his mother.