A Different Road Taken

AN: Set in Season 4, Episode 1 after Kate Beckett is shot. AU immediately after Rick leaves Kate's room in the hospital - Rick takes a very different road, and finds a very different and fulfilling purpose. Multi-Chapter.

DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine, but they are memorable. Thank you Mr. Marlowe.

Day 1

Rick Castle walks into Kate Beckett's hospital room, and finds Josh there, sitting close, next to her bed. He's sitting very close; too close. She's leaning into him, and it's clear they are having a 'moment'.

Talk about your third wheel; he sure feels it right now. He's living it right now. In a moment of bittersweet clarity, he finds that he isn't angry, watching her with another man; watching her with this man. It hurts, yeah, because he wishes beyond reason that it was him sitting there, not Josh. He wishes that she was his. But she's not. Oh, it's clearer than clear that she's not.

They must see him out of the corner of their eyes, because she leans back, putting her head back onto her pillow, away from Josh. Josh pauses a moment, looking at Castle, then stands up to leave. The last time he and Rick laid eyes on each other, punches almost flew. Well, I flew - Rich thinks to himself – flew into the wall. It wasn't a pretty scene, and had Beckett's dad not been there to intervene, who knows how things might have turned out.

These are the thoughts dominating his thinking as Castle steps toward the bed. He and Josh nod at one another in passing. Castle feels kind of silly standing there with flowers. Well, he thinks, they're not roses . . . flowers can be for any purpose.

And then it begins.

Eyes downcast, Kate offers him what he later will recall as the most liberating of greetings. For the past three years, he has slowly but surely been falling deeper and deeper into bondage over this woman. For a while, he used to wonder if it was love. And if it was, it was certainly uni-directional love. This wasn't a reciprocal thing going on for the past few years. It was purely one-way. That's bondage. Her greeting turns out to be a much-needed splash of cold water to the face. It frees him.

"I heard that you tried to save me," she offers up.

Her words free him – but his heart sinks in that moment, because those words tell him that she doesn't remember, or she is choosing to say she doesn't remember. But his mouth is moving far quicker than his mind can catch up, and before he can think, the most obvious of questions escapes his lips.

"You don't remember?"

"They say there are some things better not remembered."

He doesn't recall much more of the conversation. Her lips are moving, and perhaps his are also. But right now, his mind is on the fast track, circling the course, lap after lap in monotonous agony. He vaguely hears her tell him she's tired. He tells her he will see her tomorrow.

"You mind if we don't? I just need a little bit of time."

He's blinking back tears for a few seconds as he backs away. He wonders aloud how much time she is going to need.

"I'll call you ok . . ."

With that he turns and leaves. Shutting the door, he leans against the wall outside her room. The tears in his eyes seem to stay there, mercifully. He'd rather not be seen by anyone like this. A quick glance around confirms that he's alone. Thank God Esposito and Ryan aren't here to see this, he thinks to himself. The last people he wants to see right now are the two guys he almost considers his younger brothers. And he sure as hell doesn't need to see Lanie. He can't play that game right now.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Straightening his jacket, he is surprised at the almost indescribable calm he is feeling right now. It doesn't make sense. He should be torn up, ripped to pieces emotionally. He dived in front of her, trying to save her. That one heroic, courageous, incredibly stupid moment could have simultaneously saved the woman he clearly loves and orphaned the daughter he absolutely adores. His reward for his selfless act was to see Kate making gooey eyes with Josh, and making zip eye contact with himself as she summarily dismissed him from her presence.

He should be torn up, but he's not. Yeah, he's hurting, but surprisingly it's not worse.

He should be furious, but he's not. Yeah, he's more than perturbed, but he's not even pissed off or angry with her.

It's an epiphany that he will later credit with rescuing him from a very likely spiral of doom. As an author, he knows how he would write this dramatic and tragic scene. This is not headed for a happily-ever-after ending. But he's dead set in not writing that scene for himself. Walking towards the elevator, he surprises himself with the person he's decided to talk to in this moment of clarity. He scrolls down his screen on his phone and punches the SEND button.

"Richard, darling, how are you? Have you been able to see Detective Beckett" Martha asks.

"Yes, mother. I just left her room. Do you have some time, mother?"

"For my favorite son - always."

"I'm your only son, mother," he chuckles. He's actually finding humor in this entire ghastly scene.

"That you know of, dearie. That you know of."

"Seriously, mother. Can you meet me at home? Believe it or not, I really need to talk with you," he counters.

