150. Questions within questions

“It’s the wrong question.” Dr Burke raises an eyebrow. A defensive answer such as Detective Beckett has just given normally indicates that the question asked had been precisely the right question.

“Mm?”

“If Dad hadn’t been drunk I’d have stayed at Stanford and been a lawyer. I’d never have gone to the Academy at all. So it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Mm. How hard were you working at Stanford?”

“Pretty hard, but I had time to have fun. See friends. Have hobbies. Then I transferred.”                                                                                                   

“And then?”

“I tried. I’d been in a musical theatre group, but I had to quit that. I never had time for anything because of Dad.”

“And then you joined the Academy?”

“Yes.”

“Where you worked extremely hard.”

“Yes. There was nothing else to do. And if I was that tired I wasn’t worrying or feeling guilty or listening to him say how much he wanted Mom back. I was too tired for anything.”

“So you worked harder than at Stanford.”

“Guess so.”

“Mm. Detective Beckett, which came first, your father’s alcohol addiction or your entry to the Academy?”

Detective Beckett gapes at him. “What? You know that.”

“Answer the question, please.”

“Dad’s alcoholism.”

“Mm. Now please consider that more carefully.”

Detective Beckett scowls, but does so. There are a few seconds of silence.

“He started it.”

“Perhaps you would expand that?”

“He was an alcoholic first. So then I came back and then I went to the Academy and worked so I didn’t have to think about it. So? That’s what I said.”

“Mm. Yes, you did. Now let us consider the hypothetical situation where you had gone to the Academy but your father had not been an alcoholic. Would you have worked less hard?”

There is another pause while Detective Beckett considers.   “Maybe not. It was full on.”

“I imagine it was. Tell me, were you used to success before the Academy?”

“Yes,” Detective Beckett says, colouring uncomfortably. Dr Burke knows that she was. He has read her history and her file, as is required and for which he has the necessary consents. It appears that Detective Beckett had rarely failed at anything, and Stanford is not a college into which it is easy to gain entry.

“So you have, then, always worked hard to achieve the results which you desired?”

“Ye-es,” she says slowly.

“How does that differ from the hard work which you undertook at the Academy?” Dr Burke wishes to show Detective Beckett that the difference is not in the intensity of her work, nor in her results, but in her emotional state surrounding that period of her life. He waits for her to comprehend.

“At the Academy it was a way of getting away from Dad.”

“But you had previously been at Stanford.”

“That was different.”

“Explain how it was different. The result was the same: you were away from your family.”

There is another protracted period of consideration. Eventually, and with an expression which strongly suggests considerable dislike for the conclusion which she has reached, Detective Beckett reluctantly produces words.

“When I went to Stanford everyone was happy. We all celebrated. Mom and Dad were delighted. I wasn’t escaping from anything, I was growing up and being independent. When I went to the Academy I wanted to do it, but I was getting away from all the problems at home. I was running away. It wasn’t happy at all. I was already trying to ditch Dad.”

“I recall to you your father’s own words, of the second joint session. ‘I’d abandoned you long before that for whiskey,’ he said. Please keep those words, and the understanding you have gained from them, in mind as you consider the current point.”

“You’re saying,” Detective Beckett emits slowly, “that I’m confusing cause and effect. That he fell into the bottle and abandoned me before I started to try to pull away from him.”

“Yes.”

“So all the time I thought I was breaking us up we were already broken?”

“Indeed.”

“So I was miserable and guilty and working too hard to solve something I couldn’t solve like that?”

“Yes. So now, please articulate why your success at the Academy does not give you the same pleasure as your successes prior to returning to New York.”

“Because I felt guilty all the time for abandoning Dad even though I was still hauling him out the tank and cleaning him up but I didn’t have to live with it any more.”

“Quite so. Now, continue.”

“But… but I shouldn’t have felt guilty because it was never my fault,” Detective Beckett blurts out, and promptly buries her face in a Kleenex.

At that apposite moment Dr Burke’s excellent receptionist informs him unobtrusively that Mr Castle has arrived, and is instructed to show him straight in.

As previously, Mr Castle takes one look at Detective Beckett, casts Dr Burke a familiarly fulminating not-again scowl, sits down next to her and takes her into his arms. Dr Burke finds it necessary to remove himself for a few moments, in order to allow tempers and emotions to calm down. The session had officially ended, in any event.

