94. If you were in my arms

“Urrg?” Castle manages, still shell-shocked by Dr Burke’s comment.

“Friday’s session,” Dr Burke says briskly. “You have an important role to play, and it is essential that you are properly prepared.”

Dr Burke is, in fact, quite impressed by Mr Castle’s thinking, if not by his evident surprise that Dr Burke has identified his feelings. It would, by now, have been very hard to miss them.  Mr Castle’s heart is quite blatantly on his sleeve where Detective Beckett is concerned.  However, since this has resulted in Mr Castle turning his intelligence and empathy on Detective Beckett, it is to be welcomed.  Still, it would be entirely unhelpful if Detective Beckett were to manufacture a quarrel with Mr Castle, such as would be entirely likely to occur were Mr Castle to outline his deductions to her outside the relatively controlled environment of Dr Burke’s treatment room.

“I’m on Beckett’s side,” Mr Castle says coldly.

“Was that in doubt?”

Mr Castle subsides, muttering. Dr Burke is sure he does not want to know what is being enunciated.

“That you are, as you put it, on Beckett’s side, is precisely why you are here. Detective Beckett both wholly trusts you and is prepared to rely on you.  She has no doubt that you have her, and only her, interests at heart.”

“Oh,” Mr Castle emits. He sounds a little shocked.

“Surely you were aware of this?”

“It’s a little different when you hear it from a shr- psychiatrist,” Mr Castle stutters. Dr Burke is mildly surprised.  Mr Castle’s behaviour with Detective Beckett had not led Dr Burke to consider that Mr Castle might be unsure of her feelings.  Behaviour such as Mr Castle had exhibited is generally only acceptable when one is quite certain that the other person will not object.

“Mr Castle, we have only half an hour. Please can we now focus on Friday?”

“Yeah…okay.”

“You have told me Detective Beckett intends to interrogate her father. Are you aware of the direction that interrogation might take?”

“Not yet. I will be tomorrow, though.  If I had to guess now, I’d guess she’s intending to push hard about what he remembers, backed up by whatever O’Leary tells her tonight.  Then – if it’s like the way she does it at work – she’ll start picking up the inconsistencies between what he said drunk and what he said sober, and pushing on them.  When he’s so confused he doesn’t know which way is up, she’ll hit him with the killer blow.”

“What is that?”

“If I were writing it, it would be what he said to her a month ago. She’ll hit him with all the ways he used to tell her she wasn’t enough, then she’ll put in all the ways he made her think he wanted to be a family – and then she’ll tell him she knows he was lying for the last five years, because he said she wasn’t his family a month ago, stone cold sober.  He’ll be so upset he won’t be able to argue.  She’ll take it as proof, and then she’ll turn round and tell you she was right and you were wrong.”

“Fascinating. How will she show I was wrong?”

“Well, she’ll say that since he lied about caring for her, that he doesn’t, and that since he doesn’t care he wouldn’t have bothered to abuse her deliberately.”

“And your view of this sequence?”

“Utter bullshit.”

Vulgar, but pungent.

“Why?”

“First, because none of this is proof either way. Second, because Beckett’s not taking feelings into account.  Hers or her dad’s.  I think that as soon as she’s actually facing her father she’ll start to lose it.”

“I agree. And that, Mr Castle, is where you come in.  Think of yourself as security.  Every time tempers rise, it will be your job to deal with Detective Beckett.”  Mr Castle looks appalled.  “I will remove Mr Beckett from the situation.  You merely need to take care of Detective Beckett.  You already know how.  I need not tell you what to do.”

“But… but…”

“Mr Castle,” Dr Burke says with some exasperation, “given Mr Beckett’s realisations, and Detective Beckett’s psychological fragility and the consequent risk of either or both of them precipitating some exceedingly unhelpful action – they can be remarkably similar – I have no choice but to ensure that this meeting takes place at the earliest possible time. While Mr Beckett may revert to alcohol, Detective Beckett is already taking risks with her physical wellbeing: witness her sparring match.  I am really quite deeply concerned about her.”

“Okay. So if it all gets… emotional, you want me to what?  Do what we did with Lanie?”

“Not precisely,” says Dr Burke, a touch uncomfortably. “I would prefer you behaved similarly to last Friday.”

