Muldy

[ probably an unpopular opinion ]

muldy — Tue, 25 Mar 2014 12:19:04 GMT

Before I say the rest of what I'm about to say, I just wanted to share that OMG I AM SO SAD THAT WILL IS DEAD.

But here's the thing. What they've done is brilliant from a writing stand point.

Why?

Well Josh Charles wanted to leave. The rules of USA network television say that this means that his storylines should have been wrapped up, he should have saved Peter, made up with Alicia, had a happy couple of weeks with her, then died in her arms with a confession of love.

This of course would be preceded by six weeks of 'ONLY SIX WEEKS UNTIL ONE OF THE CHARACTERS WE LOVE BITES THE DUST' and 'WHO WILL IT BE?' promotions run by the network on every ad break.

These aren't things we think about, but they're the signs (well the advertising is a very obvious one).

So what makes Will's death brilliant?

It's real.

It's not playing by the rules of television, it's playing by the rules of reality. Where we are led to believe it's going is that Will is going to betray Peter, Alicia will pick a fight with him, they'll have sex, it'll all be fine for a while and then there will be more drama. Had we known that Josh Charles was going to leave perhaps we would have thought that he was so heartbroken by Alicia hurting him again that he had to fly off to live in Tahiti for the remaining seasons.

This was the direction the show was heading, right?

Wrong.

Bullet to the neck with no warning and Will's dead on a hospital gurney. No slow dying in someone's arms, no Alicia running to hospital in time for Will to admit he loved her. No. None of this.

Which is unbelievably frustrating as a fan, but so so so excellent as a writer.

Last night this episode upset me, and not in the way that TV character deaths usually upset me, but in the way that I felt empty and unsure what to do for the rest of the evening. It wasn't anything like receiving the phone call myself, but I felt that same dull shock of hearing about the death of someone I wasn't particularly close to.

I think what they've done is brave and realistic. It will either make for fantastic television for the rest of the season, or turn out to be the worst decision they've ever made.

fic [1/1]

muldy — Mon, 13 May 2013 13:23:50 GMT

Title: Used
Pairing: Deacon/Rayna
Words: 1294
Spoilers: Missing scene from 1x19

Summary: ‘Why was he always stupid enough to fall for it? Over and over. And at the end of the day he felt like he was always the one lying on the ground, battered and bruised and struggling to grip onto the will to ever get up again.'

He stormed out of the building, not entirely sure where he was going. For a few moments he paused on the steps and looked out at the street, not sure where to go.

He felt stupid, used, again. Why was he always stupid enough to fall for it? Over and over. And at the end of the day he felt like he was always the one lying on the ground, battered and bruised and struggling to grip onto the will to ever get up again.

‘Evening, Deacon.’

He didn’t even register who was talking to him as they walked past.

It didn’t matter where he went.

Anywhere.

As long as it was away from Rayna and Juliette and everyone else he knew.

He turned left, back towards the river and his car. He found himself walking quickly, trying to block out all the emotions that were quickly rising within him. Why didn’t she understand? She was his world, his everything, and yet she kept throwing blow after blow in his direction and not understand that there was only so much he could take.

Or maybe it was him who had to realise that.

Maybe he should have jumped on a plane and gone elsewhere thirteen years ago. He could have gone to New York, Chicago, Los Angeles. Maybe he should have gone to Seattle and followed a career in grunge. Music was music right?

Although his heart was probably a little too broken for any other form of music.

He barely even registered his walk back to the car, his mind spinning with all the things he should have done with his life instead of following around Rayna. He could have had a solo career, he could have been the one with his name up in the lights.

Instead he spent his evenings at the Bluebird, singing about her.

And the worst part was knowing that when she stood up on stage and sang, her songs were about him. Every. Single. One.

That was what hurt the most. Knowing that she loved him, but that she had chosen Teddy anyway, because Teddy seemed like a good idea. Who wouldn’t choose the rich investment banker over the broken hearted guitar-playing addict?

He was damaged goods, in every way. Partially because of her, but mostly because of himself and his inability to control addiction. Coleman was right, he was addicted to Rayna in the same way he had been addicted to alcohol and drugs.

No matter how many times she hurt him, he was always there, waiting.

He reached his car, yanking open the door, taking a seat.

‘Damnit.’

He slammed his hand into the steering wheel, the loud sound of the horn cutting through the quiet Nashville night, blocking out his thoughts for a few moments and attracting the attention of a few people nearby. He didn’t care.

He was broken.

Deep down inside he knew she loved him. He knew it. So why would she do this do him? Again? Why would she do this again?

It had to be something big, something she actually couldn’t tell him.

He sat still in the driver’s seat, his hand on the steering wheel, staring out at the river.

After a few moments he got back out of the car, wandering towards the water, less determined, slower.

She loved him.

The thought was going around and around in his head, as though it was the first time he had actually let the happenings of the last 24 hours sink in.

It was her who had showed up at his door.

It was her who had turned back and met him halfway for the kiss.

It was her.

She had done this.

Whatever she was hiding, it probably wasn’t something she wanted to be hiding.

He slowly felt the anger fading away, replaced with the sad realisation that it was entirely possible he had just screwed everything up again. Overreacting about something that could have turned out to be a complete non-issue.

This was what he wanted. He loved her, he had loved her for well over half his life, and he wasn’t willing to let that go because there was something she couldn’t tell him, something he was sure she would tell him when she was ready.

The last time he had suspected she was hiding something major from him and overreacted, it had been her divorce; something that had nothing to do with him.

He had to remember that there were things in her life that he wasn’t a part of, and as much as he hated it, it was the truth. Sometimes when she hid things from him it wasn’t because of him, it was because of her.

He hated it, he hated not knowing what was wrong, because it meant he couldn’t help her, he couldn’t hold her and tell her it would be okay, because he wasn’t going to tell her that if he didn’t know that it would be.

In the end it didn’t matter.

She loved him, and he loved her.

They had always loved each other, and everything in the middle was just some terrible mess that, at the end of their lives, they would look back on and be glad it hadn’t lasted forever.

That was how he had always imagined his life: the two of them, eighty years old, sitting on the swing on his porch, singing and playing guitar together. There would be grandkids running around, whether they were directly related to him or not was beside the point.

He took a seat at the river’s edge and looked at the bridge.

Everything in the city reminded him of Rayna, and he wanted that again. He wanted to make new memories. Not memories of standing on a bridge talking about what could have – what should have – been. No, he had enough of those.

He wanted to remember standing on the bridge and kissing her, to sit in the park and watch her kids run around. He wanted to play guitar with them, sing with them, take them to concerts.

He knew Teddy would have something to say about that, but he was willing to fight Teddy for the opportunity to create some of those memories. He didn’t want to steal his kids, but he wanted to spend more time with them.

In his head he had half-convinced himself that Maddie was his daughter. Sometimes he felt that connection to her and he had to shake it off. Rayna would have told him something like that. She would have.

He felt tears pricking at the back of his eyes as he tried to push away the fantasy that Maddie was in fact his daughter. He couldn’t let himself think like that, because it was a fantasy, just that. He had done the math, it was possible, and the whole time he had been in rehab it was what he told himself to get him through it.

But he had never asked.

And she had never said anything.

He knew in all likelihood it was false hope, and something he only very rarely let himself consider, because he wasn’t sure how he would deal with that information.

He wasn’t sure he could deal with a thirteen year old lie.

Not from the woman he loved.

Slowly he found himself standing up and wandering back towards where he knew everyone would be leaving. He had to talk to her. Alone.

He had to make sure she knew, that she understood he didn’t care, that he had given up absolutely everything for her and if she didn’t want to tell him whatever it was, she didn’t have to. He wasn’t going to be that guy.

He had to win her back.

fic [1/1]

muldy — Wed, 08 May 2013 15:31:05 GMT

Title: Alone
Pairing: Deacon/Rayna
Words: 5958
Spoilers: None

Summary: ‘He could see her heart breaking, but he didn’t care. He wanted it to break, he wanted her to feel what he was feeling, because there was no way she could feel that emotion and choose Teddy over him. The absolute raw desperation of love had taken over.'

The girl sat at the opposite end of the café, her long red hair hiding most of her face. She scribbled intensely in a notebook and he couldn’t help but watch her.

‘Get back to work, Claybourne.’

The tea towel hit him in the face before he had a chance to even register his manager’s words.

‘And don’t even bother, that’s Lamar Wyatt’s daughter,’ Mark said quietly. ‘If you really want to talk to her, you can go over and make her buy another coffee. She’s been sitting there for hours without buying anything, it’s bad for business.’

He smiled to himself. Perfect.

He slowly walked towards her and leaned over, trying his hardest to see what she was writing.

‘Do you sing, or just enjoy writing songs?’

He had expected her to jump, but she didn’t, instead slowly turning her head to look at him.

‘Do you make a habit of sneaking up on girls while they’re writing and reading over their shoulders?’

‘Just the pretty ones.’

It was an instinctual response, and straight away he was kicking himself. She wasn’t the type of girl who would respond well to pick up lines – hell she just wasn’t the kind of girl who he had any chance with anyway.

‘Wow. Really? You haven’t even offered to buy me a drink yet,’ she smiled.

Her smile hit the right note somewhere inside and he felt something clench in his chest. No way could he possibly fall for a girl this quickly, it was ridiculous, but he was falling faster with every second he was standing in front of her.

‘Well, if a drink is what you want, that’s easily arranged,’ he smiled. ‘What do you want?’

‘Just a cola.’

She smiled again.

It was love. Definitely love. He loved this girl.

‘One cola coming your way.’

He turned back to the bar, slipping a dollar note out of his pocket to place in the till and pretend it was hers. He would never hear the end of it if Mark caught him handing out free drinks to pretty girls.

*

‘You neglected to mention you were such a good singer.’

His hand slipped on the guitar as he looked up to find her standing in the doorway, arms folded, her notebook held in one of her hands.

‘We’re not open yet,’ he responded, smiling.

‘I’m just here to enjoy the music,’ she responded, taking a seat opposite him. ‘So, play.’

He was embarrassed. Deacon Claybourne was embarrassed that someone was asking him to play guitar.

‘What do you like?’

‘I like music.’

He played a few notes, then stopped and shook his head, focusing on the ground.

‘Wow, it’s really hard to play when you’re trying to impress someone.’

‘Don’t worry, you’ve already impressed me,’ she responded.

He looked up at her and in that moment their eyes met and the electricity between them sparked. He opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. He didn’t have anything decent to say to her anyway.

Strumming the guitar he began singing.

She watched his hands on the guitar and he felt the smile spreading from his face to the rest of his body involuntarily. After the first verse she pulled up a stool and sat down next to him.

To his surprise she joined in.

He stopped playing.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean – ‘ she stood up.

‘No, I…you just took me by surprise,’ he smiled, hating himself for a moment for stopping. ‘You’re good.’

‘You sound surprised. You may be good at guitar, but you could work on your complimenting skills.’

He looked up at her. ‘It makes me feel unworthy of singing with you.’

She laughed. ‘Much better. And you have nothing to worry about.’

They sat around for the next hour playing songs and singing and talking, until Deacon had to open the café up for the shift.

*

‘Bluebird?’

‘Yeah, tonight.’

‘You want me to play at the Bluebird…tonight?’

She grinned at him. ‘What, too much pressure?’

He leaned over the counter. Her smile, combined with the way her hair curled just the right way over her shoulders, and the fact that she was standing in front of him holding a guitar, meant that telling her no was going to be extremely hard.

‘I have work,’ he responded.

‘I already cleared it with Mark,’ she responded.

He glanced at his manager, who was doing a good job of eavesdropping and pretending he hadn’t heard a thing.

‘Okay.’

The Bluebird was the place you played if you were one of the big guns. It wasn’t where he played, he played in the corner of the cafe he worked in, after hours or before hours, very rarely during, and never with Rayna James.

‘How many people are we playing with?’

‘Just us.’

She placed the guitar in her hand on the counter in front of him.

‘Oh, and this is for you. Think of it as an early birthday present or something.’

*

He almost didn’t go. It was only looking back now that he realised how different his life would have been had he not walked through that door. The whole night was a blur, he wandered into the empty Bluebird, the first time he had ever been there, and found Rayna sitting on a stool, warming up.

‘How did you set this up?’

‘I know a guy,’ she replied. ‘One of the bartenders is a good friend of mine.’

That’s the only question he asked before they were interrupted by the sound guy and suddenly it was 6PM and people were walking in.

He sat back and watched as she stood up in front of the crowd, some of them regulars, some of them singers themselves, and with complete confidence told them all it was their first time playing together in front of a crowd. She introduced him, but he barely registered it, all he could think was how comfortable he felt, sitting up on that stage next to her, while she dealt with the crowd with complete and utter ease.

It felt right.

She took a seat next to him, pulling her stool close so that their knees were touching ever so slightly.

He never looked back.

*

He woke up to loud knocking a week later, lying on the floor, an empty bottle of bourbon lying next to him. He had to stop the weeknight drinking.

‘Coming!’ he shouted.

He hadn’t expected Rayna. Then again, he hadn’t really been expecting anyone. Her first reaction was to laugh.

‘It’s Tuesday,’ she smiled. ‘How much did you drink last night?’

He indicated to the empty bottle lying visibly behind him. ‘Just a little.’

‘Can I come in? There’s no half-naked girls around I should look out for?’

He shook his head and she walked past him into the living room. He hadn’t even thought about bringing home any girls other than her since they had met three months earlier. She was the only girl he thought about, but she was so far out of his league it was ridiculous.

‘Watty White called. He wants us to play a proper gig. A paid one!’

She couldn’t contain her glee at all, jumping on him and hugging him.

‘Where? When? Does he know we’ve only played together once…’ he was confused, but smiling anyway because her excitement was contagious.

‘At a place downtown, he said if we can pull this off there’s the possibility of a recording contract and touring – ‘

And then she kissed him. He was never going to forget that moment, the moment he had thought about for months, every day, and here it was actually happening, pretty much as he had imagined it.

He kind of wished he’d had time to brush his teeth though.

She jumped back after a moment.

‘I’m sorry, that was completely inappropriate,’ she whispered, looking at the ground.

He reached forward and lifted her chin up, leaning in and kissing her again.

Then it suddenly hit him what she had come here to tell him. He pulled back and placed his hands on her shoulders.

‘Rayna, did you just say we’re playing a paid gig?’

She grinned.

‘Yes, we are!’

*

He pulled up on the bridge, confused by the message that had been left on his machine, asking if he could meet her there. He jumped over the wall and walked over to where she was sitting on the table.

It was dark, but he could see that her shoulders were hunched and she had clearly been crying.

‘Ray?’

She glanced over at him and he could see the tears clearly in her eyes.

He didn’t ask, taking a seat next to her and pulling her towards him.

‘Daddy kicked me out of the house,’ she whispered after a few moments of silence. ‘I have nowhere to go.’

‘I have a spare room,’ he whispered.

They stayed there for another hour before driving back to his place.

*

She cracked the champagne bottle over the sink, luckily, since it went everywhere. Their first day of recording had gone well, more than well, everyone had loved it and there was already talk of touring Tennessee in all the smaller venues.

‘To us!’ she cheered.

He held out the glasses to her and she poured the champagne slowly. It was the good stuff, clearly bought for her by her father. He knew she hated accepting gifts from her family, but he was glad that on this occasion she had decided to.

‘To you,’ he responded, not expecting the words to come out so quietly.

She looked up at him, surprised by his tone of voice.

He felt it then, the thing he had been trying to push away for the last few weeks. He didn’t want to fall for her, not now, now was a really bad time for this to start. What if it didn’t work?

She watched him as his mind ticked over and he shook his head, pushing away all thoughts of kissing her, of holding her and spending every moment of every day with her, although if he was honest with himself, that last part they pretty much did anyway.

‘Us,’ she repeated, forcefully.

He smiled.

He liked the sound of that.

*

It was the first night they didn’t pick up their guitars at all in the two months they had been living together. They were both exhausted and it had been her idea just to watch a movie and go to bed early.

If he was honest, he couldn’t have told anyone about a single scene that happened in the film, as her head had been resting against his shoulder for the majority of it, and the physical closeness was driving him mad.

He glanced down at her hand, lying closely next to his leg on the couch.

It was halfway through the film that he got up the courage to take her hand.

She wrapped her fingers around his and moved closer.

‘Ray?’

A quiet mumble was the only response he got, and he wondered how close to falling asleep she was.

‘I think I’m falling in love with you,’ he whispered.

For a moment when he received nothing in return he panicked, hoping he hadn’t taken things too far. Then he glanced down at her to see her eyes were shut and her body was relaxed against his.

She was asleep.

*

She found him sitting alone in his room the day after his friend’s death. For a few moments she didn’t seem to know what to say, hovering quietly in the doorway. He looked up at her and felt the tears running down his face.

Somehow he didn’t mind her seeing him like this.

‘It’s my fault.’

She shook her head and was by his side in a flash.

‘No, Deacon, it wasn’t,’ she reached up and wiped his tears away.

For a few moments her fingers lingered lightly on his cheeks, while her other hand lightly trailed down his arm, comforting him.

‘I’m a bad person,’ he continued. ‘I should have stopped him, not encouraged him.’

It was the first time she faltered, saying nothing. Instead she wrapped her arms around him and held him while he cried.

He let her.

*

‘I love you.’

They were backstage, about to get up and perform as a supporting act for someone they had both grown up adoring as a performer. He had been thinking it since the moment he met her, but some part of him had just accepted that maybe it wasn’t something she was ever going to say to him.

‘Well, there you go, I said it and you’re just standing there gawking at me like a fool – ‘

He loved that she started rambling when she was nervous.

He walked towards her, smiling.

‘Rayna,’ he cut her off before she talked herself out of going on stage with him.

‘Yes, Deacon?’

‘I love you too,’ he whispered, leaning in and kissing her lightly on the lips. ‘But you would have to be an idiot if you didn't already know that.’

As he pulled back and grabbed his guitar, the involuntary smile on her face told him everything he needed to know.

*

Meeting the family hadn’t gone too well. He held a grudge against her father for kicking her out years earlier, although part of him wanted to thank the man for fast-tracking their relationship.

Everything after hello had been downhill.

‘Daddy’s right…you should drink less,’ Rayna whispered quietly in the car on the way home.

He stared out the window and ignored her comment, allowing her to drive the rest of the way home in silence.

It was the first time since they had met that he hadn’t wanted to discuss something with her.

*

‘You’re using your alcoholism as an escape.’

He rolled his eyes inwardly as the psychiatrist tried to pinpoint his issues.

‘I drink because life sucks,’ he snapped back.

‘You know you’re only making things worse?’

He stood up and turned to the shrink. ‘I don’t need this bullshit.’

