Chapter 10- With The Lights Out, It's Less Dangerous

August 2010

"I can't do this."

Kate glanced over at her sister where they stood side by side in the elevator. It had been a tedious month full of awkward, stilted conversations and nervous laughter. But after everything, despite those strained lulls, it had been nice. The moments that were "like it was before" were coming more frequent. They were both different people than they had been eleven years before, but they were learning, building a new version of that relationship.

Kate shifted, transferring the crisp loaf of bread from the French bakery down the block to her other hand and twined her now-free fingers around her sister's. Kate squeezed Grace's palm as she took in the way the fingers of Grace's free hand tapped a staccato beat against her thigh. Her manicured nails had been chewed to the quick, a nervous habit Grace had been forced to remedy when she had started modeling. Mandatory perfection.

"You're going to be fine. He's really excited to have you back."

Grace's jaw worked, her head shaking. "I don't see how."

"He's our dad, Grace, of course he's excited. He loves you, you know."

"He shouldn't."

"Gracie…"

"You weren't excited. You were angry."

"Yeah, I was," Kate sighed. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, thoughts vollying back and forth while she debated how much she wanted to give away. "But that was different."

Grace's sharp intake of air caused Kate to look over at her, brow creasing as she studied her sister's expression. But before Kate could question the stiffness in her shoulders, her sweaty palms, the elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal the quiet hallway leading to their father's apartment.

"He moved," Grace murmured, like she had just made the connection that the building they had walked into wasn't the same where they had grown up.

"Yeah," Kate replied when she stepped onto the navy carpet. The mustard and green floral pattern was faded in two parallel rows, stating more about human behavior than any sociological dissertation ever could. "After rehab he decided it would be easier to start over. A new place without all the memories."

She glanced over to see Grace's abused thumbnail clenched between her teeth, her eyes wide and blank. With a huff, Kate reached out and batted her sister's hand away from her face. "Stop it. Don't make me get that bitter nail polish Mom put on you as a kid."

"What about her stuff?"

Kate paused outside their father's door and turned to face Grace, her fingers reaching up to curl a loose lock of hair behind her sister's ear. Her voice went soft while she explained through the ten-year-old heartache.

"Some of it's still here, I took a few things to my apartment, and the rest went into a storage unit. I'm sure Dad would be okay with you looking through it if you want."

"But you didn't get rid of anything?"

"No, sweetie, we didn't. Not of hers, and not of yours either."

Kate stayed silent while Grace's head bobbed in a slow nod. They had been walking a tightrope the last few weeks. Kate had always been the steady one of the pair, relying on logic and compartmentalization where Grace played off gut instinct and emotion. Over their years apart, the balance they had formed as children— how they relied on each other, played off of each other's strengths, had been chipped away, leaving a trail of eggshells in its wake.

"You ready?"

"No."

Kate reached out, clasping her sister's hand in hers once again. With one final squeeze she let go and knocked.

Grace ran her fingers through her hair, the worried strands falling into perfect waves. Her face transformed into a mask that Kate had seen too many times over the past few months.

"Here goes nothing."

Grace watched when her father pulled Kate into a bone-crushing hug. It was surreal— this new version of the man in front of her. There was more depth in his eyes, a weariness that seeped down to his soul, but he was a far cry from the man she and Kate had hauled off of too many bar stools, making sure to prop him on his side when he passed out so that he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. The soft smile that had crossed his face when he had first seen her sister melted away to a kind of wonder when his eyes caught hers over Kate's shoulder.

"You actually came."

Tears pricked Grace's eyes. Her own father hadn't believed he would ever see her again.

"Hi Daddy."

"Hi baby."

His arms ensnared her, pressing her back together, making her whole again. Grace's arms wrapped around his back, her eyes meeting Kate's, guilt gnawing at her gut. Her sister slipped past them through the door with a small smile and Grace snuggled her face into her father's shoulder, taking in the familiar scent that had filled their childhood— nights sitting his his lap, one on each knee as he read them anything from the latest adventures of Laura Ingalls Wilder to the Cat in the Hat.

"I missed you."

The words were barely a whisper in her ear, but the conviction behind them was overwhelming, causing the tears to break free in torrents down her cheeks, her voice caught on a sob.

"I missed you too."

Part of her was surprised to find she meant it.