Castle simply stares at him.

“What?”

“Detective Beckett finds psychological safety in your physical presence and actions, as demonstrated on Friday. That is what I need you to do.  In short” –

“In short, hold on to her.”

“Yes,” Dr Burke says, a little flustered, steepling and unsteepling his fingers. “I would really very much prefer not to have to undertake this meeting so soon.  However, we can only work with the situation we have.  Simply be ready, Mr Castle.”

“We’re going out to the Hamptons straight after,” Castle says, apparently inconsequentially. “That was the plan, anyway.  Beckett asked me if we could go.  It  sounded like she wanted some time out.”

“I think that would be an excellent plan, no matter how Friday goes. Whatever Detective Beckett does or says, on Friday, before or after, to you or to others; it is not you with whom she has issues, nor will it be in any way your fault.  Without you, Friday will be most unlikely to be successful.  If it is not, then you could not have done more to resolve the position.  You will be blameless.”  Dr Burke shifts his hands.  “I consider that it would be well to be ready to leave from here.”

“If I hadn’t pushed, none of this would have happened,” Castle says bitterly.

“You are wrong,” Dr Burke says sharply. “Detective Beckett would eventually have failed to control her feelings towards her father in any case.  The unresolved issues between her and her father would have come to the fore.  You may have accelerated the realisation, but you did not cause it.  Furthermore, you have assisted in resolving it.  As I said, you are blameless.  Blaming yourself is pointless and self-indulgent.”

Castle growls unpleasantly. Dr Burke has no hesitation in meeting his eyes.  “Do not introduce yet more complications to this situation, Mr Castle.  We have enough with which to contend.  There is no need to make your position more difficult.”

Castle retreats from his annoyance. “Now what?  Beckett’s going to ask me what I think of her father’s actions, and I know he didn’t mean any of it.  But if I say that she’ll think I’m on his side.”

“Tell her the truth as you see it, but make it clear that this is what Mr Beckett has shown you. It is most likely that Detective Beckett will then believe that he is attempting to deceive you too.  That will be her assumption, but you will not have been in any way deceitful yourself.  You must be honest, as you wish to be.  If you are not honest with Detective Beckett then she will simply discard you, however much that might pain her.”

“Great,” Castle mutters. He can see at least a dozen ways that this can all go horribly wrong tonight, never mind waiting for Friday.

“Mr Castle, all you can do is ‘tell the truth and shame the Devil’ as the old saying would have it. You have no other choice.  You cannot control Detective Beckett’s reactions.  For what it is worth, however, I think that regardless of any immediate emotional reaction, in the end she will only respond to honesty.”

“You can put that on my tombstone,” Castle quips acidly. “Nice to know we’ve sorted out my epitaph in advance, even if it is at the last minute.”

Dr Burke does not answer that piece of silliness. “I will continue to consider the correct course of action on Friday.  I also intend to speak to Mr Beckett in advance.  Should you have any more insights, I would be very pleased if you would share them.  They have to date been profoundly helpful.  I would also appreciate it if you felt able to advise me of any notable information arising from your meeting tonight or any other time prior to Friday’s session.”

“Okay.”

“Further avoidable surprises are not to be welcomed,” Dr Burke says dryly. “It is my expectation that we will have a number of unavoidable surprises.”

“You can say that again,” Castle agrees. He glances at his watch.  “I need to get going.  I need to talk to O’Leary before Beckett shows up.”

“A wise move.” To Castle’s surprise, Dr Burke rises and accompanies him out of his office to the outer door.  “Thank you, Mr Castle.  It is extremely helpful to have you involved.  Do not hesitate to call if you think it necessary.”  He pauses.  “Trust your instincts.  They have so far served you very well.  Goodnight, Mr Castle.”

“Goodnight.”

O’Leary is not in Molloys when Castle gets there, a few moments early despite his fears. The bribe he’d offered the cab driver might have something to do with that, of course.  He orders a beer and takes possession of a table which has just about enough space around it to fit the O’Leary mountain.  Shortly, said mountain ambles through the door, spots Castle, waves, collects a beer of his own and descends.

“What’s this all about?” he rumbles. “What’s Beckett up to this time?”

“Breaking her dad and probably herself,” Castle growls, not troubling to contain his feelings and Dr Burke-induced irritation.

