To Have and To Be

Chapter 1

He wasn't there.

Kate's eyes slowly began to blur as they fixed on her evening's second pour of bourbon, its well-aged hue melding with the mahogany of the bar on which it rested. To her ears, the otherwise gentle chatter of the room sounded more like a pack of drill sergeants on bullhorns, and her head already pounded like the morning after a night she hadn't yet had, yet she remained, still, in that place she hadn't stepped into since…Since.

She had no idea how she'd ended up there, why she'd chosen that door on that night-Rick's door, as it was-in a city filled with doors. It'd been however many days, weeks, and months it'd been, and she'd kept count at the beginning, but, eventually, that became too difficult, not because her brain couldn't manage the task, but because her heart couldn't. She was the reason why. She was the reason she didn't have a partner, anymore, and his empty chair at the precinct represented the very least of that word.

With just a few syllables, she succeeded in fending off the unwanted attention of a man who'd spent the better part of twenty minutes working up the courage to approach, and he trotted back to his end of the bar and found love with another within three minutes flat. So much for extraordinary, Kate, she thought, before sweeping aside the self-deprecation with a mock toast to herself.

"Jesus, he finally came over, huh?" the winsome bartender asked as he passed by on his way to deliver help to someone else's day. "Took him long enough. Hope you let him down easy."

"Turns out, we just wanted different things," Kate replied humorously.

"Yeah, it'll be better for both of you in the long run," he said, playing along. He smiled and she returned the gesture, mostly because it was the polite thing to do, and she watched him spin off with the gin that could've been hers if only she'd played her cards right.

In that moment, she wondered when the better of it all might begin.

xxxx

She woke too late to make herself morning-survival coffee, which also meant she was running too late to stop for it on the way to Burke's office, and she cursed herself for it the entire way there. She still saw him every week, despite the huffing she often did about it, despite the undeniable progress she'd made in pushing through barriers related to her mother's murder, which had, not long before, seemed all but impossible. She still showed up because there was more work to be done, more work she wanted to do, and because there was Rick.

"You look tired," Burke noticed aloud as Kate settled into her usual curl in the chair opposite his. "Didn't sleep well?"

"I slept fine," she fought back, though he hadn't intended a provocation. "But it's nice to know I look like hell, thanks." He read her all too well, as he always found way to do, so he wasn't baited, offering only a modest grin until she checked herself. "Sorry. I'm just…I don't know what I am."

"That doesn't seem like you." He crossed one leg over the other and pushed back against the leather of his cushion. "Why today? You said you slept fine, so did something happen? Something at work or-"

"I went to the bar last night," she said, stepping on what remained of his inquiry, and she wasn't near through, which he understood, leaving her statement in the air without comment. "His bar-Rick."

"I wasn't aware Rick owned a bar. I don't think you've ever mentioned it. What is it called?"

"Why do you want to know?" Kate snipped.

There was something else Dr. Burke knew about Kate: she liked to be the one in control of the gas pedal. "Just simple curiosity, Kate," he told her. She'd moved from swirling a fingertip along the arm of her chair to fidgeting with the ends of her loose hair. "You saw him while you were there?"

She still hadn't seen him, not since that night in that very bar when he'd pulled away, for good. She hated that bar now. "No, I didn't," she said, and even she couldn't tell if it was relief or sadness in her voice. "And, it's called The Old Haunt, the bar. It was famous with old writers, I guess," she added of no consequence.

"Did you go there to see him?"

It wasn't that she didn't expect the question. He knew her, yes, but she knew him, too. She hoped it might take a few more steps to get there, though, because it was still one without a good answer. "I don't know. I don't know what I am, today. I don't know why I went to his bar last night. I don't know much, I guess, except that I'd do just about anything for a vat-sized cup of coffee right now," she said with a contrived chuckle-deflecting, clearly.

Burke remained steady, despite her effort. "Kate, did you go there to see him?" It would come. He could see it.

She immediately cut their eye contact, because with one more second, the tears would form. She could already feel the pressure building, like bathwater about to flow over. Why now? she thought. She'd worked so hard to lock it away. And she was good at that. Why a goddamn dream now?

"I told you I don't know why, okay? He's been gone for months, doing God knows what. There's no reason for me to go anywhere to see him because the fact of the matter is, he doesn't want to see me." She swallowed and it was physically painful, the knot being pushed back down. "But..." That one word slipped out, the one that left the door open and her vulnerable to more.

He sat forward, again, his elbows perched on his knees. "But, what?"

Kate let her eyes close, because that's what one did just before one went down the rabbit hole. "I had a dream about him."

"Okay. Would you like to share it?" Burke asked, opting to leave the ball in her court.

