279Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional, uncompensated, or are in the public domain.
"So, why aren't you just standing back and letting Castle do his thing?" Esposito asked, confused by Beckett's position. "We all know Bracken's gonna take off unless someone takes him out before he can run. After what he did to your family, I woulda thought you'd be thinking the same as Castle."
"Have you forgotten who we are?" Beckett replied with a shake of her head. "We're supposed to be the good guys, remember?"
"And pushing Bracken off a cliff wouldn't be a good thing?"
"It's our job to catch them, not to judge them."
"Maybe not for much longer," Ryan interjected, still glum about the changes at the precinct and the possible explosion of his team.
"Yeah," Esposito reacted before Beckett could say anything. "It'd be nice if Castle held off until after we get booted. Be easier to root for him if we're not the ones who have to track him down."
"Espo, you know…," Beckett started to reply.
"Quiet!" Ryan interjected, shocking both his partners. Both looked quickly toward the door to Montgomery's old office, worried that Gates was eavesdropping. When that concern proved unwarranted, Beckett instead turned to the elevator, where she recognized one of the Feds who'd arrived with Castle. He seemed to feel her gaze and turned is head to lock eyes with her before walking confidently towards her.
"Detective Beckett," he said as he approached in a voice she recognized from the phone call that sent her to the Old Haunt. "I was hoping I could have a word?"
Curious at this turn of events, Beckett nodded and led the agent to the conference room. She'd just begun to close the door when a heeled shoe appeared in the jamb to prevent the door's progress.
"Detective?" Interim Captain Victoria Gates asked. "Why are you not at your desk?"
"That would be my fault," the agent interjected evenly. "I need a bit of Detective Beckett's time."
"And you are…?" Gates replied, displeased.
"Someone with authorization to speak to anyone who might help with my ongoing investigation."
Gates stared hard at the interloper, who offered no reaction. After a few tense minutes that seemed only to affect the NYPD staff, Gates finally broke first and huffed. "And I suppose I'm just supposed to accept this?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll be participating in this discussion."
"You have ten seconds to leave," the agent replied as he extracted a cell phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Your position here at the Precinct is exceptionally tenuous. I'd think you'd be invested in making things work, not causing trouble," he explained as he started to dial a number. "But if this is how you'd choose to come to the attention of 1PP, so be it."
He was nearly finished dialing when Gates broke again. "You have fifteen minutes," she demanded as she spun on her heel and exited the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
"I'm sure it's fun for you to play the mysterious government agent," Beckett noted as she took a seat across from the visitor, "But I'm the one who's gonna pay for that little stunt and she already hates me."
"You're being wasted here," the agent replied, unaffected by Beckett's concern. "And it's not clear why you need to stay, now that your reason for joining the NYPD is on its way to resolution."
"Resolution?" Beckett laughed in scorn. She was about to press him on how they could let Bracken go when she remembered that Castle probably wasn't supposed to tell her anything.
The agent wasn't fooled. "You know as well as I do that cases resolve in different ways. How many of your cases actually go to trial?"
Beckett knows better than to get drawn into this debate. "Why are you here? If you think I'm wasted here, is this a recruiting visit?"
"Maybe," the agent replied with a smile. "But I actually wanted you to do some recruiting for us."
"Castle?" Beckett deduced.
The agent replied with a nod and a pleased look on his face. "I was forced to accept his resignation," he admitted, looking irritated. "But I still hope to bring him back in. I could use your help."
"Why me?" she asked. "Sure, we worked well together, but that was years ago. And it's not like we parted on good terms."
"Perhaps not, but you underestimate your importance to him. You should be proud," he paused to offer her another nod, "as I think his remarkable performance throughout his training was a direct result of his time here."
"I'm not the only person he shadowed," she demurred, though inside she's pleasantly surprised by the thought that Castle actually learned something during his time with her.
"No, but you're the one he remembered. I oversaw his training, I know how he thinks. That's actually why I'm here."
"Oh?"
