197. His anger and his shame

“Sorry I’m late,” Mr Castle begins, obviously flustered. “Traffic…”

Dr Burke nods sympathetically, and manages also then to shake his head to stop Detective Beckett jumping in.

“Detective Beckett has informed me that she wishes you to take advantage of this session,” he says. “This is highly irregular, and I would not normally countenance such proceedings. However, it appears to me that the events of the last few days have contributed to a significant progression of Detective Beckett’s recovery, and therefore I consider that we may legitimately explore your issues as part of that.”

Mr Castle raises an exceedingly cynical pair of eyebrows at Dr Burke’s elegant sophistry, coupled with a sardonic twist of his mouth.

“I’m delighted to hear it,” he says with extreme sarcasm, which, naturally, does not affect Dr Burke at all. Of course Mr Castle is not delighted by the prospect in any way. However, that does not change the immutable fact that he is in need of the help which only Dr Burke’s extensive skills can provide. He reminds himself that one should be exceedingly careful for what one wishes: as only a few days prior to receiving Detective Beckett as a patient he had wished for a new challenge. He will not be wishing that for some considerable time to come. He is most certainly living through interesting professional times, which he finds exceedingly tiring, not to say tiresome.

“Detective Beckett has already provided me with her summary of events. However, I consider that it would be useful for her to explain in your presence exactly what actions she took over the course of the last few days, and why she did so.”

Detective Beckett favours Dr Burke with a searing glare, by which he remains serenely unaffected.

“We know all this,” she says with irritation.

“Nevertheless, it will assist. Please begin.”

“Castle was nervous about what his mom might be like when it hit her that she was really moving out.” Dr Burke nods, coolly sympathetic. “So I had said that he should come over Friday and that I’d help out on Saturday after Martha had gone to the theatre, but that he and Alexis should do something on their own Saturday night.”

“And I totally got you,” Mr Castle puts in, snickering.

“Mm?”

“Castle whined that he wanted me to come with him and Alexis, and I wouldn’t,” Detective Beckett growls. “And then he said he knew I wouldn’t and he was just messing with me to see if I’d made progress.”

Dr Burke frowns disapprovingly at Mr Castle. That had been a somewhat risky tactic, and Dr Burke is not particularly pleased that Mr Castle had tried it, even though it had worked.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Mr Castle says smugly, as if he had read Dr Burke’s thoughts.

“It was not the best strategy which might have been employed,” Dr Burke says quellingly. Mr Castle subsides, and his smug smile dissolves. Detective Beckett makes a satisfied noise. “Please return to the point at hand.”

“So we had dinner Friday, and then I went over for eleven-thirty Saturday.” The very slight tinge of colour to Detective Beckett’s face and Mr Castle’s air of happy memory informs Dr Burke that Mr Castle had remained at Detective Beckett’s apartment for some considerable time after dinner. More than that he need not, and does not wish to, know.

“It was pretty obvious that it hadn’t gone well. Castle was already upset and angry, and Alexis was doing all the organising for the removal men and keeping her head down. We got everything into the truck and they went off for lunch, we all had lunch, and after that Castle said that Martha hated him for making her move out and he hated himself for doing it. And then” – Detective Beckett throws a quick, concerned glance at Mr Castle, and moves closer to him – “he said that she’d been laying it on about how much she sacrificed for him and making him feel guilty, but how he felt that she didn’t appreciate anything he’d done because it didn’t cost him anything.”

“Mm. What actions did you take at that point?”

“I just hugged him. He was really, really upset.”

“Was that all?”

Detective Beckett colours further. “No. I was angry. Not with Castle, but with Martha.”

“You lost your temper,” Castle says.

“Well… yeah. So I told” –

“Yelled, actually” –

“Told Castle not to believe it and to stop blaming himself and – er – if he didn’t get his head out his ass about this I’d march him off to you right then, in cuffs at gunpoint if I had to, and leave him there until you’d fixed him.”

“I see,” Dr Burke says mildly, succeeding in concealing his amusement at the thought. On second thoughts, it is quite likely that Detective Beckett would have done precisely that. His amusement dissipates. It would have been entirely inappropriate and very discomposing to his well-run office. “Why were you so angry? After all, Mrs Rodgers had not insulted you.”