"Of course, of course. On my way. Is everything all right, Richard?"

"At the loft, mother. At the loft."

With that, he clicks off, ending the call. He steps into the elevator, and glances back at the door leading to Kate Beckett's room. Damn, Kate - he thinks as the elevator door closes - I never saw us ending.

. . . . . .

Thirty minutes later, Castle unlocks the door to his loft and walks in. Martha is there waiting, a glass of wine in her hands as she waves him over to sit with her on the sofa. He manages a brief smile. Everything his mother does is theatrical.

"Richard, come over, have a seat, have a seat", she says as she brushes his cheek with a maternal kiss. "How is Detective Beckett?"

"She's fine. She's going to be fine. The doctors say she's going to be fine."

"Ok", Martha smiles. "So we have established that Detective Beckett is going to be fine. Why do I not believe there is good news here?"

Castle smiles along with his mother, although his smile does have a taint of glistening eyes. This does not go unnoticed by Martha, but she chooses not to say anything. At least not just yet. After all, he did ask her to come over to talk, so obviously there is something on his mind. He will get to it in his own time. But just as quickly, the tears which threaten to overflow pull back to their shores. He looks her squarely in the eyes as he sits down on the sofa with her.

"Mother, you know that moment of clear excitement and joy when you capture that lightning bug in the jar, and you wonder if it is okay and then it lights up and you realize 'I did it, I got it'?"

"Ahhh . . . No. No, Richard, I'm afraid you've got me with this one."

"Hear me out, Mother," he pauses, as if searching for an easy way to say the words that are so obvious to everyone except for himself and the detective.

"Mother, I love Detective Beckett. I love her so very much."

"I know you do, Richard. And you told her," she agrees, and almost under her breath she adds "not the greatest timing in the world as she was on the ground, shot in the heart, but tomato-tomahto."

"I heard that, Mother. Are you going to listen or not," he smirks.

"I'm listening, I'm listening. You love Kate. Not news, really darling, but okay. You love Kate."

"Yes, I love her. And I've got to let her go."

Not much really surprises Martha about her son. She's a woman of the world, and has been around the block more than a few times. But right now, Martha is stunned. She tries to speak, but the thoughts and words won't align. She still has her mouth slightly hanging open when Castle continues:

"I love her, Mother - but I've got to let her go. And I've got to let me go."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand, Richard, but something tells me this is going to be a good one – let me refresh my glass for a moment."

Castle chuckles to himself at his mother's ways. He realizes despite her eccentric manners and flighty appearance, his mother is a rock. She's cut out of a stone that you don't find much anymore. She raised her son by herself in the seventies and eighties, for crying out loud. His father walked out, never to be seen or heard from again. A single mom wasn't quite appreciated during those years as she is today. Yeah, she's quite a woman, he thinks to himself as she returns, and sits as she does everything – with a flash and flair.

"OK, Richard. You love Kate. And now that you have finally – and I do mean finally – admitted this to yourself. And your dramatic conclusion - in your moment of clarity - is that you need to let her go."

It's a question, but she speaks as though it is a statement of fact.

He nods his head.

"And you have to let you go as well." Again, it is spoken as a statement.

Again, he nods his head.

Martha eyes him for a few seconds, and then laughs out loud. "Well this is going to be good. Let's hear it."

And with that – the conversation turns like the worm, from light-hearted to life-and-death-serious in a blink of the eye. The tears that glisten in her son's eyes yet again cause her to pause. For a moment he leans back into the soft cushions of his sofa, taking comfort in the safety of his retreat, his loft. This is his sanctuary, where he feels safe. Then he leans forward again, elbows on his knees and hands folded under his chin to anchor him for what he needs to say.

"She doesn't remember, mother. She doesn't remember what I did, or what I said."

Martha looks at him, and for a moment neither speaks. Both keep their full focus on the other. She, as though she is waiting for him to break into a clearly-late April Fool's line; he, as though he is waiting for some semblance of understanding from her.

"Did you talk with her?" she asks, finally.

"She didn't want to talk," he says bluntly.

"What does she remember?" she asks.

"She remembers she's with Josh."

With that, a single tear makes its way down his cheek. He brushes it off quickly, standing and going to his bar area to pour himself a scotch. When he returns, his shoulders aren't quite as straight and upright. He seems to have shrunk an inch or so.

