149. Don't want to talk

“So what’s your prize, then?” Castle rumbles lazily; comfortably snuggling a very feline, boneless Kat into the crook of his arm and his chest.

“Prizes,” she corrects. “Two of them.”

“Okay, but what are they?”

“I want to go back to the Hamptons.”

There is total silence next to her. Finally, “You mean that?” It comes out as a strangled squeak-growl.

“No, I meant I want a pair of garden gnomes and somehow it came out as I want to go back to the Hamptons. Of course I meant it. And if we took the right things with us I could show you how to cook Georgian food.”

“You wanna go back to the Hamptons?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll show me how you cook Georgian food?”

“If you want.”

“Sure I want. I love cooking.” He pulls her unresisting form over him and cuddles her hopefully. She wants to go back to the Hamptons. Every time they’ve been there it’s been a success: they’ve made – no, she’s made – real steps forward.

He looks at the clock. It’s not even half past nine yet. Plenty of time for whatever they want to do. Right now, staying cuddled up together and possibly planning a suitable weekend for a third Hamptons trip sounds good.

Of course, that’s when his phone rings. Beckett, who appears to be programmed to answer a ringing phone without thought or volition intervening, and who is in a slightly better position to move, automatically locates it, glances down at the screen, acquires a look of extreme surprise and passes it to Castle, who makes a noise of considerable distaste and declines the call.

“Why is my dad calling you?”

Oh, God. Here goes with the interrogation. And since he was – he certainly isn’t now – all happy and sex-hazed and lazily content with an equally lazy, hazy Kat-Beckett, he can’t think of a good answer except, “Er…”

It is not fair that Beckett can snap her mind back into place this quickly.

“That why something was off?”

“Uh…”

“What’s going on?”

And it’s entirely unfair of her to use that tone on him when he simply can’t disobey it, even if she is all snuggled over him and naked and cuddling him.

“Uh…”

“C’mon. What’s up?” And another leap of ferocious detective intelligence. “What happened while I was… out the room… on Friday a week ago?”

Castle gives up. He’s not going to be able to resist the interrogation for much longer and, truthfully, he doesn’t want to. He remembers, suddenly, how Beckett had gone in to bat for him against her father about his mother’s interference; how she’d listened to him but never pushed; how he’s listened to her and tried to be there for her… It finally dawns on him that while he’s supported her to the limit, it’s time he understood that she wants to do the same for him.

“Okay. But… look, just listen, okay, because I don’t get this either.”

“ ‘Kay.” She props herself up and slides an arm under his neck, not letting go of him, but so she can see his face.

“Okay,” Castle says again. “Friday last, when you – er – left, your dad wanted to go straight after you. Um… I knew where you’d gone and I knew you wouldn’t want that so I told him not to and he – er – got a bit uptight about it and a bit cross with me.”

“Mm?” Beckett says, clearly sure that there was a little more nuance than that.

“He said that he should go after you, not me. I didn’t agree.”

“Oh.” There’s a half-beat pause. “Good.” Another half-beat. “I wouldn’t have wanted Dad. Just you.” Her free hand grips on his side, and he reaches over to match it with a soft placement of his on her hip.

“Anyway. I didn’t mind him yelling about Mother because she’s so far over the line she’d beat Usain Bolt to the hundred metre finish, but as you got to brunch he was putting the hard word on me about taking care of you” – Beckett makes a very peculiar noise, composed of memory, irritation, ire and not a little hmm-that-might-be-nice – “which you didn’t seem to appreciate, and then you suggested that you wouldn’t be there if he spoke to Mother and I knew he was about to say he wouldn’t do it if you didn’t go so I” –

“lied about the smudge.”

“ – well, yes, but I didn’t know how you’d take it if I said it in front of you with your dad there – anyway, so I told him not to give you ultimatums and maybe we could deal with it later with Dr Burke or something, and he backed off.”

“Good,” Beckett says, wearily. “I could see it coming too, but…”

“Yeah. So – anyway, it worked, and then you fell asleep on me, which is really seriously unflattering, and I went home. But I felt a bit guilty that I’d just shut your dad down completely and not had a chance to say why and it’s really not a good idea to be on the outs with your in-laws” –

“What did you just say?” Beckett squawks. Oh shit. Not for the first time, Castle’s mouth has run considerably ahead of his brain and sense. “In-laws?” She takes a deep, panicky breath. “In-laws? Did we get married and I didn’t notice?”