She was waiting for him out the front.

He said nothing.

She didn’t ask.

*

Drugs came easier with the fame. First it was just a joint here and there, she joined him in smoking some of those.

But then there was the coke and the speed and a whole cocktail of things. Free, easy and fast.

The door of his change room swung open halfway through a line of coke.

He swung around to meet her eye.

It was the first time he saw the tears well up in her eyes since her father had kicked her out of home.

It was also the first time he realised the affect it was having on her.

*

‘This isn’t working.’

He was drunk and high, and he couldn’t register what she was saying. He knew it was bad, but he didn’t quite understand.

‘The song?’

There was a long pause, one that told him that she was angry. Angry, sad, helpless.

And suddenly he understood.

‘Us?’

She nodded silently.

‘I love you,’ was his only response.

‘You’re drunk,’ was hers.

The anxious panicked feeling took over, fighting through is intoxicated state to consume his mind.

‘I’m sorry, Ray, I can be sober, I can…’

‘I can’t do this, I can’t keep coming to pick you up from random bars later at night,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t stand lying awake not knowing where you are, hoping that you’re still alive, night after night. I don’t want to open the door to your change room and find you unconscious and one day have you not be alive.’

There was a pause as she collected her thoughts.

‘Deacon, I love you too much to watch you destroy yourself. I think we need to end things.’

*

He drank a bottle of bourbon to himself the next night. Then some beers. And a few shots.

Out of habit, the bartender called Rayna to pick him up.

‘No,’ he tried to communicate. ‘Not her.’

He wasn’t sure the words even made it out of his mouth and suddenly she was there, carrying him to her car.

He sat with his head against the window, watching the lights passing by as though they were in slow motion.

‘Marry me,’ he whispered.

‘Deacon – ‘

‘I’m serious, Rayna…I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Tell me what I have to do to make you do that.’

He wasn’t sure exactly what she said, but she pulled over the car and sat in silence. He knew she was crying, but he felt like it wasn’t his place to comfort her.

He fought the urge the hug her for as long as he could, then reached over and took her hand, squeezing it lightly.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

She squeezed it back.

*

He didn’t see her for two weeks, until he had to show up at a meeting about their upcoming tour. He dreaded the meeting for almost the entire two weeks.

He hated that he had proposed to her drunk, the night after she broke up with him.

A part of him knew that was the end.

He had planned proposing to her for almost as long as he had known her, and the only time he had racked up the courage to actually do so had come across as some desperate last ditch attempt to win her love back.

He spent most of the meeting avoiding her gaze, staring at the table in front of him and barely listening to the conversation happening around him.

‘What do you think, Deacon?’ her voice suddenly rang clearly through the clatter in his mind.

He looked up at her. ‘I’m in if you want me there.’

He felt the words leaving his mouth before he could control them.

‘Then we’re in,’ she smiled at the executives, shook their hands and left the room.

He waited until the room was empty before making his way out.

‘Are you sober?’

He jumped, not expecting her to still be there.

‘Yes.’

The silence that hung between them as he met her gaze was the thickest he had ever felt, as though someone was strangling him as he stood in place.

‘Look, if you don’t want me on the tour – ‘

‘I’m seeing someone else.’

It was as though a giant pit to hell opened up right then and there under his feet, swallowing everything he had ever valued in life.

‘Already?’

‘My father set us up, I’ve known him for years, he’s a good guy,’ she responded. ‘That’s all. I just wanted you to know.’

She turned and left him standing alone in the empty hallway.

Inside he was screaming.

In reality he had never been so quiet in his life.

*

‘It’s a woman, isn’t it?’

Since checking himself into rehab, he had tried to avoid actually making friends with anyone. He didn’t want to explain himself, he didn’t want pity or encouragement, he just wanted to be left alone and sort out his issues by himself, with his guitar.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘The songs you sing,’ the guy responded. ‘They’re all about love.’

‘They’re country songs, broken hearts come with the territory.’

It was the first time he admitted to himself why he was actually there.

*

Every ring of the telephone felt like an eternity.

One.

Two.

Three.

‘Hi, you’ve called the voicemail of Rayna James, please leave a message.’

He sighed and considered hanging up for a moment, but it was the third day in a row he had called and she hadn’t answered.

‘Hey, Rayna, it’s Deacon. I just wanted to say hey and that I hope things are going well and I’m hoping to be out of here in time for the tour.’

She picked up.

‘Deacon! Sorry I just got home, I’ve been away for the long weekend.’

Right, they had those on the outside.

They spoke for a few minutes before she went silent.

‘Whats wrong?’ he asked.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew her.

‘Teddy proposed on the weekend,’ she said quietly.

He had nothing to say, no response to that. He didn’t even feel anything, it was as though every emotion he had ever had for her had just been locked into some box and placed aside.

‘Congratulations.’

He hadn’t intended it to sound so dry and harsh, he had meant it, he wanted her to be happy.

It wasn’t until after he hung up the phone and was alone in his room that he let it sink in.

She was marrying someone else.

*

‘Don’t marry him.’

She looked up at him and shook her head. ‘Deacon – ‘

‘Marry me.’

He could see her heart breaking, but he didn’t care. He wanted it to break, he wanted her to feel what he was feeling, because there was no way she could feel that emotion and choose Teddy over him.

The absolute raw desperation of love had taken over and he couldn’t control himself anymore. Hours he had spent sitting alone in his apartment, a bottle of scotch sitting on the table, the thought of calling his old dealer sitting in the back of his mind very close to becoming a reality, but he hadn’t done it. That wasn’t going to impress her. He had known better than to turn to substance abuse.

But he hadn’t known better than to turn up at her quiet gig at the Bluebird and beg her not to do it.

It was the moment he had dreamt about for months, waking up at all sorts of strange hours in a panic, a depression. The fear that had stayed with him the whole way through rehab, that had forced him to get better, because if he didn’t, he would be there longer, and the longer he was there, the further away he was from preventing his nightmare situation from occurring.

‘You’re drunk.’

It was the natural thing to assume. He probably would have made the same assumption about himself had he not known better.

‘Completely sober.’

She seemed half-surprised and half-disappointed by the statement.

‘Deacon, we’ve been through this.’

‘I can do this, I can, I promise,’ he stepped closer towards her.

She didn’t take a step back. He hated that even in this situation, even when he had stormed in here, determined to woo her with his directness, she held control of the situation. She always did.

She was the lead singer after all.

‘I’ve made my choice,’ she stated firmly. ‘I’ve made it and I’m sticking by it, and this – ‘

She paused and leaned forward, the heartbreak he had seen in her eyes a few moments earlier was gone, replaced by the familiar fire that he knew better than the argue with.

‘ – this is over.’

It was the final bullet.

He wanted to respond with something, anything. A ‘your loss’ or ‘don’t come running to me when it fails’, but he couldn’t. Maybe because he didn’t really believe it, maybe because those last words had really hit home where nothing she had said before ever had.

He said nothing, feeling the tears pricking the back of his eyes.

He turned.

‘Deacon,’ she whispered.

He ignored her and walked out.

*

It took almost every fibre of his being not to call her and say all manner of hurtful things, and every small remaining one not to hide behind drugs and alcohol.

The knock at the door awoke him from what could only be described as a coma he’d fallen into, playing guitar and staring at the wall. After a moment’s consideration, he dragged himself to the door and opened it.

‘Just wanted to check you were still alive,’ Coleman smiled up at him.

Deacon didn’t return the smile. He couldn’t. Instead, he shrugged and stepped back, allowing Coleman to enter the house.

‘I love what you’ve done with the place.’

Deacon looked at the pile of mess that had accumulated on his table and floor. Part of him was horrified that he’d let it get that far, but the other half didn’t care all that much.

‘Why are you here?’ was all he managed before sitting down again. ‘I don’t need my sponsor.’

Coleman looked at the bottle of scotch on the table dubiously.

‘It’s been there for months, I haven’t touched it.’

‘In that case, I’m here as a friend.’

Coleman sat down on the sofa, ignoring the pile of newspapers he was half sitting on.

‘I don’t need a friend.’

‘I’d say you need a friend, Deacon,’ Coleman’s voice was stern, the authority came through clearly and suddenly Deacon seemed to snap out of his state of barely existing.

He felt the tears hitting again and instantly he wanted the numbness back. As much as he hated not being able to feel nothing, it was preferably to the complete and utter pain he felt when the numbness wore off.

‘It’s my fault,’ he finally admitted, more to himself than to Coleman.

‘What is?’

‘Everything.’

That was what was making him feel so rotten, that he had done this and that there seemed like there was absolutely nothing in the world that he could do to make it better.

He’d lost everything and he had no one to blame but himself.

He fell into the chair and cried.

He didn’t remember Coleman leaving, but when he woke up on his chair in the morning he had a blanket wrapped around him.

Glancing at the sun streaming in through the window, he stood up and picked up the closest pile of pizza boxes and newspapers, taking it to the kitchen and dumping it next to the recycling.

After an hour of cleaning up his living room he stepped outside.

He didn’t go far, just stayed on the porch, but it was a start.

*

‘So, were you planning to invite me to your wedding?’

He stormed into her hotel room and threw the invitation on the table. In hindsight, maybe going on tour with the woman he was in love with, who was marrying someone else, was a bad idea, but he didn’t know how to exist any other way. The only thing he loved anywhere near as much as he loved her was his music and he refused to give up both.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments, picking up the invitation from the table.

‘Where did you get this?’

‘It fell out of Emily’s guitar case when we were packing up.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh? That’s all you have to say? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’

‘Can we not do this here?’

‘Then where Rayna? At your place? Should I invite Teddy?’

He saw her jaw clench and he realised he’d stepped over the line. She didn’t want to discuss it, but he couldn’t let it go. Deep down he knew she was making a mistake and he wanted to make this as difficult for her as possible.

She didn’t say anything, just glared back at him.

He took that as an invitation to continue.

‘I know things haven’t been great between us, but to not invite me? Do you know how much that hurts?’

‘Probably about as much as watching the man I love drink himself into what I thought was going to be an early death.’

That hit the exact spot she knew it would and he had to fight back the urge to slam his fist into the nearest wall. It took everything he had not to, and he could feel his jaw clenching and his fingernails digging into his palms as his curled his hands into a fist.

How did she not understand? He had gone to rehab for her, everything he had done was for her, and he didn’t even get an invitation to the day that he knew would be the worst day of his life.

She broke her ground first, sighing and stepping forward.

‘Teddy doesn’t want you there and I didn’t think you’d want to come.’

‘I don’t,’ he paused for a moment. ‘But I’d like the option, because you are the single most important thing in my life, and what’s important to you is important to me.’

Her eyes flickered between emotions.

He felt hope rising in him, almost as quickly as he crushed it.

He couldn’t let himself hope for anything, because in all likelihood he was imagining things.

Although he had one more card.

After a few more moments of silence, he spoke.

‘I love you and you know damn well you feel the same.’

‘Deacon – ‘

‘Tell me you don’t love me, Rayna.’

‘I can’t.’

‘I know.’

Her lips are on his a few seconds later and he was finding it harder to push away the feelings of hope.

*

Three weeks. That’s all they could manage apart. Not romantically, it wasn’t necessarily about that (although it was about that a lot of the time), but they had that connection, that pull that made it impossible for them to be apart, to work apart, to exist without the other.

He waited until she called.

He didn’t think he had permission to make first moves anymore, the ball was in her court.

They met by the river, where they always met. Most of the time it was unspoken, just a place they both knew to find the other when something was up, but this time they arranged it.

He found her sitting on the picnic table, staring out across the water. He wondered how long she had been sitting there, and suspected it was a lot longer than it had taken him to get there.

‘Hey,’ he said quietly, standing away from her.

He couldn’t sit next to her, not yet. He didn’t know what he was feeling and being that close to her was going to bring up so many things he wasn’t sure he could control.

‘You’re really marrying him?’

‘I’m pregnant.’

They spoke at the same time.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He turned and he left. In the back of his mind, one little string tugged and whispered to him ‘Ask who the father is. Ask!’, but he ignored it, got back in his car and drove off as fast as he could.

As he sped over the bridge he glanced back one last time. She was clutching her face in her hands and shaking with tears and he felt his heart implode and explode at the same moment.

He put his foot on the brake and stopped.

For a few moments he sat on the bridge, his eyes focused solely on the empty road ahead of him, trying to push away the image of Rayna crying.

He couldn’t.

Slamming the gear stick into reverse he backed off the bridge and parked, making his way back to her as quickly as possible. She hadn’t noticed him returning, and as he took a seat next to her she jumped.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, not knowing exactly what he was apologising for.

He didn’t think it mattered. For a moment she looked up at him, her makeup running down her face, and then she leaned into him as he put his arm around her. This was what mattered. Making sure she was okay, even if it meant hurting himself more.

*

He went anyway, he knew all the details. The date, the time, the place. He watched from his car as the limousine pulled up and Rayna got out in her wedding dress.

It broke his heart into pieces, watching her walk up to the church, knowing that she was walking in there to marry someone else, that some other man was living his dream.

The moment she was inside he walked into the back of the church and took a seat next to someone he had never met before.

He had spent the entire morning tossing up whether or not he should go, but the alternative would land him right back in rehab.

Part of him had felt like this would be closure. He was wrong, it felt closer to attending his own funeral, like he was some outsider who no one was surprised to see, but who shouldn’t really be there.

This wasn’t his life anymore.

Right before she said her vows she managed to find him in the crowd, as though she had been searching for him. When the minister spoke the words ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’, a few pairs of eyes wandered towards him.

He left quickly after that.

She found him standing under a tree at the back of the church, staring out over the view down the hill.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I’m glad you came.’

He turned to look at her, a sad smile stretching across his face.

‘You look happy,’ he replied.

‘I am,’ she was grinning.

It felt like a stab to the stomach, but he ignored it. He wasn’t even supposed to be there.

‘Don’t you have somewhere to run off to?’ he asked.

‘I think I can spare a few minutes for my best friend.’

Best friend.

He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or made things worse. Trying not to focus on it, he stepped away from the tree and held out his hand.

‘In that case, may I have this dance?’

She laughed. ‘Dance? There’s no music.’

‘Rayna James, have you forgotten what we do for a living?’ he smiled again and took her hand. ‘We can create our own music.’

They danced there for a few moments, he pulled her close to him, and he began to sing. It was a song he had written about that exact moment, and it wasn’t quite the same without the guitar, but it was all he had.

It was his apology, his acceptance.

And as he sang, he pretended that maybe, just maybe, this was all a strange dream, and that the wedding dress she was wearing was because she was now married to him, that everything had turned out okay.

When he finished the song they halted and she stepped back, tears in her eyes.

‘Goodbye, Deacon.’

‘See you round,’ he responded.

And then he watched as she walked back towards the church, towards her husband, her new life.

fic [1/1]

muldy — Sat, 29 Sep 2012 02:34:38 GMT

Title: Every Word You Say
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Words: 1941
Spoilers: Vague spoilers for an upcoming season 5 episode

Summary: ‘It was ridiculous, she knew that. This was the man who had stood by her side through everything and done all he could to protect her and fight to be with her, for four years. '

Kate sat quietly at her desk, not really focusing on what was in front of her and completely unaware of the usual chaos that was going on around her. She knew what she was supposed to do, but she also knew that it wasn’t what he wanted. No one knew yet, not even his family, and she had a feeling that he didn’t want to be banned from the precinct.

*

‘Please, Kate,’ he leaned forward against the bars. ‘Find another way, at least try, for a day or two?’

‘I don’t care if everyone knows, I don’t want you to go down for a murder you didn’t commit.’

‘It doesn’t even completely clear me and I don’t want you to get in trouble with Gates.’

‘Castle, we’re talking about murder! You could go to prison.’

He fell silent and looked her in the eye. She felt her stomach flip and tried to push away the sinking feeling that followed. He didn’t want her to alibi him because he didn’t want everyone to know.

What did that mean?

He moved his hand down the bar so it was touching hers.

‘Fine,’ she stepped away from the cell, breaking the contact between them. ‘It’s your choice.’

‘Kate…’

She turned her back on him and walked away, knowing it would hurt him, but not caring. It hurt her. The man that she loved was in a cell facing a murder charge and he wouldn’t even let her alibi him out because –

Well she hoped it was just because he was being an idiot and trying to protect her, but that nagging voice in the back of her head kept dwelling on the fact that maybe he didn’t want anyone to know because he was embarrassed to be with her.

*

It was ridiculous, she knew that. This was the man who had stood by her side through everything and done all he could to protect her and fight to be with her, for four years.

Love.

It was the first time she had really allowed herself to admit what it was, from his end and hers. She had heard him say it, more than once, but she never let it sink in, it was too hard to deal with, or had been at the time.

She had blocked it completely.

‘Yo.’

Esposito dropped a folder onto the desk in front of her and took a seat in Castle’s chair. She frowned for a moment, before looking up at him: she had been completely unaware that she had been staring blankly at the chair, something she was beginning to realise she did a lot.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

If it had been pretty much anyone else she would have forced a smile and told them she was just thinking things through, figuring out a way to help, but Esposito knew better.

‘I’ve been better,’ she responded quietly.

‘Any luck getting Castle to admit who this mystery woman alibi is?’ he asked.

She paused for a moment, unsure how to respond. This seemed like the right moment to tell him everything, to admit what had been going on for months now, but they had an agreement.

Although this was her ground.

She sighed.

‘What would you do if you could help someone, but they had asked you not to?’

Esposito clicked, straight away, and she wondered how long he had suspected it. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, but a small smile began to spread across his lips.

‘If I had made a promise to a friend I would stick by it,’ he replied. ‘But at least I can stop looking for the alibi and focus on the case.’

Esposito stood up as though he was about to walk away, then he paused.

‘Also, it was about time,’ he smiled and put a hand on her shoulder.

And for the first time in 24 hours she also smiled.

*

‘Beckett?’

‘Ryan?’

She glanced at the clock next to her bed. 6AM. It was a reasonable hour, and the one she got the most phone calls about murders at, but she hadn’t had all that much sleep the night before.

She smiled and glanced at the man lying next to her.

He was still fast asleep, one arm loosely on her stomach, his hair sticking out in all directions.

‘Have you seen Castle?’

‘Ryan, it’s 6AM…’

For a moment she wondered exactly what he was getting at, and if Lanie had put him up to this.

‘There’s a warrant out for his arrest.’

She sat up straight in bed. ‘What? Why?’

‘I’m at the crime scene now and there’s some pretty convincing evidence that points to him.’

‘Where are you?’

+

She tore the photo off the murder board just as Lanie walked up to her.

‘Whoa, girl, calm down,’ Lanie held out a coffee to her. ‘I thought you might need one of these, since Castle isn’t around to bring you any.’