When he returns Detective Beckett is indeed calmer, and Mr Castle no longer appears irate.   Communication appears to have occurred.

“Let me summarise the session, Detective. I will speak to your father about a possible meeting with Mr Castle’s mother, and his other issues. You and Mr Castle should consider possible dates for a dinner of both of you, Mr Castle’s daughter and your father; but not advise the other participants until after we have conducted Friday’s session and determined an appropriate time. You will consider the extent to which your feelings about your father affected and continue to affect your feelings about your time at the Academy. I shall see you on Friday.”

“Okay,” Detective Beckett says shakily. “Good night.”

“How are you here?”

“Um… I got a call from Burke’s receptionist suggesting that it would be a good idea if I was here when you finished. So here I am.” He cuddles her into the crook of his arm.

“Thanks. Let’s go home.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No. I’ll think about it all later. Or tomorrow. Sometime. Not now.”

The drive back to Beckett’s apartment is quiet. Castle’s hand lies undemandingly on her knee, but he doesn’t ask anything and she doesn’t talk. Dinner passes without meaningful conversation, too. Thinking is clearly happening. Snuggled up on the couch – Beckett is surprisingly snuggly, and Castle concludes perfectly accurately that she wants to be cossetted and not questioned – eventually she opens her mouth.

“Can we go to the Hamptons soon? Soon as I can square some leave with Montgomery?”

“Sure. Maybe… maybe we could go to the Hamptons at the same time as your dad talks to Mother? He could go to the loft and there’d be no chance of interference. Um… would you mind if Alexis was there too? It might help if she heard it – and she might keep Mother under control.”

“Up to you. If it happens at all.”

“Uh?”

“Dr Burke is going to talk to Dad.”

“Oh. Um. Right. You think it won’t go well?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think Dr Burke is happy about where Dad’s at.”

I don’t think so either, Castle thinks very privately. I think that Jim is in for trouble, whether it’s obvious or not.

“Well, we can leave it to Dr Burke. It’s his job, not ours. When do you think you can talk to Montgomery?”

“Tomorrow? He made such a fuss about me taking leave a few weeks ago he can hardly complain now. But I’d need to move one of the sessions – oh, no. I wouldn’t. We could just go for a weekend and I’d just need to request leave so I wasn’t on shift.”

“Yeah. I’d need to be around for Alexis at school.”

“Guess so.” She inhales, a slight scratch to the breath. “My parents would have been the same.”

Castle doesn’t quite know what to say. There’s a hint of upset, but she’s not backed away from the need for him to look after his family. He compromises by providing some non-specific comforting cossetting.

“Anyway. If we can sort out a date I can pick up all the things we need to teach you to cook.”

“I can cook.”

“You can’t cook Georgian food, though. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.” She smiles mischievously. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy being taught.”

“I’m a very good student,” Castle oozes, “when I’m interested.”

Beckett nestles closer. “Good. I’m a very good teacher.” She kisses his neck, and on his slight movement, brings his lips down to hers.

The next little while passes very predictably and very pleasurably, until Castle remembers that he has to go home and Beckett remembers that it’s early shift tomorrow. Separation is becoming increasingly difficult, even without the physical distractions.

Dr Burke is reasonably pleased with Detective Beckett’s progress. She is making the right decisions and turning her thoughts in the right direction. He is decidedly displeased with Mr Beckett’s behaviour. He had not involved Mr Beckett in this process in order that he should derail it. He was involved in order to allow Detective Beckett to unravel her misconceptions about how she felt.

Dr Burke ponders. His entirely natural irritation must not be allowed to affect the way in which he deals with Mr Beckett. After a few instants of focused thought, he remembers that he had first established a bond with Mr Beckett by allowing him to share in his, Dr Burke’s, difficulties with his eldest daughter, and how he had found it very difficult to accept that she was growing into an adult whose life would be spent with another. That is where he will begin, he decides. He will allow that thought to be considered over the course of his morning, and if it still appears sensible after consideration and after lunch, he will contact Mr Beckett.

