152. Don't need your interference

Castle wakes to his softly trilling alarm, which he’d carefully set to go off before Beckett’s blaring klaxon delivers a sonic shock to his bones. Beckett is no longer sprawled over him, but tucked into his side, an arm still around his midriff. He has to get up: he has to go home for breakfast.

He has to think.

But in the night an idea has come to him. Dr Burke had offered him the option to discuss matters which are troubling you – he can hear the fussily precise tone, the formal grammar – and while he is no fonder of Dr Burke than he has been at any time in this whole confused and complicated mess, he is leading Beckett expertly out of her fog and so he ought to be able to deal with Castle’s much simpler issue. The thought makes him wince, but deep down in his gut the twisting eases.

He snuggles up to Beckett a little more definitively and nuzzles at her neck to breathe in her sleep-soaked scent. He’ll have a delicate chat with Alexis after he’s had a discussion with Dr Burke, he decides.

At which point the alarm screeches through the silence and Beckett slaps it off without looking while making an ugh noise. That’s followed by Castle making an ugh noise as she unwraps herself and sits up. Well, slumps up, resembling a half-shut pocket knife more than the brisk Detective. There are a few more ugh noises, then she heaves herself off the bed and lurches to the shower. Beckett, Castle thinks, not for the first time, is absolutely not a morning person. He wonders why she starts so early if she hates it so much, and then realises that it’s just another form of coping, or punishment, that she doesn’t have a family; just been another way to bury herself in work to bury her pain.

She emerges, now approximately ninety percent alive as opposed to ten.

“I’ve got to get back for breakfast,” Castle notes.

“Okay. Lock up if you’re last out,” Beckett says casually, as if they did this every other day. Castle gapes.

“Okay,” he squeaks out. His throat seems constricted. “See you later?”

“Yep. If a body drops I’ll call you. If not, up to you because it’ll be all those pop-n-drops or basic murders and we all know how much you love boredom.” But she’s turned to look full at him as she pulls on her pants and the look in her eyes says but I’d love to see you. Castle takes the few strides to her and kisses her hard.

“Got a couple of things to do at home, but I’ll drop by after that,” he says happily. “Or if not, I’ll call. We need to try to set a date for dinner, even if we don’t tell the others yet. And a place,” he suddenly thinks. “If we went somewhere reasonably nice, it might keep everyone” –

“You mean Dad, don’t you?”

“Er… – anyway, it might keep everyone calmer.”

“I guess so. You choose,” she says, shrugging on her jacket. She reaches up, pulls his head down and kisses him just as hard. “It’ll all work out,” she says, in a very strange echo of Castle’s usual optimism. “I really think it’s going to be okay.” And she’s gone.

Castle dashes through dressing, locks up and hurtles home, since he’s spent too long watching Beckett dress to leave himself time to become his suave, sophisticated self. He’ll do that after breakfast. It does mean that he is placidly cooking pancakes when Alexis bounces down the stairs, has a very pleasant family breakfast with her, and attains suave sophistication at the earliest possible moment. He feels the need to be at his best when talking to Dr Burke on his own account, where if he were simply an adjunct to Beckett he wouldn’t care.

Rather nervously, he rings Dr Burke’s practice, and asks the efficient receptionist if Dr Burke would have a space for him. There is a short tapping, and, surprisingly, an appointment is available at eleven. Castle accepts and then proceeds to drink far too much coffee and shoot far too many evil minions until it’s time to go.

Dr Burke is mildly surprised that Mr Castle wishes to see him for himself, rather than to convey the next issue in Detective Beckett’s treatment. He had not, to date, received any impression that Mr Castle needed or desired his help. Mr Castle, in fact, has been the one stable constant in the complex interconnection of issues between Detective Beckett, Mr Beckett, and Mr Castle’s family.

Dr Burke’s eyebrows rise slightly. Mr Castle had been extremely angry with his mother last Friday. Is it possible that he wishes to discuss that situation? He has freely discussed his views of Mr Beckett, with which Dr Burke still has some sympathy, but he has said little about his interactions with his mother. Dr Burke considers, after due reflection, that Mrs Rodgers is displaying a more extreme, and certainly less helpful, version of Mr Castle’s saviour complex. Unfortunately her method of expressing it is very unlikely to succeed.