She ignored Lanie’s outstretched hand and continued staring at the murder board.

‘I’m his alibi,’ she suddenly stated.

She was over hiding it. Lanie was her best friend, everyone else had gone home and she needed to talk to someone. She was tired and overworked and stressed and partially worried that this case might actually land Castle in prison.

‘I know,’ Lanie said matter-of-factly. ‘I was just wondering how long it would take you to admit it.’

‘He won’t let me,’ she turned to her, aware that Detective Beckett had disappeared momentarily and she was just Kate.

But no matter how hard she tried to hide her softer side, sometimes she had no choice.

‘I want to help him, but no one ever listens to the girlfriend’s alibi anyway. Who’s to say that I’m not just lying?’

‘I’ll deal with the you being upset part in a second, for now I just want to point out that you said girlfriend.’

‘Lanie...’

‘Just checking you were aware of that little fact.’

She hadn’t been, and it wasn’t exactly what she meant, but she let it go. There wasn’t a better word to describe what she was, it was just that girlfriend seemed so immature, childish. Although Castle was pretty immature and childish for someone with a daughter old enough to be in college.

‘What would you do?’

Lanie tilted her head to one side, then leaned again the bench next to her, eyeing the murder board.

‘Look, having an alibi can’t hurt, no matter who you are, but if he doesn’t want it he doesn’t want it. Anyone at this precinct could vouch for Castle.’

‘It just looks bad, Lanie,’ Kate whispered. ‘The perfect crime, clearly set up by someone who knows Castle well, someone who wants to see him punished for some reason. There are notes upon notes in his apartment on murder and crime and not getting caught, so yeah, it looks bad, but it’s his job, just like it’s mine.’

‘I’m sorry I’m not much use when it comes to these things, I only deal with the death part, the rest is up to you.’

She looked at the board again.

‘Wait,’ she stood up. ‘What if they’re not trying to punish him?’

Lanie looked at her, confused. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘What if they’re trying to punish me?’ she turned to face Lanie. ‘I think I know who’s doing this.’

+

‘Make them stop,’ Alexis begged.

The apartment was crawling with police. Alexis had been on the first bus home the second she had heard of her father’s arrest. Martha seemed to be handling it in her own way, sitting on the couch with a martini and watching the police search through her son’s things.

‘Well he is a crime novelist,’ she commented to one of the uniforms holding up a book titled ‘Famous Murders of the 1990s’.

‘Isn’t there anything you can do?’ Alexis continued.

‘It’s procedure,’ she responded, feeling her stomach tugging at her.

She hated this, hated seeing his apartment, his life, being pulled apart and his family distraught and unable to do anything to stop it.

For a moment she considered joining Martha with the martinis, but she was on duty and she didn’t want anyone else to be in charge of this. She didn’t trust anyone else.

+

She picked up her phone and dialled the number she had hoped she would never have to use.

‘Hello?’

‘I want you to make it go away,’ she said quietly.

There was silence for a few moments.

‘This is my private line,’ came the response.

‘This is a private matter. I warned you and I am warning you again, make it go away or the file comes out.’

There was silence, followed by a click and the conversation ending. It was enough for her.

+

She was sitting alone when her phone rang. It was a blocked number and she knew it would be him. She didn’t want to talk, particularly when she knew there would be a uniform listening in.

He left a voicemail.

‘Kate, I just wanted to say that it’s not what you think. It’s not for my sake, it’s for yours. It took four years just to get to this stage and I can’t spend another four years trying to make it all okay again. I love you and I need you to be here for me right now. Not just as my detective, but as everything else.’

She hung up the phone and felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

She had to figure this out.

Standing up she grabbed her coffee and headed back to the murder board.

+

He said nothing as he entered the precinct, simply acting as though nothing had happened, like it was a normal day at the office. She couldn’t hide the smile that spread across her lips as he walked towards her and she found herself focusing on the wood of her desk to avoid meeting his eye in view of everyone.

All she wanted to do was jump up and kiss him.

She did the next best thing and as he reached her, she stood up and hugged him.

For a moment he seemed surprised, then he wrapped his arms around her and she felt instantly safe, even though she was in the middle of the precinct and everyone was watching intently, she didn’t care. He was there, he wasn’t going to prison.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered in her ear.

‘Always,’ she replied.

As he pulled away from the hug he smiled, taking a seat back in his chair. Ryan walked past and slapped him on the shoulder.

‘I knew you weren’t good enough to commit that murder,’ he commented.

‘I missed you too,’ Castle threw over his shoulder as Ryan walked away from him again.

Esposito stopped in between them and looked at Castle, then at Beckett and back at Castle. He folded his arms and looked at them both sternly. Then he smiled and shook his head, walking off.

Castle looked at her in surprise.

‘He knows?’

She shrugged. ‘Lanie too.’

‘Ryan?’

‘Not yet, although maybe if we told him he’d stop interrupting us at inopportune moments.’

‘I doubt that,’ Castle replied.

They fell silent for a moment, then Castle leaned forward slightly.

‘So are we okay?’

He seemed genuinely concerned and for a moment she considered playing with him, making him believe that she was still angry, when really she was just relieved he was there.

‘Well, you’re going to have to make it up to me somehow.’

He grinned. ‘Now that I think I can do.’

fic [1/1]

muldy — Tue, 25 Sep 2012 13:06:09 GMT

Title: Cling and Clatter
Characters: Kevin Ryan, Javier Esposito
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Words: 710
Spoilers: Post 5x01 'After the Storm' fic.

Summary: ‘So you noticed it too, huh?'

‘Hey, welcome back.’

Esposito looked over at his partner. No smile, no thanks, just a blank stare. They hadn’t spoken the whole time he was suspended, with the exception of those few days they had been trying to help Beckett find her mother’s murderer.

‘Hey Esposito,’ one of the other guys walked by and high fived him.

Esposito smiled and return the greeting.

He opened his mouth to say something, to object to the fact that Esposito was ignoring him, when he had been the one to save his life, when he made up for it by handing over his phone when he had been all but convinced that she was about to shoot a politician as revenge.

He had done all the right things.

But there was no point arguing, he knew his best friend better than that. The best thing to do was to sit back and wait for him to calm down.

It was a couple of hours later that Beckett and Castle came in from a crime scene. Ryan smiled to himself, it was good to see them again, he had really missed having all his friends around, even if they were mad at him.

Castle however didn’t ignore him, he came right over to say hi. He noted that Esposito also did not ignore Castle in a rude manner. The visit was short lived and he quickly returned to Beckett’s desk.

Something was different, he’d had the feeling for a couple of weeks now, but watching them sitting together at the desk, talking casually as though nothing had ever happened, noting the occasional glare Beckett shot in Castle’s direction, the way Castle’s hand lay closely to hers on the table –

No. He was imagining things. They had always flirted, that was the way things were.

He glanced at Esposito again. He was doing the same, his eyes narrowed and his gaze fixated on the others.

This was his opportunity.

‘So you noticed it too, huh?’ Ryan hoped that was enough.

‘Noticed what?’ he responded, avoiding eye contact, then looking back down at his paperwork.

Conversation ended before it had even started, but he wasn’t going to let Esposito win this one.

‘Didn’t you find it a little weird that Castle was at Beckett’s apartment that early in the morning when he called to report her missing?’

There was no response, but Ryan knew him well enough to know he had his attention.

‘Also, when I went over to her place to drag Beckett back onto the case? Castle was there, also bright and early,’ he paused. ‘And he was acting a little weird.’

Esposito looked up at him now, then back at the laughing pair.

‘Define weird…’

‘He couldn’t seem to get a full sentence out, there was just a lot of jumbled words followed by a question.’

Esposito fell silent again, looking at the others, and for a moment Ryan thought his plan had failed.

Suddenly he piped up.

‘You know, when I called her yesterday to ask her if she wanted to watch the game tonight she sounded like there was someone in the background, she muttered ‘be quiet’ and then I heard a slap…’

‘That certainly sounds like Castle and Beckett behaviour.’

‘But they would have told us, right?’

‘Beckett?’

Esposito half smiled and then shrugged. ‘Of course, what was I thinking? But do you really think Castle could hide it?’

They both looked to see Castle touching her lightly on the arm and her laughing and pushing his hand away. They both smiled before she looked back at her paperwork. Castle continue to watch her, smiling.

‘They’re both oddly happy,’ Ryan observed.

‘Lanie thought she was having sex with someone, she just had no idea who. Ryan, bro, I think we may have solved the puzzle,’ now his smile was a full blown one.

‘See, we are good partners.’

Too far. Esposito’s smile faded.

‘Yeah, well, I’m still angry,’ he picked up his pen and stared at the pile of paperwork in front of him. ‘But if you’re free tonight, I do need someone to watch the game with.’

‘I’m in.’

It wasn’t back to the way things were, but it was a start, and a few beers would definitely help.

fic: seeing things another way [1/1]

muldy — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 00:06:04 GMT

Title: Seeing Things Another Way
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Beckett/Esposito, also Castle/Beckett and Esposito/Lanie
Spoilers: None
Words: 5210

Summary: "‘God, I miss sex!’ she commented out of nowhere. It surprised him enough that he laughed, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was the appropriate reaction. He wasn’t used to Beckett talking like that to him. To Castle yes, to Lanie sure, but to him? That wasn’t really something they talked about."

He was drunk. Not throwing-up-in-a-gutter-telling-the-bartender-his-life-story drunk, but definitely not sober.

It wasn’t that anything particular had happened that day to make him go out and drink that much bourbon, but it was like something had finally clicked inside of him, telling him that Lanie wasn’t interested in getting back together. He’d left work with the intention of going home, waved bye to Ryan and headed for his apartment.

He liked walking home, considered it part of his daily exercise routine, but for some reason halfway there he’d lost the urge to keep going.

Stepping into the nearest bar he’d found himself sitting down and watching the game.

Just one drink, that’s all he was going to have.

One drink had turned into many and now the game was over and he’d completely lost track of time.

He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but he missed her. He wanted to be with her, it was just that every time he tried to express that to her it came out wrong and they ended up fighting.

‘Esposito?’

He swung his head around to see Beckett standing next to him, what looked like a scotch on the rocks in her hand.

‘Beckett!’

She was the last person he’d expected to find in a sports bar he’d never set foot in before, three miles from the precinct.

‘Mind if I join you?’ she asked.

He slid over, making room for her next to him in the booth. He wasn’t really in the mood for company, but he knew she wouldn’t invade his emotional space unless he invited her in.

Plus, they’d both seen each other at their worst.

‘So what brings you to this fine establishment at this hour on a Wednesday night?’ he asked.

‘Are you drunk?’

He smiled. Apparently he was more drunk than he thought he was, if she could tell that quickly.

‘Yeah,’ he replied.

‘Want to talk about it?’ she asked.

He turned to look at her. She was concerned, he could tell by the way she narrowed her eyes at him, but he chose to ignore that fact. Javier Esposito didn’t need anyone looking out for him, he could look after himself, but he knew Kate Beckett felt exactly the same.

‘Nope,’ he replied.

He watched her as she turned to look back at her scotch. She didn’t seem all that interested in drinking it and he wondered what on earth had brought her into that particular bar that night.

Usually both of them would have gone to the Old Haunt with the rest of the gang, the fact that they had both chosen a bar as far removed from their usual joints as possible told him that she was in the same kind of mood he was.

‘How about I make you a deal,’ he said, placing his arm around her to get her attention.

She looked up at him and for the first time he noticed how particularly feminine she was. He’d never taken much notice; of course he knew she was a good looking woman, that he had never denied, but her attitude was always so strong that he respected her in such a way that he had never thought of her as someone who needed protection.

To him she had always been perfectly capable of looking after herself. Even when he had been standing in front of her, holding the sniper rifle and telling her everything was okay, he hadn’t seen her as anything more than a colleague, a friend, who needed help.

But at that moment, looking at her, he suddenly realised she was in fact a woman, and a very gorgeous looking one at that.

‘That depends on your offer,’ she replied, smiling.

He felt his heart skip a beat as she did so.

Pushing all thoughts of her looks aside, he smiled in return.

Clearly he was drunk.

‘I’ll tell you why I’m here, if you tell me why you are,’ he continued. ‘No secrets.’

She snorted a laugh and turned her attention to her scotch glass again.

‘Secrets are the problem,’ she whispered.

He waited for a moment, curious to see if she would continue her sentence. She didn’t, but after a few moments of silence she leaned back into his arm.

‘It’s Lanie,’ he said, grabbing his glass and taking a long swig as he did so.

‘I thought as much,’ she replied. ‘What’s going on with you two?’

‘Nothing,’ he responded. ‘That’s the problem. Every time I try to make a move we just end up fighting. I don’t know if it’s worth it.’

‘Love sucks,’ it was her turn to take a giant swig from her glass.

He clicked. She wasn’t there because of a tough day at work or a case gone wrong.

‘I’m going to assume you’re not here drinking because of me and Lanie,’ he commented.

‘It’s Castle.’

He was surprised to hear her say it. Of course he knew, they all knew, but no one had ever heard either of them admit that there was something going on. He’d pressed Lanie for that information a thousand times, and even she didn’t know.

‘What’s he done now? If you need me to kick ass, you know you just have to ask,’ Esposito offered.

He expected her to laugh. She didn’t, her gaze focused very closely on her glass.

‘He told me he loves me,’ she whispered.

It was very quiet and for a moment he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. Surely that was something that would make her happy, not have her alone in a bar drinking on a weeknight?

‘Why is that a problem?’ he asked.

‘He told me when I got shot,’ she turned to look at him now and he could see tears in her eyes. ‘And I pretended I didn’t remember, I pushed him away.’

Suddenly everything made sense. The three months, Castle’s silence, the lack of flirting that had been happening all year.

‘Why?’

‘I’m scared,’ her voice cracked as she spoke and she leaned into him.

He put his other arm around her as well and hugged her.

They stayed in that position for what felt like forever, but he knew was only a minute or so. The smell of her hair filled the air and for a moment he let himself imagine what it would be like to wake up with her next to him the next day.

If he was honest, he didn’t mind that idea at all, but he knew it was a bad idea.

‘You guys seriously haven’t slept together?’

He meant the question half as a joke and half out of his own curiosity. Everyone speculated about Castle and Beckett’s relationship all the time, but no one had ever actually asked either of them.

She pulled away from their hug and looked at him, half smiling as she wiped tears from her eyes.

‘Is that so hard to believe?’ she narrowed her eyes at him.

‘If I say yes are you going to shoot me?’ he asked.

This time she actually laughed.

‘We haven’t,’ she replied. ‘I think we could have, in the past, but we’re beyond that now. There’s too much between us to just sleep together and see what happens.’

‘I get that.’

They both fell silent for a moment, then Beckett turned back and shot the rest of her drink.

‘God, I miss sex!’ she commented out of nowhere.

It surprised him enough that he laughed, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was the appropriate reaction. He wasn’t used to Beckett talking like that to him. To Castle yes, to Lanie sure, but to him? That wasn’t really something they talked about.

‘I get that too,’ he replied, waving over the waitress.

She wandered to them slowly, half watching the TV as she did so.

‘Can I grab another bourbon and Coke and…’ he looked at Beckett.

‘Scotch on the rocks, thanks,’ she finished.

The waitress nodded and wandered away to grab them more drinks.

‘When’s the last time you, you know?’ he asked.

If she was going to start this conversation, he was going to continue it. They were friends. Friends talked about sex right?

She was silent for a few moments and he wondered if maybe he’d gone too far, maybe they weren’t that kind of friends. Then she turned to look at him and he noticed the depressed look was back in her eyes.

‘Before the shooting,’ she replied. ‘I haven’t…I don’t want…’

She took a deep breath, fiddling with her hands for a moment. He reached forward with his free hand and lifted her chin up so she was forced to meet his eyes.

‘I’m scarred,’ she said quietly.

He looked into her eyes. ‘What did I tell you about it being a strength, not a weakness?’

They both fell silent as the waitress brought over their drinks. He watched until she was out of earshot and then turned back to Beckett.

‘Plus,’ he leaned in so his lips were almost against her ear. ‘Scars are hot.’

He didn’t miss the way she shivered as he spoke, and when he pulled back and she turned to look at him, there was something else in her eyes, a spark that hadn’t been there a few moments earlier.

‘How about you? Has there been anyone since Lanie?’

He shook his head. ‘Major dry spell.’

‘That’s the problem when you have feelings for someone,’ she replied. ‘You don’t really feel like going out and meeting someone new.’

She grabbed her drink and held it up to him.

‘To lack of sex,’ she said.

He laughed and clinked his glass against hers, keeping his eyes on her as he took a sip from his glass. She really was beautiful, and in another life where she wasn’t his superior and he wasn’t in love with her best friend, he would have totally gone for her.

Although neither of those things really meant they couldn’t sleep together.

Right?

Yeah, he was a little drunk, but suddenly the idea seemed like the right one. He needed sex, she needed sex, they could both definitely do with some cheering up.

As long as no one found out it wouldn’t hurt anyone.

‘What if you didn’t have to go out and meet someone new?’ he said.

The moment he said the words he regretted it. She was going to reject him and things were going to incredibly awkward.

‘What?’

He couldn’t read her reaction.

‘Well we both need sex, right?’

‘I never said I needed sex,’ she replied.

She was smiling, that was a good sign. He shrugged and smiled in return.

‘You insinuated it,’ he said. ‘Am I so bad?’

‘It’s just…there’s Lanie and there’s Rick…’

Yeah she had a point there.

‘No one has to know,’ he said quietly, losing the grin and leaning in closer. ‘It could just be this once, no strings.’

She searched his eyes for a moment and he had no idea what was going through her mind. For all he knew she could stand up and walk out in that instant, or she could jump him right then and there.

Her face was completely blank of any emotion.

‘Okay,’ she said after a few moments. ‘That could work.’

A part of his brain was screaming ‘no’, telling him it was a bad idea, but for the most part all he could think was that this incredibly hot woman sitting next to him had just agreed to sleep with him, the fact that she was Beckett only made it seem more forbidden.

And for some reason he liked that idea.

‘So, your place or mine?’ he grinned and she rolled her eyes at him.

‘Let me finish my drink first,’ she replied. ‘I’ve waited this long, I can wait an extra half an hour.’

*

It was his place they ended up at after a coin toss and a very short cab ride. She’d never been there before, so he stood and watched as she walked around his apartment.

‘It’s know, it's small,’ he commented.

‘It’s cute,’ she replied, turning to face him. ‘I like it, although it’s not exactly what I imagined your place to look like.’

He smiled, walking towards her. ‘What did you expect my place to look like?’

She shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Macho?’