Detective Beckett regards Dr Burke as if he had grown a second head, both of whose combined intellects would not out-think a gnat, just as he had expected her to do.

“Don’t be dumb,” she snaps. “Martha had no right to say that. It’s not true and she was just being hurtful.”

“But it is still Mr Castle who she had hurt, not you. Why do you consider that you have the right to be angry on his behalf?”

“Because I love him,” Detective Beckett bites out – and then stops hard, blushes furiously and hides her face in her hands. Mr Castle re-acquires his satisfiedly smug smile, which softens as he leans down and murmurs to Detective Beckett. It sounds distressingly like I knew you liked me. Dr Burke ignores the admission for the moment, though it had been important for it to be made in unequivocal terms.

“So you were very annoyed with Mrs Rodgers. Please continue your description of events, in chronological order.”

“Alexis came in and said she was glad I’d said that” –

“She did?” –

“and I decided that I would go and talk to Martha. Then the movers came back and we went over to the new place and unpacked.”

“You vacuumed. You looked beautifully domestic,” Mr Castle interjects. Detective Beckett growls. “It didn’t suit you at all.” The growl subsides.

“And then,” Detective Beckett says, throwing Mr Castle a minatory look, “we all went back to the loft, had coffee, and then I left. I went home to get my shield and have a few minutes alone, and then I went to the theatre to see Martha and tell her what she’d done. Then I went for dinner, and then I went back to the loft, and stayed there.”

“Mm. How did Mrs Rodgers react?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say anything, and I didn’t want to hear it anyway.”

“Why not?”

“It’s for Castle to hear her, not me. She doesn’t owe me any explanations.” Detective Beckett stops for a second. “She owes Castle a few, though. And then I went back to the loft and stayed with Castle.” Dr Burke pins her with a firm look in order to prevent Detective Beckett evading the real point. “Overnight.”

“I see. Did you have any feelings of hesitation or concern about assisting with the removal, either immediately prior to Saturday or at any time during Saturday?”

“No. Before then, yeah, but not on Saturday at all.”

“Why not?” Dr Burke asks again.

“I was too irritated with Martha to worry about it.”

“I see,” Dr Burke says. Detective Beckett’s ever-present level of irritation makes itself manifest. “So, to recast that slightly in the light of all you have said, your concern for Mr Castle’s well-being easily over-rode your previous concerns about the way in which Mrs Rodgers might have behaved towards you. Indeed, your emotions towards Mr Castle also over-rode your concerns about visiting his home when his daughter might be present, although you have done so before, and indeed staying, because you felt that he had need of you.”

Dr Burke observes Detective Beckett and Mr Castle’s identically gaping expressions with some satisfaction.

“I believe the saying is Love conquers all,” he adds. Both parties are silenced.

After a suitable pause for Detective Beckett and Mr Castle to appreciate her actions, it is time for Mr Castle to contribute.

“Now, Mr Castle, you may provide your view of the position, either with or without Detective Beckett present.”

Mr Castle looks at Detective Beckett, who shrugs. “Up to you,” is all that she says.

“Yeah. Right.” He looks pleadingly at her. “Stay?”

“Sure.” Dr Burke observes, without a single movement of a muscle in his bland expression, that Detective Beckett has slipped her fingers into Mr Castle’s. How very pleasing to see that support is, as it should be, continuing to run in both directions.

“Please begin, Mr Castle.”

“I need to go back a bit. You know that Mother got the directing gig after the case, and the play’s a hit. Critics loved it, and everybody’s credited her – rightly. She was high on the success of it, and I thought that maybe it would carry her through the move, though I was worried that it wouldn’t. But it seemed like it was all okay, and she was planning her housewarming party, and kept it to a couple of comments. Anyway, she was pretty easily distracted from any upset.” He breathes out, heavily.

“In summary, Mrs Rodgers seemed to have come to terms with the impending change, apart from some few moments of nervousness?”

“I guess so. I still thought it might all blow up when the movers actually showed up, and it did.”

“Please expand?”

Mr Castle does, in detail. It appears to Dr Burke that he has almost perfect recall of each word.

“So she started to cry, and I gave her a hug and told her we’d all still be a family and nothing would change that, but instead of listening to me she pokered up and told me she’d depart with utmost dignity and then I knew that it was all going to go horribly wrong. And it did.”

