From Beginning to End

for docnerd89

So come over, just be patient, and don't worry.

No I don't wanna battle from beginning to end;
I don't wanna cycle, recycle revenge;
I don't wanna follow death and all his friends.

In the end, we lie awake. . .

-Death and All of His Friends, Coldplay

So Come Over

xxx

Rick Castle stands in front of the entirely-too-white murder board and taps one finger against the side of his thigh. He tilts his head as he reads the same information one more time. One more time.

Beckett has already brought the box and he sees her approach him, a serious and sympathetic look on her face. He might say pitying.

He gives it up, moves back to slump against the side of her desk, watches her studying him.

He waves it off as the boys make their way over.

The 12th is dark, the night outside touches soft fingers over the sharp corners. He takes in a breath of stale air and burnt coffee and shakes off the sensation.

"I've just never been with you guys on a case we haven't solved," he says. "Five years and now this."

It's a struggle to keep the petulance out of his voice, even though maybe his brand of arrogant, self-deprecating humor would be a welcome amusement.

Esposito tries though, gives levity a shot. "Yeah but for five years you've been cherry-picking, bro. Now that you're in the trenches, showing up for paperwork, you're going to get the duds too."

"Guys," Beckett chides, cutting her eyes between them. Ryan looks at her with that innocent face, even though he'd been nodding as well, and Esposito shrugs.

Castle watches her slowly take everything down from the whiteboard, the woman's ID photo first, and then each additional item, laying them carefully in the case box. Esposito, as if in restitution, hands her the dry eraser and takes the box from her hands.

But Kate turns to Castle and holds out the eraser. "Pop your cherry?"

The boys chuckle and he gives her a lift of his mouth for it, takes the eraser.

He has to pause a moment before he can start, and then he's wiping away all traces that the woman's murder ever happened.

xxx

As they're making their way towards the elevator, meandering really, his phone rings with that tone they've all come to recognize.

Ryan gives him an anxious look and Kate's fingers brush against his even as Castle reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out his phone.

"Hey, pumpkin," he answers. Esposito holds the elevator doors for him and he follows the team onto the lift, pushing his back against the smooth metal, all of them not even trying to pretend that they're not eavesdropping.

He talks to Alexis and agrees on a place for dinner, promises to come pick her up. Kate's blatantly rubbing her forefinger over his wrist bone and when he ends the call, the guys start first.

"How's she doing?"

He gives a lift of his shoulders. "Back at the dorm now."

They nod, careful and considerate and compassionate, all of them, and he appreciates their less words the better mentality.

Before the elevator doors can open at his destination, Kate leans in close and breathes against his cheek, then kisses his jaw with a soft and subtle brush of her lips. Their fingers lace, his thumb finds the curved bowl of her palm and strokes in good-bye.

He gets off at the lobby and she rides down with the boys to the garage.

Castle shakes loose the unresolved swirl of the night air, the clouds that won't snow, and bundles his coat tighter around him as he goes to meet his daughter.

xxx

He calls before he even makes it home and she answers with a hum that means she's halfway to sleep.

He doesn't apologize, doesn't even greet her; he just forgets to. He picks up as if they've been having a conversation together all night, and even as he speaks, he realizes what he's doing.

But he won't stop. He has been having a conversation with her all night. It's just been in his head.

"I had to walk her back to the dorm," he says first.

"Yeah," she answers, a soft sigh of her breath. "It might be like that for a while yet."

He sighs out too, unlocks the door to his loft to be greeted with the close air of a heater that's been running too high with the place empty.

"It's hot in here."

"I told you to turn it down when we left," she murmurs.

"I forgot." Still he doesn't move to adjust the temperature.

"Your mother there?"

"Mm, no," he guesses. "Don't hear her. No wine out on the counter."

She breathes on the other end like she's right beside him, but she's not. He stands in his foyer with his coat still on and the keys in his hand and he realizes he doesn't want to be here.

"I don't want to be here," he says. The words come out of his mouth before the thought is even finished.

"So come over," she answers easily.

So he does.