‘Macho?’ he reached forward and put his hands on her arms.

She froze for a moment, before relaxing into his touch. He wondered how well this was going to work. Kate Beckett wasn’t the kind of person to let someone in, in any way, but she was here, she had agreed to this.

Suddenly the alcohol seemed to wear off.

‘Look, Kate, if you don’t want to do this…’ he trailed off as she leaned in and kissed him.

Clearly talking was exactly what she didn’t want to do and he was fine with that, letting her push him back into the wall. There was nothing romantic about the kiss, but it was nice, comfortable.

In fact it was comforting to know that this was all she wanted, sex, that her feelings lay elsewhere and nothing more was going to happen between them.

He pulled away from the kiss to navigate her towards his bedroom.

She followed silently, her hand intertwined with his.

The second they were in his room he kissed her again, and it was only a few moments before her hands found their way under his shirt, tugging it up. He let it slip over his head before kissing her again.

Pulling her closer he pushed her jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, his hand moving to her front to unbutton her shirt.

Her hand blocked his just as he reached her chest and she moved away.

‘Let me,’ he said quietly.

He could see the fear in her eyes and he felt for her, he wanted to hold her and tell her it would be okay, but he knew with Beckett that wasn’t always the best option. Sometimes she had to have her ass kicked into gear, otherwise she was always going to avoid things.

‘I told you, I think scars are hot,’ he leaned closer to her again and she stepped away.

He let his shoulders slump and his hands dropped from her shirt.

‘I haven’t let anyone see it,’ she whispered. ‘Just…just give me a moment.’

He nodded, but stood his ground, watching as she seemed to have some sort of conversation with her own mind. He wanted to tell her a whole lot of things, but he remained silent, knowing it was best to let her get over that hurdle on her own.

After a few moments she stepped forward again, unbuttoning her own shirt. She let it fall to the ground and he let his eyes drop to her scar.

It was right there, in the centre of her chest, and while he would have normally been completely distracted by the fact that a gorgeous woman had just taken her shirt off in front of him, he didn’t take any notice.

Reaching forward he touched the skin to either side of it, then lightly ran his fingers over the wound.

He watched her flinch, but she didn’t pull away.

‘See?’ he said quietly. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

‘I’m worried about how he’d react,’ she whispered. ‘You’re the only person who really knows how much…’

She trailed off, but he understood what she was saying.

‘He knows,’ Esposito said quietly.

Not that Castle was exactly the person he wanted to think about at that moment, the guilt of the idea of sleeping with the woman his friend was in love with was a growing a little stronger with each second they lingered on this topic.

‘But you understand,’ she replied.

‘So will he.’

They stood there, only inches from each other, in completely silence. For a few seconds doubt crept into his mind and he considered telling her it was a bad idea.

Instead he grabbed her, picking her up and carrying her to the bed.

She laughed. ‘Javi, what are you doing?’

‘This is taking too long,’ he smiled, climbing onto the bed and kissing her as he did so. ‘I’m an impatient man.’

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her.

*

He woke up to the sound of an unfamiliar phone ringing and his head hurting a whole lot more than he had expected. For a few moments he thought it was Lanie next to him, then he remembered.

‘Beckett,’ she answered the phone.

He rolled over and opened his eyes. Yeah, that was her alright. Naked and in his bed. For a moment he frowned; how had that even happened?

Next it was his phone ringing. He grabbed it as quickly as possible, and hit silent. He looked over at her as she glanced at him.

‘No, sir, it was just an alarm going off,’ she replied. ‘I’ll be there ASAP.’

She hung up the phone and Esposito turned back to his. He recognised the number on it as Ryan’s.

‘Yo,’ he answered.

‘What took you so long?’ Ryan asked.

‘Nothing, no reason man, it’s early.’

He knew he was a terrible liar. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Everyone had known the minute he started sleeping with Lanie.

‘We got a murder, corner of Canal and Church.’

‘I’ll be there ASAP,’ he echoed Beckett’s words and hung up the phone. ‘Morning.’

‘Morning,’ she replied.

An awkward silence hung between them. This wasn’t good. The arrangement had been that this was it and nothing awkward would come of it.

‘I guess we better get going,’ he interrupted the silence.

‘Do you mind…not looking?’ she asked.

He half smiled and rolled over. ‘My eyes are closed.’

He waited for a moment while she got dressed, a whole lot quicker than he expected her to be able to, then he proceeded to grab his own clothes.

‘I don’t supposed you have a woman’s shirt lying around somewhere?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think I have time to go home and get another one and if I wear the same thing two days in row people will notice.’

He thought about it for a moment. He had some of Lanie’s shirts, but that was going to raise far too many questions.

‘Sorry,’ he commented. ‘But there are plenty of stores between here and Canal St you could pop into and grab something.’

‘Yeah, I might do that.’

*

‘You were late this morning.’

Esposito watched from his desk as Castle sat in his usual seat next to Beckett. No one had said anything all day about the fact they had both been incredibly late to the crime scene, or the fact they had arrived only a minute apart from each other.

Of course he should have realised someone would have noticed something.

‘I spilt my coffee on my shirt and had to get a new one on the way in,’ she lied, looking at him.

Castle smiled as thought he was relieved. ‘Ah. Ryan thought maybe you had a date last night.’

It suddenly hit Esposito how good Beckett was at lying to Castle, how he bought every word she fed him. Whether it was out of sheer will to believe she would always tell him the truth, or if she was just that good at lying, he couldn’t tell, but Castle didn’t seem to be able to pick it up.

‘Hey.’

Ryan’s voice made him jump, he’d completely forgotten his partner was sitting right next to him.

‘Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,’ Ryan continued.

‘You didn’t, bro, what’s up?’ he asked, tearing his eyes away from Beckett and Castle.

‘You’ve been staring at Beckett and Castle for the last half an hour,’ Ryan observed. ‘I just thought you might want to know it’s a little freaky.’

‘I wasn’t watching them, I was just thinking and staring in their general direction,’ he replied, maybe a little too fast.

‘Right,’ Ryan narrowed his eyes. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.’

‘Jealous? Why would I be jealous?’

Esposito closed his eyes. Too defensive, he was being far too defensive and Ryan was going to figure it out if he kept that up.

‘Sorry, I had a late night and I’m a little hungover,’ Esposito covered.

‘No sweat,’ Ryan replied, patting him on the shoulder. ‘You just had that weird look on your face that you get when Lanie talks to other guys.’

Lanie.

He hadn’t thought about her all day. In fact he’d spent most of the day thinking about Beckett, about how lucky Castle was to have the love of a woman like that, even if he didn’t know it yet.

‘I think I’m going to head off,’ Esposito stood up. ‘I need to get some shut eye before this case is going to make any sense.’

He could tell Ryan was confused, but he didn’t care all that much. Grabbing his jacket he headed towards the elevator.

He paused at Beckett’s table, like he always did.

‘Goodnight,’ he said.

Somehow it sounded different, he felt like suddenly everyone would know what he meant.

And judging by the look in her eye as she shifted her gaze to him, she felt the same.

‘See you,’ she replied.

Castle didn’t say anything, but Esposito didn’t miss the way he looked from Beckett to him and back again.

Maybe he was imagining things. There’s no way anyone would suspect them of sleeping together. They weren’t even particularly close friends.

*

He pulled open the door to find her standing there. It was a Saturday night and he’d had no plans other than sitting on his sofa and watching the game.

‘Hey,’ she said simply.

‘Yo,’ he replied. ‘Come in.’

He didn’t ask why she was there, if she wanted him to know, she would tell him. She walked towards the sofa, then hesitated, as though she was unsure exactly how welcome she was.

‘Did you want a beer?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got a six pack in the fridge.’

‘Beer would be great,’ she replied.

‘Take a seat,’ he said as he headed to the fridge to grab her a beer.

She seemed okay, she wasn’t upset or confused about anything. She was just there.

He knew why he wanted her to be there; the sex between them had been good, especially since it had been so long since either of them had enjoyed anyone else’s company.

But he didn’t want to assume. It was her move.

He returned to the sofa and handed her the beer, taking a seat next to her and making sure he left as little distance between them as possible.

To his surprise, she moved closer, leaning her arm against his.

She didn’t say anything, just sat and watched the game.

‘We can watch something else, if you like?’ he suggested.

She shook her head. ‘I just needed company.’

He didn’t push the conversation after that. If she’d wanted conversation she would have gone to Lanie. He had the feeling talking was the last thing she felt like doing, so he remained silent until she fell asleep on his shoulder.

Grabbing a spare blanket and a pillow for her, he made sure she was comfortable before heading to bed.

About halfway through the night he felt her crawl into the bed next to him. She didn’t make any sort of move, so he rolled over and placed his arm around her. They slept like that, nothing more.

He got the feeling she just needed someone to be there.

That suited him fine, because he needed the same.

*

‘What’s her name?’

Lanie’s question took him completely by surprise. He thought he’d been hiding it really well.

It wasn’t like there was a thing between him and Beckett, it was just that sometimes she came around, and occasionally, when they both needed it, they would have sex.

It was nothing.

Friendship.

With sex.

‘Who?’ he played dumb.

Lanie looked up from the dead body in front of them, her expression telling him that she was not amused by his dumb act.

‘The girl you’ve been sleeping with?’

Esposito looked at Ryan for help, but found the same expression on his face.

‘Leave me out of this!’ Ryan said.

Ryan grabbed his phone out of his pocket, muttering something about calling Jenny, and left the room.

Esposito turned back to Lanie.

‘What do you care anyway? We broke up, remember?’

He didn’t want to attack her, but he didn’t know any other way. A stab of guilt hit him as he saw a look of hurt flash across her face before she buried it with a blank expression.

‘You better tell Beckett to come down here, she’ll want to see this.’

His insides froze. For a moment he thought she’d figured it out, then slowly he realised she was talking about the case.

‘Sure,’ he replied.

Turning around he headed out of the morgue, feeling Lanie’s eyes glaring at his back as he retreated.

He wanted to tell her the truth, he hated lying to her, but this was something she couldn’t know.

Maybe the whole friends with benefits thing wasn’t such a good idea.

*

When she opened her apartment door he instantly knew it was bad timing. Her face told him to pretend this was perfectly normal and a moment later he heard Castle’s voice inside.

‘Did you want me to leave?’ he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

‘Esposito?’

Castle sounded surprised, but not judgemental.

‘Yo,’ he greeted his friend. ‘Am I interrupting something? Because I can come back.’

‘No, come in,’ Beckett said.

Castle frowned at her for a moment, as though the whole idea of the three of them hanging out had never occurred to him before. If Esposito was honest with himself, it hadn’t really occurred to him either. Normally the three of them were accompanied by Ryan or Lanie or one of the others from the precinct.

It was the first time he’d turned up at her apartment unannounced, and he wondered how much time Castle actually spent there.

‘We were just about to have pizza, did you want some?’ Castle offered, indicating a large pizza box on the kitchen bench.

‘I’ve already eaten, thanks,’ Esposito replied, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Silence filled the room as the two of them grabbed pizza and joined Esposito at the table.

It was awkward.

Massively awkward.

‘So, Javier, what brings you to this part of the woods?’ Castle questioned.

Suddenly he felt like he was in the interrogation room. His eyes flickered to Beckett for help. He had no idea what to say, she was by far the better liar.

‘Esposito and I sometimes watch the game together, I completely forgot the Knicks were playing tonight,’ she said casually.

‘I didn’t know you like the Knicks,’ Castle commented.

‘You should know by now, I’m full of surprises,’ she replied, forcing a smile.

‘Did you want to stay and watch the game with us?’ Esposito offered to Castle.

‘Sure, why not,’ the other man smiled.

It was the first time he had that vibe from Castle, the one that told him to stay away from his girl. If only he knew the half of it.

Lucky for the both of the, the Knicks were playing. Esposito watched the first half of the game with the two of them, but the uncomfortable feeling in the room became too much for him and he suddenly found himself on his feet.

‘I’m not feeling particularly good, my bad for grabbing dodgy Thai food on the way over here.’

With that lie he left as quickly as possible.

*

‘Are you and Beckett sleeping together?’

The question had come completely out of the blue, two weeks after the Knicks game incident. The two men were alone in the elevator and had been having a perfectly normal conversation about the case up until that point.

‘What’s it to you?’ Esposito shot back, unsure how to react.

The hurt look on Castle’s face was a thousand times worse than the one he’d seen on Lanie’s a few weeks earlier. For a few moments they stood there in complete silence, then Castle slammed the emergency break button and turned to face him.

‘Is it just sex?’ he asked.

Esposito froze inside. He didn’t know how to answer the question, didn’t know how Castle would react.

‘I need to know,’ Castle’s voice cracked as he asked and Esposito close his eyes.

‘Yeah,’ he said, quietly, unable to look at Castle. ‘It’s just sex.’

He braced for the punch he expected to come his way, either verbal or physical, but there was nothing. Castle started the elevator again and Esposito slowly opened his eyes to find the other man facing the doors like nothing had happened.

He’d expected a lecture, expected Castle to tell him to stay away from her, that she was his. He had every right to say those things, because he was right. She loved Castle, not him.

‘Okay,’ Castle said after a moment.

That was it. The doors opened and both men walked into the precinct as though nothing had happened.

*

‘He knows.’

Beckett looked up from her desk, then at Castle who had just walked into the elevator.

They were alone, except for Gates who was still in her office.

‘Who? Castle?’ she replied. ‘He hasn’t said anything...’

‘He did to me,’ Esposito leaned against her desk. ‘It has to stop.’

‘I know,’ she sighed.

He glanced at Gates’ office. She was distracted with paperwork. He turned back to Beckett and pushed her hair behind her ear, smiling sadly.

‘Do you love him?’ he asked.

She seemed taken aback. They hadn’t discussed Castle or Lanie since that first night, the guilt was too much, but he had to know, because if he was going to give up whatever this thing was between them, he wanted to know she was going to be happy.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

Esposito nodded. ‘Then he deserves to know that, he’s the one you should be hanging out with, talking to. Not me.’

Her eyes dropped to focus on the paperwork in front of her. He knew she had been using him to avoid dealing with Castle, but it was time she did.

‘I’m sure he thinks scars are hot too,’ Esposito smiled at her.

She looked back up at him and laughed quietly. ‘Castle thinks a lot of things are hot.’

‘Then you have nothing to worry about.’

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it for a moment, before letting go again.

‘What about you and Lanie?’

Esposito shrugged. ‘We’ll see.’

‘Do you love her?’

For a moment he didn’t reply. It wasn’t something he’d been expecting her to ask, and it wasn’t something he had an answer to.

‘I think I could, if I let myself,’ he replied.

‘Then how about I make you a deal,’ Beckett smiled.

He smiled in return, he knew what was coming.

‘That depends on your offer.’

‘If I tell, you tell,’ she continued.

He hesitated, then held out a hand.

‘Deal.’

fic: things never are

muldy — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 14:39:24 GMT

Title: Things Never Are
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Spoilers: Once Upon A Crime, general stuff
Words: 3045

Summary: "She met his eyes and in that moment she never wanted the night to end, she could have spent the rest of it in that exact position, holding his hand and his gaze, just knowing that everything was the way it was supposed to be."

‘Long day,’ Castle sighed, leaning back in his chair, looking at his phone.

She glanced over at him. There was nothing special about the moment. He was sitting there, in his chair, like he did every day, playing Angry Birds on his phone and she was doing paperwork, like she did every day.

‘Yeah, it was,’ she replied.

‘And, yet again, I saved the day,’ he commented, putting his phone down on the desk.

She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. ‘Sure, Castle.’

If she was honest, he had saved the day with his stupid theories and wild thinking. Again.

Not that she was going to admit that to him.

‘Ah, see?’ he smiled at her.

She narrowed her eyes. ‘What?’

‘You didn’t deny it,’ he leaned forward. ‘I did save the day, and I think you should buy me dinner as thanks.’

‘Buy you dinner?’ she laughed. ‘Castle, last time I checked, being a bestselling author paid a lot better than being a New York City homicide detective.’

‘Well in that case, I’ll give you the money and you can pretend you’re buying me dinner.’

She hated that he had that ability, to twist any event into some reason for the two of them to hang out. Not that she minded hanging out, but she could feel it.

He wanted to talk.

Probably about the fact she had taken his hand the other week when they had been watching Martha’s play.

Looking up at him she realised there was no point avoiding that conversation, the conversation she didn’t even know why she was avoiding. She wanted this. The guy sitting across from her was the guy.

Maybe that was the part that scared her.

‘So does that mean I get to choose the restaurant?’

‘As long as it’s not Burger King.’

She leaned forward. ‘Oh I know just the place, but you’re going to have to let me go home and shower first.’

‘It almost sounds like a date,’ he smiled.

So did she.

That was entirely her intention.

She stood up, grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair.

‘You can pick me up at 8, I’ll make the reservation.’

She didn’t miss his slight frown, followed by a smile as she turned to leave the precinct. Yeah, she had definitely confused him.

*

She stared at the pile of clothes in front of her. This was ridiculous. She had so many dresses that she never wore, how did she not have one appropriate for the situation?

Picking up her phone she dialled Lanie.

‘Don’t tell me there’s been a murder, I am not going down to the morgue at this hour on a Friday night,’ Lanie answered the phone.

Kate laughed. ‘No, something worse.’

‘Worse?’

‘I have a date.’

‘With Castle?’

She paused. How on earth had she figured that out so quickly?

‘I knew it! So how did he ask? Where are you going? What are you wearing?’

‘That’s my problem!’ Kate turned back to look at her giant pile of clothes. ‘I have twenty minutes and no idea what to wear.’

‘Girl, you should have called me earlier.’

‘You know my wardrobe, pick something!’ Kate picked up a blue dress.

No, Castle had seen that one already. What she needed was something sleek, sexy, yet classy, and something he hadn’t seen.

‘That purple dress we bought last year, it’s sexy, classy and Castle hasn’t seen it yet, has he?’

Sometimes Lanie had that scary ability to read her mind. She dug through the pile and pulled out the purple dress.

‘You are a genius,’ she said. ‘Thank you!’

‘Yeah well you owe me all the details,’ Lanie said. ‘Now go and get ready!’

The conversation ended and Kate pulled on the dress. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough. Of course in her head no dress was going to be perfect, she had been waiting for this moment for four years.

The realisation hit her and she suddenly found the need to sit down on her bed, staring at the mirror.

This was it.

She was going to walk into that restaurant with Richard Castle and she was going to think of it as a date.

She’d let him in.

Running her hands through her hair she let it sink in for a moment.

‘I can do this,’ she told her reflection.

*

She pulled open the door to find Castle standing on the other side, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a huge smile on his face.

The same smile tugged at her lips as she looked at him.

