Without Hesitation
A Season 3 AU ficlet (Set in the weeks after Knockdown)
For my amaaaazing friend rickcastlefromthailand, as a late birthday gift. I hope you like this, Rachel! <3
(This fic was inspired by the cover photo for this story.)
She's already seated when he slips into the diner, his shoulder glancing off the metal bar between the doors as he dodges a stout man in a puffy coat and an oversized wool beanie. He offers the guy a hurried apology, turning a wry smile in his partner's direction to find that Beckett doesn't seem to have noticed the commotion.
With her head bent over her clasped fingers, she almost looks peaceful, as if she's meditating or finding some sort of peace in the middle of the loud, bustling eatery. It's only the furrow of her brow and the downturn of her lips that ruins that illusion and solidifies what he'd known since his phone buzzed in his pocket less than an hour ago: something is up.
First she asks him to meet her out of the blue, and now she's waiting for him like this, like the world has added another weight to her shoulders. Something is definitely going on with her, and he's going to find out what it is.
"Hey," he says, careful to keep his voice low so he doesn't startle her out of her contemplation. She still jolts, pressing her hands to the tabletop and offering an almost embarrassed smile at being caught drifting.
"Hi, Castle," she murmurs, meeting his eyes after a second's delay. "Thanks for coming all the way over here."
Rick shakes his head, lowering onto the chair across from her. "Of course. It's not that far from my publisher's office, really, and I was there to–"
He stops himself from explaining further after she squeezes her lips together and nods; she doesn't really care what he was doing before she called. Or maybe she does, but she's too distracted right now to show it. Either way, he doesn't need to talk about it.
"What's wrong?" he asks instead, resting his forearms on the table. His fingers twitch, ready to reach for hers, but he refrains. They don't do that. They don't touch, save for times of serial killers and daring rescues, and he's hopeful that this isn't one of those moments.
Beckett looks away, nodding to the woman behind the counter. "Coffee first."
Castle nods, studying her as silence settles between them. Her hair falls around her face, tousled, but not unkempt. More like she's been running her fingers through it over and over. Even her makeup has a soft, smudged look to it, barely concealing dark circles under her eyes. She's beautiful, of course she is, but she's tired and there's no disguising that.
He hasn't seen her in a few days, but he's sure if he had, he would recognize her clothes from yesterday. But he waits to ask again until a waitress with a kind smile and a soft lilt to her voice has taken their order of coffee and a plate of waffles.
"Beckett, what's going on?" he tries, asking this time for the story, not an announcement. "Unless you just missed me, in which case, I'm glad to be here." That earns him a tiny smile.
"You flatter yourself, Castle," she drawls, sounding more like herself. She also doesn't deny it, he notices. She's stopped denying a lot of things in the past few months.
Maybe she did just miss him. Maybe she's having a bad day and asking him to come to her somewhere neutral and new helps more than showing up at her apartment with takeout, or something.
"Yes, well, I am pretty fantastic."
Rick mentally pats himself on the back when her lips twitch again. Whatever is on her mind, he can help distract her, if nothing else.
After a moment, she drops her eyes, worrying her lip between her teeth once again. It's maddening when she does that, when she draws his gaze to lips he's only had the privilege of tasting once, and today is no different, the gesture churning his guts, making him want her so damn badly.
"You ever been here before?" he asks, forcing himself to focus on their surroundings, on the classic 50s decor, the rush of people in and out the doors, anything but the tantalizing, reddened bow of her mouth.
Beckett shakes her head. "I was walking by a little while ago. Saw it and decided to come in."
Castle nods, giving the room another look. "It's nice."
One of her shoulders lifts. "It's not Remy's, but it came through in a pinch."
Her wording is interesting, but he lets it go for the time being. Beckett talks in her own time, she always has. Whether it's about her mother, or a story from her childhood, she tells him when she wants to, and not a moment sooner.
She seems steadier once their coffee arrives and she's able to curl her fingers around warm ceramic, but the troubled cloud hasn't left her eyes.
"It's my dad," she blurts finally, as he's lifting a syrup and whipped cream covered bite of waffle to his lips. "He's – I left him sleeping at New York Presbyterian. I needed to get out of there."
Rick's fork hits the plate, the bite forgotten. "What happened?"
Beckett's lips purse, her fingers tightening around her coffee mug. His own fingers twitch, eager to reach for her, but he doesn't take her hands or otherwise disturb her.
"We were having dinner," she says, her voice thick. "He'd been quiet all night, but he's not much of a talker in general, and with it being close to her birthday… I didn't think much about it, you know?"
Castle nods. He has looked a Johanna Beckett's file enough times to know her birthday had been a few days ago. Even if he hadn't practically memorized the file, Beckett herself had been somber that day, giving him just enough context to figure it out for himself.