The apartment was quaint, Grace noted when she roamed the space. She could see the touches Kate had added in over the years— brief interruptions of color and whimsy in the sea of neutrals. Her fingers ran along the back of her father's worn brown leather recliner, the one their mother had detested, but Jim had loved to relax in during the evenings and weekends. Too many nights he would fall asleep there, the crossword puzzle forgotten in his lap, a late night talk show droning on the tv, Johanna waking him with a gentle yet stern shake of the shoulder to coax him to bed. It was a ritual she and Kate had seen many times, from children up far past their bedtime, to teenagers peeking from the crack of their door waiting until it was safe to sneak barefoot across the living room to the front door.

Kate and their father were talking in the kitchen, their words lost in a hum of murmurs, interrupted only by the crunching of the paper grocery bag. Rounding the chair, Grace's fingertips tripped off the back, her arm falling limply at her side. A row of pictures lined the mantle of the stone fireplace in the corner, and she stepped toward the frozen, jovial faces. Only one of them was new- Kate in her dress uniform, new badge in hand as she beamed at the camera, their father beside her, a matching, yet strained, smile on his face.

"That was when she was promoted to detective. We had had an argument the night before." Grace stilled when her father's voice sounded from behind her, her eyes never leaving the photograph. "I was so scared for her life, her motivations. In some ways it was worse than when she was on patrol. I was just waiting for that call to come in, a voice I didn't know telling me my daughter was in the hospital."

Grace's chest constricted, a vise on her lungs.

"I didn't go to her police academy graduation, I'm sure you remember. I sat on a bar stool instead."

She could only nod, a shallow dip of her head. Neither of them had gone. She had said she had a photoshoot, a layout she couldn't get out of. In reality she had gone to a club, ecstasy flowing through her system. Like father, like daughter.

"She didn't expect me to show up. The smile on her face when she saw me in the crowd... I knew then it was worth it, if only to see my daughter so happy, doing what she loved. What she was born to do."

"What about that fear?" The question was low, the burn of emotion in her throat making her voice hoarse.

"Oh," Jim chuckled. "That came to a head about a week later. Some punk gangbanger stabbed her in the arm with a pocket knife."

"What?" Grace whirled around in shock at her father's flippant tone.

"The look of indignation on her face when I ran into that hospital room. She was trying to convince the doctor that a cut which ended up needing fifteen stitches would be okay with just a Band-aid. I could never control her, Gracie. No one can. I've learned to let go."

Let go. Grace's eyes drifted to the next picture in the line. It was of the four of them, one big happy family. It had been taken the Thanksgiving before Johanna had died. Let go of the fear that Kate would be found dead in an alley just like their mother. The fear that their father would relapse and die slowly of liver failure or quickly from alcohol poisoning or a drunk driving accident. Fear that a true wayward event could take any of them out at any moment.

Her breath caught as she came to the next picture, it was a snapshot of her, a little blurry but definitely her, walking the catwalk of New York Fashion Week.

"You were there."

Jim hummed an affirmative. "Katie told me you were in town. We went to see you. Figured you wouldn't see us with all the flashing lights and yelling people but I wanted to see my baby girl. We slipped out before the show ended."

Grace swallowed a sob, a single hand coming up to press two fingers to her lips. She had so much to apologize for, to make up for. Her body crumpled under the weight.

"Hey, you okay?" The tentative but steady pressure of his hand on her shoulder pushed her over the edge, into the depths or out of them she wasn't sure, but she found herself turning, her entire body slamming into his in a hug, his arms tight around her, promising to never let go.

"I could really use a drink," she sobbed, gasping in horror when she pulled back, an apology on her lips.

Laughter danced in her father's eyes. "It's good to have you home, Gracie."

January 2011

Kate stared at the door in front of her, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. It had been almost five months since they had been face to face, since that rainy day just after Labor Day when he had been the one knocking on her door. Eyes downcast, those four foreboding words falling from his lips.

"We need to talk."

Part of her had wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. They hadn't been together. He hadn't cheated. He had committed no sins to repent. Yet, he had. And Everything they had worked for, everything she and Grace had rebuilt crumbled with one confession.

The finality of their parting words rang through her head like a vinyl stuck on repeat.

"I would have expected something like this from her, Castle, but not from you. Get out."

And now… now she was here, seeking him out because she couldn't do this alone, and despite everything she had made a promise to him, to herself.