It is, however, extremely fortunate that Dr Burke had instructed his receptionist that any of those people involved in the Beckett situation requesting an appointment should be provided with one at the earliest opportunity, and had ensured that his normally free sessions remained so. He prefers to have an empty session in the middle of both morning and afternoon, for emergencies. It is also convenient that he will be able, he recalls, to prime Mr Castle adequately for Friday’s session and Mr Beckett’s apologies. He turns to his first patient, and thinks no more of Mr Castle or the Beckett situation until one minute before eleven.

Mr Castle is prompt. “Good morning,” Dr Burke opens.

“Hey.” Mr Castle appears quite uncomfortable. Dr Burke has some sympathy.

“I am glad that you called. You will remember that I had undertaken to speak to Mr Beckett about a meeting with your mother, and I have done so. He has agreed to do so and, more importantly, understands why Detective Beckett should not and will not be present.”

“Good. We’re going to the Hamptons.” Mr Castle seizes upon the diversion. “Jim could go to the loft then. I think Alexis – my daughter – should hear the story too. Apart from anything else, she’s pretty keen on Beckett and she’s already had a couple of rows with Mother about it.”

“I do not see any disadvantage to that proposal. Similarly, I see many advantages to taking Detective Beckett to the Hamptons. It has previously been very helpful to her, and I expect that will continue. However” – Dr Burke steeples his fingers under his chin – “I have also spoken to Mr Beckett about his interaction with you. I believe he has been returned to his senses. He says” – Dr Burke speaks over Mr Castle’s unconvinced noise – “that he has been trying to call you to apologise, but that you will not take the calls. I consider that perfectly reasonable.”

Mr Castle’s incipient protest is silenced.

“There is no reason whatsoever that you should be subjected, as you thought was likely, to unpleasantness. However, Mr Beckett knows that his comments were unjustified, and does wish to apologise. If you wish to accept his apologies, then he will make them in person on Friday. If not – and it is entirely your decision: you have no obligation to Mr Beckett whatsoever – then I will so inform him.”

Dr Burke observes the play of expressions over Mr Castle’s face, and says nothing further. Mr Castle has a great capacity for forgiveness, but he has been heavily tried. Eventually he speaks.

“I can’t say I particularly want to see Jim Friday, but Beckett’s so much better that I’ll do it. If he really means his apologies, I’ll accept them. As she said, one set of daddy issues is enough in this mess.”

Dr Burke nods in acknowledgement. “That, Mr Castle, brings me to asking why you have requested an appointment today. Previously, if there has been a matter which you wished to draw to my attention, you have simply called. Is there something more serious or something particular to you which you wish to discuss privately?”

Mr Castle makes a ridiculously childish face. It appears that he is displeased that he has been so easily found out. When he begins to talk, however, it appears that he is displeased by a different matter.

“You know that Mother is being difficult about backing off.” Dr Burke nods sympathetically. Mr Castle, being talkative and stable, does not need more direct input, such as is required to treat Detective Beckett. “Well, I was thinking. I’ve told her to stop, and she isn’t. I’ve suggested that she remember I’m the one who gives her a home, and it hasn’t made a difference. I told her that if she carried on I wouldn’t have the slightest sympathy if Beckett laid into her, and even that didn’t register.”

Dr Burke thinks that suicidal stupidity in the face of Detective Beckett is an inherited trait. Saying so is unlikely to be sensible. “Mmm?” he hums encouragingly.

“So I think I have to lay it out in words of one syllable.”

“Lay what out?”

“Back right off or move out,” Mr Castle says bluntly, and with considerable decisiveness.

“How have you come to that conclusion?”

Mr Castle squirms and cringes. “Er… if she won’t back off now, she won’t respect boundaries when Beckett moves in. It doesn’t matter if she barges in now, but…” he stops, in a flurry of embarrassed blushes.