"Rick was a machine all through training. You can probably appreciate this better than anyone," he confided. "After what happened to his mother and daughter, he came to us with a drive for justice that sustained him through our entire program. It didn't matter what we threw at him – 72-hour shifts, drills with multiple opponents, training with our harshest instructors – he didn't stop." He stopped briefly, obviously recalling some of his history with Castle, before he huffed and continued. "Don't get me wrong. He failed. Oh, how he failed," he laughed again. "But he never stopped. Each setback saw him reinvesting with more effort. His classmates slept, socialized, paired off, or dropped out, but not Rick. He'd just pick himself up, staunch the blood flow, and start over. And I'll tell you this – I've never seen anyone learn better than him. Sure, he made an incredible number of mistakes. But never the same one twice. He'd screw up, learn, and advance. In the end, none of his classmates could touch him. Hell, I've got experienced agents who could learn a thing of two from him."
Beckett absorbed the agent's appraisal silently, nearly lost in her own reminiscences. It sounded familiar, this tale of keen focus following personal loss, pushing boundaries to become the kind of person who could bring justice to those who perished. She wondered if Castle's supervisor could trade stories with Mike Royce.
"But therein lies the problem."
Beckett cocked her head. "How so?"
"He's brittle. He was forged too quickly. He's strong, certainly. But he's inflexible. Lateral pressure, like the news of a plea deal, is more likely to make him shatter than anything else."
"He's not a weapon," Beckett spat at the agent.
"That's exactly what he is," he laughed in reply, "and it's what he wants to be."
"Wanted," Beckett corrects, "past-tense. What he really wanted was justice, but that was apparently signed away."
"Maybe, maybe not," the agent replied cryptically. "But I need him to get over this thing with Bracken. I didn't train him to lose him after his pet case."
"So, I'm supposed to bring him back to help you recoup his training costs?"
"You're supposed to bring him back because he's a damn promising agent. And because I'd be happier if he had a partner he trusted."
"I see," Beckett nodded, "a position with a federal agency as a bribe for bringing Castle to heel."
"What you call a bribe, I call a reward," the agent replied with just a hint of a smirk. "Besides, I'd be happy to have you on my team, and it's not like there's much left for you here."
"Perhaps," Beckett allowed, unwilling to let this nameless agent see the accuracy of his remarks about what a dead-end the NYPD was threatening to become for her.
"So, you have your assignment and my clock is ticking," the agent smirked, casting a glance at Gates' office before tapping his watch to reference her 15-minute deadline. "Good luck. I'm hoping you can bring my agent back into the fold."
"If I succeed," she said sardonically as he rose from his seat, "how do I get a hold of you?"
"When you succeed," he smirked as he looked at her over his shoulder and opened the door, "then I'll know."
Beckett's assignment proved even more challenging than she anticipated. Of course, she wasn't convinced that bringing Castle back to whatever agency he left was in his best interest, even if her own situation at the precinct continued to deteriorate. Despite her earlier words to him, the more she thought about it, the more difficult it was to imagine Castle being happy as a Fed. The Castle she remembered would've enjoyed it for a day or two (and a few more, if there were neat gadgets with which to play), but the rules and conformity would've quickly driven him crazy and tempted an explosion of disobedient mischief. No, with Bracken caught and released, it was difficult to imagine anything about being a Fed that would appeal to him.
Still, though, she was anxious to talk with him. And that's where she failed – she had no idea where Castle was staying or how to get in touch with him. She'd thought her best bet was to work through Gina, his ex-wife and current editor. Given the publicity that surrounded Heat Wave's long-delayed release, she figured Castle must be in touch with her. But, if so, he was either ignoring her message or Gina hadn't passed it along to him. Instead, the only reaction she'd gotten from Gina was a pair of tickets for the studio audience of New York Now!, a local talk show on which Castle was making an appearance to support his new book.
Unbelievably, Heat Wave's release had caused her even more trouble at the precinct. Despite the fact that Castle had been foisted on her team years ago, Gates somehow interpreted the release of the book as another sign of Beckett flouting ethical boundaries. She hadn't received a dime, hadn't even won the kudos that 1PP had promised back when Castle forced his way onto her team. And with the early reviews raving about the book, the NYPD was getting the good press it so desperately craved but Beckett herself was on the outside looking in.