"Yeah," she breathes. "I just thought he was… but when I got up to leave, he collapsed as he was walking me to the door."
Kate looks toward the ceiling, giving herself time to gather her thoughts.
"The doctor said it was a myocardial infarction, a heart attack. A pretty severe one, at that."
Oh, God.
"Beckett, I'm–"
"He made it. He made it. The doctor said it was because I called a bus and it got to us so quickly. He was in ICU overnight, but he was conscious – just sleeping – when I left."
"That's good," Rick says. "See? Abusing your power has its merits."
Her laughter comes out strangled, but it loosens something in his own chest to hear it.
"Yeah," Kate agrees, glancing down at her hands. She sniffs, clenching her fingers around her mug again. "I swore to her that he was healthy. He doesn't smoke, he doesn't drink, he left his crazy, high-stress job years ago, but she thinks… she thinks because of his history, his heart was weaker, and everything just snowballed from there."
This time, he does reach out for her, cupping his hands over hers on the mug. Her brave face falters, but doesn't fall, and it's all he can do to refrain from joining her on her side of the table and wrapping her in a hug.
"But he made it," he says, watching her nod. "And he's stable now, otherwise you would've never left his side."
"Yeah," she answers, swiping her thumb against his. "Dr. Paul said if he responds well to the medication, he won't need surgery. He'll be moved to a regular room and monitored like normal."
His breath comes a little easier at that news. "That's really good. Did you ask Josh for a second opinion?"
Beckett tilts her head, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she speaks again, "No. I didn't ask him. I'm not even sure if he's in the country or not."
His fingers tighten around hers. From what he knows of their relationship, Josh is gone pretty often; but who leaves the country without at least letting their girlfriend know?
"We broke up," she adds, putting an end to his musings. "Last week."
They – oh, wow. That's not what he expected her to say.
"Huh, a guy goes away for a couple of book signings, and things start happening."
Beckett snorts. "Sorry the world didn't stop turning while you were gone, Castle."
His fingertips brush her knuckles. "Yeah, I've never been very good at stopping time. If I were, Alexis would still be tiny."
Kate smiles a little bit, shaking her head. He watches her hair fall into her face and lifts a hand, ignoring their usual set of boundaries to brush it back.
"Why didn't you call me last night?" he asks, dropping his hand to cover hers again.
"You'd just gotten back, and you'd mentioned you were going to dinner and a show with Alexis. I didn't want to–"
His head whips back and forth, emphatic with what he's about to say. "I hope there's never a next time, but if there is? Next time, Beckett, don't hesitate. Don't ever hesitate."
Her hand slips out from underneath his, landing on the table with a dull thud. His heart stammers against his ribs, and he expects her to get to her feet and declare their moment over before she leaves to go back to the hospital to be with her father. Instead, she turns her hand over, offering him her palm.
Rick curls his fingers around hers, holding on with unapologetic strength. His partner nods, fitting her hand against his, returning his squeeze without a word.
"Will you come back with me?" she asks after the silence has stretched on a little too long. "To the hospital? I don't know what you have going on today, if you need to get back to Alexis or–"
"Of course. Kate, of course. For as long as you want."
Beckett exhales, her body sagging as relief works its way down her spine. Her shoulders drop, and she sits up in her chair, locking soft eyes with his.
"Thank you. I know it's probably not how you imagined spending your afternoon, but thank you."
Castle shakes his head, tightening his grip on her hand. She could've called half a dozen other people – her best friend and her cardiac surgeon ex included – but she had called him. He's not turning her away.
"Why don't we get some coffee to go and head back?" he suggests.
"You didn't eat your waffle," Beckett protests.
"That's okay. I don't want to keep you from your father for too long."
His partner shakes her head. "At least take it with you? Or get a fresh one with the absurd amount of toppings on the side? There's an ICU waiting room at the hospital; you can eat there."
"Only if you eat with me."
"I'm not hungry," she says, repeating her earlier assertion. "I can barely handle the coffee, to be honest with you."
"Some fruit, maybe?" he tries. No doubt she hasn't eaten since the night before; she needs to consume something far more than he needs a stupid waffle.
"You're not going to give it up, are you?" Her voice is wry, but not annoyed, and he counts it as a victory.
"Nope." He pops his lips for emphasis. "Regretting asking me to stay yet?"
Beckett snorts, but shakes her head. "No."
She sits back, easing her hand away from his with a soft caress of her fingers. He doesn't miss the tender glimmer in her eyes, even after she turns her attention to the counter to signal to their server.
"Put your wallet away, Castle," she murmurs once the young woman has come and gone, leaving them alone again, "my treat."