“I understand,” Dr Burke says smoothly. “It could be very stressful if you were not sure that your privacy were to be properly respected.” He does not comment on Mr Castle’s confidence that Detective Beckett will be moving in. There has seemed little doubt of that for some weeks. Dr Burke does hope that Mr Castle and Detective Beckett do not try to rush matters, however. There are still some significantly volatile elements surrounding them.

“But I’d fund wherever she lived,” Mr Castle adds quickly.

“Indeed.” Dr Burke pauses. “Why?”

“When I was small, Mother did everything she could to make sure we had a home and food. That I got to school and got books. We… didn’t have a lot. I couldn’t leave her to struggle now, when she did so much for me. And it’s not like I can’t afford it, anyway. I’d barely notice, but it would make a huge difference to her.”

“Mm. So what is the issue which you wish to discuss?”

“Is it the right thing to do?”

“I see. Let us examine the reasons why it should either be, or should not be, the correct decision. Please list the reasons you think that it might be the wrong decision first. Take your time to ensure you have considered everything.”

Mr Castle contemplates his fingernails for a short period. Astonishingly, he is not fidgeting.

“Um, well, because it’s her home too. She looked after me, and now I can look after her. We’ve never had this sort of disagreement before. She left me and Gina alone. Alexis loves her – hell, I love her.”

“So, in summary, you do not wish to uproot a loved relative from a place in which they have found stability.”

“I suppose so.”

“Very well. Now, what are the reasons that this might be the right decision?”

There is a very pained silence. “I guess I don’t trust her to leave Beckett alone. I want Beckett to move in – only when we’re both ready, but still – and she and Mother won’t mix while Mother’s like this. So if I don’t move Mother out, Beckett won’t move in. But that just seems selfish. We’ve always been a family and we’ve always held ourselves together. I don’t want to break that.”

Mr Castle sounds rather plaintive. Dr Burke can readily understand his dilemma. His emotions have transferred from his mother to Detective Beckett, just as Detective Beckett has transferred from her father to Mr Castle. How pleasingly symmetrical. Also, how pleasingly simple.

“You appear to me to be saying that you would feel guilty about removing your mother from your loft in order to replace her in your life with Detective Beckett. Mr Castle, you have listened, I have no doubt, to Detective Beckett’s worries about her father. Could you summarise for me, please, the root of Detective Beckett’s issues?”

“Huh?” Mr Castle emits. “Why… Okay then. Beckett felt so guilty about abandoning her dad that she overcompensated…by – Oh. I see. But it’s nothing like that.”

“Certainly it is not as extreme. However, you are falling into the same errors, on a considerably lesser scale. It is not selfish to wish to be happy, nor is it selfish to wish to arrange matters so that happiness eventuates. What would be selfish, in your position, might be to ask your mother to leave without assisting her in finding a new apartment. It is certainly not selfish, and in fact is quite generous, to pay for it in full. A contribution would certainly not be unusual. You will still be supporting your family, and it is normal in our society for even the closest of families to live in separate accommodation to allow for generational change.”

“Urgh?”

That is really not an intelligent contribution. Dr Burke continues.

“It is not the duty of a child to prop up a dysfunctional relationship with his or her parents. To date” – Dr Burke speaks over Mr Castle’s argumentative noise – “you have not had a dysfunctional relationship. Unconventional, possibly, but not dysfunctional. Now, however, if you cannot persuade your mother to see reason and step back, it may become dysfunctional. You have identified the potential problem early enough to solve it before it becomes damaging – are you certain that you do not wish to take up psychiatry?”

Mr Castle shakes his head very firmly.

“How unfortunate,” Dr Burke sighs. “In any event, you have the opportunity to solve this, and in my view it is perfectly reasonable to ask your mother to respect the boundaries which Detective Beckett is trying to set. If she then does not, it is reasonable to find an alternative arrangement which does not damage either of you.”

“You think?”

“I think that you would rapidly come to resent your mother, as Detective Beckett has unknowingly resented her father, if she did not respect the privacy you and Detective Beckett have requested. I assume, Mr Castle, that you do not wish to follow the path of the Becketts in this regard?”

“No way.”