Detective Beckett’s fingers close more tightly around Mr Castle’s hand.

“Mother picked a fight with the movers less than ten minutes in. Fortunately Alexis managed to calm that down.”

“What did you do?” enquires Dr Burke.

“Got out the way and stayed out the way,” Mr Castle says, with annoyance. “Seeing me wasn’t going to help, and Alexis was using full-on emotional blackmail and didn’t need me there for that. In fact, she was giving me the signal to clear off.”

Dr Burke recalls his single meeting with Miss Castle. “Miss Castle is well able to handle your mother, then?”

“Oh yes. Manipulating Mother a speciality. Usually I tried to stop Alexis doing it, but not this time.”

“Mm. So you left the scene.” Dr Burke’s voice is completely neutral.

“Yes. Mother would just have wound herself up even more, and that would have made it even more difficult to get her stuff packed up and everything organised.”

“How did you feel about leaving your mother and daughter to deal with the movers?” Dr Burke asks delicately.

Mr Castle does not immediately answer. Detective Beckett pats him with a stray finger. Mr Castle looks at her, clearly uncomfortable. “Beckett…”

“Okay. Call when you want me back, or you’re done.” Detective Beckett stands up, trails her hand around his shoulder without any hint of embarrassment, and departs.

Dr Burke regards Mr Castle questioningly. Although he had considered this possibility, he is slightly surprised that it has actually come to pass. Mr Castle twitches even more uncomfortably.

“I don’t want her to hear this. She doesn’t need to worry about my problems.”

Dr Burke turns a focused, and very sceptical, gaze on Mr Castle. “Is that really true, Mr Castle? Is it not true that you would rather not expose a weakness to Detective Beckett?”

Mr Castle regards him balefully.

“Explain to me why not.” There is a resentful silence. Dr Burke ignores it. “We cannot make progress if you do not understand why you have deprived yourself of Detective Beckett’s support at a time when you undoubtedly need it, and when you have availed yourself of it throughout the weekend,” he adds acerbically. Really, Mr Castle is being most foolish.

“I told you,” Mr Castle says sulkily. “It’s not her problem.”

Dr Burke simply waits.

“I’m the one who supports her. She shouldn’t have to support me.” Dr Burke continues to await Mr Castle’s thoughts. He foresees that this may take some time. Thought is not a noticeable component of Mr Castle’s behaviour at present.

Dr Burke is not wrong, naturally. He spends the intervening moments reviewing his plan for his next erudite paper.

“She shouldn’t have to. She should lean on me.”

Oh, dear. Mr Castle’s saviour complex has reasserted itself in a most unhelpful fashion, at a most unfortunate time. Of course, it is entirely obvious why. However, Mr Castle must be led to that conclusion, not simply told it.

“Why?”

Mr Castle’s mouth drops open. Clearly, he has not considered his words.

“Because I’m there for her.”

“And now Detective Beckett wishes to be there for you in return. Why should this not be possible?”

“Because she doesn’t need me being weak,” Mr Castle eventually forces out.

“Did Detective Beckett think you weak at the weekend?”

“No,” he grits.

“Has she ever indicated in any way that she thinks this?”

“No.”

“So, in fact, it is not Detective Beckett whose opinion concerns you. It is your own. Tell me, Mr Castle, why you are so uncomfortable with the concept that you might need another to help you?”

“I shouldn’t need anyone. I’m the one who does the fixing… oh.”

Mr Castle scowls blackly into thin air.

“You’re saying that I’m so used to saving people that I can’t stand being saved. Ugh,” he says gloomily.

“Continue that thought, please. Has there been a recent occasion on which you have felt unable to rescue the situation in order to return to a position which you consider should obtain?”

Mr Castle transfers his scowl to Dr Burke’s impervious blandness. “I’m not an idiot,” he says with irritation. Dr Burke is not as convinced of that as Mr Castle appears to be. “I couldn’t fix my mother’s behaviour in time to stop her moving out. You’re saying that I can’t accept support because I’m too used to providing it.”