Perhaps that's why neither Esposito nor Ryan accompanied her to New York Now! She'd initially been concerned about having only one spare ticket. As it turned out, though, she needn't have worried. Esposito took the time off – 1PP's one concession to the role her team played in the book's existence – but he was using it to interview with an old army buddy at a military contractor. "Orantis Solutions" sounded a bit pretentious to her, but perhaps she was just biased because of their interest in Espo. As for Ryan, he went into the precinct, but she was convinced he was using the time to consider his options should his transfer to Gangs be confirmed.
So, instead, Beckett's extra invitation went to her father. She'd been spending more time with him lately, sheltering together in the aftermath of Bracken's arrest and the strange lack of information that followed. She'd withheld news of the plea deal until last night. That was a discussion that she'd be happy to forget as quickly as possible.
The bustle on stage alerted Beckett and her father to the start of the show. Due to his triumphant return, Castle was the prized guest, reserved for the last slot. So, before she heard her wayward partner, she had to sit through three preliminary segments, first – a breeder who trained her dogs to operate household appliances, an artist who used only green materials (as in the color green, not in the ecologically-friendly sense), and a woman from Tobago who spoke about her successes and challenges in operating a food cart.
At least the last segment was interesting, Beckett thought, as all the guests shifted down on the on-stage couch to leave the spot closest to the host open for Castle.
Finally, the errant author arrived. Beckett took in his appearance and was reminded of some of his flashier looks from earlier in his career. At least they were using a fairly muted and sophisticated approach to marketing Heat Wave. She wasn't sure if that was due to Castle's maturation or Gina's influence, but she was happy either way. She could just imagine scantily-clad stripper-officers or some other prepubescent explosion of hormones that might've resulted earlier in Castle's career.
Instead, Castle seemed to have shifted into an elder statesman type of role. He was dressed to kill in a bespoke pinstripe suit that accentuated his training-enhanced physique. And after admiring his neatly trimmed hair, Beckett nearly slapped herself on the forehead when she realized her folly in trying to track down her old partner. His stylist! That's a stake-out that certainly would've borne fruit. Finally back in town, there was no way Castle wouldn't have gone to her to prep for his appearance on this show.
Her musings, and the prompted applause, were cut short by the end of the commercial break. The hostess, a photogenic, blond pixie of unsurpassed energy and quick wit, turned to the audience to begin the final segment.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began before she waggled her eyebrows and winked, "and ladies again, it's my pleasure to finally welcome one of my favorite authors to our show. Please welcome Richard Castle!"
Castle stood and waved to the crowd, smile wide and eyes twinkling. He was either excited for this appearance or stoned out of his mind, Beckett thought.
"Rick," the hostess started before backing up, "can I call you Rick?"
"Certainly," he nearly purred in response. "Perhaps I can call you Savannah?"
"Oh my," the hostess emitted as she picked up a copy of Castle's book from the small table perched beside her chair and used it to fan herself. "Say it like that and you can call me anything you want!" she offered, drawing laughs from the audience who enjoyed watching the mother of three as a fan-girl. "Actually," she corrected as she turned back to her guest, "call me Annie."
"Annie," he accepted with a nod as he rumbled in an even sexier tone.
"Eep," Savannah said as she played it up for the audience before turning back and turning serious. "So, Rick, your newest book is a sensation, rocketing up the charts. But I think most of your fans are wondering the same thing: why end Storm and start over with a female officer?"
"Well, let me tell you a little story. I actually wrote and finished the book a couple years ago," Castle confided, leaning in towards Savannah but turning to let his gaze roam over the audience. "It was a complete surprise. If you remember back then, I popped up in the news every once in a while, and not for good reasons," he said contritely while throwing a roguish look that won some laughs and looks of indulgence. "I'd just ended the Storm books and was drifting creatively and getting myself into trouble. So, I wasn't exactly surprised when a detective from the NYPD showed up at one of my signings. It turned out she was there to ask for information on a crime that mirrored a scene from one of my earlier books."
"So she didn't arrest you?" Savannah asked with some surprise. "I imagine some people lost money on that bet!"