“Shorthand,” Castle says hurriedly. “Shorter than girlfriend’s father. We didn’t get married when you weren’t looking. How would I manage that? But… d’you have to sound quite so horrified? I mean, I thought you liked me.” He smirks smugly up at her, desperately trying to get this into a place where it can be a joke, brought back to where it should be, and where he doesn’t blurt out I want to marry you, how about right now?

“I do like you,” Beckett says, with a wicked grin, and then much more seriously, “But I can’t deal with thoughts like that when everything else is still so mixed up.” She falls on to his shoulder. “It’s still such a mess.”

Castle’s arms come round her. “It’s less of a mess than it was, Kate. Stop worrying now. We don’t need to hurry” – but I want to, I want to, I want to have you permanently – “let’s just enjoy where we are. If I get my words wrong” –

“Thought you were a writer?” –

“I am, but you don’t get edits in real life – if I get my words wrong just don’t run, okay?”

She’s tight against him, almost clinging. “I’ll try,” emerges from his shoulder.

There is a short pause while they pull themselves together, punctuated by some mutually soothing and asexual petting.

“So, back to Dad. You said you felt guilty about shutting Dad down. Then?”

“Well, I called him, ‘cause I thought I ought to explain. He was irritated practically before I started, and then he lost his temper and – er – I lost mine.” He stops there.

“And?”

“And I told him that if he had a problem with me I’d had enough of him and he could make his own mistakes. And I haven’t taken his calls since.”

“Mm.” Beckett wriggles into a better position, and leans up on her elbows to scrutinise him. “And you thought I’d worry about that?”

“Er – yes?”

“No. If Dad’s stupid enough to think I’m still sixteen and to pick a fight with you then that’s his lookout. I’m not getting into it.”

Castle makes a strangulated noise that emerges as gleep at Beckett’s matter of fact tone. “You don’t mind?” he emits.

“Well, I’d rather you got on, if only because one set of daddy issues is enough, and you’ve got enough problems with your mom, but if it comes to a choice, well…” she stops and blushes darkly, “well, it’s not him.”

Castle hauls her back down on to his mouth and kisses her desperately, frantically. He’d made his stand some time ago, but to hear it from Beckett… it’s everything. They’ll be everything they want to be. He gives her all the passion and power of which he’s capable: rolls them over without ever leaving her mouth and she gives and he takes and he gives and she takes and it’s only them, always and only and forever them.

They end up nestled together in perfect close harmony, Beckett’s head on his shoulder, his nuzzled into her hair. Just like it should be.   Just like it will be. Because now he is perfectly certain that this will all work out right for them, regardless of their respective parents.

“Good evening, Detective Beckett.”

“Hey.”

Dr Burke smiles professionally. “How did your brunch progress?”

Detective Beckett produces an expression which does not fill Dr Burke with confidence. “Not well.” She sits down. “In fact, pretty badly.”

“Oh? In what way?”

Detective Beckett ignores that. “And Dad’s picked a fight with Castle, too. Ugh,” she says.

“I am aware of the issues between your father and Mr Castle. Let us leave that for a moment, and concentrate on your brunch, as that will probably assist in explaining your father’s behaviour.”

“Okay. So Dad and Castle were already there when I arrived, and Dad told Castle he hoped he was taking care of me, so I said I could take care of myself and they both jumped.” Detective Beckett snickers. Dr Burke smiles too. He can imagine the scene.

“I’d thought that maybe if we could just manage a nice brunch with conversation – nothing heavy.   I didn’t want heavy – it would all ease things off a bit. Leave the difficult stuff for here and just do something normal. So I told Dad about one of the weirder cases because I thought – I was pretty sure – he’d find it interesting.” Detective Beckett clearly takes some pity on Dr Burke’s look of interest. “Lowlife found dead in an SRO, but there were prints from an Academy instructor all over the room. Not what you expect.”