Her own words from almost a year ago shoved their argument to the background. Someday soon, I'm gonna find the sons of bitches who had Coonan kill her. And I'd like you around when I do.

With a deep breath, she raised her fist, willing it not to shake, and she knocked.

"Hi." The greeting a scrape off his tongue.

"Hey, Castle." Her lips failed to twitch even when she tried to force a smile. The relief and anxiety swirling through her shone back from his eyes. "Thanks for seeing me."

"Always."

From anyone else the word would have been a saccharine platitude but from him… Her heart stuttered against her ribs, her pulse pounded from her neck to her toes.

"Hi, Katie."

Kate peered around Castle to find Grace standing in the middle of the loft's living room, her arms all awkward angles, her hands fidgeting at her sides. The five months since they had last spoken felt longer than the eleven years of silence before.

"What the hell did you do?"

"Kate, I know you're upset but it was a mistake, for both of us. It didn't mean anything."

"It didn't mean anything? Tell me, how does that work, Grace? Oh, wait, I forgot I'm talking to the woman who will spread her legs for anything male that moves."

"I mean it was a mistake. If we could take it back we would."

"Yeah, well. You can't. And you know what makes it worse? I let you fool me. Again. I was actually starting to believe you wanted to make things right."

"Kate. I did! I do. Look, I'm in Paris right now for meetings. Let's talk about this when I get back to New York next week, face to face."

"You know what? Don't bother to come home. You're not welcome here."

"Hi, Gracie. Thanks for coming."

Grace tucked a lock of hair behind her own ear, nodding in reply. "I was down the block having brunch with Dad. Your message said it was important."

"It is."

Kate jumped when she felt a pair of hands at her shoulders, sliding her coat from her arms. Turning to look, she caught sight of Castle's pink cheeks.

"Sorry."

"No, thank you. I'm the one who's sorry," she replied, her voice low.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Kate."

It was true, she hadn't done anything wrong, except she had acted like a jealous teenager. She had cut her sister out of her life again, and for what? A boy? And the boy… the boy had been a good friend, if not her best friend, someone who had stuck with her through gunfights, psychopaths and bombs. Literally.

"How's Demming?"

"Huh?" Kate whipped around when the words yanked her from her thoughts, the move leaving them a half step too close for a casual meeting.

"Tom? Your boyfriend?"

"Oh, uh, we broke up."

"Really?"

She had imagined the upturned lilt in his voice. She had.

"Yeah, a couple months ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

Kate lifted her eyes from where they had been studying her hands, the worn thumbnail she had been worrying all morning, staring at her phone, debating if she should make the call to him and Grace.

"Just wasn't working. We were too much alike."

"Yeah…"

"It's, uh, it's good to see you." She hadn't expected the flurry of butterflies in her stomach at the sight of him. She had gotten over him, over any silly notion that they could work.

His lips broke into a smile, one that crinkled at the corners of his eyes, chasing away any lingering traces of worry. "It's good to see you too. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." And Kate was surprised to find she meant it. Clearing her throat, she took a step back. "I mean, the boys did nothing but mope around for a month after you stopped coming around. Kevin has even tried to pick up the slack on your screwball theories. He's awful at it."

Castle let out a chuckle and turned to hang her coat in the closet, letting her off the hook for her confession. "See, there is a finesse needed to pull off a truly Castle-esque theory."

"So, I've heard."

Castle extended an arm, guiding her toward the living room and to her sister who had wandered over to stare out the window. "What's going on, Kate?"

"I got a call today," Kate started when she settled into the chair and Castle on the couch. Grace took a silent step closer. "From Detective Raglan."

The stilted air that had been hanging in the loft stiffened like a noose, the only sound Grace's quick intake of breath.

"He said he wanted to meet me today, tell me something. I want you to come with me. Both of you," her eyes landed on Castle before cutting to her sister. "You deserve to be there."

Grace's head bobbed, a minute movement, but it was Castle's fingers that reached across, wrapping around her own. It was his voice that drifted through the room, soothing the frayed nerves that hadn't fully settled in six months.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

A/N: Thank you to any of you out there still reading this. It's definitely been a while. The next update shouldn't take nearly as long. I've appreciated the gentle nudges some of you have given over the last year+.

Thank you also to Kate Christie, Molly (Muppet47) and Jenny (Airbefore) for the betas and pom poms. This story would have a lot less structure and a lot more adverbs without you.

Until next time.

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