“Huh?”

“Thought you’d got the download from her last night?”

“Well, it was more info than I used to get, but it wasn’t very useful.” O’Leary casts a slow, gee-folks-what’s-up falsely innocent look at Castle.  “Hey, Castle, how come you know what she said?  You been seeing my Beckett behind my back?”

Castle grins, tightly and briefly, at O’Leary’s down-home folksiness and accent, more pronounced than usual. “Thought you were seeing your Pete.  I’m seeing my Beckett.”

“Who’s doin’ something dumb. What’s goin’ on, Castle?”

“You know she’s seeing a shrink. She told you.  She thinks the shrink’s talking bullshit and we’re supposed to help her prove it.”

“Shrink said her pa abused her?”

“Apparently so.”

“And she don’t like it.”

“You can say that again.”

“So why’d you wanna talk before she shows up?” Castle stares hard at O’Leary.  “I don’t guess that look works on Beckett an’ it sure don’t work on me.  What’s goin’ on?  An’ what d’you mean breaking her dad an’ herself?  What dumbass idea has she got into her head?” 

“She says she wants to prove the shrink wrong.  We’re going to provide evidence.”

O’Leary’s massive frame winces, and the table wobbles. “And?” he says, folksy accent entirely gone and Detective suddenly, shockingly in place.

“And I reckon it’s going to be an absolute disaster.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Tell the truth, and then try to divert her plan into something that’ll do what she says she wants to do.”

“Being?”

“Burke – the shrink – said she was acting as if her dad had been an abuser – emotional, not physical. Beckett heard your dad emotionally abused you.  She doesn’t agree, but in the same breath she’s saying he doesn’t care so it doesn’t matter – and she doesn’t care in return.  You heard her say that.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess she wants you to tell the truth about anything you saw or heard when he was in the tank and she didn’t come to get him.”

“That’s simple,” O’Leary says bluntly. “Most of the time he was so drunk he couldn’t speak.  Rest of the time he was drunk he cried for Katie to come and get him.”

“Nothing else?”

“Not unless you count the piss and vomit on the floor.”

“And sober?”

“Cried for Katie to come and get him, and said he was sorry, and phoned her, and wailed until the phone cut out.” O’Leary’s normally placidly amiable face is set and stern; his tone harsh.  “Cried when she didn’t come and begged us to tell her he’d change, he’d ditch the booze, he’d be a family again.  And a few days later he’d be back in our tank, and it would all be the same again.  Sergeant called her, her pa called her, and she never came.  Don’t blame her.  When she did pick him up it didn’t stop him.  Dunno how she put up with it.”

“That was it?”

“You were expecting something else,” O’Leary states. “What were you expecting me to say?”

“I thought Jim” – O’Leary raises fur stole sized brows at the familiar address – “might have mentioned another name.”

“Yeah?”

“Johanna.”

“Joanna?”

Castle pronounces the h more definitively.  “Johanna.”

“Not Jo?”

“S’pose,” Castle says. “He’s never referred to her as Jo when I’ve heard him.  Did he never mention a Johanna?”

O’Leary wrinkles up his brow in evident imitation of the Grand Canyon. “Can’t say I really listened to him.  We’d got better things to do.  And…well… it seemed like prying into Beckett’s life an’ I knew she didn’t want that.  If she wanted me to know she’d’ve told me.  If she’d wanted to explain why she wasn’t collecting her pa she’d’ve told me that.”  He relapses into further thought, mechanically swigging his beer.

“Not then,” he eventually says. “Before.  While she was still collecting him.”  He searches back through dim memory.  “Might have been the last time she did.  Last time I saw it, anyway.  She came, and the Sarge brought him up – he was filthy and still drunk, an’ he stank – and he looked at Beckett and said ‘I don’t want you.  I want my Johanna.’ And Beckett just didn’t say a word an’ I pretended I hadn’t seen her or heard anything.”

“But?” Castle asks.

“But she flinched, as if he’d taken a stick to her, an’ then she manhandled him out an’ that was the last time I saw her collect her pa.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“I’m not.”

“So what’s goin’ on that I don’t know about?”