"Well, she did arrest me later," he admitted sheepishly, drawing more laughs. "The case was just so fascinating that I couldn't help but take the case files home to study them. Turns out the NYPD is kind of touchy about that kind of thing."
"I can't imagine," Savannah replied drily, rolling her eyes in a way Beckett found familiar.
"But we worked it out. I ended up watching the detective and her partners solve that case and I was hooked," he confessed. "These people were amazing – the criminals they have to catch, the constraints under which they work, the stress of trying to find justice for those who've lost loved ones – the whole experience rocked me. It woke me up and had me excited to write in a way I hadn't felt since beginning Storm, if even then. So, I talked to the NYPD and we came to an arrangement that allowed me to watch that team of detectives. I wasn't there long, but I filled notebooks with ideas."
"That's good to hear," Savannah followed up quickly, "does that mean there might be sequels?"
"Could be," Castle teased. "I certainly have the material."
From her spot in the audience, Beckett smiled. There was something very satisfying about the notion of Castle returning to writing. It felt right. And it didn't even have to be stories about Nikki Heat or Derrick Storm; just the thought that he'd return to writing rather than chase vengeance for Martha and Alexis brought comfort. Perhaps, Beckett reflected, Castle had abandoned his plans for Bracken. If he could let go and move on, maybe she could do the same thing.
"And the character," Savannah added. "Tell us, Rick – why a female protagonist?"
"When I called my publisher, she thought I was crazy," Rick confided, again drawing the audience into his tale. "She was not happy about what I'd done to Storm and then I followed it up with this surprise. I think her comment was something like 'Rick, every woman you've known has either left you with a handprint on your cheek or divorce papers in your hand, including me! What makes you think you could possibly write a female protagonist?!'" he chuckled along with the audience. "But it worked for two reasons. First, that detective who arrested me? She was an inspiration. To me, obviously, but to others who met her as well. Trust me, if you met someone like her, you'd write a book, too."
Beckett blushed from her seat in the audience and lowered her head slightly to let her hair fall forward. Her father reached over and squeezed her hand, but was otherwise still. He knew, better than anyone, how much his daughter would not appreciate being in the spotlight now. Beckett, meanwhile, prayed fervently that Castle didn't know she was here and wouldn't see her in the audience. She took a deep breath and looked up again. To her horror, she saw Castle looking right at her. With a ghost of a wink, he spoke again.
"Second," he continued his answer and Beckett sighed in relief that he let her retain her anonymity, "it was a challenge. My editor wasn't quite right – sure, I've made plenty of mistakes with women in my personal life. But the women in my family…," he trailed off slowly, looking awed and tearing up, "they were amazing. I thought if I could write a female character that that they'd like, the book would stand on its own."
"And what did they think of the book?" Savannah asked.
"I like to think they'd have enjoyed it," Castle answered wistfully. "You've been very patient with me, Annie, and I appreciate it. You haven't give me trouble about how long it's taken this book to arrive, even though my first comment was about finishing the story years ago. You know what happened, don't you?"
"Yes, Rick, I do," she affirmed as she reached out and touched his knee. "Do you want to tell our audience about it?"
Castle nodded and took a deep breath before turning to the audience. "I write fiction," he started slowly, getting some nods from the audience. "In a real sense, I live in a fantasy world. I build up stories in my mind, let my imagination run wild. You know, sometimes I don't even realize I'm writing – I just get lost in my own little worlds and then try to offer a peek into them. It's wild, it's liberating, and it's safe."
"I forgot that the world is a harsher place than I'm used to. The violence in my world arrives by ink on paper or illuminated dots on my computer screen. The violence in the actual world arrives by gunshot and knife strike," he presaged, stopping to take a deep breathe. The audience, meanwhile, sat in silent, rapt attention.
"We were supposed to have a dinner to celebrate when I finished my book. It wasn't printed yet, obviously, but I'd sent in the last chapter and then made reservations for my mother, daughter, and myself. I went straight to the restaurant, anxious to get things set up. My daughter was coming from her study group and my mother from her studio."