She never told him about what happened. Well, about all of it. There was an argument, he knew-a break, but that was it. The rest she buried because it was so painfully ugly. But this dream brought it back into the light, and there it was, again, like a movie being projected on a giant screen for her to relive.

She'd made a foolish decision that night, one that'd involved a level of thought that spoke nothing of the keen intellect that'd always been attributed to her. She just hadn't imagined Rick would show up there. She hadn't imagined that when he'd walked out of the precinct-walked out on her-she'd find him standing across the very room she was in, he with another woman and she with another man, but that'd been precisely the folly the universe had seen fit to construct.

Part of her wanted to run the second she saw him, the part of her that hated what she was doing there, that hated what she was doing to herself and to Colin, and she knew just what that was. But the other part of her wanted to remain, wanted Rick to see how great everything was, how much fun she was having, and that whatever it was that was going on between them clearly didn't faze her, either. Except it wasn't, and she wasn't, and it did.

"Isn't that Rick?" Colin asked, curiously following her eyes when she failed to acknowledge his last getting-to-know-you-better question. "That's a bit weird, isn't it? Both of you turn up here?"

Kate swallowed a sip of bourbon from the glass she'd been neglecting. "He owns the bar. I didn't know he'd be here," she said, her aversion to the sight of Rick with his whatever-she-was audible.

"Would you rather go somewhere else? I think I saw another pub down the way." Colin was ignorant of the discord between the two, of course, but her swift change in demeanor would've been evident to even her newest of acquaintances, and there was little else he had to offer in the way of benefit. "Kate?" He had to grab for her attention because she was no longer giving it willingly.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked with a blush of embarrassment at his concerned expression.

Colin turned once more and found Rick through the crowd as he kissed the cheek of the blonde curled in his arm. "I just asked if you wanted to go was all," he told her, and he downed what was left of the beer in his bottle, just in case.

Kate had seen the kiss, too, and the arm, and all the rest, and it was in that moment she made the decision not to run but to stay, not to be chased off. "No, I'm sorry. It's...I'm fine. You have to head out to the airport soon, anyway, so."

"I do, I do," he confirmed with a glance at his watch. "But I think I have enough time for one more, if you'd like. I'm not very keen on flying, so I have a good excuse." He smiled and a pang of guilt struck her a silent blow.

"I guess I can have one, too, thanks. I'll try and come up with a good excuse for myself while you're gone." She smiled back as he walked off for the bar, emptied her glass while fighting not to seek out Rick with her eyes one more time. It didn't seem as though he'd spotted her, yet, or them, but like so many other things about him of late, she couldn't really be certain. For all she knew, he could've decided that very night to start ignoring her altogether.

"Here you are, Detective," Colin said, setting a second glass next to her first and reclaiming his seat. "And I must say I find it a bit odd buying alcohol from a man who barely looks old enough to enjoy it himself. How old do you think that bartender is, anyway?" He looked back over his shoulder towards the bar and Kate leaned over and peered around him.

"I see what you mean. Maybe I should run him," she said in jest. "Was he wearing a name tag?"

"You mean in case he forgets what his name actually is?"

They laughed together then, but were interrupted when someone stepped up to their table.

"So, the law folks have their own table at the Haunt now, I see," a voice said. "To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure? Not here to bust me for having too much fun, I hope," Rick joked with a cackle echoed by his female companion.

Kate peered over the rim of the glass she'd brought to her lips merely to keep herself from throwing it at him, but said nothing, so Colin jumped in. "Nothing like that, Rick, no. Entirely unofficial. Kate agreed to keep me company for a drink before my flight, so here we are."

"Well, wasn't that nice of her," Rick responded snobbishly, dropping a hand onto Colin's shoulder as though they were friends. "Not that you asked for my two cents, here, but Kate's a great girl. And, hey, if you find yourself back across the pond at some point, maybe the four of us can go out and break bread or something."

With his other arm, he squeezed the blonde back into his body and she all but purred on cue. "You asked for something pink, right? Ask and ye shall receive," he said, and with a disgustingly casual "See ya later, you guys," the two wandered off for the bar.

Kate didn't said a word during Rick's display, but she could feel her fingernails still digging into her thigh beneath the table. He was standing there for just a couple of moments, yet in them he managed to elicit a reaction near disgust, a feeling she'd never come close to in all their time together, and the worst part about it was that it seemed as though hurting her was exactly what he was trying to do.

"Well, good on you, Detective Beckett," Colin said, raising his bottle. "Apparently, you're a great girl." His attempt at a goofy American accent would've gone over better ten minutes earlier, but as things were, the humor was utterly wasted on Kate. "The blonde seemed really special, as well."

Her thigh had started to numb beneath her relentless hand, so she curled her fingers into a tight fist. "I need to go to the restroom," she told him, managing only those words before she got up and headed for the back.