‘Flowers? You’re going all out,’ she said, taking them from him. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he said.

‘Just let me put them in a vase,’ she said, walking towards the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

‘You have an interesting definition of vase,’ he commented.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she smiled. ‘I’ll find a proper one tomorrow.’

For a moment she held his gaze, then turned away from him to stop the water before it overflowed. She heard him draw in breath and knew it had worked.

She loved how easy it was to manipulate him, especially when it came to flirting.

‘You look…’ he paused for a moment.

She placed the flowers on the kitchen sink and turned back to him.

‘…beautiful,’ he finished, raising his eyes to meet hers.

‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ she replied.

For a moment they stood there in silence, the two of them unsure about where this was going, what they were doing exactly. Of course she knew she meant this to be a date, that she was moving forward, but she knew he wasn’t sure.

That was the way she liked it.

With her in charge; at least that way she had the control switch, she could exit at any moment and pretend this was nothing.

She wouldn’t.

But she liked knowing she could.

‘So where are we going?’ he asked.

She smiled.

‘You’ll see.’

*

She led him into the back alley and he stopped.

‘Kate Beckett, are you trying to murder me?’ he joked. ‘Was this was all an elaborate plot so you could commit the perfect crime? I knew you were the real life Dexter!’

She grabbed his hand. ‘Trust me.’

He glanced down at it, a grin spreading across his face. ‘Always.’

It was the first time that evening she’d felt that fear creeping into her stomach; this wasn’t just their usual flirting. They were alone, they were in a back alley and they were both dressed very well.

All they needed was a little Italian food and some wine.

And that was easy to arrange.

‘Seriously, Kate, I feel like you’re taking me to a crime scene,’ he continued.

She stopped them in front of a small restaurant, built between two large apartment blocks. There were only five tables inside, and only one of them was free, a small ‘reserved’ sign sitting on it.

‘Wow.’

Turning to face him, she smiled, squeezing his hand as she realised she was still holding it.

‘I hope you like Italian food,’ she said.

‘I love Italian food,’ he whispered in response.

She met his eyes and in that moment she never wanted the night to end, she could have spent the rest of it in that exact position, holding his hand and his gaze, just knowing that everything was the way it was supposed to be.

A loud rumble from his stomach interrupted the moment.

‘I think my stomach agrees,’ he smiled.

She was slightly disappointed as he let go of her hand to open the door and wave her in, but she knew that moment was easily replicated.

She liked to think she was getting used to the hand holding thing.

*

‘Yeah, you try telling my mother that,’ he laughed.

She echoed his laugh and looked down at her empty plate; she had been a whole lot more hungry than she thought she was going to be, but now that she thought about it she hadn’t eaten all day, completely caught up in the case.

The bottle of wine was empty too, but that she had been looking forward to.

‘This is nice,’ he commented.

She looked up to see his more serious expression, it was the first time all night she had seen serious Castle and it made her stomach flutter a little. Now she was regretting all that spaghetti.

‘Yeah,’ she agreed.

She turned her attention back to her wine glass, swirling the last of her wine around in a circle.

This was the part she had been trying to ignore all night, the part she was trying to push away with Italian and wine and candlelight, but she knew deep down that before anything happened between them, she was going to have to tell him everything.

It couldn’t be so hard, she had practiced it in her head a thousand times.

‘Kate,’ he said quietly. ‘I need to tell you something.’

She closed her eyes.

There was no way she was going to let him tell her again before she had admitted she heard it the first time.

Before she admitted she felt the same.

‘So do I,’ she opened her eyes and met his.

He frowned for a moment, glancing out the window.

‘Not here,’ he said. ‘I want to take you somewhere.’

She smiled.

‘Okay.’

*

He paid, even though he’d given her the money to pay for the dinner. With anyone else, including her ex-boyfriends, she would have insisted that he let her pay, especially since it was his money anyway.

But for some reason, with Castle, she didn’t mind. She let him buy her coffee, or the occasional lunch or dinner, somehow it made her feel special. With other men she had always felt like it was a way for them to show that she was their possession in some way, or like they thought she wasn’t able to look after herself.

Yet with Castle she never felt that.

He just did it because he wanted to.

They walked pretty much in silence from the restaurant to a small park at the edge of the river. She had been there before, for a case, but decided against telling him that. Obviously this place was somewhere special to him.

There was nothing uncomfortable about their silence, in fact she found it reassuring in some way. They didn’t need to talk, they could just enjoy each other’s company.

This time he reached out and took her hand, stopping her in her tracks and turning to face her.

‘Before I tell you what I’m about to, I need you to know something,’ he said.

She was confused, but she wanted to tell him first.

‘I love you,’ she found herself saying.

She barely heard the words herself, but the expression on his face, the way he was suddenly frozen in his position, told her he’d heard them clearly.

‘You…what?’ a small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth and she felt the fear fading away.

‘I…’ she paused, unsure how to continue. ‘I remember.’

A slightly more uncomfortable silence fell between them and the urge to run hit her for the first time all evening.

It was a few moments before he spoke, and she watched his eyes searching hers, their hands still intertwined.

‘Why didn’t you say something?’

He was hurt and she understood.

‘I wasn’t ready,’ she whispered, looking down at the ground.

It was easier than looking at him directly.

He stepped closer, letting go of one of her hands and placed a finger under her chin, lifting it up so she had no choice but to look at him.

‘Are you ready now?’ he said quietly.

She nodded, almost afraid that she was about to cry. This was real, this was happening.

He ran his thumb lightly over her lips as a huge smile broke out on his face.

‘I love you too, Kate,’ he said.

And then he kissed her. It wasn’t like the last time. To start off with there was no guard about to attack them, and she didn’t feel the shock she had felt the last time. All she could feel was his lips against hers, and his arms slowly pulling her closer.

She pulled away for a moment and looked at him.

‘What were you going to say before?’ she asked.

He shook his head, still smiling. ‘It doesn’t matter for now.’

He kissed her again and she pushed away all thoughts of secrets and hiding things. After a few minutes he pulled away, placing a kiss on her forehead and taking her hand in his again.

‘May I walk the lady home?’ he asked.

She smiled. He was at least pretending to be a gentleman, although she felt there was no pressure from him, and if she just wanted to be walked home then he would respect that.

Except the idea of leaving him at that moment was already digging a hole in her chest.

‘Your place is closer,’ she whispered in response.

‘Katherine Beckett, who knew you were so forward,’ he replied.

‘Rick?’ she said.

‘Yeah?’

‘Stop talking.’

She kissed him again and she could feel his lips smiling under hers.

This was right.

And suddenly she didn’t know why she had waited so long.

*

It was his apartment she woke up in. They had debated over whose place to go to for a good long while, until she had won with her simple ‘If we go to yours, we’ll be there faster’.

But there he was, lying next to her, fast asleep, with one arm resting lazily on her stomach, the other stretch out beneath her head. She was tempted to pinch herself, to remind her that yes, this was real, but she didn’t want to move, afraid she would wake him.

It seemed like forever that she lay there, watching him sleeping and remembering everything from the night before, but she knew it was only a few minutes before he spoke.

‘You know it could be considered creepy that you’re watching me sleep,’ he said, his eyes still closed.

‘No more creepy than you pretending not to be awake,’ she replied, kissing him lightly on the lips.

He opened his eyes and looked at her.

‘Just checking you’re real,’ he whispered. ‘This happens a lot in my dreams, but then you disappear when I open my eyes.’

She felt her heart pounding a little bit harder and she smiled.

‘Mine too,’ she replied.

‘I’d like to offer you breakfast, but that would involve me getting out of bed, and I’m not entirely sure I want to do that,’ he commented.

He lifted a hand and traced it lightly down her arm, his fingers barely touching her skin.

‘Breakfast can wait,’ she replied.

‘And yet again I’m seeing this whole new side to you.’

He smiled and kissed her again. She liked that, that they could just kiss, like it was something normal that they did all the time.

The door swung open.

‘Dad, did you want…’

The silence was louder than anything Beckett had ever heard in her life.

‘Alexis!’ Castle exclaimed.

‘Sorry!’ her hand flung up to cover her eyes. ‘Beckett?’

‘Hi,’ she replied.

‘Hi,’ Alexis reached with her other hand to find the exit to the room.

The second his daughter was gone, Castle turned back to face her.

‘It’s okay, I get it, now we actually have to get up,’ she smiled.

‘I’m sorry, I did suggest your apartment,’ he kissed her one more time, then swung his legs out of bed, reaching around to locate his PJs that he’d thrown on the floor the night before.

She did the same, trying to locate her clothes. It took her a little longer and Castle suggested it was probably best he went out and explained himself before she joined him.

She finished getting dressed and hung around in his office for a minute, wasting time until she thought he’d finished.

The office was a much him as he was.

She reached up to grab one of his books and her elbow hit one of his screens, it came to light.

She froze.

It was a murder board.

It was her murder board.

He was investigating her shooting and pretending otherwise.

The door opened and he stuck his head in.

‘Ok, I think it’s safe…’

His last word trailed off as he noticed what she was looking at.

‘That I can explain,’ he said.

She continued reading the screen, suddenly confused. There was information on there she didn’t know, he’d found things out, and he hadn’t told her.

‘Where did you get this information?’ she asked.

‘A guy.’

He was being purposely vague and that annoyed her. She didn’t respond, knowing if she waited long enough he’d continue his explanation, find a need to make her understand.

‘He contacted me months ago, told me to keep you off the case or you’d be killed, and he gave me that information,’ he moved closer to her and she turned to face him.

‘You kept me off my own case? Off my mother’s case? Because some stranger told you to?’

‘To keep you safe.’

She wasn’t sure how that made her feel, she didn’t know whether to listen to her heart pumping in her chest, telling her that he loved her that much, or whether she was mad enough to walk out and not come back.

‘I can protect myself, Castle,’ she shot back.
Yeah. She was mad, definitely mad.

‘Not from these people you can’t,’ he snapped. ‘They want you dead and they will stop at nothing.’

‘So you thought you’d solve the case yourself?’

He hesitated.

‘You’re not a cop, Castle, you can’t do this on your own,’ she continued, feeling the anger subside and the sudden overwhelming urge to cry taking over.

He didn’t seem to have a response for that, and that was the final straw.

‘I have to go,’ she muttered, walking past him, grabbing her bag and storming out.

Of course things weren’t going to be that easy.

They never were.

fic: communication [4/?]

muldy — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 04:34:12 GMT

Title: Communication
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Part: 4/?
Words: 4047
Previous Parts

Summary: A collection of text messages, emails, blogs, logs and other communication between Castle and Beckett, beginning at season one and continuing through the series.

July 19th 2009
Text Message Conversation

Alexis
This is me reminding you that you have a novel to write.

Dad
I haven’t forgotten, there’s just nothing coming out on paper.

Alexis
Want me to bring home chocolate and ice cream?

Dad
You are the perfect daughter. PS. Tell your grandma I need Scotch.

Alexis
Already did that.

Dad
Sometimes I swear you were adopted, no one else in this family is so efficient.

Alexis
☺

July 28th 2009
Castle’s Notes

I can’t write.
And I miss her.

August 30th 2009

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: roy.montgomery@nypd.com
subject: Press

Hey Captain,
I have a reporter who wants to do a piece on the whole following Beckett around as a muse thing.
There’s just one tiny little problem. I may have made it seem like I was still doing that and the magazine wants to interview me at the precinct.
Rick

from: roy.montgomery@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: Press

Castle,
You’re going to have to try harder to get back in the precinct than that. I’m afraid if I let you in here I’m going to be in trouble with Beckett.
Sorry.

Roy Montgomery
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3902

September 3rd 2009

from: roy.montgomery@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: The Mayor

Very clever, Castle, going over my head.
I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.

PS. You get to tell Beckett.

Roy Montgomery
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3902

September 4th 2009
Text Message Conversation

Castle
I know we’re not talking, but there’s a reporter who wants to interview me. At the precinct. It’s been cleared with Montgomery.

Castle
Oh and they want to interview you too.

Beckett
You better warn them I have a gun.

Castle
Oh I have.

Beckett
Where’s the reporter from?

Castle
Some magazine.

Beckett
What magazine?

Castle
…Cosmo.

Beckett
You are so dead.

September 21st 2009

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: Hot chicks

Yo,
I think we’re in the wrong line of work.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

Do you think all mystery novelists get that many strippers?

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

Although any minute now Becket is going to jump over that desk and strangle either Castle or the journalist.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

You know I think I could deal with Beckett’s death glare for that many hot women hanging off me.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

Oh yeah.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

Yeah.
Do we have something important we should be doing?

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

Nope. New York City kindly made sure we had no murders to solve this afternoon.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

Don’t say it, if you say it that phone is going to ring.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

I think I’m going to get coffee, away from the phone, and hope if it rings, someone else will take the call.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Hot chicks

Wait for me!

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

September 24th 2009

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com; javier.esposito@nypd.com; lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: Castle

He’s back in the good books.
For now.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com; lanie.parish@nypd.com; kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

So Ryan and I are allowed to accept those tickets he offered us for the Knicks game?

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com; lanie.parish@nypd.com; kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

Because if you don’t want us to, we won’t...

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com; lanie.parish@nypd.com; kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

But they’re really good seats.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com; javier.esposito@nypd.com; lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

You can go.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: lanie.parish@nypd.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

Just so you know, he ain’t getting off that easily in my books.

No way I’m falling for that charming smile and the bouquet of flowers that mysteriously showed up at the morgue.

He’s got a whole lot of apologizing to do before I’m going to be nice to him again.

Lanie Parish
New York City Morgue
555 3085

Text Message Conversation

Beckett
Don’t think you can buy back everyone’s friendship.

Castle
Is it working?

Beckett
Well Ryan and Esposito are on their way to watch the Knicks play. Lanie’s flowers are in the morgue garbage.

Castle
Well, two out of three, not bad.

Beckett
I’m still waiting for my present, so make that two out of four.

September 25th 2009
Note left with flowers and chocolate delivered to Kate Beckett’s door

Dear Kate,
Friends?
xoxo Rick

September 29th 2009
Kate Beckett’s Diary Entry

This case is getting to me, I know it shouldn’t, but maybe it’s Castle bringing everything up again. Just seeing the way the victim’s family reacted when I mentioned that it wasn’t just a random mugging. I remember that feeling and I remember it well.

I hate to admit it, but I a part of me wants to go back down that road, wants to find out what happened.

I’m afraid of what could happen if I do, but somehow it’s comforting knowing Castle would be there with me, no matter how much I should hate him for bringing this all up again.

fic: happy endings [ 1/1 ]

muldy — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 11:36:35 GMT

Title: Happy Endings
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Spoilers: Once Upon A Crime
Words: 1163

Summary: "He hadn’t seen her like this before. Happy. Enjoying herself. And holding his hand."

Castle glanced at her as she took his hand and he met his eye for a moment, before turning her attention back to Martha.

He hadn’t seen her like this before.

Happy.

Enjoying herself.

And holding his hand.

Suddenly he wasn’t hearing a word his mother was saying and his entire focus was on their hands. He had no idea what this meant, and he hoped that it was all her, that his mother had nothing to do with this.

A part of him was curious if this was an invitation for him to make a move, to say something.

Secrets are like time bombs…

She had been quick to change that topic; maybe he wasn’t the only one with a secret…

No.

She would’ve said something, right? In all that time.

It was then that he caught Alexis’ glance; the slight smile, the sparkle in her eyes. He narrowed his eyes at her and she quickly looked away, although the smile remained on her face.

Martha’s play finished and he felt Beckett pulling her hand from his to clap. He squeezed it for a moment before letting go and she glanced at him, a look of longing in her eyes that he hadn’t seen there in a long time.

Then her attention was back on Martha.

‘Martha, that was wonderful, thank you for the encore show,’ Beckett laughed.

Castle put his arm around the back of the couch, he wasn’t touching her in any way, but he hoped the moment she noticed it she would lean back and when his family inevitably left them alone he could drop his arm down around her shoulder.

‘Thank you my dear,’ Martha bowed. ‘Richard, dear, don’t I deserve a round of applause?’

‘That depends, are you planning to change the part about me being a terrible son?’

‘Well it’s not dramatic that way,’ Martha took a seat next to Alexis.

As though she had read his mind, Beckett leaned back into the couch, her head resting against his arm. She didn’t look at him, but she dropped her hand between them, lightly touching the side of his leg.

‘Remember mother, I don’t charge you rent,’ he smiled.

Martha made some sort of unrecognisable noise then turned to Alexis and Marcus.

‘You two can help me clean up the dishes,’ she stated.

Alexis opened her mouth like she was about to complain, Castle assumed it was because it was his turn to do the dishes, but at that moment he was sure everyone in the room knew that there was no way he was getting off the couch.

‘Sure,’ she smiled and stood up. ‘Although I think it’s hardly fair to make Marcus do the dishes, since he’s a guest and all.’

‘It’s not a problem,’ Marcus stood up. ‘It would be an honour.’

The three of them headed towards the kitchen area, the two women unsubtly getting closer together and whispering.

‘Subtle,’ Beckett commented.

‘Subtle doesn’t run in the family,’ Castle replied, turning towards her and smiling. ‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’

That was a good question. For letting him stalk her? For coming over that night? For holding his hand and letting him know she cared?

There were a lot of things he wanted to thank her for.

‘Everything,’ seemed to be the simple answer.

A part of him toyed with the idea of telling her right then and there about the fact that he was looking into her mother’s case, trying to find her killer. The better part of his mind told him doing that would ruin everything, that she would stand up and walk out of there, and possibly not talk to him for a very long time.

‘In that case, you’re welcome,’ she said, twisting on the couch to face him.

‘Can I ask you something?’ he asked.

She paused, just for a moment, but to him it felt as though she was afraid of what he could ask her.

‘Asking permission? Must be serious,’ she joked, taking another sip of her champagne.

‘Do you really believe in happy endings?’

He needed to know; it had just been a comment pertaining to their case, but for some reason, combined with the fact that she had been the one to take his hand, it seemed to him like it had been more of a hopeful comment on her part, than an observation about the case.

‘I have to, Castle,’ she looked down at her hand on the couch between them. ‘Otherwise where’s the hope?’

‘There’s always hope,’ he replied without thinking.

‘Always,’ she echoed.

His eyes locked on hers. He hadn’t even realised he’d said it, but her echo made it hit home. That word meant to her what it meant to him, and somehow that made him feel better.

The moment was cut short by a loud laugh from the kitchen and he glanced in that direction for a moment.

‘You don’t believe in happy endings?’ she cottoned on to the thing he was hoping she wouldn’t.

‘Well you read what I did to Derek Storm,’ he deflected.

‘In your life, Rick.’

Rick.

She wanted to know if he thought they would have a happy ending.

