The first week after Castle left was almost like it was before he came. Almost. Esposito and Ryan, playing Halo on Friday evening at Esposito's apartment, agreed that this was true. The 'almost' was Ryan's addition.
"She's a lot more… focused?" Ryan said, contemplating the shot he wanted to take. "Like she's hiding behind the job."
"That's what she does, bro," Esposito replied, taking his own shot. "She becomes the job so she doesn't have to be anything else."
"That's probably not healthy," Ryan commented.
Esposito had to agree.
The second week after Castle left was a little more difficult. Beckett was really throwing herself into the job and getting a bit snappish, and Castle himself had yet to appear on XBOX Live so that Ryan or Esposito could ask him what the hell his problem was and why he didn't bring his sorry ass back to the city and fix things with her. They briefly discussed calling him but decided the situation wasn't quite that dire (yet) and decided to wait.
The third week after Castle left was pretty much an unmitigated disaster. They closed a case on Monday – one of Esposito's favorites; as he referred to it, a "Jack shot Jill over Bill" – and took Tuesday off since they'd had to work the weekend. On Wednesday they came back and cleared out the paperwork. On Thursday they picked up another case, one of the weird ones, and Esposito and Ryan kept making eye contact over the dismembered corpse and thinking about all the quips and cracks Castle would have been making if he'd been there.
It was fairly obvious that Beckett was thinking the same things they were – her lips tightened every time there was an obvious opening for Castle to make a joke or an inappropriate comment or even get excited about some new piece of evidence and the vein on the left side of her forehead didn't stop standing out for three days. During those three days, she also did not go home; she passed out at her desk twice and once on the break room couch. Late Sunday night, though, the case finally cracked wide open, and they went after their killer.
The takedown went bad from the start; there were more people in the apartment than the detectives expected and one of them was a small child. The killer holed himself up in the bathroom with the little boy, who was wailing at the top of his lungs in fear, and Beckett, who was already near the end of her tether, was having to play hostage negotiator. Still, Esposito was just thinking they might all get out of there in one piece when the killer, frustrated with the child's frightened cries, slapped the boy so hard it was audible out in the hallway. The sound of that blow was the sound of Beckett snapping, and she drew her gun and charged, kicking the bathroom door in before either Esposito or Ryan could stop her.
Everything that happened after that would remain a blur in Esposito's memory, except for the part where Ryan took the terrified child out of the room to his mother while Esposito shoved the killer's corpse out of the way and pulled his polo shirt off, trying to stanch the blood pouring out of the bullet hole in Beckett's right shoulder.
There was never any question of Beckett dying – paramedics were already on the scene, having been summoned along with backup when the killer had locked himself and the child in the bathroom – so all Esposito really had to do was keep her from bleeding out too much before the guys with the actual medical equipment could get in there and take care of her. It didn't matter; he still had her blood all over his hands and ruining his shirt and her eyes staring up at him, full of pain and something like confusion. What had the tears standing in his eyes as she was loaded onto the gurney and taken away was the words she whispered as he knelt over her: "What did I do wrong?"
Those words had nothing to do with the wound in her shoulder, and both of them knew it.
She was in the hospital for the entirety of the fourth week after Castle left, sleeping too much and not eating nearly enough. When she was finally released, she showed up at the precinct with her arm still in a sling and asked the captain when she could expect to have her badge and gun back. Esposito and Ryan pretended not to eavesdrop as the captain leaned back in his chair and studied her across the desk.
Montgomery was quiet for a long time, long enough to make Beckett nervous, before he finally spoke. "IA's investigation is complete," he told her. "Technically, you can have it back after you get your medical release and your mandatory psych eval."
"Thank you," she said, starting to rise from her chair.
"I'm not done. Sit down, Detective."
When Montgomery used that tone, people listened. Kate sat back down, pale, and swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."
Montgomery leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. "Beckett," he said gently, "you're a mess. I know why, and so do you. Nobody blames you for being a mess. Anybody would be. But right now, you're a liability. I want you to take some time."
"I don't have any time, sir. I used all my vacation looking for a new apartment."
"I'm aware of that," Montgomery replied. "However, since your apartment was destroyed as a direct result of a case you were working at the time, the department has seen fit to return the vacation days you used and consider that time as paid departmental leave." He opened a file that was lying on the side of his desk. "So as of right now, you have a minimum of six weeks' paid medical leave and four weeks of untaken vacation time. Go home. Come back and see me in eight weeks and we'll talk about your badge and gun."
She stared at him in shock and horror. "Eight weeks?"
He picked up a pen. "If you don't want me to change that to ten, you'll say 'yes, sir' and you'll walk out of here."
He very rarely took that tone with anyone, much less her, and Beckett knew when she was beaten. She swallowed hard. "Yes, sir," she whispered. Then she stood and made her way out of the office, closing the door softly behind her.
She stood in front of the door for a long moment, her eyes unfocused, and Esposito and Ryan watched her with some concern. Then someone's desk phone rang, startling her out of whatever place she had gone. She looked around the bullpen as though she'd never seen it before. Her eyes rested on her partners for just a moment, and she saw on their faces that they knew – they had heard. She swallowed hard again and, without a word, turned and left the precinct.