The tears now taking hold in Martha's eyes threaten mushroom and bubble over. Like many people who see Castle and Beckett interact, she always thought that somehow, some way, some day these two star-crossed kids would find each other and get together. That she can literally and tangibly feel this conversation heading in a completely different direction is both unnerving and surprising to her.

"I don't understand," is all she can manage.

"It's really pretty simple, Mother," he says between small sniffles. "I walked in, and she was with Josh. Evidently, he opted for the chivalrous approach and left Kate and I to talk. Except we didn't really talk. She told me sometimes it's best not to remember anything. Then told me she was tired and it was pretty much time for me to leave."

Martha, still trying to process this, simply repeats herself. "I don't understand."

"I know, Mother. I know."

Later, as she recalls this conversation to others, Martha will tell people that she watched her son almost shrink, but then stand tall and finally, finally grow up. It seems Detective Beckett really did help her son find himself, as she knew she would – she just never figured this would be how it turned out.

"Here's what else I know, Mother. I feel my heart breaking. But somehow, it's like it is being put together at the same time. I see things so clearly, Mother – for the first time in a couple of years, I see things quite clearly - Not as I hoped or wished, but as things really are."

"And exactly how are things, Richard?" she asks.

"She doesn't love me, Mother. Not in the way that I love her. Not in the way that I want to be loved. I'm her friend – and dammit – I am and will forever be stuck in that God-forbidden friend zone with her."

Martha starts to interrupt, but Rick raises his hand to stop her. He needs to say this – it is important for his own ears to hear what his mouth is saying.

"Mother, I've had a couple of one-time dates in the past few years, but that's it. Beckett? She's had relationships. Big difference. She's been with Demming, and now she's with Josh. These aren't one-time flings or dates. These are relationships. Right in front of me, she chooses to have these other relationships. These are her boyfriends. She has let them in to that wonderful place, that wonderful zone that she keeps closed off to me. She routinely – routinely, Mother – let's other men into that zone. But me? No – it's off limits to me."

"Richard, don't you think you might be over-reacting?"

Rick tries to respond, but now his mother cuts him off. It's her turn, and she definitely doesn't like the direction this is going.

"Richard, she's been through a lot in her life. You know this. Her mother's murder. Her father's depression and alcoholism. And now she's been shot. You've never been shot, Richard. How do you know how you would react to something like this?"

Rick, however, is undeterred. Not now – not when the clouds have scattered and he is seeing things clearly now for the first time in a long, long time.

"Mother, there is always a reason with her – always an excuse – always something. And after each situation, after each traumatic event, after any hiccup she has in her life, she ends up not in my arms – but some other man's arms. That isn't coincidence, Mother. That is by design. Her design."

Martha again starts to say something, but this time she catches herself. God help her, she actually hears the wisdom in what he has just said.

"Mother, last year I thought Kate and I were finding our way, finding our groove. I thought we were getting there, Mother. But then at the very moment I am thinking that I have a chance, that she is feeling something for me also – boom – she's with Demming. And Mother, I don't mean one date. I mean she's with Demming. Multiple dates, kissing in the office, holding hands everywhere, sleeping together. So I do what I've done best for a while – I run away. Worse, I run away with Gina. Damn it all, what in the hell was I thinking there! Don't answer that."

Martha allows a small smile, but grimaces as her son continues his – evidently well thought out – articulate rant.

"Then I come back, and it looks like we are getting there again. I keep telling myself we are getting closer, we are making progress – and just when I allow myself to think 'hey maybe I have a chance here' – boom – she's with Josh. Where the hell did he even come from? That happened right under my nose, Mother – as I thought we were getting closer – she's finding someone else. I think we are going one way, but she's one hundred and eighty freaking degrees the other way. Geesh, it's like she grabs my balls and throws them out the window – "

"Richard!"

"I'm sorry, Mother. I am. But it's true, dammit, you know it is. She finds Josh right under my nose. And what do I do? I keep tagging along, good puppy dog that I am, hoping for my turn, hoping for my time in the batter's box. Cripes, Mother, do you even hear what I am saying? How pathetic am I?!"

For a moment, neither says a word. The tears are falling freely now, and Martha knows that despite the pain, this conversation is long overdue. This conversation is exactly what he needs.

"Mother, her apartment is blown up by a crazed serial killer. I – we – open our home and our hearts to her. What happens? She chooses a relationship not with me, but with Demming."