“Good. So, what do you now intend to do?”

“Well, it’s already Thursday. So I’m going to see what happens tomorrow with Beckett and her dad here – we might even manage to finish a game of Sorry – then when her dad goes we’ll discuss whether dinner with Alexis, Jim, Beckett and me is a good plan, and then after Jim’s spoken to Mother and Alexis, which I really hope he can manage this weekend, I’ll have to talk to Mother.”

“That sounds extremely logical and sensible.” Dr Burke only realises that his voice has carried a hint of surprise when Mr Castle replies.

“If you’re writing mystery books you learn how to plan pretty fast. Otherwise they’re unreadable.”

Dr Burke blinks. “I suppose so,” he says. He has never thought about it before. He supposes, now the thought has been brought to him, that he plans his psychiatry books very carefully. He had simply not considered that the same might be true of fiction writing. He recovers his poise. “Are you content that we have addressed the issue adequately? We may continue if you so wish: there is still time available.”

“No, I think we’re done. Till tomorrow, anyway.” A tiny grimace twists Mr Castle’s lips. “Another round of the battling Becketts. I should syndicate it. It’d make a fortune.”

A small laugh escapes Dr Burke before he can prevent it. Mr Castle grins mischievously. “I do not recommend it, Mr Castle. I consider that Detective Beckett might take it very ill. This seems to me to be a situation devoutly to be avoided.”

Mr Castle grins more widely.

“It would be. Still, it would be fun. Till she shot me.” He stands, still smiling happily. “See you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Mr Castle.”

That, Dr Burke reflects, was remarkably simple. Mr Castle merely needed a small amount of reassurance. He had already done the necessary thinking and reasoning. How nice to meet one person involved in the Beckett situation who is logical and intelligent before Dr Burke has begun.

There is, of course, one consideration of which Mr Castle has not thought. It is entirely possible that his mother is scared of being evicted, and is, unconsciously, trying to become important to Detective Beckett in order that Detective Beckett will assist her in staying. This is certain to fail.

Beckett is bored. There are no nice new Beckett-flavoured cases, there is only the slow seep of information on the old and not-Beckett-flavoured ones. She has spent the morning matching up data, which is not a job that she enjoys, unless it produces a lead. The boys are being… well, childish, and unhelpful.

And of course Castle hasn’t arrived, so although she’s had decent coffee from the break room machine she hasn’t had her coffee. Consequently, she is both bored and in a bad mood, even though she knows perfectly well that Castle had said he had things to do. Still, she’d like him here. He’d stop her being bored.

Fortunately, at that point, just as she is considering standing in the centre of the bullpen and screaming loudly, Castle shows up. He even has her coffee. If it weren’t the bullpen, she’d kiss him. Instead she checks unobtrusively that the boys aren’t looking and then favours him with a toe-curling smile and bite of her lip. His eyes go from blue to midnight in one instant, and his return smile promises wicked seduction.

Then the boys notice him and wicked seduction drops away before they notice.

“Castle,” they say happily.

“Why so late, bro? Oversleep?”

“Too many parties?”

“Writing all night, more like,” Castle says blandly.

“Playing shoot-em-ups, more like,” Beckett says snarkily, and when the boys aren’t looking drops an eyelid. She drains her coffee – that’s so much better – and returns, reinvigorated, to the tedious cross-checking of lists.

“Wanna go to Remy’s at lunch?” Castle asks, unexpectedly.

“Okay. Means that I’ll need to get khachapuris tomorrow lunchtime, or tonight, though.”

“Yeah, sure. Um… we need to talk about Mother. Before tomorrow night.”

“Okay.” Beckett looks at her watch. “Ten minutes to finish this up, then we’ll go. Want to help?”

“No. It’s all paperwork and you know I hate paperwork. I’ll just sit here quietly” – Beckett splutters with mocking laughter – “and wait. I won’t disturb you at all.” She chokes on her splutters as she tries to keep them quiet. His tone drops down an octave and around forty decibels. “I’ll do that later. All weekend.” Her splutter turns to scarlet flush, and she glares. Castle smirks at her.