“Indeed not.”

“Turned out they were using the lowlife to train the rookies. I thought Dad would find it interesting,” she says again.

“It sounds as if it is a very interesting technique. Very much more realistic than any role-play would be.”

“For sure,” Detective Beckett says with considerable emphasis. “Role-play is a pain.” She appears to realise that she has agreed with Dr Burke on a matter, and looks quite surprised by that occurrence.

“Anyway. He wanted to hear about the Academy, and I couldn’t deal with it. And he was hurt. And I changed the conversation and that was awkward because we all knew why and it didn’t get any better after that.” She pauses, briefly. “I managed to ask him about whether he’d speak to Castle’s mom, and that went wrong because I said I didn’t want to hear his story again but I meant I couldn’t sit through it especially with Martha trying to pretend she could take Mom’s place. She can’t. Never. And that hurt Dad too but I couldn’t explain and Dad was winding up to force the issue and I can’t deal with that either so Castle managed to get us through that. We need to talk about whether that’s a good idea or not this evening.”

“Certainly. We can discuss that in a few moments.” Dr Burke is relieved that Mr Castle had forewarned him of this plan. Choking is unprofessional and detrimental to continued good health. “Was there anything else?”

“Dad invited us to dinner.”

“Mm?”

“I stalled. Everything else had gone so badly and I just didn’t want to do it again. So I switched the conversation and everything was just so awkward and it was a total disaster and I really thought that we could make things better but it just all got worse and worse and worse. I was hoping that the next thing would be Dad and Alexis and Castle and me having dinner but even brunch with Dad was so awful that I don’t think I can.”

“Was there anything else?”

“Isn’t that enough? It was a disaster.”

“Was it?” Dr Burke looks coolly at Detective Beckett. “You did not argue, did you?”

“No…”

“You did not set out deliberately to hurt your father?”

“No!”

“There was awkwardness, but no loss of composure on either part?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, it cannot be described as a disaster. Let us explore the points where such awkwardness arose. The first was when your father wanted to hear about the Academy. Please tell me about the Academy?”

“Police Academy,” says Detective Beckett with a sardonic twist of lips. “Nothing like the movies.” Dr Burke fails to appreciate the reference. He is not aware of any such cinematography. “They train us to be cops.”

“Ah. And this training is difficult?”

“Yes. They push you all the way, and then further. Always testing your limits.”

Dr Burke draws his bow at a venture, although he is relatively sure of his ground. “Were you successful at the Academy?”

“I graduated.” That is very clipped. Dr Burke detects an evasion.

“But there must have been class positions. What was yours?”

“Top,” Detective Beckett says, with no pride and much bitterness.

“First place? That is an achievement of which to be proud.”

“Why? I hadn’t anything else to do. Dad was drowning on his own. I couldn’t pull him out it. So what if I was top? It didn’t help anything. Everyone thought I was so good, all the instructors, everyone.   They didn’t know I’d screwed over my dad ‘cause I couldn’t cope with him. If they’d known that they’d have thought about me differently. I didn’t deserve what they said. I was just leaving him to drown, and I could justify it because I was working my ass off. I didn’t have time. You have to live there, so I couldn’t go see him. Rules. It was a perfect excuse. No-one could query it. I never needed to tell anyone that Officer Beckett’s father was a washed-up drunk with an arrest record as long as my arm. Never needed to tell anyone about him.”

Detective Beckett draws in a long, harsh breath.

“It worked so well I did the same thing in uniform. Worked my ass off and no-one ever knew the rest. If I was working I didn’t have time to think. Or remember anything. All I had to do was keep working, follow orders, keep working. If I worked hard enough, I was too tired to think about it.”

“I see. You appear to be telling me that your success was built on your failure to support your father.”

Detective Beckett reverts to the stunned, pallid unhappiness of certain earlier sessions.

“Detective, would you have worked any less hard had your father been sober?”

She simply stares at him, blindsided by the thought. Dr Burke says nothing further for a moment, allowing the concept to register.

“Or would you simply have taken more joy in your successes?”

Detective Beckett does not respond.