"Mother arrived first, which should've been my first clue," Castle continued. Several in the audience leaned back of raised their hands to their mouths at the foreshadowing. "But what really haunts me, to this day, is that when the police arrived, I thought they might be there to congratulate me about finishing the book."
When Castle lapsed into silence, Savannah stepped in to prompt him. "But they weren't there for congratulations, were they?"
"No," Castle finally whispered in reply. "My daughter usually took a car service and she'd planned to do so that evening, too. But the car never showed and it was a nice summer night, so she decided to walk. She never arrived. Some tourists heard some commotion and flagged down a parking enforcement officer, who found my baby girl in an alley, where she died after being stabbed several times."
Aside from some stifled sobs, there were no sounds from the studio audience. Most had come hoping to see a light, flirty interview with a cute author. The cognitive dissonance from the tale of tragedy left them silent and heartsick.
"Mother died shortly after that. The doctors ran all kinds of tests and offered diagnosis after diagnosis, but I know she died of a broken heart. I almost did the same."
Savannah looked to her audience and realized the great need for some catharsis. "Did they find your daughter's killer?"
Beckett stiffened in her chair. Was this Castle's plan, she wondered. To announce on a syndicated show that Bracken was responsible for his daughter's murder?
"Her case is still open," Castle answered brokenly. To her surprise, Beckett found herself disappointed by his answer. "The police initially ruled it a random event. But then they discovered that someone claiming to be me called to cancel the car that was supposed to pick up my daughter. That lead never panned out, nor did any others. After two months, it moved to the cold case file, where it still remains."
"I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry, Rick," Savannah offered, as many in the audience nodded along.
"Thank you," he replied with a small, grateful smile. "I won't lie – it's been difficult. They were everything to me. It took me a long time to even function, much less go forward. I'm still not really sure I have, actually. But, about a year ago, I thought that maybe I could publish the book as a tribute to them. Alexis always loved reading my books," he said wistfully before adopting an exaggerated, put-upon look, "and Mother always loved reading my harshest reviews." The audience laughed along with his chuckle, glad to have an outlet for their emotion. "I visited their resting place just yesterday, actually, and left flowers and bad reviews. I'm sure the caretakers are curious."
"Well," Savannah said briskly to push the discussion to cheerier topics, "if the book was meant as a tribute, I'm sure they're smiling proudly up in heaven. If early returns are any indication, it looks like Nikki Heat will be more popular than Derrick Storm!"
"Perhaps," Castle answered with uncharacteristic humility. "If I can do her justice."
"Of that we have no doubt, right?" she asked the audience, who confirmed with applause. "See, Rick? Nothing to worry about. Now, why don't we let some members of the audience ask some questions?"
"Certainly," he agreed amiably. When Savannah passed the selection duties to him, Castle called on an older woman in the middle of the audience, a row behind Beckett.
"Mister Castle, I just wanted to start by recognizing your loss," the matron said somberly, waiting a moment before forging ahead. "Will you be writing your mom or daughter into your stories?"
"Thank you," Castle answered. "I don't think Alexis or Mother will appear. If I tried to have characters inspired by them, I think they'd take over, then I'd start wrapping the story around them. Maybe someday far in the future I'll think about a biography, but I think I need a little more distance, peace, and clarity before I can approach a project of that importance."
The audience seemed to like that answer, which showed some reverence and a glint of hope. While they smiled at his response, Castle called on another audience member, this time a young man probably only a few years older than Alexis would've been.
"Now that you've finally written a woman with a brain in her head," the questioner started, "are you going to recognize the breadth of sexual orientations available to her, or is she stuck with Rook or some other dude?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Castle laughed, just as Savannah was going to intercede. "I can offer two answers, neither of which you'll like, I'm afraid. First, I try to stay away from spoilers. They might not be the central aspect of the story, but relationships among the characters are still something I won't address in advance. And no, that's totally not a cheat because I haven't worked it out yet," he finished with another laugh. "Second, Nikki is already fully defined in my mind. Well, as much as anyone can be fully defined. That includes her interests, her goals, and her dreams. It's one of the reasons it was so fun to write her – she already exists, I just need to represent her well. So, there's no point in lobbying me to have her look or be a certain way – she already is. But," he added quickly, perking up after growing introspective, "I don't want to fully dodge your question. I'm trying to grow as a writer and that includes addressing different perspectives and preferences. Read some of my future works and I'll try not to disappoint you."
