Sweet Dreams Are Made of This
Summary: While Castle finally gets a good night's sleep, Beckett and Martha find themselves wide awake. [Sleeper, 7x20]
He was sleeping. Snoring, actually, and Kate knew this because it woke her up. She didn't mind. His snoring sounded like beautiful music after living without it for two months.
When she didn't immediately return to dreamland, Kate turned over to watch her husband, her arm draped over his stomach as it rose up and down. She could lie there for hours like that. Since the kidnapping, this had become one of her favorite pastimes. So many nights, while suffering from insomnia for one reason or another, she would count down the hours until morning with her eyes on him. She grew to resent the alarm clock for always interrupting.
This particular night, Kate was especially grateful to see him next to her, getting the best sleep he's had in a week. Watching him toss and turn or mumble incoherent words had been torture. Worse yet, he would brush off her concerns by insisting he felt fine. She understood that as she would do the same, but not being able to help frustrated her. Thank goodness he'd recovered.
Well, he'd recovered physically. On the surface he seemed happy, but how could he be content to live with so little concrete information? She wouldn't be if this were her mother's case. Her drive to find the whole truth hadn't been filled until she knew...everything.
Not to mention, she wasn't even sure if she believed what they now "knew."
Looks like I'm not going back to sleep, she thought, checking the clock on the nightstand. Not even three yet, too early to get ready for work. Maybe tea will help. Her drink of choice was coffee, but in the middle of the night, she could go for some decaf tea.
Kissing her husband on the forehead as she sat up, Kate tiptoed to the loft common area. Her instinct was to tense when she saw the darkened form in the kitchen, but in the next instant, the soft light shifted and she recognized Martha. She thought she'd heard rustling. "Hey," she whispered jokingly, sitting on a stool at the counter. "I didn't think I'd have company out here."
Martha chuckled. "Sorry, Katherine. I couldn't sleep myself so I'd thought I'd make some hot chocolate. Would you like a cup?"
Hm, not my usual pick but it sounds good. "Sure, thanks. You drink hot chocolate?" Kate noticed the pot of almost-boiling water on the stove, placed next to the box of mix on the counter. Her mother-in-law was taking two mugs from their cabinet.
While reaching into the utensil draw for some spoons, Martha answered, "Oh yes, preferably with some amaretto, but tonight I'm in the mood for my own Mexican version. I learned the recipe from a salsa dancer who had hips that, to paraphrase Shakira, told nothing but the truth." Martha's eyes rolled back at the euphoric memory as she raised her right hand. "So help me God."
Kate put a hand over her mouth to quiet her laughter. "As long as it's not too spicy, I'm game." During the silence that followed, Kate's thoughts wandered back to her previous concerns. She remembered how upset Martha had been earlier. Again, both Martha and Alexis seemed to accept what they learned, but did they? Or did they have the same doubts she did? "So, speaking of the truth...that story was pretty amazing. Can you believe he helped save the country from a terrorist attack?"
Martha raised an eyebrow at the skepticism in her daughter-in-law's voice. "I can, and as far as I know, so can Alexis. Something tells me you can't."
Regretting that she'd opened the can of worms, Kate waited while Martha switched off the burner under the now-boiling water. Is this necessary? she asked herself. You'll only cause Martha more heartache. Keep your doubts to yourself. At the same time though, she suddenly felt it bursting out of her. She didn't want to approach Rick about this yet, so with that line of thinking, Martha was her only option. While Alexis would probably share these concerns, Kate couldn't bring herself to burden her stepdaughter with more negativity. "I don't mean to upset you, Martha," she said quietly. "It's just...I don't feel like we really learned anything. Every 'answer' leads to a dozen more questions."
Fortunately Martha wasn't bothered by the topic of discussion. She shrugged with her free shoulder as she sprinkled various, unidentifiable spices into the hot chocolate mix. "Ah, yes, that detective mind of yours." She paused, glancing back at Kate. "You aren't allergic to any spices?"
"No."
"Good." She added another mystery spice, combined the mixture with a teaspoon, then got the milk from the fridge. "Now, why don't you talk to Richard about this? Of course I'm glad to help, but wouldn't you feel better discussing this with him?"
Kate sighed. "I would, but...he's so happy." As Martha added milk and water to the mugs, she explained, "He must have his own uncertainty about what happened today, but clearly he's choosing to move forward...just like he did months ago. I need to support him on that. He almost fell down a rabbit hole this morning, so the last thing I want to do is give him a push."
Frowning sympathetically, Martha passed her one of the full mugs. "Frustrating, isn't it? Particularly for you, I imagine. Your life's work is searching for the truth."
About to agree, Kate paused when she processed Martha's words. "Wait...are you doubting this too?"
"To an extent," she said, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "I want to believe this, so much."
Kate nodded. "Me too." Testing for temperature, she drank some of her hot chocolate, then analyzed the remaining flavors on her tongue. "This is delicious, by the way. Chili powder, nutmeg, cinnamon, and...what is that?"
"Cayenne," Martha answered, nostalgia in her eyes. "Of course, this is nowhere near as fabulous as Miguel's. He'd melt actual chocolate rather than use a mix no matter what time it was."
