A mid-season 2 story…
The murky shadow silently crept across her paper as she added another sentence to her report.
She didn't need to look up. She knew it was him, though she was a bit surprised he was here. He never shows up when all she's doing is paperwork… and he's rarely so… quiet.
"We've talked about this," she remarked, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Staring. Creepy."
But when he didn't reply, she lifted her eyes from her desk to meet his - solemn and serious.
Her tone changed immediately. "Castle?... Hey… You okay?"
"Can we talk?" he muttered in earnest.
She was taken aback by the request, but Beckett put the pen down on the report, turning her body towards him. "Sure?"
"Umm…" He drummed his fingers nervously against his hip as he broke from her gaze, eyes locking on the floor. "Not here?"
He looked so sombre… so apprehensive… so not himself.
It worried her.
"Okay…" she smiled warmly, grabbing her coat off the back of her chair as she stood up.
She watched from across the table as his hands twisted nervously around the ceramic mug that he was caressing between his palms, the delicate steam from the coffee curling into the air.
But he'd been staring into the dark liquid for almost five minutes now and had not yet taken a sip… and he hadn't said a word.
Very out of character.
Enough to cause her slight concern.
"Castle?" Her voice was gentle but firm. Just enough to snap him from his reverie. "You wanted to talk?"
"Uh, yeah," he mumbled, fingering the edge of the handle. "You know that murder that happened uptown yesterday? The mother whose son killed her?"
Beckett's eyes softened. It hadn't happened in her jurisdiction, but she knew the case. Especially since it was splashed all over the media.
An 18-year-old slit the throat of his stay-at-home mother. He was apprehended within hours. Charged with first degree murder.
She simply nodded her head in silence as he looked up at her, reading her eyes.
"The sister… Sarah..." he sighed. "She's Alexis' friend."
Beckett inhaled deeply, suddenly understanding why this one was hitting Castle so hard.
"Alexis found out last night," he continued. "It was all over Twitter. Apparently Sarah had been pulled out of class that afternoon. Nobody knew why… until later."
Beckett palmed her coffee mug gently, holding it firm. Not moving. Not speaking.
Just listening.
"She went to school that morning… she had a family…" he mumbled, absent-mindedly running his index finger along the lip of the mug. "She's only fifteen."
Beckett's heart twisted - the memories of that January night flashing back to her. She and her father at the restaurant, waiting. Detective Raglan waiting for her when they got home. How her whole world shattered in an instant.
"Alexis is reeling…" he exhaled heavily, looking up at her for the first time since they entered the café. "I just don't know what to tell her… what to say..."
She released a tender sigh, now realizing why he wanted to talk to her.
Writing about murder is one thing.
Living it is very different.
"Sometimes, you don't need to say anything, Castle," she began, voice soft and reassuring. "Everyone processes grief in their own way."
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, swallowing the words that hovered in his throat. She motioned with a slight tilt of her head, encouraging him to speak.
Swallowing lightly, he tried again. "What would you do?"
Her gaze shifted to focus on the window, the dusty amber glow of the setting sun reflecting off the adjacent office building, burning light dancing in her eyes. She'd done this so many times. Too many times.
Consoled the grieving.
Empathized with the survivor.
But it didn't make it any easier.
She took a deep breath, memories of all of the teary-eyed people staring at her, talking about her, offering her their sympathy… when all she'd felt was numb, the initial shock still too raw.
She became a daughter of a now-single father… as Alexis was to Castle… and as Sarah had become to her grieving father.
And what she needed most at that time was someone to talk to. Someone who wouldn't judge… but just listen.
"I'd be present," she said on a soft whisper, as if speaking to the dust that was twinkling amidst the beams of light which were cascading through the horizontal blinds. "I'd just be present."
She turned her head to look at him once again, his normally playful blue eyes now deep and austere.
"People always want to fix the problem… say something that will make everything okay…" she continued. "But nothing will ever make something like this okay."
Castle exhaled heavily through his nose as he pressed his back against the padded seat of the booth's bench.
"This is now a part of Sarah… and nothing will ever change that," the detective sighed, briefly pausing to take a sip of her now-luke warm coffee. "But Alexis being there, being a friend… when Sarah decides she needs someone, she'll know Alexis is there. And sometimes, that means everything."
There was a drawn out silence, the ambient conversations of the other patrons in the coffee shop just white noise as Castle processed her words.
"I just don't like to see her hurting," the writer admitted, looking out the window, hypnotically watching the pedestrians going about their daily lives, rushing across the city to their various destinations.
Beckett nodded, a light, understanding smile teasing her lips. "You won't be able to protect her from everything, Castle."
He closed his eyes in response, wishing he could have kept the rose colour on Alexis' glasses... even just for a little longer.
"Just be there for your daughter..."
His eyes shot open, looking down, when he felt her warm fingers brush lightly against his skin, her palm loosely covering the hand with which he was still gripping his coffee mug.
"Just be there for her," she repeated softly, "and listen to your heart."
His eyes shot up to meet hers, fathoms deep and beautifully tender, as he weighed the profundity of her advice.
"Your heart will never steer you wrong," she noted meaningfully.
Truer words never spoken.
.
xxx
Fic writing has been an escape for me… but this one was me working through grief.
xxx
The murder in this story was based on a true event that I wish I never had to experience – only "Sarah" was not the actual name.
But "Sarah" is my student…
And her mother was murdered yesterday in that way... and today, my class – like Alexis – was reeling.
And I couldn't find the words.
This was just a product of my internal monologue… trying to figure out what to say to my students.
Still searching…