Esposito looked across the desk at Ryan. "This is not good, bro."
"No," Ryan agreed, watching her disappear into the elevator. "No, it's not."
Kate Beckett hid in her apartment for the first few days of her enforced leave and didn't even try to convince herself that she was doing anything else. She ordered food in, checked the peephole before answering the door, and screened every phone call, only taking calls from her family and non-work friends. During that entire span of days, she remained in her pajamas, mostly curled up in the corner of her comfy new couch, staring at whatever show happened to be on the screen of her shiny new television. She resolutely avoided even looking at her bookshelf because, while there were plenty of other authors' works there that she could have escaped into, the complete Castle collection on the top shelf – replenished from the author's own stock, and every one of them painstakingly inscribed and autographed – would be where her eyes would stray every time. So she didn't look.
On the evening of the fourth day, though, when she opened the door to accept her dinner delivery, Lanie Parish stepped into sight from where she had been standing against the wall, out of view of the peephole. The delivery boy gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry, Miss Beckett," he said. "She made me do it."
"It was bound to happen," Kate replied philosophically. She tipped the kid decently and then stepped aside, allowing Lanie entry into the apartment.
Lanie glared at her. "When is the last time you washed your hair?"
"Can't get my arms up," Kate replied. "Hungry?"
"Not enough to sit down with the greasy unwashed. Go change into something you don't mind getting wet. And get something out for me, too." She took the food from Kate, putting it in the oven to keep warm.
Sighing, Kate submitted gracefully to the inevitable, changing into a ratty old tee shirt and a pair of paint-splattered shorts. Lanie changed into the shirt and shorts Kate took out for her, then came into the bathroom with a roll of Saran wrap in her hand which she used to carefully cover Kate's shoulder from her neck to the middle of her bicep, and then she turned the shower on. "Get in."
Kate got in.
Lanie helped her kneel down in the spray, necessary since she was so much shorter than Kate, and then worked on Kate's hair, shampooing and conditioning it carefully and without talking. Kate found herself relaxing under Lanie's ministrations, some of the tension of the last few weeks draining out of her shoulders and back. When Lanie was done, she helped Kate stand, stepped out of the shower and pulled the curtain shut. "You can handle the rest yourself, I'm sure."
Kate could, and did. By the time she was done, Lanie had dried herself off and put her own clothes back on, leaving her borrowed wet things well wrung out on the bathroom counter. Kate hung them over the shower curtain rod with her own wet things and pulled on jeans and a tank top, then came back out into the living area to find her food already waiting on a plate for her. "Eat," Lanie said, and Kate ate.
Lanie leaned against the counter, watching Beckett eat chicken fried rice and poking at a container of sweet and sour pork. "Want to talk about it?"
"Not really," Kate replied honestly. "I'm trying really hard not to even think about it."
"So what are you gonna do, just sit around here in this apartment for the next two months, watching Judge Judy and letting the takeout boys snicker about your greasy hair?"
"Well, what am I supposed to do, Lanie? I'm on medical leave. I'm not even allowed to show up at the precinct and do desk work."
"Why don't you go see your dad for awhile?"
"Because he's in East Hampton."
"Ah." Lanie understood that immediately. For all that the Hamptons were a busy, tourist-filled area at that time of year, they were also essentially a small community. If Kate went to her dad's, there was an extremely high chance of running into Castle there. It was out of the question. She considered the problem. "Well, don't you have some friends you could go see somewhere else?"
"Most of my high school friends are still in the city, and they all work," Kate replied. "As do my cousins." Then she paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face.
Lanie raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Not all my cousins." She glanced at the clock, then reached for her cell phone, dialing a number from the address book. Lanie moved closer to hear.
The phone rang for a long moment and, just when Lanie was thinking it would go to voice mail, the line clicked and was picked up. A breathless voice spoke into the receiver over the sound of a frantic dog barking. "Kate! Shut up, dog. Hey, Kate!"
Kate smiled. "Hey, Kim, how's it going?"
"Hating life, how about you? Mom said something about you being hurt on the job?"
"Yeah, actually, I got shot in the shoulder."
"Oh, my God! Are you okay?"
"I will be, eventually. I'm on medical leave and in a sling right now, though." She shrugged slightly. "Could be worse."
"Ain't that the truth. How long are you on leave?"
"Eight weeks, minimum."
"That is a long vacation. Lucky bitch. Whatcha gonna do with all that time off?"
"Well," Kate said, drawing out the word just a bit, "actually, I was thinking of coming to see you. Are you busy?"
"I'm writing my doctoral dissertation, Kate; I'm busier than a one-armed man in a paper-hanging contest. When will you be here? I'll get the books off the guest bed."
Kate laughed. "Probably a couple of days; I'll need to arrange a flight."
"Awesome. Call me with your flight info and I'll pick you up at the airport." There was a pause, and then Kim's voice came back again, softer. "I'm glad you're okay, Kate. And I'm glad you're coming."