His fingers still at his pocket. How had she even seen him move? He'd been trying to sneak his card out. "Even though I annoyed you into getting the fruit?"
Her lips twitch, not quite a smile, but more so than it would've been an hour ago. "Yeah, even though you did that. Still my treat."
"Thanks."
She waves him off, lifting her coffee to her lips to drain the last of it before their takeout order is ready. They don't speak again until the bill has been paid and she's sliding her credit card back into her wallet.
Rick stands with her, reaching for the bag of food while she lifts their travel cups, flexing her fingers at the heat, despite the cardboard guard.
"Shall we?" he asks.
"Yes," she says, though it holds none of the confidence he's accustomed to hearing from Kate Beckett. Still she walks ahead of him, her stride careful, controlled, until they reach the sidewalk where they stand shoulder to shoulder for a moment.
"Lead the way," Castle murmurs, looking both ways before letting his eyes settle on his partner. Exhaustion and worry still lingers on her face, but she doesn't wear it like a shroud any longer.
Beckett nods, squaring her shoulders. "Okay."
They walk together, bumping arms when the crowd becomes dense, never straying far from each other's space when it thins.
Although he's never met the man and he has no baseline to compare it to, Castle's still surprised by Jim Beckett's appearance when Beckett stops in the doorway of his hospital room. Even asleep, Jim looks worn, the lines on his face more pronounced than they should be. His face is pale, his hair limp against his forehead, and Kate deflates as soon as she sees him.
"His coloring is better," she murmurs, taking a careful step into her father's room.
"That's probably why they moved him in here," Castle says, waiting only a beat before following her. She had asked him to come with her, hopefully that means she won't mind him being in the room with them. "He's doing better."
Kate nods, settling their coffee cups on the tiny table beside an uncomfortable looking couch they've tucked under the window. "That's what the nurse said when I asked her: he had improved enough so they took the opportunity to move him when the room opened up."
"That's good." He steps closer, curling his fingers over her shoulder in support. She hums, relaxing at the touch, fitting the ball of her shoulder into the warmth of his palm.
"Yeah," she breathes, glancing up at him. He lets his lips lift in a soft smile, hoping to coax one out of her as well.
She doesn't smile, but she does turn into him, wordlessly slipping her arms around his waist beneath his jacket, embracing him with tender desperation. Her palms land against his back, pressing closer, branding him with the residual warmth her skin holds from carrying the coffee. The bag with their food lands on the chair cushion in a haphazard heap as Castle bands his arms around her, touching his cheek to her temple, pulling her chest flush with his, close enough for him to feel her shuddering breath, the hot spill of tears as she surrenders to her emotions.
He doesn't let go, doesn't even think of loosening his hold on her. When she gulps air back into her lungs and uses his shirt to wipe her eyes, he draws her closer, burying his mouth in her hair and whispering promises he doesn't have the power to make.
His eyes dart to Jim Beckett's bed, watching the steady rise and fall of the man's chest.
Screw helplessness; whatever it takes, whatever deals have to be made, whatever the price tag, he'll do it. Anything to spare Kate Beckett from further heartache.
"Thank you, Castle," she whispers a few minutes later, her voice husky against his throat. Her hands slide along his spine, locking at the small of his back instead of retreating the way he expects. "For being here, for letting me get your shirt wet."
Castle's lips brush her temple, his hands sweeping gentle circles over her back. "Wet patches on a nice shirt are no match for this man," he says, feeling her shoulders shake – with amusement this time, he's pleased to note – before he continues, "Always, Kate. Always."
She nods, stealing his breath as her lips purse against his skin. It's not a kiss, but it's not not a kiss either. Just like her, it's a mystery.
"Always," she echoes, squeezing him once more. "That extend to sharing your waffle with me?"
He gasps, leaning back just far enough to find her looking up at him, her eyes red-rimmed from her tears but soft with affection. Her lips quirk, widening into a smile that sends his heart tripping in his chest.
"For you?" he drawls, matching her smile with one of his own. "Of course."
"Kay," she says, slipping out of his embrace to reach for the bag before he forgets it's there and sits on it. "Then let's eat."
Later, once the food is gone, Kate's hand creeps across the space between them. Her fingers trip over his wrist, plucking his nearly empty coffee cup from his grip and replacing it with the warmth of her palm.
Looking her way, Castle finds his partner facing ahead, watching her father sleep. Beckett shakes her head, her hair falling around her face, her chin dipping at his scrutiny.
He wants to say so much, wants to thank her for allowing him to be the one at her side, but as their fingers lace, slotting together, connecting them, he's content with sitting in comfortable silence until Jim opens his eyes.
A/N: Happy late birthday, Rachel! <3 <3