Soooooo, this is a oneshot to fill a prompt I found on castlefanficprompts dot tumblr dot com from 'ELEPHANTSTHEYNEVERFORGET'. I don't think it's quite what they meant but this is how it turned out. AU Season 2. Beckett doesn't escape the explosion of her apartment entirely unscathed. This is appallingly written and not proofread, so my apologies.
She won't talk to him. Or anyone, for that matter. He's set up residence outside her hospital room, sees almost every one of her visitors enter and exit the ward.
Lanie's been by everyday since Kate was admitted, each time leaving the room with a pinched expression and a nuh uh in Castle's direction. He has a feeling the twisted look on her face is her holding back tears.
Ryan and Esposito are almost as reluctant to leave as he is, but they gave in after the nurses gave them a hard time. Ryan has taken to bringing a whiteboard in with him that he can write on to communicate with Kate. In turn, she has taken to closing her eyes whenever Kevin enters her room. He comes out looking like a puppy that's been kicked. Espo is more stoic, although his hurt shows in the firm set of his jaw.
Jim Beckett, however, doesn't disguise his. Castle can hear him begging his daughter to talk to him, to look at him, even from outside the room. The pleading isn't getting through to her though.
Of course not. Because she can't hear it. Because she's deaf.
The bomb, in her apartment caused what the doctors called 'acoustic trauma'. And now she is deaf. Irreversibly so, according to the experts Castle had immediately contacted.
Just thinking about it causes a wave of nausea to sweep through his body, has him dry retching over the closest bin. He can't remember the last time he ate, and can't stomach the thought of food.
Because the most extraordinary woman he has ever met is deaf. Her life will never be the same. And it's his fault. If it weren't for him, she'd have been safe from that… that psychopath. Castle slams his fist into the wall, hard enough that he's sure his knuckles are cracked but he doesn't care.
He needs to apologise, but he can't. Because not only won't she listen, but she can't. She can't. So he just sits with her, stays as she resolutely refuses to even glance in his direction, instead poring over the sign language books that the ENT had brought her.
After an hour and a half, he breaks, reaching for her. She flinches away from his touch. And now she's pushing him away, shaking her head and mouthing that she needs to be alone.
So he leaves. He has a plan.
A weekend spent in the New York Public Library and Castle's learnt enough to say what he wants to say. Well, he muses, not enough to say what he wants… but what he needs, yes.
He's surrounded himself with books on American Sign Language, even asked help (with unsteady hands and unsure actions) to improve his accuracy from the deaf browsers looking at the DVD selections for the hearing impaired. So yes, he's memorised what he needs to say, even if he has not a general understanding of the language, not even basic conversational vocabulary.
She's surprised to see him when he walks in, but she doesn't look displeased at his presence, which he takes to be a hopeful sign. If you'll pardon the pun.
Castle moves his chair over to where she's sitting in the other and takes her hands, imploring him with his eyes to hear him out (or so to speak).
He closes his eyes in concentration for a moment, centering himself before making the slow movements. She doesn't understand most of it, he knows; she's only been looking at the books and videos for a few days, but he knows the sentiment has reached her. He knows it from the almost smile on her lips and from the way she reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly.
"Castle," she speaks finallyand it's too loud, so loud and she must see him wince at the volume level because the next thing she says is hardly more than a whisper; I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout. But he doesn't care because she broke her silence. Finally. Her voice isn't hers; it's disjointed - lack of use from the past week combined with the inability to hear herself, Castle reasons. "You're learning sign language? For me?"
He pulls out a notebook and scribbles a 'yes' on the blank page and her lips tighten again - written communication pisses her off. Castle knows this, knew this, from Ryan's vain efforts but still he hands her the envelope in which he has enclosed everything he wanted to say.
Please, he signs. He's sure she'll know that much; he's certain it's one of the first things the basic ASL manual taught. And she nods, confirming her comprehension, taking the letter from him.
He studies her face as she reads. As ever though, Kate Beckett is a blank mask. He envies her poker face. When she reaches the bottom of the page, she drops the page on her lap, raising her bandaged arms and signing out four letters: R, I, C, K.
Castle's heart speeds as he recognises his name from the time he and Alexis had learned to sign their names for a project she'd had in the third grade. He supposes the use of his first name is due to it's length, but it somehow feels more intimate than 'Castle' even when not spoken aloud. Maybe especially so.
"It's not your fault." She croaks and when he refuses to meet her gaze, unable to accept her statement, she reaches out to him. Cupping his cheek, she turns his face towards her. "It's not." And somehow the sincerity in her eyes makes his heart ache a little less. Because she doesn't hate him, even if she is mistaken and he is to blame. And looking at her then, he realises with a jolt that he will spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her, though the task is a Herculean one.
The prompt was 'Castle/Beckett is deaf and Castle/Beckett have to learn sign language to talk to them.' I'd set out intending it to be sort of fluffy but yeah, that didn't happen. Please review!