Chuckling, Kate downed some more of her drink. "Well, thank you...and Miguel. This is much better than decaf tea." She let another minute or so pass while they drank in companionable silence. "Rick acknowledged that there were still questions, you know. He didn't learn anything about the getting shot or the rest of the two months. I didn't say this at the time, but personally, I wonder if we learned anything at all. Was this some huge coverup to deter us? There are so many holes in this story that I'm amazed he can ignore them."
"Holes?" Martha asked, curious. "Like what?"
Off the top of her head, Kate ticked off items on her mental list of loose threads. "First there's Montreal. How would he have time to make those videos for us if he was racing to Thailand to stop a terrorist attack? He even told me he was taken before our wedding because this supposed attack was 'hours away'...it takes almost a day just to get to Thailand. Whoever said this to him could have been speaking in general terms, but still..."
"Funny you mentioned 'rabbit holes,'" Martha teased. "You sound like you're about to fall in with him."
The accusation making her defensive, Kate insisted, "It's unavoidable, Martha. How can I accept that...that this classmate of his, a former terrorist, would just tell him all the juicy details? My initial victim was tortured for information about the case. Why would a so-called 'friend' put Rick in danger?"
Tapping her fingernails on her hot chocolate mug, Martha didn't say anything while she contemplated those questions. Finally she surprised Kate with an unexpected answer. "This reminds me of Alexis' fourth birthday party." At Kate's dumbfounded expression, she continued, "Now, stay with me here. At four years old, Alexis wanted a pirate party. She'd just discovered 'Peter Pan,' you see, but thought it would be more fun to be in Captain Hook's crew." Martha smiled as Kate chuckled. "So, Richard being Richard, he goes all-out with this theme. He even concocts a treasure hunt complete with a map for Alexis and each of her guests. The treasure chest was filled with chocolate coins, but Alexis wanted to pretend they were real. She even refused to eat them."
Kate began to see the purpose of this story. "How long did that last?"
"Until the party was over and she wanted a snack," Martha said, laughing. "Playing pretend was only fun while her friends went along with the illusion."
Glancing down at her near-empty mug, Kate said, "So you're suggesting everything Rick learned was just...a toy map and fake treasure, planted by those behind this to entertain us. And that if we don't play along, he'll start digging again."
Sighing, Martha replied, "Honestly? I would love to claim there's no chocolate underneath the foil and leave it at that, but like Alexis, we will eventually have to face reality. The only question here is, do we end the fantasy now, or..."
"Keep the party going as long as we can." Daughter and mother-in-law exchanged meaningful glances, leaving the agreement unspoken. They were all safer if they followed Rick's lead and believed the treasure was real. Maybe in the future, they would get the opportunity to open some chocolate coins. "I'm going to miss you, Martha," Kate confessed, suddenly emotional. "You don't have to leave."
"Oh, but I do, Katharine." Martha smiled, patting Kate's hand. She then placed her empty mug in the dishwasher. "How else will I get more grandchildren?"
Kate laughed, standing from her seat to deposit her own mug. She'd have to get the exact hot chocolate recipe from Martha in the morning. "True, and who knows – maybe you'll come back in a year or so to help with baby Castle."
"I'd like that." Martha hugged Kate on her way towards the stairs. "Goodnight, Katharine. I do hope you sleep well."
"Goodnight, Martha. Thanks for the hot chocolate." After returning Martha's smile of acknowledgment, Kate decided that going back to bed sounded like a good idea. Even then she'd only be able to get a few hours of sleep before her alarm went off.
Getting into bed, Kate snuggled next to her husband and closed her eyes, waiting for the comforting hot chocolate to work its magic. Apparently Kate's anxiety was stronger. The conversation with Martha played over in her mind, inciting visions of unwrapped chocolate coins floating just out of her reach. I don't do "blind faith," she thought sadly. I didn't for my mother's murder either, when everyone said it was just random violence. How could I when there were still so many questions?
As for this case, why would Castle want to forget that he helped save the world? Did he know he would never be able to keep it from me, Martha and Alexis? This reasoning felt thin to her though. The "government" wouldn't go through the trouble of erasing two months' worth of memories just because he might tell his family.
Then why? Above all else, what happened to make him want to forget?
Willing her eyes to stay closed, restless Kate wrapped her arms tighter around her husband and refused to indulge her doubt. She had to push it down into a little box and shove it into a dark corner of her mind. Maybe she could do this if she focused on the present, going a day or even a week without talking about the disappearance. She did it when he was found and wanted to move on, so that should be even easier now that they had an some kind of explanation. They did uncover actual, tangible elements of the case – the "Chuck Norris" look-alike, the Russian, the reappearance of Not Henry Jenkins, Thailand (which could explain the dengue fever). There had been some progress. For one, she no longer had to fear that the assassin would target her husband. Sure, if she thought about it, she could worry that someone else would pick up where the assassin left off and...
But she wasn't going to think about it. She'd keep her eyes closed with her arms around her husband, and when she woke up, she'd believe that he was in Thailand helping to save the world. It would be a wonderful dream – if she could ever get to sleep.