"Me, too," Kate replied, her voice equally soft. They said their goodbyes and Kate hung up, then looked up at Lanie. "Do not tell anyone where I'm going."
"Girl," Lanie replied, "I couldn't if I wanted to. Who the hell is Kim?"
Kate smiled. "Kim is my cousin, Kimberly Wilder; my mom's brother's daughter. We mostly grew up together; she's older than me by a few months. She's working on her Ph.D. in cultural anthropology at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville."
Lanie raised an eyebrow. "You're going to Tennessee?"
Kate shrugged. "Why not?"
"Hm. Better you than me," Lanie replied. "Just leave me the contact info so I can find you if I need to."
Kate nodded, flipping the phone open again and retrieving a notepad to transcribe the information on. "This is her address and her phone number if you need it."
Lanie tucked the paper into her pocket. "Thanks." She reached out and laid one hand on Kate's. "You sure you're gonna be okay?"
"No," Kate admitted. "But it can't get much worse, so at least I've got that going for me."
It was Friday of the fifth week after Castle left when Kate's flight touched down in Knoxville and she gratefully escaped the confines of the airplane, her eyes scanning the crowd for her cousin's familiar face. Kim stood under the Delta sign on the other side of the security checkpoint, dressed in a green tank top, blue jeans and black flip-flops, her shaggy sandy-blonde hair hanging in her eyes. She raised one long arm and waved at Kate, who waved back and started in her direction.
They hugged tightly as soon as Kate crossed the checkpoint line and then Kim wrapped a long arm around Kate. "Baggage claim?"
Kate nodded. "Hopefully they haven't lost my suitcase."
"Well, if they did, there are shops here. It's the boondocks, but it's not that bad." The two cousins shared a laugh as Kim led Kate toward the baggage claim carrel. Twenty minutes later, they were stepping out of the airport and into the bright sun of an unseasonably cool Tennessee summer.
Kate blinked. "Wow, I was expecting a hundred percent humidity and eighty degrees."
"You'd have had it if you were here this time last year," Kim replied. "It's been bizarrely cold this year. I wouldn't believe it was actually summer if not for the fact that the campus library is oddly empty of freshmen." She led Kate toward the parking garage. "You hungry?"
"Starving," Kate replied, and was surprised to realize that it was true. For the first time since Castle had gone, his arm around Gina, she actually was hungry. It must be Tennessee, she decided.
"Cool. How's steak sound?"
"Delicious."
Kim drove to a place called the Downtown Grill and Brewery which, she advised her cousin, brewed their own beer on-site. "It's excellent stuff, too," Kim confided. Then she paused. "Can you have alcohol? With your painkillers, I mean?"
Kate nodded. "Not a lot, but I can have a couple. I'm only taking the pills at night when I can't sleep."
"Good. Those things are bad for you anyway."
Over dinner, at Kate's insistence, Kim told her all about her dissertation, which was on gender, race and politics in the post-Reconstruction South. It had never been hard to get Kim going on a topic that interested her, and this was no different; with a few well-placed questions and a rapt expression, Kate kept her cousin talking about the paper through the entire meal, which saved Kate the trouble of having to come up with anything to say. It helped that the topic was actually interesting and that Kim was able to discuss it mostly in layman's terms, since Kate's primary interest before going into criminal justice had been science.
They argued over the check when it arrived, and Kim won by the simple expedient of getting up and walking over to the waitress with her credit card while Kate, who had stubbornly grabbed the ticket when it arrived, was still digging in her purse for her wallet. Kate glared at her cousin when Kim sauntered back to the table. "Dinner tomorrow is on me," she said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Katie, your I'm-the-boss voice hasn't worked on me since we were eight." Kim grinned. "Come on, let's get out of here. You're probably exhausted and I have to do more research before I can call today done."
There was no television in Kim's tiny apartment, but the second bedroom was crammed with books of many flavors. Kate breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered that the mystery genre was in no way represented – Kim was a horror, fantasy and science fiction nut. Her shelves were full of titles by names like Stephen King and Marion Zimmer Bradley, many of which Kate was totally unfamiliar with. She selected a title at random and wandered out into the living room, only to be sent back again because she'd picked the third book of a series and would be lost if she didn't start at the beginning.
She settled herself on the sofa, an afghan across her lap and Kim's super-friendly silver Affenpinscher, Cujo, curling up at her feet. Kim herself was seated at the huge desk that took up half the room, her computer on one side of her and stacks of books and papers all around. She called up iTunes on the computer, putting on a playlist of soothing, mostly instrumental music, and went to work while Kate flipped the book open and started to read.
It was long past dark when Kim finally stretched, her spine crackling. "That's it. I've had all of this I can take for one night." She turned in her chair to face her cousin. "Wanna watch a movie or something, or are you bushed after your trip?"
Kate considered, then yawned. "Actually, I am pretty tired."
"Sure, sure. Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll go do something fun."
Kate smiled. "I like the sound of that. I could use some fun."
With the windows cracked open to the cool Tennessee evening and Cujo resting, warm and heavy, on her stomach, Kate slept soundly that night for the first time in five weeks.