He wanted to say yes, wanted to tell her that for the first time he believed that he could spend the rest of his life with someone, but he wasn’t sure that she believed the same thing. At that moment he couldn’t believe in their happy ending because she hadn’t given him any real evidence that it would happen. He knew she wanted it, this, but each day their relationship stayed stationary and he found it harder and harder to believe that it would work out.

Although her being there at that moment was a positive sign.

‘I haven’t had much luck with happily ever after,’ he replied.

‘Maybe you just married the wrong woman,’ she said instantly.

‘Women,’ he corrected.

She laughed, looking down at her champagne.

‘Next time I’m going to marry the right one,’ he whispered.

Her eyes shot up to look at him. For a few moments she sat there in silence, just looking at him.

‘I hope so.’

It was like a string had pulled on his stomach and unleashed a thousand butterflies and he suddenly felt like a teenager on his first date. This was the closest they had come to talking about anything significant since they had sat on the swings that day after she stalked him at his book signing.

Of course Alexis chose that moment to enter, holding a tray of ice creams.

‘Dessert?’

‘Yes please,’ Beckett sat forward.

He was slightly disappointed at the broken contact, but didn’t miss the smile his daughter gave him as the other two re-entered the room.

It was enough for now and it was a whole lot more than he’d had an hour earlier.
At least he had the hope that he wasn’t the only one looking for a happy ending.

fic: communication [3/?]

muldy — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 02:56:48 GMT

Title: Communication
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Part: 3/?
Words: 3095

Previous Parts

Summary: A collection of text messages, emails, blogs, logs and other communication between Castle and Beckett, beginning at season one and continuing through the series.

May 4th 2009

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: Uh oh

Yo,

Did you just see Beckett sending Castle home?

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Uh oh

No, I was on the phone to my girlfriend.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Uh oh

Dude, whipped, it’s only been two weeks.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Uh oh

Just for the record, I like the tie.
You’re just jealous

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Uh oh

Dude, no one is jealous of your relationship.
Castle and Beckett’s little FBI boyfriend on the other hand – let’s just say I was expecting some fists to come out just before she sent Castle home.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Uh oh

Speaking of, you have exactly a week until I win that bet.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Uh oh

There’s still time.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Uh oh

With FBI boyfriend hanging around? You may as well pay up now.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

May 5th 2009
Text Message Conversation

Castle
Admit it, you were actually concerned about my safety today.

Beckett
I’m not in the mood, Castle.

Castle
I just thought it was nice.

Beckett
Well you have to admit, you aren’t always the most responsible person.

Castle
I screwed up.

Beckett
That wasn’t your fault.

Castle
I should have been watching. What if we don’t find that little girl? Whether it’s my fault or not, I can’t stop thinking about it.

Beckett
We’ll find her, Castle.

Castle
I hope so.

May 6th 2009
Castle’s Notes

Beckett and Sorenson have an interesting history. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it didn’t end well. Maybe Nikki Heat has an ex-boyfriend who gets in the way of her relationship with Rook. He may or may not be an FBI agent.

And he’s probably an asshole.

May 8th 2009

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: So…

How was the date?
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: So…

Private life, Castle.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: So…

Can we call it research?
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: So…

You know it’s a fiction novel, not a biography, I don’t need to tell you everything.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: So…

Just tell me one thing…when I sent you that text message the other day, were you and Mr FBI actually making out?
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: So…

Why, Castle? Would you be jealous if I was?

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: So…

No.
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: So…

In that case, I’ll leave it to your imagination ;-)

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

May 11th 2009
Text Message Conversation

Ryan
Pay up

Esposito
I’m not paying until you ask them if they slept together.

Ryan
They haven’t.

Esposito
You don’t know that.

Ryan
I’m not going to ask Beckett if she slept with Castle, she’ll shoot me.

Esposito
So ask Castle.

Ryan
You ask.

Esposito
No way, man, he’ll tell her.

Ryan
You suck.

Text Message Conversation

Castle
Please? ☺

Beckett
I will not run a background check on Alexis’ boyfriend. PS. It’s sad to text the person sitting next to you.

Castle
You were ignoring me.

Beckett
For a reason.

Castle
But you’re not ignoring my texts, so my plan worked.

Beckett
Good thing you’re still close enough to hurt.

Kate Beckett’s Diary Entry

I knew telling Castle about my mother’s case was a bad idea.

May 13th 2009

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: Too scary?
attachment: mycostume.jpg

Do you think this is enough to scare Alexis’ boyfriend? Is the severed head too much?
xoxo
Rick

Text Message Conversation

Richard
Is Alexis home from the prom yet?

Mother
Richard, it’s nine-thirty, they haven’t even made it to the backseat of a car yet.

Richard
That’s not funny, mother.

Mother
It’s a little bit funny.

May 16th 2009

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: (none)
attachment: flowers.jpg

I know you told me not to look into your mother’s murder, but I’m just trying to help.
xoxo
Rick

May 20th 2009

Castle
Are you going to ignore me forever?

May 25th 2009

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: Beckett

So, how mad is she?
Rick

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: Beckett

Mad.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Beckett

On a scale of 1 to 10?
Rick

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: Beckett

45.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Beckett

So coming into the precinct would be a bad idea?
Rick

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: Beckett

I’d advise against it.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 0412

June 15th 2009

from: lanie.parish@nypd.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: Castle

I know you don’t like talking about these things, but I haven’t seen Castle around for a few weeks, is everything okay?

Lanie Parish
New York City Morgue
555 3085

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

I asked him specifically not to look into my mother’s case and he kept digging.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: lanie.parish@nypd.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

You want me to kick his ass? Or we could just have a girls cocktail night at mine and throw darts at a photo of his face, it’s up to you.

Lanie Parish
New York City Morgue
555 3085

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

The thing is, he found something new. He opened the box and I don’t know if I can close it again, not knowing what I know now.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: lanie.parish@nypd.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

Both it is.

Lanie Parish
New York City Morgue
555 3085

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: RE: Castle

You know, just the girlie cocktail night sounds good.
I can kick his ass myself.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

Part Four

fic: communication [2/?]

muldy — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 05:54:06 GMT

Title: Communication
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Part: 2/?
Words: 1161

Previous Parts

Summary: A collection of text messages, emails, blogs, logs and other communication between Castle and Beckett, beginning at season one and continuing through the series.

2nd April 2009
Castle’s Notes

Observations On Kate Beckett

• Does not like being called Katie
• Stares at something really intently when she can’t figure out the answer.
• Drinks too much coffee
• Can’t use the coffee machine
• Doesn’t like being wrong
• Looks good in almost everything she wears

Castle’s Notes – as edited by Beckett

Observations On ~~Kate Beckett~~ Richard Castle

• ~~Does not like being called Katie~~ His name can be shortened to ‘Dick’.
• ~~Stares at something really intently when she can’t figure out the answer~~ Stares at every hot woman who walks into the room and thinks they don’t notice. For the record: they do.
• Drinks too much coffee
• ~~Can’t use the coffee machine~~ Thinks he’s so clever for being able to use a machine that 15 year olds get paid minimum wage to use.
• ~~Doesn’t like being wrong~~ Knows Beckett is always right.
• ~~Looks good in almost everything she wears~~ See point two.

5th April 2009
Text Message Conversation

Beckett
I thought I should let you know I’m in a sex store, picking up my stripper costume for when I become Nikki Heat.

Castle
You have no idea how hot that is.

Beckett
I’d hate to be cliché and go with the police uniform, so do you think she’s more of a sexy nurse or a dominatrix?

Castle
Please tell me you’re actually buying a stripper outfit.

Beckett
;-)

Castle
Which sex store are you at?

Beckett
Starbucks.

Castle
You know, green aprons work too, when you’re not wearing anything else.

Beckett
Goodnight Castle.

8th April 2009

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: Family
attachment: alienfamily.jpg

I found your family portrait on Google.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Family

I’ll have you know Detective Beckett, my family are perfectly normal.
xoxo
Rick
PS. Why are you at the office so early?

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: Family

While some of us might have nothing better to do than play laser tag, others have murders to solve.

Also coffee would be appreciated.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: Family

PS. Starbucks jpg files don’t count.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Family

And I was not about to attach that photo again.
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: Family

Sure, Castle.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

10th April 2009
Kate Beckett’s Diary Entry

I don’t write in here much anymore, but I feel the need to talk to someone. I’m being stalked, professionally, by my favorite author. I guess I should be honored, even though he is one of the most irritating people I have ever worked with. He doesn’t listen to anything I say, yet he acts like he’s my partner. Always coming up with these crazy ideas about cases.

The thing is, a lot of the time, he’s right. And to make things worse, I actually kind of enjoy his company.

I don’t understand. He is exactly the kind of person I don’t like, yet he makes me laugh on a daily basis and his crazy theories entertain me. Not that I’d let him know that.

I guess the reason I’m writing in here is because I did something strange today. I told him about my mother’s case, and about my father’s alcoholism. I don’t know why. I’ve been trying my hardest to hide my past from him, to hide who I really am, because I know whatever I tell him is going to end up in his Nikki Heat book.

But somehow he knew that there was something, or maybe he was just guessing, either way he has incredibly good instincts about people. So I told him.

It’s not something I talk about. Of course everybody at work knows, but I think this is the first time I actually told someone specifically what happened without it being necessary.

I just feel like he could be a really good friend. He’s easy to talk to, and he doesn’t worry about offending me. I guess with him I know what I’m getting and there’s no tip toeing around the truth, no secret agendas. I feel more comfortable around him than I have around anyone in years.

April 15th 2009
Text Message Conversation

Castle
You know, I just realised something.

Beckett
Congratulations.

Castle
Don’t you want to know what it is?

Beckett
Not particularly.

Castle
You’re ruining all the fun.

Beckett
And you are ruining my peaceful evening.

Castle
Which you are only enjoying because of what I did.

Beckett
OK, Castle, you’ve officially lost me.

Castle
I saved your life.

Beckett
And by that you mean Nikki Heat, right? Because I don’t remember that happening.

Castle
When that guy was shooting at us. I saw him first, and I saved you.

Castle
I take your silence to mean that you know I'm right.

Beckett
I was just trying to count how many times I’ve saved your ass.

Castle
Let me help you with that one – never.

Beckett
I was thinking more like ‘once a week’.

Castle
Name one.

Castle
Castle: 1, Beckett: 0

Castle
Hello?

April 21st 2009

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: Help!

If you were going to a black tie event, what would you wear?

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: lanie.parish@nypd.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Help!

It's about time. Who’s the lucky man?

Lanie Parish
New York City Morgue
555 3085

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: RE: Help!

It was Castle’s idea, and it’s work related. Ryan and Esposito will be there too.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: lanie.parish@nypd.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Help!

Honey, is there something you want to tell me about you and Castle?

Lanie Parish
New York City Morgue
555 3085

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: Help!

Can you help me or not?

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: lanie.parish@nypd.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Help!

Oh I can help, but I want all the gossip afterwards. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, there is something there, whether you realise it or not.

Lanie Parish
New York City Morgue
555 3085

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: lanie.parish@nypd.com
subject: Help!

Castle flirts with everyone.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 2903

from: lanie.parish@nypd.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: Help!

No, honey, that’s just you ;-)

Lanie Parish
New York City Morgue
555 3085

April 22nd 2009

Beckett
Just for the record, now we’re even.

Castle
I don’t know, when I saved your life, I didn’t get a free dinner out of it.

Beckett
Last I heard it costs $3000 to have dinner with you.

Castle
Hey, that was your fault for telling my mother where we were going.

Beckett
Best mistake I ever made.

Castle
After letting me follow you around.

Beckett
No, that was the worst mistake I ever made.

Castle
Ouch. That’s the thanks I get for dinner?

Beckett
☺

fic: silence [1/1]

muldy — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 04:02:52 GMT

Title: Silence
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Spoilers: Set between season two and three
Words: 695

Summary: "She was tired of pretending. Tired of acting like she didn’t care that he was away, that she didn’t need him there, when really he was the only person she wanted around."

Somehow she thinks shooting herself in the foot would be less painful. The longer he was away the worse it got, and she wasn’t sure how distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder – all it was doing was crushing her heart into a tiny little ball with far too much mass for it’s size and she felt like she wanted to explode all day long.

She was tired of pretending. Tired of acting like she didn’t care that he was away, that she didn’t need him there, when really he was the only person she wanted around.

Ironically she needed him to tell her that it was okay that he wasn’t there for her. It made no sense and the frustration of it had her beating up her punching bag twice-daily.

How hard was it for him to call? To send a text and say ‘Hey, I’m back!’ or even ‘Hey! I’m not coming back because I’m going to re-marry my ex-wife and live happily ever after until we remember that we really hate each other and get divorced again’.

That would do.

She wasn’t fussy. She just needed something, anything, to…to what?

To remind her that he was real? That he was thinking about her? That she hadn’t broken up with her boyfriend because of some stupid belief that maybe she was with the wrong guy and she should take a chance because maybe, just maybe, Castle was the guy.

But that never worked, not in Kate Beckett’s life. Things didn’t go her way. Everyone she loved were either with someone else or wound up dead. So why should Castle be any different?

She slammed her boxing glove into the punching bag for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.

It wasn’t that hard, except for men it seemed to be. It wasn’t like they’d had a fight, it wasn’t like she had done anything to offend him. The last thing he had done before walking off into the sunset with his ex-wife was smile at her and tell her he’d see her in the fall.

It was fall.

Not only was it fall, it was well into fall and he hadn’t said a word.

It was like he had completely fallen off the face of the planet.

Maybe he knew, maybe she’d read all the signs wrong and he felt nothing for her, and all the signals she had given to him had served only to scare him off.

But it hadn’t felt like that, that’s not how it had seemed. He had started their friendship, he was the one who decided to follow her around and write a series of books on her. He was the one who called her and emailed her and suggested they hang out.

She’d hung back. She knew how these things went and she didn’t need to fall for anyone, it wasn’t something she wanted and the second she had realised her attraction to him she had tried to hide it.

Afraid he’d see it.

And maybe he had and it had scared him away like everyone else, right back to the arms of a woman he hated.

She kept imagining him turning up at the precinct. At first it had been daydreams about him showing up and her hugging him and everything returning to normal. Then it had become some sort of weird fantasy where he’d turned up and told her he loved her and had made a huge mistake by going away with Gina all summer.

Now all she saw was his face on her punching bag and how she could kick his ass if he ever turned up again.

Common sense said she was being ridiculous, that she could just pick up the phone and call him. But he’d said he’d call and she was stubborn.

And she was afraid.

Afraid that he wouldn’t answer, that she would then be stuck waiting for a return call that might never come.

Or afraid that he’d gone and done something stupid that meant anything she had felt for him before the break was redundant.

Or maybe what scared her was that it wouldn’t.

fic: communication [1/?]

muldy — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 12:51:16 GMT

Title: Communication
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Part: 1/?
Words: 850

Summary: A collection of text messages, emails, blogs, logs and other communication between Castle and Beckett, beginning at season one and continuing through the series.

11th March 2009
Text Message Conversation

Castle
Guess who?

Beckett
Castle.

Castle
Damnit, how’d you know?

Beckett
Whatever awesome stalking skills you think you have, my police authority gives me access to better ones.

Castle
Sexy.

Beckett
Unintentional.

Castle
So when do I get to take you out for a beer and find out what makes Kate Beckett tick?

Beckett
When hell freezes over.

Castle
Unoriginal! Next time maybe try something more along the lines of ‘When Ryan and Esposito get married’ or you could just go with ‘Tonight.’

Beckett
The first of those is more likely.

Castle
I don’t know whether to be curious about their relationship or offended you don’t want to drink with me.

Beckett
I’m going to sleep now. Goodnight, Castle.

Castle
That means you’re in pyjamas! What sort? Nightie? I like to imagine you as a kick ass cop who secretly likes to dress up at night to go to bed.

Castle
Too far?

Beckett
Sweet dreams ;-)

14th March 2009

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: FWD: You’ll laugh
attachment: coffeeaddict.jpg

Hey Katie,
I got this cartoon from a friend this morning. It made me think of you.
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: FWD: You’ll laugh

Castle,

This is a work email.

And I am not a coffee addict with a sleeping problem.

Well not all the time. I’m just a cop.

PS. Don’t call me Katie, I have a gun.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2903

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: FWD: You’ll laugh

I thought work emails were for sending random cartoons to co-workers.
So when do I get a work email?
What do you prefer then? Kate, Kat, Becky?
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: FWD: You’ll laugh

You don’t get a work email, you have to be an employee of NYPD to get an NYPD email.
And Detective Beckett will do.

If you have nothing better to do I have a pile of paperwork you can finish for me.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2903

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: FWD: You’ll laugh

I’m doing research for my novel.
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: FWD: You’ll laugh

Aren’t you doing enough research during the day?

I have work to do, Castle.

And since I’ll be here all night, you can bring me coffee in the morning.

xoxo

Kate

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2903

from: somethingclever@gmail.com
to: kate.beckett@nypd.com
subject: RE: FWD: You’ll laugh
attachment: starbuckscoffee.jpg

☺
xoxo
Rick

from: kate.beckett@nypd.com
to: somethingclever@gmail.com
subject: RE: FWD: You’ll laugh

Very funny.

Kate Beckett
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2903

15th March 2009
Note Left Next To Coffee

You’re welcome.

x Castle
PS. I had to walk three blocks to find good coffee.

20th March 2009
Richard Castle’s Blog

Hi guys,

I know I’ve been quiet since the death of Derek Storm, but I’ve found her, my new character. I can’t tell you too much about her yet, but I can tell you she’s female and she’s New York’s number one homicide detective.

And she’s very, very hot.

I’ve just started my research now, but never fear, before long my new character will be here and you’ll all forget about Derek Storm.

I’m very excited about this new project and I hope you guys will be too.

Hopefully I’ll have some more information for you in my next blog!

Watch this space.

Richard Castle

21st March 2009
Text Message Conversation

Beckett
You know it.

Castle
I hate to ask, but what do I know?

Beckett
Well I do consider myself to be New York’s number one homicide detective

Castle
Kate Beckett, who knew you were enough of a fan to read my blog.

Beckett
Know your enemies, Castle.

Castle
Ouch. I’m hurt.

Beckett
☺

30th March 2009

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

Yo,

What’s going on over there?

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 042 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

Morning coffee and a case to work on?

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2679

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

Since when does Beckett smile like that?

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 042 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

Well he’s a funny, good looking guy.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2679

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

Dude. Is there something you want to tell me?

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 042 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

Don’t you have work to do?

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2679

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2679

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

I give it six weeks.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 042 3480

from: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
to: javier.esposito@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

Dude, this is Beckett we’re talking about. I give it six years.