His right hand rummages through his hair as he grabs his drink of scotch and starts pacing. He's on a roll now, and regardless how it sounds, it is making perfect sense to him. Finally, he is starting to see things with clear precision. Martha responds by standing up and walking towards him – and as he changes direction, she follows, staying close to her son. The wisdom, the pure logic of what he is saying is overwhelming even her strong motherly desires for a happy ending for her son and the detective.

"Her apartment blows up, she's with Demming. She drops him. And finds another man. Not me, Mother. Another man. She chooses Josh. Not me. Him. And she and I almost freeze to death in a damn trailer box – but we get rescued – and she ends up in his arms. Not mine. Not the arms that were wrapped around her trying to keep her warm and alive. We almost freeze to death and she chooses him. We almost get blown sky high by a dirty bomb, and she ends up with him. Now she gets shot, a bullet to her heart. I try and jump in front to save her. I do that, Mother. And who does she end up with? Him! Not me."

At this point, Martha is right next to her son. They are pacing together. She turns and grabs his scotch, putting her glass of wine on the counter, and downs a large gulp.

"I need this more than you do, kiddo", she offers as an explanation.

"Mother, when does it stop? When she's dead? No – when I'm dead? Or maybe Alexis. Or maybe you."

Rick is almost frantic now, as he truly starts to remember events with an entirely different perspective. Gone is the romanticism he has attached to his actions around Beckett. Now, with crystal clarity, he sees the actions of a father who has lost his focus, lost his priorities.

"I tried to jump in front of a bullet, Mother. A bullet – and I did this in front of my daughter. I did this in front of you. Do you see the horror, the tragic horror in this?"

Martha is finally allowing a little anger to build in herself now. She's angry with Kate, but she's angry with her son as well. He has been careless with his own life, with no regard for his daughter. And she's angry with herself for never seeing this before, and pushing him to see it also.

"You don't have to tell me this, Richard. I was there! I was there, damn you. When you were lying on the ground, do you realize we didn't know who had been shot. We didn't know if it was Kate or you. And all I can hear is screaming. Loud, anguished screaming that I – Richard – will never forget! And do you know who's screams I heard. Your daughter. My baby girl. Alexis's screams in my ears will never leave me, Richard. In one instant, she is certain she is orphaned. She is positive that she has just watched her father murdered, in cold blood. You chose that, Richard. You had no thought for me, no thought for Alexis – your only thought was of Kate. Damn her, for what she does to you, Richard."

Martha goes back to the sofa, with tears flowing freely now. She errantly turns the glass of scotch in her hands. There is no confusion in her mind, or her son's mind at this point. Three years, they have waited. Three years they have hoped. And in those three years, he has courted death. No – he has cheated death countless times. His luck is bound to run out at some point, and she knows it, and he knows it. His next words seal that knowledge for both of them.

"It's not worth it, Mother. She's not worth it."

"No one is kiddo. No one is worth your daughter."

"I know, Mother. I know. She's damaged goods, Mother. She constantly, constantly chooses someone else, and everyone expects me to stick around like a good soldier. But I am just as damaged, Mother. Just as damaged. I've slept with two women in the last two years, and both of them, God help me, were my ex-wives. I jump at the chance for sex with the woman who walked out on Alexis and I, and when cornered, I run off with ex-wife number two. I'm just as damaged."

He's at the large wall window to the loft now, looking out over the city. It's as if he is surveying his territory one last time. He sees his reflection in the mirror. He's taken aback by what he sees. He's aged a bit in just these three short years. Getting shot at, getting beaten up, worrying about a love that will never be yours, that will do it to you.

"I have to let her go. I have to let me go. I have to free both of us from this endless spiral."

"How do you plan on doing that, Richard?"

He looks back at his mother, with a resolve in his eyes that he hasn't had in years- a strength that had been pushed down for the past three years, and replaced with an unnatural and unhealthy hope.

"Cleanly, Mother."

AN: I've always thought that Rise (Season 4:1) was the watershed, fork-in-the-road episode for Castle. While Season 4 gave us some of the best shows and stories, I always thought that Castle's response to Beckett in the hospital just wasn't how a successful guy with his personal hell for a personal background would react – even one desperately in love as Castle obviously was. Being honest, I actually took a bit of a hiatus from the show for a few weeks after that episode. I thought Castle had matured from the carefree playboy to an inquisitive and insightful man, dad and son, and in one scene he falls so far down the wuss well that it just wasn't that believable anymore. Fortunately for me, I got over it and started watching again, but as you can see from this story, I never really got over it. I hope you enjoy . . . more to come.