It wasn't occupied at the time and she was thankful for it, because she desperately needed the space to breathe or she thought she might break. She threw the door open and locked it behind her, grabbing for the edge of the sink to steady her shake. Finding her reflection in the mirror, Rick's words came back at her, firing off the walls and striking her fresh. Fun. Uncomplicated. All of it, all of it felt deliberate and she had no fucking idea why.

It was a minute or two or five, she didn't know, but Kate finally gathered herself as best she could. There was Colin, and that was a thing she needed to finish before it started. She pushed her hands through her hair one last time to expend some of the residual energy coursing through her, however feeble the effort, and she made her way back out into the bar.

"I'm sorry," she told Colin when he stood, most gentlemanly, upon her return. And she was truly that.

"No worries," he told her in kind dismissal. Kate sat, but he remained standing. "So, I really hate to drink and run, but I should be off if I'm to make my flight. Can I help get you someplace?"

He was a fine man. She hardly knew a thing about him, but that, to her, was clear. "No, of course, yeah," she said, pushing back up out of her chair. "I'm um...you know, I think I'm actually going to sit here and finish my drink first, but thank you. I appreciate it. One of those days, you know?" She tried to make light of it, but couldn't tell whether or not she'd succeeded.

There was a moment of something between them before he spoke his parting words. "I'd like to think I might be seeing you again, Detective, but I'm fairly certain we both know better, and that will just have to be my profound loss. If ever I can be of help to you, ring."

"I will," Kate said. "Thank you. I wish…" Whatever she began to say she thought better of and let it pass. "Safe home."

Colin left her with a grin, and once he'd gone, she immediately scanned the room for Rick, determined to bring whatever was going on between them to an end, there and then, no matter whom he was with. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she took a quick glance, another text message from Lanie asking when she was going to tell him how she felt about him, so she left it without a response, noting the almost comical timing. It was then that she spotted Rick behind the bar, minus his new accessory, so she drank down her Jim Beam and went for him.

She pushed through a group of four young guys to get to him as he talked with a redhead a few bodies down. She could hear him bragging about owning the place, as though he was the only man on earth to ever own a bar, and from Kate's vantage point, his new target seemed to be lapping it up. Jacinda, the blonde, was now nowhere to be found, which was actually a welcome change; though she'd only seen the woman three times in her life, it was already three times too many.

"Rick," she called out over the din of the crowd-he sure as hell didn't feel like Castle to her in that moment-succeeding in capturing his ear only on her fourth attempt, each louder and more insistent than its predecessor. He looked over at her, but he didn't say anything, and Kate could feel the burn of the redhead's eyes on her instantly. "We need to talk."

Rick reached out and touched the woman's arm deliberately before sliding Kate's way. "What can I get you?" he asked, playing bartender like they were strangers.

"Cut it out," Kate scolded. "We need to talk, right now."

"Why, because you say we do? You say a whole lot of things that don't mean anything. And, I'm already having a conversation with someone." He turned and tossed the redhead, who, Kate happened to notice, was also sipping a pink cocktail of some kind, a cutesy wave. "You're here with someone, too, aren't you? Where is Mr. Bond, anyway?"

"You know what? Fine. We can do this right here, Rick. I don't give a shit. Kind of like you," she added, throwing fight right back. The volume of her voice had already elevated, again, and the group she'd fought her way through to get up to the bar was now looking on with interest. "What the hell is your problem, lately? You've been treating me like shit for weeks."

Rick tossed the towel draped over his shoulder onto the bar and futilely attempted to ease the crowd's growing unease with a chuckle, awkward at best. "Buy everybody a round, Sam," he told his bartender as he walked down to the end of the bar and came around. "I'll be right back."

"So, do I get an answer?" Kate said once they were behind the closed door of his manager's office. "What the hell is going on, Rick?"

"So, it's Rick now, Kate?" he asked, punctuating her name with thinly veiled displeasure.

"Act like Castle and I'll call you that," she bit back. He sat while she paced, an overt tell as to their varying levels of disquietude. "I don't understand what's going on. I don't understand how we got from almost...from..." She stopped herself, the words there but arrested by the look in his eyes. "I can't do this. I need to be focused at work, and I need a partner there I can count on."

That quickly pulled him out of his chair. "You mean a partner who doesn't lie to your face? A partner who respects you and trusts you and believes in you? Because I'm looking for one of those now, too."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What it means, Kate, is that I can't do this, either, so you won't have to worry about me at work, anymore. You're free of your shadow. No more silly books to endure, no more ridiculous theories to listen to, no more lies to have to keep straight."