Kevin Ryan
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 041 2679

from: javier.esposito@nypd.com
to: kevin.ryan@nypd.com
subject: RE: Flirting

You’re on.

Javier Esposito
NYPD 12th Precinct
555 042 3480

Part Two: April 2009

fic: frozen [1/1]

muldy — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 12:09:40 GMT

Title: Frozen
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Words: 1986
Spoilers: 3x24

Summary: 'It had taken her getting shot for him to admit how he felt the first time, just thinking about saying those words to her again made his stomach turn.'

He notices the shift in demeanour, the way she’s suddenly leaning away from him, as if distancing herself. If he’s honest with himself, he’s been waiting for that all evening. He’d noticed it a lot recently, the way that she pulled away when he got close to her; both physically and emotionally.

“I remember everything.”

His insides froze. He had a suspicion this was the reason for her visit that evening, but he hadn’t really expected her to say anything. All he had allowed himself to imagine was the two of them drinking some wine and having a good laugh.

Up until that moment that was exactly what it had been. But now, now it was something else, it was what he wanted to talk about, but he was so afraid to bring up. It had taken her getting shot for him to admit how he felt the first time, just thinking about saying those words to her again made his stomach turn.

What if she ignored them again? What if she pretended that it had never happened and he was left right back where he started. He wasn’t sure he could take another few months of her not talking to him, the last time had almost killed him.

“Everything?” was all he could manage.

Even then he could hear the word choking in the back of his throat, the eventual sound coming out as something that half-resembled a strangled cat.

‘Yes,’ she whispered in response, avoiding looking at him.

Her attention was suddenly fully into her wine glass, her body facing away from his, where it had been leaning towards him only twenty minutes earlier.

‘I know.’

It was the truth and he suddenly didn’t see any point in hiding that from her anymore. She looked at him, not in surprise that he knew, but seemingly in realisation that the conversation she had just started was actually happening.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘We shouldn’t be having this conversation.’

He didn’t know how to respond to that; she was the one who had brought it up, and he was the one who had previously put everything on the line. They needed to talk about it, the tension between them was building to the point of explosion and he knew that it was either this or some kind of huge fight that would result in neither of them ever speaking again.

Honestly he preferred this.

He wanted to reach across and touch her arm, to comfort her, and to be reassured that she was real, that they were actually sitting in his lounge room having this conversation.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He knew any move to reach out to her would send her running quicker than he would be able to react.

So he kept his distance.

Physically.

‘Kate, I know…you know…’ he paused, fully aware that his words were as vague as they possible could be.

For a few moments they fell back into silence as she looked into his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing there; confusion? A struggle within herself to decide what should happen next.

She almost smiled. ‘I thought I was doing a really good job at hiding it.’

‘There’s not much you can hide from me,’ he wasn’t sure the words were the right ones until a smile did actually break her expression.

But only for a moment.

‘I don’t…I don’t know,’ she whispered.

She didn’t specify what she didn’t know, but he didn’t need that information. He had a feeling that she was having a conversation with herself as much as she was with him, and he knew the best thing was to just let her.

‘Rick…’

She looked away now and suddenly he felt concern. A few seconds earlier he had been convinced the conversation was heading the way he wanted it to, but suddenly he felt that knot tying itself back in place in his stomach.

Her tone of voice was saying something he didn’t want to hear.

‘I think you are an incredible person,’ she continued, now letting her eyes meet his. ‘I think you’re smart, funny, ruggedly handsome and any other cliché you can think up.’

‘I can think up quite a few,’ he interjected, regretting doing so instantly.

She didn’t seem to mind.

‘I honestly enjoy spending time with you, at work, outside work. You are the one person who always treats me the same, no matter what. Half the time you’re what makes it easy to get up and go to a murder scene when everything just seems too much.’

Taking a break she glanced at her wine again, swirling it around in her glass, thinking.

He had to admit, he didn’t mind hearing a single word of what she was saying, but the overwhelming feeling that there was a giant ‘but’ coming was gnawing away at him slowly as she spoke.

He almost wished she would just stop there.

‘We have a huge connection. Everyone can see it, we both know it’s there…’ she looked back up at him. ‘I love you, Rick, but I can’t.’

The only thing he could feel at that moment was blank; she was sitting in front of him, the woman he was completely and utterly in love with, telling him how she loved him, but that she couldn’t be with him.

It wasn’t a surprise, he knew that, there was honestly very little he didn’t know about her, but to hear the words said out loud was something else. He didn’t even know how to react to that, he couldn’t recognise the emotion at all.

All he could identify was a distinct feeling of being lost.

‘I know,’ he replied, repeating his words from earlier.

Anything he wanted to tell her suddenly seemed redundant. He wanted to leap across the couch and kiss her, convince her that she was wrong and that she did want to be with him. But he couldn’t do that. He knew he shouldn’t even be thinking about doing it.

She just wanted to be his friend, that’s what she was saying.

He didn’t understand, looking into her eyes he could see it all. The longing, the admiration, the desire; he could see she was as in love with him as he was with her.

Yet it wasn’t going to happen.

Suddenly the reality of the situation seemed incredibly unfair. He wanted to slap her, or maybe he wanted to slap himself, and bring them both back to the real world. Or the real world the way it had been a few hours prior.

“You don’t want to be with me, Rick,’ she continued. ‘I can’t properly be with someone because my life is my mother’s case. Whether I’m working on it at the moment or not, that is my main focus. And I can’t do that to you…’

He wanted to shout at her ‘but it was okay to do it to Josh?’ He wanted to know why she was so willing to believe that about herself, yet subject that behaviour on anyone else. Anyone but him.

Even though he was the one person who understood it the best.

He was the one who stood by her side as she worked that case, he was the one who had tried to stand between her and the conspiracy. No one else had seen how badly it affected her as he had – yet she chose at the end of the day to go home either to an empty bed, or that of opening welcome arms that knew nothing of what she had gone through that day.

Part of him wanted to believe it was how close he was to the whole thing that led her to push him away.

Unfortunately he knew better.

Words that usually came so easily to him were failing to come at all. He could feel that it was his turn, that she wanted him to talk. But what was the point? Even if he repeated the words, admitted how he really felt, she was still going to home alone at the end of the day.

She wasn’t going change her mind.

‘You know that would never be a problem for me,’ he finally managed. ‘I understand that better than anyone else.’

Normally he knew she would argue, she hated it when he assumed things about her, especially when he said he understood her.

But there was no reaction about that.

Another look, another glance back at her wine glass and he was beginning to be under the impression that he had missed his moment. She was already pulling back in all the words she had spoken and hiding them away in the bank vault where she put her feelings

‘Coffee?’ he asked, suddenly feeling the need to grab some space.

‘That would be nice,’ she replied, leaning her head against the back of the couch and smiling slightly.

Somehow the normalcy of that interaction made him feel slightly more relaxed. Without glancing back at her he made his way into the kitchen.

The wait for the water to boil seemed like an eternity.

What did he have to lose by telling her? What she had said was so much harder, admitting that there was something there, but that she wasn’t willing to act on it. But all he had to do was repeat something that she already knew about. He literally had nothing he was hiding.

That made him feel exposed, bare, but at the same time seemed to give him that courage. And maybe now that he was outside her personal space, he felt the hope creeping back in again.

He finished making the coffees in complete silence, before heading back to the couch to find her.

She was asleep.

He sat down slowly on the couch and looked at her. She looked peaceful, and he didn’t want to wake her, but he hadn’t said what he needed to yet; because maybe it could change her mind, if she knew his feelings hadn’t changed, if she knew that he was willing to stand by her, no matter what.

He had told her a thousand times that he admired her, that he thought she was smart and funny and very, very hot. He didn’t need to repeat that.

But he did need to repeat that he loved her.

Sighing audibly he placed the two coffee mugs on the table, completely losing interest in drinking his.

He grabbed a notebook off the table and scribbled in it for a moment.

Kate,

I did bring you the coffee, but unfortunately you appear to be unconscious. I think it’s my turn to be honest; I am in love with you. You mean the world to me and I can’t imagine living each day without you there. If you think this can’t work, then that’s okay, I can be your friend. I’m not saying I don’t want so much more, but if it’s all I can have, I’ll take it.

Love Rick

He read over for a moment, glancing at the woman asleep on the couch beside him.

He wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t sure he could muster up the strength to actually say the words.

He was a writer.

It felt appropriate.

He folded the note and wrote her name on top. He placed it by her head, before covering her with a nearby blanket and kissing her lightly on the forehead.

He knew the next day it would be as though nothing happened, it had to be, because they both relied far too heavily on each other and couldn’t afford to be without.

But at least he could take away from it that she had said she loved him, that there was a connection between them. He knew he shouldn’t cling, but he was always well aware that he would.

Even if he had to pretend otherwise.

fic: still [ 1/1 ]

muldy — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 13:26:49 GMT

Title: Still
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Words: 780
Spoilers: 4x01

Summary: 'Most of all she was afraid of seeing Castle.'

She turned the page, not that she’d read anything that was on the page before it, but it just sort of felt like it was time to move onto the next chapter of the book.

She couldn’t even remember how many days she’d been there, stuck at her father’s house with nothing to do and nothing to think about except those words going around and around in her head, haunting her.

Half the time she wasn’t even sure what she concentrated on the most, the fact that he’d said it, or the fact that she’d ignored it and lied to him; that she’d told him she couldn’t remember.

Slowly shutting the book, she lay it on the table in front of her and looked out at the garden. Sitting outside was nice, but she wanted more than anything to jump up and go back to the precinct.

But she was afraid.

Not of facing the man who had tried to kill her, but that people would look at her differently. That they would pity her, that they would treat her differently. That Montgomery’s replacement would be someone horrible, or that everyone had discovered the truth about Montgomery’s death.

Most of all she was afraid of seeing Castle.

She glanced at her cell phone. At least once a day she would pick it up and stare at his number. Even though she hadn’t called it in months, it was still at the top of her ‘most dialled’.

But for some reason she couldn’t.

She knew that by not calling she was hurting him, but she also knew that by being around him she was hurting him and she didn’t know which one was worse.

Most of the time she wanted him to be there with her, to have his arms around her and hold her when she woke from the constant nightmares that were a mix of gunshots and confessions of love.

Each as scary to her as the other.

She wanted to tell him, tell him that she couldn’t be with him because then he would die, he would be gone like everyone else she had ever been close to. That she couldn’t be with him because she couldn’t let him in past her wall.

Even though he was already there every minute of every day.

Yet somehow, even though he’d pushed past her wall and found a way in, she wanted to believe he was on the other side of it still, trying to find the door. Because if he was already in there, and if she lost him in the way that he had almost lost her, she wasn’t sure she could survive.

Maybe it was best if she just stayed away from him, it wasn’t like a famous novelist would get himself into life threatening situations if it weren’t for her. Every time he was in danger it was because of her.

But her common sense told her that Castle wasn’t going to stay away. He was as addicted to solving crimes as he was to writing about them.

She realised she still had her phone in her hand and his name was still on the screen. For a moment she considered actually calling him, but then she’d left it so long and she wasn’t sure what to say.

And a part of her wondered why he hadn’t called her.

He’d said he loved her, right? So why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he turned up on the front doorstep of her father’s house and demanded to know why she was still hiding? Castle wasn’t the kind of person to hide. He was the guy who had turned up at her apartment late at night and told her to drop the case because of the people that loved her.

She’d challenged him about it, pushed for him to admit it, and she wasn’t sure if that was to punish him or to punish herself. And he hadn’t admitted it then, but he had now and what was she doing?

Hiding.

Not from the case, not from work.

From her feelings.

Maybe this was just some other stupid way to challenge him, to see if he’d be persistent, because if he really cared, if he actually loved her, he’d say it again, right?

She closed her eyes and let the sun soak in for a few moments. Two months of doing nothing was enough, she’d had enough.

Standing up she grabbed her book and her phone and turned around to head inside. She had to go back to work.

Either it would work as a distraction, or he’d be there and she’d be forced to deal with her emotions.

[ memememe ]

muldy — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 05:23:30 GMT

Rules: Bold all of the following TV shows which you've ever seen 3 or
more episodes of in your lifetime. Underline a show if you're positive
you've seen every episode of it. If you want, add up to 3 additional
shows (keep the list in alphabetical order), but you must delete one
show for each one that you add.

24
30 Rock
7th Heaven
ALF
Alias
American Gothic
American Idol
Angel
Arrested Development
Babylon 5
Babylon 5: Crusade
Batman: The Animated Series
Battlestar Galactica (the old one)
Battlestar Galactica (the new one)
Baywatch
Beavis & Butthead
Beverly Hills 90210
Bewitched
Blake’s 7
Bonanza
Boston Legal
Boy Meets World
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Castle
Chappelle's Show
Charlie's Angels
Charmed
Cheers
Clarissa Explains it All
Columbo
Commander in Chief
Coupling
Cowboy Bebop
Crossing Jordan
CSI
CSI: Miami
CSI: NY
Curb Your Enthusiasm
Dark Angel
Dark Skies
DaVinci's Inquest
Dawson's Creek
Dead Like Me
Deadliest Catch
Deadwood
Degrassi: The Next Generation
Designing Women
Desperate Housewives
Dharma & Greg
Different Strokes
Doctor Who
Dragnet
Due South
ER
Everwood
Everybody Loves Raymond
Facts of Life
Family Guy
Farscape
Father Ted
Fawlty Towers
Felicity
Firefly
Frasier
Friends
Futurama
Get Smart
Ghost Whisperer
Gilligan's Island
Gilmore Girls
Grey's Anatomy
Grange Hill
Growing Pains
Gunsmoke
Happy Days
Hercules: the Legendary Journeys
Hogan's Heroes
Home Improvement
Homicide: Life on the Street
House
I Dream of Jeannie
I Love Lucy
Inuyasha
Invader Zim
Invasion
Hell's Kitchen
JAG
Joey
Kim Possible
Kung Fu
La Femme Nikita
LA Law
Laverne and Shirley
Law and Order: SVU
Lie to Me
Little House on the Prairie
Lizzie McGuire
Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman
Lost
Lost in Space
M*A*S*H
MacGyver
Malcolm in the Middle
Married... With Children
Melrose Place
Miami Vice
Mission: Impossible
Mod Squad
Monk
Mork & Mindy
Murphy Brown
My Three Sons
My Two Dads
Mythbusters
NCIS
Ned Bigby's Declassified School Survival Guide
Nip/Tuck
Numb3rs
One Tree Hill
Oz
Perry Mason
Power Rangers
Prison Break
Profiler
Project Runway
Quantum Leap
Queer As Folk (US)
Queer as Folk (UK)
Red Dwarf
ReGenesis
Remington Steele
Rescue Me
Road Rules
Roseanne
Roswell
Rush
Sanctuary
Saved by the Bell
Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?
Scrubs
Seaquest DSV
Sea Patrol
Seinfeld
Sex and the City
Six Feet Under
Slings and Arrows
Smallville
So Weird
South Park
Spongebob Squarepants
Square Peg
Star Trek
Star Trek: The Next Generation
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Star Trek: Voyager
Star Trek: Enterprise
Stargate Atlantis
Stargate SG-1
Starsky & Hutch
Superman
Supernatural
Surface
Survivor
Teen Titans
That 70's Show
That's So Raven
The 4400
The Addams Family
The Amazing Race
The Andy Griffith Show
The A-Team
The Avengers
The Beverly Hillbillies
The Brady Bunch
The Cosby Show
The Daily Show
The Dead Zone
The Dick Van Dyke Show
The Flintstones
The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
The Golden Girls
The Honeymooners
The Jeffersons
The Jetsons
The L Word
The Love Boat
The Magnificent Seven
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
The Monkees
The O.C.
The Office (UK)
The Office (US)
The Powerpuff Girls
The Pretender
The Real World
The Shield
The Simpsons
The Six Million Dollar Man
The Sopranos
The Suite Life of Zack and Cody
The Twilight Zone
The Waltons
The West Wing
The Wonder Years
The X-Files
Third Watch
Three's Company
Traders
Twin Peaks
Twitch City
Unfabulous
V (2009)
Veronica Mars
Whose Line is it Anyway? (US)
Whose Line is it Anyway? (UK)
Will and Grace
Wings
Xena: Warrior Princess

[ to things going our way ]

muldy — Fri, 09 Sep 2011 15:23:26 GMT

And here is the trailer for my webseries 'Going Our Way'!! (previously known as 20 Something & Unemployed)

Going Our Way - web series trailer from Rock Bottom Productions on Vimeo.

[ isn't everything just in your head? ]

muldy — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 02:28:18 GMT

Hey guys - in case anyone was curious here's the trailer for the film I've been working on. You can see my backyard in this, twice!

fic: tell me later [ 1/1 ]

muldy — Sun, 31 Jul 2011 14:26:31 GMT

Title: Tell Me Later
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Words: 1923
Spoilers: Up until and including the season 3 finale, also minor spoilers for season 4 opener.

Summary: 'It’s not that the attraction wasn’t there all along. She knows it was. She wasn’t blind; the man was good looking, talented and a great person to hang around with. But somehow, out of the blue, it hits her in the face.'

She’s not sure what to think when she first sees him in the bar. She knows she’s just there for work, but she’s read every word the guy has ever written and somehow feels like she knows him.

Of course she knows that’s stupid. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of other people have also read every word he’s ever written…published…her knowing his books inside out doesn’t mean she knows him any better than she knows anyone else in the bar.

However it does give her some sort of powerful feeling that she knows a whole lot more about him than he does bout her.

She takes a breath and walks over to him.

‘Mr Castle?’

‘Where would you like it?’

He smiles and she knows he’s cute, but it’s her job to ignore those things and get on with business.

‘Detective Kate Beckett. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight…’

+

His humour is the thing that throws her the most. She’s used to men, to their random sexual innuendos and inappropriate comments, but it’s his actual jokes and sense of humour that puts her off her game.

Of course a writer has different jokes to the usual collection of police officers and detectives that she usually hangs around, but there’s something more than that.

She actually finds most of his jokes quite amusing.

For the first time in her life she thinks she’s actually met someone who just says what she was thinking all along.

And she likes that.

+

It’s not that the attraction wasn’t there all along. She knows it was. She wasn’t blind; the man was good looking, talented and a great person to hang around with.

But somehow, out of the blue, it hits her in the face.

It’s not like anything special happened. It’s not like they’d almost died together in some dire situation.

She literally turned to look at him standing in front of the murder board one day and she knew.

He was a whole lot more than just a friend to her.

It’s all she can think about on the way back to her apartment, and it isn’t until she reaches her front door that she stops, takes a deep breath and speaks to herself.

‘Don’t fall for him, Kate…it’s not worth it.’