“Almost. You have, in all your relationships of which I am aware, provided stability: to your daughter, to your mother, and to Detective Beckett. You have even provided some stability to Mr Beckett, albeit at some distance. Now the stability which you have provided to your family has been challenged by your mother’s actions, and you have been unable to cure the issue. Detective Beckett’s presence over the weekend just past has been of her own volition, and therefore did not challenge your perception. However, I infer from your present discomfort that, when it came to a point where you actually had to ask for support, you baulked.”

“But I went to Beckett before, when Mother was acting out,” Mr Castle argues.

“Indeed you did. But, just as your mother did not appreciate the magnitude of the change or its reality until the removal was actually upon her, nor did you.” Dr Burke taps his fingers together and sits back in his armchair. “I should be interested to hear Detective Beckett’s views on your emotional state on Saturday,” he adds mildly. “You will, of course, recall that I have only asked her to comment on her actions and reasons, not on yours.”

Mr Castle frowns at his hands, which are twitching in a manner which inclines Dr Burke to think that he wishes for some form of writing implement. He will not be provided with one. Mr Castle will not be permitted to escape proper consideration of his emotions or actions.

“I guess you’re right,” he says, without any enthusiasm for the thought. “I didn’t call Beckett yesterday or today.”

“Mm?”

“Mother came round this morning. I knew she was coming yesterday.”

“And you did not advise Detective Beckett, or consider asking her for support.” Dr Burke expresses that as a plain statement of fact.

“No.”

“I see.”

“I just bet you do,” Mr Castle mutters.

“Let us leave today’s events for a moment, and return to those of the weekend. Do you wish Detective Beckett to return?”

Dr Burke metaphorically holds his breath. Of course he will not betray his concerns to Mr Castle, but he does strongly hope that Mr Castle is able to put aside his pride and allow Detective Beckett to rejoin the session.

“Yeah,” Mr Castle drags out, with the air of one who is not convinced that his decision is correct. He pulls out his cell phone and taps the screen.

“Yeah, me.”

“Yeah, um, will you come back?”

“Okay.”

Mr Castle swipes off his cell phone, and appears in some way relieved.

Beckett had betaken herself to the same coffee bar close to Dr Burke’s offices which she and Castle have visited in more stressful circumstances. The necessity doesn’t please her, but coffee is always welcome. She pulls out her Kindle, and tries to read, but she’s far more worried about Castle not wanting her there than she’d have admitted, and she’s also upset that he didn’t want her there.

She examines her upset. Part of it is a feeling of hurt that she’d overcome so many of her issues to go back to the loft and confront Martha and now he doesn’t want her to hear what he thinks.   Part of it is insecurity that, whatever he’d said, she’s overstepped and he’s annoyed about it. And part of it is sheer worry that he doesn’t feel that she can be any support to him.

She sips her coffee, pretends to read, sips her coffee, frets and fiddles and destroys a serviette by twisting and shredding it, gives up pretending to read, pulls her phone out and finally simply glares at her phone in between coffee sips to try to persuade it to ring. It doesn’t.

And then it does.

Castle’s number comes up on screen, but with some vague idea of preserving dignity Beckett manages to let two rings go by and then answer in a relatively calm tone.

“Hey, Castle.”

“Still at Burke’s?”

“Okay, back shortly.”

She considers her coffee, of which she still has three-quarters of the cup, goes back to the counter, has it transferred to a go-cup, purchases a coffee for Castle to prevent him staring pathetically at her coffee and whining about his lack of any drink, and with some faint remembrance of her normally good manners purchases a green tea for Dr Burke. It must be her overwhelming relief that has made her take any of these actions, since her usual procedure would be to down the coffee in one throat-opened, scalding rush.

Very shortly, Detective Beckett reappears, holding – how extraordinary – two go-cups of coffee, and a third cup which she discloses to contain green tea.

“They didn’t have much of a choice,” she says briskly. “Seeing as I hadn’t finished mine” –

“And you’ve never knowingly discarded coffee no matter how disgusting” –

“Shut up, Castle,” Detective Beckett chides, though Dr Burke thinks that it conceals considerable affection and not a little relief of her own. “I thought I’d better bring some back. Otherwise Castle’ll whine all session.”

“If you shared…” Mr Castle says provocatively. Detective Beckett simply glares at him. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Thank you,” Dr Burke says politely. “The tea is much appreciated.” He notes that his words prevent the incipient squabble, and is reassured that his skills are not diminished. “Now, shall we begin again?”