"Well said, Rick," Savannah praised, glad that he addressed the question without inflaming passions. To avoid another such risk, she chose the next guest to ask a question after making a guess about her interest.
"Mister Castle," the buxom blond purred, "Rick," she amended breathily, "are you seeing anyone right now?"
On cue, Castle blushed. "How about we talk about spoilers for my next book?" he tried to deflect, earning more laughter from the audience, including the young man who'd asked the previous question. "Well, you see, the thing is, Miss…" he trailed off to let her offer her name.
"Tiffani."
"Of course," Beckett muttered, earning a stifled laugh from her father.
"Well, the thing is, Tiffani," Castle resumed, "I finally figured out that commenting on my private life might've been one of the reasons it wasn't actually private. Or successful," he added with an eye roll, earning another studio chuckle. "So, I'm afraid I'm just going to say that I've been focusing on my work and now that Heat Wave is out, I expect to be traveling."
"Sounds lonely," Tiffani pleaded her case. "If you ever want to see someone…"
Hands shot up throughout the studio audience, prompting laughter, smirks, and a disgruntled look from a Tiffani who was incensed that others tried to free ride on her suggestion.
"Yes, yes, Rick's very popular," Savannah chirped, slightly regretting her pick. "How about we go to the phones for the next question? Caller, you're on the air," she prompted.
"Mister Castle," the caller started in a loud, clear voice. "Isn't it true you previously spent some time at the CIA while researching a character for one of your books?"
"If I had," Castles answered with a coy smile, "I'm sure I'd be careful not to comment. When I mentioned upcoming travel, that wasn't meant to include Guantanamo Bay."
"Understood, sir," the unflappable questioner continued. "I was going to ask about cryptology and the secret message you've embedded in Heat Wave."
"Oh?" Savannah piped in. "What secret message?"
"If you take the first letter of the first word on page five, the second letter of the second word on page ten, and keep going in five-page increments," the questioner explained, "the book makes a bold statement, isn't that right Mister Castle? My daughter was killed by Senator William Bracken. Any comment, sir?"
"Random nonsense," Castle dismissed immediately, though the rapt audience didn't appear to be swayed by his denial if their shocked and scandalized looks were any indication. "I suspect I could construct all sorts of statements by hunting for random patterns. Sometimes, my friend, a cigar is just a cigar. Paul is not dead."
"Do you realize the statistical chance of this being a random event is smaller than the chance of winning the Powerball jackpot?" the questioner persisted. "I don't believe you and I don't think anyone else there does, either."
"Something's not right," Beckett mumbled to her father.
"This guy's pressing too hard," her father agreed. "And Rick isn't really trying to shut him down."
"Exactly. It makes me wonder what…"
"Look," Castle answered his interrogator again, sounding firm. "Like anyone else, I have goals and dreams and I hope that our senators and other elected leaders help make them possible. I'm worried about what happens when our leaders are gone. In fact, that's why I've set up my development fund."
"Your what?" Savannah asked, surprised by this turn in the conversation.
"The Alexis Castle Memorial Development Fund," Castle explained, "which you can find right now with any internet search engine. My daughter was a dreamer. She saw injustices that she planned to fight. Was she a little naïve? Perhaps, though she would've called it 'idealistic.' But she had a knack for pointing at dire problems and pushing for a solution. So, in her memory, I've set aside ten million dollars for the betterment of our society. Senator Bracken defends us now, but what happens when he's gone? We're going to need new hope, new options and new investments when that happens. That's why the full ten million dollars will be disbursed to the first person to provide proof that William Bracken is dead."
A/N: I'm in trouble! I've been trying to add a scene to the last chapter and it just hasn't been behaving. But now I'm out of time! So, the next (and last) chapter will post Sunday if I can beat it into shape, otherwise Monday.