For a few moments she stands there, collecting herself, then she turns the key in the lock and heads into her apartment, hoping tomorrow morning she’ll wake up and the feeling will be gone.

+

It doesn’t go.

Suddenly every moment she’s with him seems to speed by in some sort of insane zone of comfort, and every moment that she’s not seems to drag it’s feet in the most unnecessary of ways.

When she’s with him she doesn’t even notice how she feels. That’s the thing that’s confusing her.
Everything is fine when they’re together. It’s normal, as though nothing has changed, but it’s the moment he stands up to leave, or that they bid each other farewell at the steps of the precinct that it all suddenly seems to come crashing down.

She knocks back her fourth shot for the night, trying her best to dull all emotions.

She can’t deal with this.

She doesn’t want to fall in love.

+

There’s something about dead kids that always gets to her and that night she’s not entirely sure she can go home.

She’s halfway there before she makes a detour.

Somehow she ends up standing at his front door. She doesn’t want to ring the doorbell in case she wakes the others, but she needs to see him at that moment.

She feels stupid, like she should be anywhere else in the world at that moment.

But for some reason she needs it to be him.

She knocks quietly, telling herself that if no one answers, she’s leaving.

He opens the door instantly.

He’s wearing a simple grey t-shirt and tracksuit pants, nothing special, and he has a pen sticking out of his mouth at an angle.

Like a writer.

She almost smiles.

‘Beckett!’

For a moment he sounds surprised, then before she can speak he seems to know why she’s there.

He takes a few steps forward and puts his arms around her.

She knows in that moment that she needed his arms around her in that protective way a whole lot more than she had thought she did.

They stand there in silence for what seems like a lifetime, but she’s well aware is probably no longer than a minute. She can feel the tears pressing against her eyes, but pushes them back. She doesn’t want to cry on him, that’s the last thing she wants to do.

‘Thank you, Rick,’ she whispers.

‘Come in,’ he responds, pulling away, but his lips still close enough to her ear that his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine.

It’s only after that she realises it’s the first time she’s used his first name in a casual situation.

+

She’s not sure when they started hanging out. Usually it’s work related, but they’re not at work and it’s not work hours.

Constantly she finds herself at coffee shops with him, or even just hanging around at his house. She’s starting to think she eats at his more often than her own.

She tries not to think about it, about her feelings, about his, but she can’t help but wonder why he’s spending so much time with her.

Then she reminds herself. She’s his muse. Their friendship is a business arrangement for him.

She shuts it away.

Because that pain is the last thing she needs.

+

Kissing him completely throws her plans of pushing him away.

Suddenly all she could think about when she looks at him is his arms around her, his lips against hers, the way he ran his fingers through her hair…

‘Coffee?’

She jumps at the sound of his voice, then looks up at him and forces a smile.

‘Thank you.’

She doesn’t know what’s worse; the memory playing over and over in her mind, or the fact that they were acting like absolutely nothing had happened.

+

It’s weeks later, lying in a freezing, close to death, where the words first pop into her mind.

She loves him. Not in the way that she loves Montgomery or Ryan or Esposito.

She’s in love with him. Completely.

And it sucks because she knows at that moment there’s nothing she can do to change the situation.

She’s thankful for his arms around her and even in her half delusional state she doesn’t miss the way he grips her like he’s afraid of letting go.

They keep up conversation to prevent themselves from freezing to death prematurely, but finally she’s not sure how much longer they can last.

‘I want you to know how much I love…’

She whispers the last word and feels herself fading.

The moment they’re outside she’s not even sure if he heard it, or if she’d said it.

But the feeling inside her has increased tenfold, to the point where, when she lay her eyes on Josh, all she could wonder was what it would be like to have Castle standing in front of her, concerned, worried.

She glances at him.

The way Josh is looking at her is nothing like the way Castle is.

The look in Castle’s eye is something completely new and it scares her. She’s not entirely sure how she’s supposed to react to that.

So she doesn’t.

+

It was one of those tough days at work that lead to the two of them sitting in his apartment, a bottle of red wine and a couple of shots down between them.

She was too old to drink this much on a weeknight, but she needs it and he does too.

‘Kate…’ he says quietly.

‘Yeah?’ she replies, staring into her drink.

‘Why are you here with me and not at home with Josh?’

She freezes inside.

They don’t talk about their feelings, it’s not something they do. But she wants to. So much she wants to turn to him and telling him all the reasons why she’s there with him and not with Josh.

But she can’t.

Because Josh exists and because she’s afraid of the conversation that may follow.

‘I should go.’

Castle jumps up.

She looks at him and sees that thing in his eyes again that scares her so much. The look she can’t stop thinking about, that haunts her every waking minute that she’s not with him.

She wonders if it’s normal for the best distraction from emotions to be the person causing the problems in the first place.

‘Thanks for the wine,’ she continues.

‘No problem.’

For a moment it’s awkward and then she walks him to the door.

They stand there for a moment and then he hugs her, for maybe a little longer than he should.

‘Get some sleep,’ he says quietly before disappearing.

She closes the door behind her and leans against it for a second.

She wants to keep telling herself she’s imagining things, but the more time she spends with Castle the more she thinks that maybe she’s not alone in her feelings for him.

+

Waking up in hospital she’s not sure; not sure where she is, not sure why she’s there exactly, and aware that for some reason she can hear Castle’s voice looping through her mind, telling her over and over that he loves her.

She doesn’t know how real that is, and part of her wonders if it’s just her imagination.

It’s not until she rolls over and sees him asleep in the chair next to her that she knows.

It’s not imaginary, she hasn’t been making these things up all this time; the words running through her mind aren’t wishful thinking.

And suddenly she can’t push back everything she’s been feeling, because the connection she’s felt to Castle all along seems that much stronger in that moment.

‘Rick…’ she whispers, surprised at how weak her own voice is.

His eyes snap open and he looks at her.

‘Kate,’ he jumps up and runs to the door.

She’s slightly disappointed that he doesn’t run to her side, but as he tells the nurse she understands.

Before anyone else enters the room, he walks back to her side.

‘What happened to your eye?’ she whispers, noticing the blackness surrounding one of his eye sockets.

He smiles slightly. ‘I don’t think I’m always as subtle as I should be.’

They’re both silent for a moment before he continues.

‘Josh…’ he points at his eye as though that’s some sort of explanation. ‘It’s a long story. How are you feeling?’

‘Like I’ve been shot,’ she smiles at him, choosing to ignore the Josh comment for the moment.

Something comes over his face and she realises her joke isn’t funny to him. He opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off.

‘Rick, I…’

She wants to tell him she loves him too, wants him to know everything she had been thinking before the bullet had ripped through her, but at that moment the doctor and two nurses enter the room.

‘Tell me later,’ he smiles as he steps away from her bed.

She smiles back at him. It’s not the right moment, but at least for now she knows, it’s not all in her head, and the man she loves, loves her back to the same extent.

[ the thing about castle... ]

muldy — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 03:06:41 GMT

Three years a TV show came on air. It was called Castle and what I could tell from the previews it was another version of Bones. At the time I watched Bones weekly, I wasn’t obsessed with it, but I kept up with it and since I already had a couple of police procedurals in my viewing schedule I ignored Castle completely, didn’t even watch the pilot episode.

However this show kept sneaking into my life. People were talking about it on Livejournal, and occasionally in real life. I thought about watching it, I may have even flicked it on a few times while surfing through channels late at night, but nothing about it particularly caught my attention.

Anyway, Nathan Fillion was in it so clearly it was going to suffer from the Firefly curse and be cancelled in it’s first season anyway.

But then even more people started to talk about it, I saw it mentioned on Facebook, which meant it had reached the realms of being watched by people who aren’t my TV nerd friends. So I watched it. I don’t even know what episode I started at, I’d like to assume it was the beginning, but I can’t be sure.

And I watched all of season one. I enjoyed it.

Then I forgot about it.

Season two rolled along and I watched the first couple of episodes and dropped it from my schedule. At the time I was flat out busy and dropped the majority of shows I had been following religiously for the previous few years. Then for some reason I decided to start watching it again, something drew me back to it. Maybe I missed the quirky nature of the characters, maybe I needed a police procedural in my life. Whatever it was, I started watching it again at exactly the right moment.

Somewhere at the start of season two they found what they were good at; writing television as it should be written.

Suddenly this quirky little show about a writer who follows around a hot detective because she is his inspiration to write became a whole lot more than that.

While the general week in and week out episodes are about the usual murders, there’s always something in them that makes the show more interesting than the usual cop show. Where with a CSI or a Law & Order, yes, even Bones, you would be able to pick and guess at who the murderer is, it’s usually very unclear with Castle – of course there are exceptions to that – and this makes watching the show far more interesting, because I’m not being treated like an idiot. I actually want to know who the killer is as much as they are.

Then there’s Beckett’s mother’s murder. Nothing original about her backstory. She’s cop because her mother was murdered when she was younger and the case was never solved. This is probably the most common backstory for antisocial police officers who live for the job. Fox Mulder and Jordan Cavanagh are the first two that spring to mind, but they are two among many.

However, in true Castle style, they do the unoriginal idea, but better. Every episode to do with Beckett’s mother’s case was one up on the one before. Murder, conspiracy, cliffhangers and a shady group of people holding back important information. Sometimes I almost feel like she is Fox Mulder.

Then of course there is the relationship between Castle and Beckett. This isn’t like the usual TV ‘will they or won’t they’ relationships so common in today’s television. Why is it different? Because it’s realistic. You can’t tell me that Booth and Brennan would have realistically worked together with that amount of sexual tension for six years before they slept together. And you can’t tell me that everyone who has sex once gets pregnant.

But you know what I do believe? I would believe that a guy who’s been married twice and is following a hot detective around as inspiration for his character would flirt with her. I would believe that she would find that annoying at first, but then play into it, because hey, why not? I believe that being in dangerous situations day in and day out they would grow much closer to each other and I would believe that one day the flirting will subside and give way to something much more.

I would believe that someone like Castle would keep the fact that he’s in love with her to himself, because that’s the moral thing to do, and I would believe that someone like Beckett would be afraid of being close to someone because of her past and therefore hide in a relationship with a guy she’s not in love with.

I believe that they would kiss as part of a case and not discuss it for a long time, and I would believe in the middle of a fight it would come up.

Why?

Because, with the exception of dangerous situations bringing me closer to people, I’ve been in all those situations. I’ve fallen for someone without the ability to tell them because it’s not the right thing to do, I’ve hidden in a relationship with someone I don’t love because it’s the safest option at the time. I’ve flirted with someone I’ve worked with.

I’ve done all those things.

I’ve never worked with someone for six years and not slept with them for no particular reason. I can’t relate to that situation.

And of course on top of the great stories and brilliant writing of a relationship there’s the constant references to Firefly, X-Files and anything else you can think of.

So why do I like Castle?

All of the above.

I feel for the first time in a decade I am watching show that I trust the writers to write in a sensible manner. Is it going to stay this way forever? Probably not, all American shows have their great downfalls due to the networks refusals to cancel them while the ratings are still decent. But while it does I’m going to make sure I don’t miss a minute of it, because as far as I can see it’s a good lesson in how to write a TV show.

[ no words ]

muldy — Tue, 17 May 2011 14:26:44 GMT

OMG CASTLE WTF!?

OMG

HOW CAN YOU DO THAT TO ME!?

I THINK THAT IS THE NASTIEST CLIFFHANGER I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

LIKE IT ACTUALLY DESERVES CAPITAL LETTERS OF WTF.

SO WTF!?!?!?!?

EVEN I WOULDN'T WRITE THAT. THAT'S JUST MEAN!!!

muldy — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 13:58:35 GMT

Dude.

The world is ending...

[ and i said to myself sit down, sit down you're rocking the boat ]

muldy — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 05:48:45 GMT

So I got in a strange mood and made icons? Yeah. Weird right. Cos I totally don't do icon making.

Anyway since I'm sick of photoshop and it's pissing me off I figured I'd post my icons. I dunno how to make the layout all pretty and stuff.

Mostly Sea Patrol, some Castle and some Tangled. Examples:

Sea Patrol

01. 02. 03.

04. 05. 06.

07. 08. 09.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

19. 20. 21.

22. 23. 24.

25. 26.

Castle

27. 28. 29.

30. 31. 32.

33. 34.

Tangled

35. 36. 37.

38. 39. 40.

[ lake mungo ]

muldy — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 06:57:10 GMT

Everyone should see this film. It's awesome. Spooky and chilling without any of the jumpy stuff and no blood and guts. Just down right spooky. I loved it.

But then I went on Wikipedia and read that the US are remaking it.

I don't get it. Why do Americans have to remake everything? Why can't they just take the good thing from overseas and air that? Clearly the movie is good enough for them to want to rip it off - yet not good enough for them to put it in cinemas?

I sort of get it if it's a film in another language (although honestly I'd take Spanish or Japanese ghost movies over American re-makes of them anyway). But you know what - we speak English in Australia too. And don't give me bullshit about people not understanding accents, because if people had more exposure to accents then they'd have no problem in understanding them.

Just saying.

Anyway - aside from that. I love the film and I recommend it to anyone who likes spooky films.

mother's day [1/?]

muldy — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 04:15:59 GMT

Title: Mother's Day
Fandom: Sea Patrol
Pairing: Mike/Kate
Words: 1053

Summary: 'That was how his mother had ended up standing on the Bridge of the Hammersley, very irritating and very drunk.'

It wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d ordered the boarding of the leisure ship. The ship had ignored his radio requests and that was something that particularly annoyed Mike Flynn. Especially early in the morning.

So he’d ordered a boarding party.

Which was how his mother had ended up standing on the Bridge of the Hammersley, very irritating and very drunk.

‘What does this do, Michael?’

He grabbed her handed before she could press the button on the radio.

RO glared at her but said nothing.

‘Mum, please don’t touch anything,’ he stated.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned around. Everyone on the bridge was staring at her, and all of them seemed far too amused. She walked over to Dutchy and smiled, touching his arm.

‘This one works out a lot more than you do, Mikey,’ she squeezed Dutchy’s arm.

Lucky for Mike, Dutchy seemed very amused. Mike got out of his chair and grabbed his mother’s arm, not missing Charge mouthing ‘Mikey’ at Swain and both of them laughing as he did so. He chose to ignore them.

‘I think we should go and get some tea so you can sober up, don’t you?’ Mike wasn’t making a suggestion as he led his mother off the bridge. ‘Swain has the ship.’

‘I have the ship, sir,’ Swain acknowledged, taking the Captain’s seat.

+

Kate looked up as Mike entered the kitchen with his mother. She smiled. It had been less than an hour since they’d brought her back and she’d not even started to sober up. They’d left the others on the boat with a warning not to drive anywhere under the influence of alcohol, but Carolyn Flynn had insisted on a visit to the Hammersley - accusing her son of not wanting her to see where he worked.

‘Good afternoon,’ Kate said, grabbing the milk from the fridge to put it in her tea.

‘Maybe for you,’ Mike replied. ‘Want to babysit for a few hours?’

Carolyn hit Mike lightly on the shoulder, much to Kate’s amusement. ‘I hardly need babysitting Mikey, I’m your mother!’

‘If you were anyone else you would’ve been locked up somewhere until you were sober,’ Mike reached across Kate to grab a mug.

Kate stepped back slowly, suddenly aware of how close he was - and the fact his mother was there. She felt herself turning slightly red at the thought and cursed her inability to control her feelings around him.

‘Coffee or tea, Mum?’ Mike asked.

There was something oddly normal about the situation - as though they were in Mike’s kitchen not on board the Hammersley. And for a moment Kate felt comfortable with the situation.

‘I’ll have what…’ Carolyn paused to read Kate’s name on her uniform. ‘…McGregor is having.’

‘It’s Lieutenant McGregor,’ Mike corrected her, grabbing a tea bag.

Kate smiled at Carolyn. ’You can call me Kate.’

Carolyn held out her hand. ’Nice to meet you, Kate, I’m Carolyn.’

‘I know, we met on the other boat,’ Kate smiled.

‘Oh, I was distracted by Muscles back there,’ Carolyn winked and turned around, opening the fridge to get out the milk. ‘To be honest I didn’t even notice anyone else.’

Mike rolled his eyes over Carolyn’s head at Kate and she laughed quietly. This was one of the stranger days she’d had aboard the Hammersley.

‘Ok Mum, I am going back to work now. But Kate here will look after you for a couple of hours and show you around. Maybe show you where important things like the bathroom and my cabin are…’ Mike exited the kitchen as quickly as he could. ‘Thanks, X.’

And then he was gone.

Kate wasn’t entirely sure how to handle Carolyn by herself. This was not how she had planned to meet Mike’s mother. Slowly Carolyn turned to face her, tea in hand.

‘So Kate, how long have you been sleeping with my son?’

Kate almost choked on her tea.

+

‘X, I see you survived babysitting. How’s my mother?’

Mike turned back to face the front of Hammersley, but after a few moments of silence he turned back to look at Kate.

‘Everything OK, X?’

Kate opened her mouth to speak again and nothing came out. She closed it and took in a deep breath.

‘Can we talk somewhere else? In private? Sir.’

He narrowed his eyes at her but nodded his head, signaling to Swain to take charge again. He followed her into the hallway, and was suddenly worried what his mother had said to her. She wasn’t the kindest of people - especially after a few drinks - and he was concerned that she’d said something to offend Kate.

And that wasn’t easy to achieve.

Mike followed Kate to his cabin.

‘I thought I told you to show her my quarters so she could sleep here,’ Mike was confused.

Kate had always understood his cryptic talk before, but as she turned to glare at him he understood that it wasn’t her fault that his mother wasn’t in the room. He shut the door behind him as he entered the room.

‘Your mother insisted on sleeping in my room. On my spare bunk. Thinks we should be friends,’ Kate wasn’t smiling anymore.

Mike was confused.

‘Did she say something to offend you?’ he reached forward to touch her on the shoulder.

She jerked her shoulder away from his hand. ‘She wanted to know how long we’d been sleeping together.’

Mike fell silent for a moment, almost afraid of Kate’s glare. She had that look, the one he had been on the receiving end of so many times when she had first come aboard the Hammersley and he didn’t like it.

‘I didn’t tell her,’ Mike suddenly understood what she was asking.

Kate shook her head. ‘I didn’t think you did. But she knows, Mike…’

‘Does it matter? We haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘It matters.’

He knew that.

‘I’ll talk to her - make sure she doesn’t say anything to the rest of the crew,' he paused. 'What did you tell her?’

‘I didn’t say anything, she had the sudden urge to throw up all the tequila she’s drunk and I spent the next twenty minutes cleaning up the kitchen sink so Bird doesn’t have to deal with it later.’