She felt like she'd been kicked in the gut, the air knocked out of her. It was supposed to get better. This was supposed to help. Without a voice, all she could do was ask the question with her eyes, and he stepped right up to answer.

"I know you remember what happened that day. I know you lied to my face about it and that you've been lying for months." He spoke softly, in a tone that might, under different circumstances, soothe, but it did nothing but evoke fear in her, because she could hear every ounce of his hurt, and she knew nothing from that moment on would be the same. "So, to answer your question, Kate, my problem lately has been that special surprise everyone always just loves to get. You know, the one where you find out how wrong you were about one of the most important things in your life."

"Cas-" He walked away from her, and the impulse to reach out for him was one she couldn't suppress, in spite of all the anger she'd carried with her into that office. She took a step in approach, though his back was all she had. "How?" she asked, but only because that's what came out first.

"That's funny," Rick replied. "I remember I'm sorry sounding a lot different. Must be all the one beer I had." He finally turned but kept his distance, and she knew enough not to take any more of his space. She had his eye, but he looked blankly at her, like he was looking through her, like she was barely there.

"Not that I think how I found out is the fucking point, Kate," he continued, "but I'm a storyteller, so here's the story: Once upon a time, I overheard you share the truth with a perfect stranger-a person of interest in a crime, actually, for a sprinkle of added fun-as I stood on the other side of that wall of dirty glass like a fool and watched in awe, as I often did, as the woman I loved worked her beautiful cop magic. The end."

Kate tried to think, tried to remember, as each of the words came out of his mouth, but the only reason she found her body still upright was by the grace of adrenaline, so her brain couldn't be convinced to do much of anything with a successful result.

"I need you to let me explain, Castle. There are things-"

"No," he protested abruptly. "Right now, there aren't. And at least I'm telling you to your face and not just disappearing."

She didn't have to ask. She'd almost been waiting for that, though she hoped it would never come. "Okay," she said, barely audible, utterly blown apart.

"I have someone waiting in the bar. I need to go." He stepped around her for the door, waited for her to pass and closed it behind her, his name on her lips one last time as he disappeared from view.

From beyond the door, she heard it, the sound of something breaking against the office wall and crashing to the ground, so she turned back, her fingers at the door handle, but she went no further. In that moment, she knew there was nothing more she had that he wanted.

That had been her last contact with him. Until he appeared in her dream, that'd been the last time she'd heard Rick's voice or seen his face, despite several attempts early in those days and weeks and months. However long it'd been.

"Kate? Do you want to tell me about the dream?" Burke asked for the second time, his voice plugging her back into present.

She shifted and tucked her knees up into her chest, hugged them with her arms. "It was a week ago, and, I don't know, it was just so vivid, like I could've reached out and touched them if I'd wanted to." Her whole body calmed as she called up the vision and continued. "He was with my mom, and they were sitting together in a field with tall, tall grass and all these white flowers. I'm still not sure what they were. And it was so quiet; I could almost hear all the stems moving with the wind."

"So, you were there with them, too?" Burke asked with her thoughtful pause.

"Yeah, I mean, no, not with them. I was there, but they couldn't see me, I guess, and I had this sketchpad with me, and I was drawing them as they talked and laughed, until all the pages were filled."

"Was that the end of the dream?"

It was almost as though Kate didn't hear his question, because she went on without acknowledging it. "The stems started to bend and sway, and there was this sound like a hiss that got louder and louder, and then the wind suddenly rushed across the field in a huge gust. All the sketches I'd drawn went flying into the air, and I kept jumping to try and save them, but they were all too high to reach, so I finally had to just stand there and watch as they floated away."

She felt sad even recounting it. Burke heard it in her voice, saw it in her face. "What about your mom and Rick? What happened to them?"

"I don't know. When I finally looked back, they were gone. So were all the white flowers." Burke's expression changed ever so slightly, but it was just enough for her to pick up on it, her cop sense ever at work. "What was that look for? You have it all figured out?"

"I'm not sure which look you're referring to, exactly, but I've told you before, Kate, my job is to help you figure things out. And, yes, I already know you hate it when I tell you that, so you can forgo the look you usually give me." She tossed him an eye, nonetheless, but he pressed on. "Have you thought about it? About what might be behind it?"

"You mean the dream where two people I loved basically disappeared in front of my eyes and all these beautiful things and all the work I'd done went right along with them?" She mocked with her tone, but there was pain there.

"You went to the bar to see Rick. You're allowed to say it, Kate. It doesn't make you any of the things you're afraid it does."

She closed her eyes, again, and she heard the crash against that office wall, saw the hurt on Rick's face, felt the harsh wind of her dream upon her skin. Why now? she asked herself for the umpteenth time, but she didn't know why. She only knew who, and she said just one more word before she got up and walked out.

"Yes."