Lunchtime arrives, and over his nutritionally balanced and flavoursome salad, Dr Burke re-examines the way in which he intends to approach Mr Beckett, and finds it, as he expected, meritorious. He has not a single flutter of discomfort as he reaches for his telephone. Once he has found a course of action to be the best, he undertakes it. Doubts are fruitless once proper consideration has been given to one’s deeds.

“Jim Beckett.”

“Jim, it is Carter Burke. I wished to discuss Friday’s forthcoming session with you before it begins. I understand that brunch progressed without a major hitch, and that Detective Beckett has suggested that you speak to Mr Castle’s mother. I consider that we might profitably consider how best to stop Mrs Rodgers from damaging your daughter’s recovery.”

Dr Burke believes that for this call, appealing to Mr Beckett’s desire to ensure his daughter recovers will be best. Time enough to untangle the remainder when he is in Dr Burke’s treatment room.

“Yes. Okay. That would likely be best. When’s good?”

“I have a space this evening. Would six-thirty suit?”

“That works. I’ll see you later. Um…”

“Yes, Jim?”

“I didn’t think Sunday went so good.”

“Mm?”

“Every time I wanted to ask something she didn’t… she shut it off. I don’t know why she wanted brunch if she didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Let us discuss that this evening. However, rest assured that I consider that the mere fact of your brunch, without Detective Beckett wishing for my presence to mediate your meetings, is a considerable step forward. You are both to be commended for attempting it.”

“Hm,” Mr Beckett emits sceptically. “Okay. See you later.”

“Good bye.”

Dr Burke returns to his afternoon list moderately heartened. He had had a very slight worry that Mr Beckett might have applied his irritation with Mr Castle to him. That has been dissipated. He deals expertly with his patients throughout the afternoon and, none being as complex as the Beckett case, completes his list in perfectly satisfied good humour.

“Ah, Jim. Good evening. Would you like a cup of tea? I was preparing one for myself, having finished my client list.”

Dr Burke is quite consciously establishing a meeting of equals, after work, who have had the same challenges and labours with difficult situations.

“Hello.   Could I have coffee, please?”

“Certainly. How do you take it?”

“Cream, no sugar, thank you.”

Mr Beckett is already slightly more relaxed than when he entered. As he would expect, Dr Burke’s strategy is successful. The arrangement of chairs is carefully designed to hint at two friends talking. Dr Burke reminds himself that, regardless of his inclinations, he is not treating Mr Beckett except insofar as it becomes a subsidiary part of his treatment of Detective Beckett.

“Would you like to tell me about brunch? Of course your daughter has told me how she feels about it, but it would be useful to have your view so that we can discuss the collective outcome.”

“It was difficult. I really thought that she wanted to have a proper talk. Not just social platitudes and how work was going. I thought that inviting me to brunch rather than here was a big step. Like we used to be, before… But she didn’t want to tell me anything. Why she bothered I don’t know. I guess I was expecting too much from her. After all, she’s got Rick to talk to now.”

Dr Burke shows no surprise at the bitterness of the final sentence.

“You were disappointed with the brunch. What were you expecting to happen?”

“I thought it meant she wanted to be family again.”

“I see. Tell me, Jim, what do you mean by being family in this context? You are a family. Your daughter is remarkably like you in temperament and gesture: no-one could doubt your relationship.”

“Tell me things. I wanted – I hoped – that I’d learn something about what she’d done, but every time I asked a question she brushed me off.   I bet Rick knows it all. I was interested, and she just didn’t want to say anything. As if I didn’t have any right to know. I’m her dad, I’m supposed to be interested.” He drops his eyes. “I missed so much, and I never realised, and I never asked or got the chance to ask. I hoped we’d be able to – I hoped she’d fill in some of the gaps.”

“So you are disappointed that she did not talk openly about the past?”

“I guess.”

“Let us leave that for a moment, and consider the next point. Detective Beckett asked you if you would tell your story to Mrs Rodgers, to stop – she hopes – Mrs Rodgers interfering further.”

“Yes.”

“In fact, she wanted your help.”

“I guess.”

“How did you react to that?”