“Let us leave that point, then. We may return to it when you are ready.” He pauses. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

Dr Burke exits his room swiftly, and instructs his receptionist to telephone Mr Castle, and to ask that he will present himself at the treatment rooms at the conclusion of Detective Beckett’s session in order to escort her home. Dr Burke is already convinced that today’s session, while it will undoubtedly be productive, will leave Detective Beckett significantly stressed.

“I am sorry. Let us continue. You asked your father to explain something of the circumstances to Mr Castle’s mother, but you felt that you would be unable to be present when he did.”

“Yeah,” Detective Beckett says acidly. “It went so well with Julia that I couldn’t stand the pleasure twice.”

“I do not find it surprising or worthy of censure that you would not wish either to repeat that experience or indeed to undertake a similar experience with a woman who has not, to date, respected your boundaries.” Detective Beckett raises an eyebrow at Dr Burke’s acerbic tone. “My counsel would have been that you should not attend, regardless. I do not think that it would assist. That discussion might be helpful: your presence at it would not be. I will discuss it with your father, if you wish?”

“Okay.”

“Had your father issued the ultimatum which you believe that he was planning, what would you have done?”

“Refused. I couldn’t do it.”

“Good.” Detective Beckett looks extremely surprised. “You will remember that much earlier in your treatment we spoke about your tendency to put the requests of others above your own comfort. You have, for the second time, overcome that tendency. This is very pleasing progress.”

“Oh.”

“Now, your third point of discomfort was your father’s invitation to dinner. However, you said that you were considering an invitation of your own, to both your father and Mr Castle’s daughter, for dinner. Why did your father’s invitation produce such awkwardness when it appears to have matched what you wished for?”

Detective Beckett considers that question for a substantial length of time.

“It was all going so badly it was just one more thing I couldn’t handle. He was pushing all the time for more information, more contact, just more everything and I’m not ready. He can’t just snap back into being a parent when he hasn’t been for all this time.” Realisation blossoms across her face. “That’s why he’s got in Castle’s face. He’s trying to be a father but I’m not fifteen any more and I don’t need him interfering in my life. He’s got no right – he wouldn’t have it even if he hadn’t been a drunk – to interfere. I’m an adult, and he just doesn’t seem to get it where Castle’s concerned.”

“Exactly so. Your father is, in fact, committing the same error as you did in your previous therapy: trying to speed up matters which will take time. He is doing it for good reasons, but he is in error. Leave him to me. In the meantime, how do you intend to deal with this rift between your father and Mr Castle?”

Detective Beckett regards him with a gaze that indicates that she questions Dr Burke’s sanity. His sanity is not in question. Detective Beckett’s priorities are.

“Castle’s been there for me since this all began. Dad – hasn’t. I’m still not sure that he is. If Dad can’t get his head round Castle that’s his problem, not mine.”

“Good. Again, you are giving your feelings equal weight to those of others.” Dr Burke pauses. “So, to summarise at this stage, brunch was very awkward, but not disastrous. Your father is attempting to push your relationship faster than you wish for, but you have avoided allowing him so to do. You have taken on board the lessons of previous sessions as to allowing your feelings to have validity. All in all, very encouraging.” He steeples his fingers. “I should like to discuss the desirability and timing of a further step, before we return to the question of your time at the Academy and as a new police officer.” Dr Burke does not give Detective Beckett a chance to object. “How do you envisage the next step?”

“I was going to see if Castle and me and Dad and Alexis could have dinner. Somewhere. See if I could manage Dad with them, better than last time. But I’m not sure it’ll work now. Dad’s winding up Castle and I can’t face another meal full of awkward moments especially if they’re butting heads.” She makes a face. “But I want to try to move this on. I wanna be able to go to Castle’s.”

“A worthy goal. I suggest that you try to agree a tentative date with Mr Castle, but do not mention this to your father or his daughter until after Friday’s session.”

Detective Beckett seems amenable to that proposition. By Friday, Dr Burke will have had a conversation with Mr Beckett, and will be able to provide sage advice.

“Now, I would like to return to the Academy, as you have had a chance to think over my points. To recap: you have said that your success was only a result of abandoning your father, and I have asked you to consider whether you would have worked any less hard had he been sober. What have you concluded, so far?”