The Nine Lives of Katherine Beckett
Disclaimer: Castle belongs to Andrew Marlowe and ABC. I am not either of these.
A/N: Here is a story that just popped into my head after Monday's episode. There are mild spoilers for Cops & Robbers! It can stand as a one-shot or be continued, just let me know what you think. Enjoy and as always, reviews are love! :)
The Nine Lives of Katherine Beckett
Kate lay in her bed staring at her ceiling; the red glow of the digital alarm clock glowing in the corner of her eye. One of her hands, rested on her belly, picking mindlessly at the cotton fabric of her tank top. The other one was bent up so it lay resting by her ear, occasionally twirling a lock of hair her fingers had wandered into. Over the course of dinner he had listed off the nine times that he had saved her life. She had tried to argue with some of them, of course, but he had always countered. One of his rebuttals even ended with him taking away one of her "saves" of him as a penalty point.
She went over the list so many times in her head. Nine times. She had remembered each of them vividly as he had listed them off. She knew them by heart, just as she knew all of the time she had saved his life. They played like a film in her head: black, white and in color. She remembered that look he gave her in the split second before he had pulled all of the wires out of the bomb. She remembered the look of resolution, guilt and sorrow when he had held her against the car, stroking her face and hair, after carrying her kicking and screaming out of the helicopter hanger. She remembered every one of the nine times he had listed, and now, whenever she closed her eyes, she saw them playing in an endless cycle of fear, anger and relief.
Kate turned her head to look at the clock. 3:45am. She hadn't wanted to leave the loft earlier; where she could see him, hear him, touch him. That was where she could reassure herself that he was alive. If anyone had asked, she could have sworn her heart had stopped beating in the moment she had felt the bomb go off. The entire trailer had shaken underneath her and her brain froze. Everything froze. The trailer shook and the world went still. She forgot to breathe; she forgot to think. She had thought about Martha, who was probably so scared in the bank. She had thought about the promise she had made to Alexis to bring her family back alive, but mostly she had thought about that look. That look of totally faith he had given her when she had come in to get "Sal". He had told her in those moments that he had complete faith in her; that she would get them all out of this. He had told her with that look in his eyes; that look of complete faith and love.
He loved her enough to trust her with his life, the life of his mother and the life of his daughter. When that bomb went off she knew that she had failed him, but when the smoke cleared there he was alive, well and completely whole. She had wanted to look at him, to make sure he wasn't bruised or broken. She had wanted to cling to him and never let go again, if only to make sure that he was real. At the precinct and the loft she had barely let him out of her sight. She had stared at the door when he had excused himself to the restroom, all priority of catching a killer temporarily fleeing her mind until she was sure that he was still whole and coming back to her.
It wasn't until the first bite of food had hit her stomach that she remembered to be hungry. They had argued, teased and laughed over the list while gorging themselves on the feast Martha had made. Martha had called them drama queens as they recounted their perspective lists. Some of the scenarios getting over exaggerated by Castle, while she had tried to downplay some of the more dangerous situations for Alexis's benefit. Ironically, it was mostly her downplayed situations that were called out as being too far fetched. Apparently, neither of them could believe she would dress up like a Russian hooker. She should be flattered.
Alexis had quietly excused herself up to her room after dinner, but not before giving her father an extra long hug and whispering 'thank you' to Kate over his shoulder. The girl had been though hell in the past few hours but the resolution and strength was still there. Alexis was tough; she could handle anything as long as her family was there to support her. Kate remembered that feeling; she remembered what it felt like to loose it. She prayed that Alexis never knew what that felt like- like the world that you built, that you loved was ripped out from under you. She sighed into the dark, silent room. She prayed that she never had to feel it again, either. She prayed like she had earlier when she first heard the bank robbers' shouts over the phone. She prayed like she had when the world shook still as the bomb exploded. She prayed to a God she wasn't quiet sure she believed in to save the lives and the souls of the people she loved.
A few moments after Alexis went up stairs, Martha excused herself with just the right amount of flourish, startling Castle and her from one of their silent conversations they had unknowingly fallen into.
"She's not tired," Castle stage whispered, as the diva exited stage right. "She just doesn't want to do the dishes."
They fell into a simple silent routine as they did the dishes. It was a startling display of domesticity— she washing, while he dried. The increasing amounts of wine coursing through both of their systems causing their hands to linger a little bit too long as the dishes were passed. She could feel him looking at her, as if to make sure she was actually there with him, up to her elbows in soapsuds and dirty dishwater, still alive and well. Wasn't she the one that was supposed to be making sure he was breathing this time? It was his turn. He had just reached number eight and hopefully they would never see the day she reached number ten. Hopefully number ten was years away when they were old and grey and telling their great grandchildren stories about the good old days— the adventures of Castle and Beckett.
Who was she kidding; he had already reached number ten.
She turned her head to stare out the window into the artificially lit New York night. She had redone her apartment during her recent leave time. Her bedroom walls were painted a warm, deep tan and her large overflowing bookcase was now more organized: alphabetically and by genre. It had been a way to bring a little bit of order to the chaos her life had fallen into. Her eyes drifted to the framed photos hanging on the wall. The light from the streetlamps filtered in through the spaces in the dark red curtains and set a slight glow to the faces of her parents on their wedding day and the boys horsing around at the station. There were others; photos of friends and of the life she had built around her, but her eyes only scanned over those briefly before falling to the single framed picture that sat at her bedside. The silver frame glowed red next to the alarm clock as it read 3:53am. She studied their faces as she remembered the night it had been taken. The four of them had been sitting around The Old Haunt for hours nursing beers, eating chili cheese fries and trying to one-up each other with stories when Castle challenged her to a game of darts.
Ryan had snapped the picture with out either of their knowledge. He caught a picture of her in profile- hair in a messy braid hanging down over her shoulder and her eyes squinted as she tried to focus through her alcohol-induced haze. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. But even though she was in the front, the focus wasn't on her, it was on Castle who was leaning against a pool table beside her, facing the camera. He was looking at her, laughing, with a full smile on his face and his eyes shown only of happiness and love.
She knew it was love because he had told her. He had told her he loved her. He had said three words that had resounded in her mind as she lay dying on the cool green grass. They were the last words she heard before she had passed out and they were the first words she had remembered when she woke up. Those words had made her heart start beating again. A single tear traced a line down her temple before falling to the pillow under her head.
Before she knew what was happening she was up out of bed with a hooded sweatshirt over her tank top, her feet were stuffed into a pair of boots and she was standing with her hand posed to knock on Castle's door. As her knuckles rapped quietly on the wood she glanced around. How had she gotten there? With a shuffle, the door in front of her opened revealing a very confused Castle.
"Kate, what are you doing here?"
Why was she here?
She looked at him as her brain fought to form a response. He wore a faded green robe hanging wide open over a white t-shirt and plaid flannel pajama pants. His face looked tired but it was clear by his lack of bed-head and sleep in his eyes that he hadn't slept yet either. He was looking at her while she was looking at him, studying her face with such a look of concern. It was 4:30 in the morning and she was standing outside of his apartment in her pajamas. She looked up and met his eyes, reading everything in them. Suddenly she felt brave.
"Ten," she blurted out in her fleeting moment of courage. "You've saved my life ten times."
So, what do you think? Should I continue?