“I said I would, of course.” Dr Burke quirks an eyebrow. “Okay. Katie said that she wouldn’t be there. She didn’t want to hear it all again.” He shrinks into himself. “I… didn’t like that. I thought she should be there.” Dr Burke makes a gently encouraging sound. “Rick packed her off and told me not to push it.” Mr Beckett does not seem grateful. This is unsurprising. “So I backed off and said I would if you thought it was an idea.”

“I think it will not hurt, and may well help, with careful management. Your daughter clearly thinks that you can help her with this situation, and asked you to do so.”

“Rick said it was Katie’s idea.”

“Do you not consider that a major improvement in her view of you? She believes that you can help, and furthermore has not ignored your ability to assist because she believes she should protect you from any discomfort. Previously, neither would have been true.”

“Oh,” Mr Beckett manages, weakly. It is perfectly obvious that this has not in any way occurred to him.

“It is quite a compliment to you. Mrs Rodgers is, shall we say, less than susceptible to stopping. Quite the Juggernaut, in fact. Yet your daughter believes that you might help.”

“No. She doesn’t. She even said she didn’t think Martha would listen to me.”

“That is not quite the same thing. I have to say, I am inclined to agree with your daughter’s conclusion, but even so, Jim, your daughter still wanted your help to try to solve a problem which neither she nor Mr Castle can solve by themselves.”

“Oh,” Mr Beckett repeats.

“If that had been the only matter achieved from your brunch, I would still consider it a major success. However, it was not. You have said that your daughter did not discuss any of her history with you, and that this has disappointed you. Her view of the same meeting is that she wanted to avoid difficult subjects, which she would rather deal with here, so that you could re-establish common ground. It appears that you had very different expectations, which is not unusual. It may not surprise you to know that she also believes that the brunch was not successful, largely because she felt herself unable to respond adequately to your enquiries.”

“She can’t talk to me, her Dad? But she tells Rick everything. How come she can talk to him and not to me? I watched her grow up, go to school, to college… I was there – how does he think he knows her better than me?”

“Has he been wrong?” Dr Burke enquires delicately.

“No. But that’s not the point. She’s my daughter.”

“I had thought that you approved of Mr Castle?”

“I do. But not when he’s pushing me out the way with Katie and thinking and saying he knows better than me.”

“You have just said that he has not been wrong.   Does that not suggest that he knows your daughter well?”

“He wasn’t there” – Mr Beckett suddenly stops. “I wasn’t there. That was why I wanted to hear about it. I wasn’t there.” Dr Burke breathes a sigh of relief. Mr Beckett’s next words prove that to be premature. “But neither was Rick. So how does he think he knows best?”

“Jim,” Dr Burke says patiently, “do you remember our first conversation? We discussed how it feels to watch your children grow up and forge other bonds; which mean more to them than their bonds with their parents.”

“You’re saying that my Katie is in love with that playboy who’s ten years too old for her and spends his life on page six and the gossip columns? He’ll ditch her next week and I’ll have to pick up the pieces.”

Dr Burke, most unusually, loses his famously almost-endless patience. “Jim, that is utterly ridiculous. Mr Castle has done more than anyone else to ensure that your daughter attends therapy and re-establishes a relationship with you. You appear to have completely ignored this fact, and it will be no surprise to me at all if Mr Castle were to be deeply angered by your remarks. In that context, in my many years of practice I have rarely, if ever, seen a bond as strong as that between your daughter and Mr Castle. If I were you, I would reflect upon the idea that if you try to force a choice between yourself and Mr Castle upon your daughter, you will lose. Mr Castle has, until now, been your strongest supporter, but I cannot imagine that he will continue to be so if you persist in this ill-founded and childish jealousy. I trust that you have not said any of this to him?”

Dr Burke already knows what Mr Beckett has said to Mr Castle, but he is sufficiently angry with Mr Beckett’s behaviour and lack of understanding that he believes that only stern measures will recall him to adult actions. Mr Beckett appears extremely likely to explode at any moment. Really, he is quite uncannily similar to his daughter.

“I told him exactly how I felt,” Mr Beckett yells. “And then the damn man hung up on me! And now he doesn’t even take my calls.”

“Why on earth should he?” Dr Burke enquires. “You have made it clear you do not value his insights. No doubt” – that is delicately edged – “he has taken the hint.”

“I was trying to apologise!”