What the meds did.
It had been at her suggestion, after all.
"There must be some pill," she pled, her desperation apparent.
"Medications can help Kate, but not right away," Burke had been practical.
During a later session, as he stood to let her out, he'd handed her the prescription. At first, she didn't realize what the scrap of paper was, but he had pressed it into her hand.
"It's not a bad idea to try them Kate, it's a low dose, see if they help," he'd said calmly.
By the time she got to the parking garage, the thought overwhelmed her. A prescription for anxiety. They'd found her, they'd marked her and all her scars were showing. All the drugs she had taken after her shooting were finally over, her body, her heart, healing. Now she needed drugs to heal her wounded spirit. Holding the prescription as her hands rested on the steering wheel, she felt her heavy head pitch forward as she cried.
It took her six days to decide to get it filled. Not that she had an excuse, there was a pharmacy on every corner in Manhattan. That Friday she'd wrapped up all the major paperwork and no longer had an excuse not to go home. The day before she'd struggled with a rising sense of panic as the SWAT team swarmed the area around a SoHo dance club where her suspect was taken down. She knew she'd have to report it to Dr. Burke, who in turn was going to ask her about that script.
She read all the microscopic-print pamphlets that came with the bottle. Low dose Xanax, little white pills, her momentary salvation. Without touching them, she was recapping the bottle when the phone rang.
"No worries, I finished the paperwork on my own Castle," she quipped immediately.
"Oh detective, how I'd love to trade that monotony for this one, "came his smooth voice above the sounds of soft jazz music and laughter.
"Martha's party?"
"Yes," he replied, ducking into his study and closing the door, "forty exes reliving their fame."
"Exes?"
"You know, ex-actors, ex-dancers, ex-musicians, basically anyone of any influence at one time, every one of them networking with people who don't have networks anymore!"
She laughed softly. "They're trying to mingle with your young blood Castle."
"If one more person suggests to 'try my autobiography manuscript with Black Pawn,' I'm going to need your team's professional services at my place tonight."
"And Alexis isn't distracting them?"
"She's out for the evening, the turncoat."
She settled in on the couch, drawing her legs up as she lay back on the pillows.
"So you're calling me because you're bored?"
"Noooo, I'm calling you because I need entertainment, what are you wearing tonight Detective?"
She snorted. He picked up the drink he poured and sat down at his desk, smiling as he pictured her.
"Okay, what are you not wearing?" he tested.
"I'm hanging up now," they both knew she wouldn't.
"Alright already, I'll tell you what I'm wearing."
"Castle," she was amusingly exasperated.
"White Brooks Brothers with my gold cufflinks," he said even as he started to unfasten them. "Navy Armani jacket . . ."
"Ryan would be impressed," she interrupted.
"You always have the perfect antithesis to my humor Detective, speaking of which, I finished my speech for the New York Times reception today. I'd love to run it by you."
"You want me to read it?"
"Yeah, I want you to read it."
"Why? You've never let me read your stuff before, what's so special about this one?"
"This one is for Heat Rises, it's the first time I've had a number one book on the list. I figure you've got a vested interest, I'm hoping you'll want to go to the reception with me."
There was a pregnant pause.
"I know you don't like all the publicity Kate, but it would mean a lot to me. Come turn my snooze-fest into a snark-fest, okay?"
She used to be so much better about 'no' with him, but lately she'd become a sucker for his genuine requests.
"I don't know Castle, I think this one might cost you," she hooked him.
"Alright, here we go Detective. What do you want? Too clever for money, would look too much like I paid you to be there. Full time food delivery boy at your beck and call? Oops, that sounded like I was hiring you a gigolo, which you totally don't…not going there… Uh, pay off your out-of-control Saks credit card bill? Those new four-inch boots must be taking a pretty penny out of that NYPD check? Oh, I know, I know, I know, keeping you in daily coffee? Nope, some devotee already has that covered. Ah, let me think. . . huh, if those don't work, I'm out of values in the Katherine Beckett world."
"Shut-up wise-ass," he could see the smile as it translated in her voice.
"Oh, just thought of another one," he said pulling his finger from his lips, "giving you a nice, hot, bubble bath."
"Daring."
"If I were being really daring I'd have said 'breakfast' Detective."
"If you were being really daring you'd have said, 'kick the author's ass.'"
Although no one sees it, Richard Castle, responds in a silent fist pump, "yessss, and she finally returns the volley."
"Been waiting on that, have you?"
"Well you haven't been on top of your game for a while," even as he heard himself say it, he cursed himself and held his breath, hoping she would continue their banter.
"Castle?"
'Damn,' he thought. She sounded quiet, more sober.
"Yeah Kate?"
"I'm sorry, I'm working on it."
"Well then you have to come to this Times thing, I feel certain we can get you back in the practice. When people bore us with their next book idea, you can drop hints like, 'just keep that release date out of September' or ooh, 'no one ever suspects the girlfriend in a mystery novel."
"Crazy man," she said softly.
"Takes one to know one. Not the man part, just the crazy part. I don't really roll that way, not that there's anything wrong with that, but you already know that, and not that I think your crazy," he stopped his verbal free-fall, "You know what I mean."
A heartbeat of silence and his voice came back over the line, a little softer, a little less animated, "Kate, you got this, and if you need someone to keep reminding you of that, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."
"Sweet man, "she said with the same inflection she had used earlier to call him crazy, "Good night."
"Good night Kate."
Later, when she was almost asleep Castle's words, spoken ages ago, came back to her, "Let me tell you about crazy people. The sex is unbelievable." Someday soon she'd have to remind him of his words.