“I think Beckett’s going to throw everything her dad said when he was drunk back in his face now, and then tell him that since he said she wasn’t family then, when he was too drunk to lie, and said it again a few weeks back – remember she told you when we were all in here last time – he’s been lying to her all the time he’s been dry.”

“That’s downright dumb,” O’Leary states flatly. “She really thinks that’s going to work?”

“She’s not thinking. She thinks she’s thinking, but she’s just reacting.  It’s all going to go horribly wrong.  She’s looking for an excuse to pick a fight that’ll mean she can justify walking away – but it isn’t going to work.  She still can’t justify walking away the first time, when it really was the right thing to do.”

“Shit,” O’Leary mouths, and drains his beer, summons more, and drains most of a second bottle into the bargain.

“I have no clue what to do. I’m taking her out of Manhattan as soon as Friday’s over till Sunday night but I’ve been round this loop with myself, with her shrink, and with you, and I have absolutely no fucking clue what to do any more.  I wish I could just shake some sense into her,” Castle finishes with venom.

“You can try it, an’ I can try it, but it ain’t either of us that she’s upset with, so it ain’t goin’ to work.”

“That’s not the point,” Castle spits. “How did I end up trying to fix this total mess anyway?  All I get is grief from the shrink, grief from Jim and grief from my own family.  I wish I’d never got involved.”

“The one thing you didn’t say there is that you’re getting grief from Beckett,” O’Leary points out.

“I’m not.”

O’Leary allows a silence to develop, and allows his face to develop a rather impish smile. Not that imps are that size.

“O-kay,” Castle says frustratedly.  “Stop with the work-it-out-dumbo look.  I know she didn’t ask me to get involved, and she’s the one person in all this fucking mess who doesn’t expect me to fix it.  Any-fucking-thing but, right up till last week.  Now she just wants to fix it so it’s not in her way.”

O’Leary casts him a well-then look, which doesn’t do much to ameliorate Castle’s generally spilling over irritation.

“You’re the one who’s dating her,” O’Leary points out patiently. “You knew there was a problem with her pa.  You didn’t have to get involved any further than dating but you did.  So quit bitching about your own choices and let’s work out how to get you an’ Beckett out of this alive.”

“You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

“We-ell,” O’Leary drawls, “mostly I do, otherwise I think I’d be inside Rikers by now. NYPD doesn’t appreciate dead suspects litterin’ the sidewalks.”

Castle grins, a touch wryly. “Okay.  Try and avoid turning me into a corpse, huh?”

“Beckett wouldn’t like it, an’ I’m scared of her. So how’re we going to do this?”

“Very, very carefully,” Castle says.

“I got that bit. Anything a bit more helpful?”

“Nope. Except the shrink said stick to the truth.  I think he wants me to get shot.”

“What, there’s someone out there who hasn’t responded to your charm, wit and personality?”

“He responded all right. Told me off like I was still in kindergarten.”  O’Leary splutters around his mouthful of beer.  “I don’t like him,” Castle says.  “I really don’t.  He’s so far up his own pompous ass he could eat his dinner twice.”  O’Leary snickers.  “But he’s the only person in the whole world who’s made Beckett stop and think, so I guess he knows what he’s doing.  Up till now, anyway.  Now, he’s pissed her off.”

“Mistake,” O’Leary drawls.

“I don’t know. He’s clever enough that it might have been his plan all along.  Upset or annoy her enough that she actually does something about the situation just to prove him wrong.  If so, it’s working.  I just really, really think that this one might be a step too far.”

Castle drains his own beer and relapses into a general attitude of resentful annoyance. Dr Burke has riled him, even if it’s been softened by flattery.  Then again, Dr Burke invariably riles him.  Every time he thinks he’s got a good way to reduce Dr Burke to rubble, Dr Burke manages to put him either in the wrong or at the very least in confusion.  It’s not fair.  Castle understands precisely why Beckett doesn’t like Dr Burke, and is entirely in agreement with her.

“What do you wanna happen, Castle?”

“I’ll settle for being alive at the other end of Friday.”

“Best outcome?”

“Beckett and her dad are actually talking to each other honestly, and not shouting or worse not talking at all. And I’m still alive.”

“Mm. Well, here she is.  She don’t look terribly happy.”

Castle looks up. Arriving on track one is Badass Beckett, in full beat-em-up mode.  Great.