You Can Always Go Home
a Dash Companion
for Jess D. Sparklemouse:
May you find
all the things you seek.
May you always
be home.
For nearly six weeks, she tells herself that it doesn't have to be for long.
When Castle opens the door to his loft and steps over the threshold with the baby in the carrier - their son, Dashiell Alexander Castle - the only thing that pushes her inside is the thought that she can always go home.
If she can't figure out how to be both mother and partner, if it's too hard right now, she doesn't have to stay. She can issue a tactical retreat, hole up with her son in her apartment for a few months until she gets the hang of sleeplessness and feedings and jeez, not dropping him, and then she and Castle can try it again.
She consoles herself with that and moves in after him, her eyes on Dashiell, reminding herself.
I can always go home.
1.
She sleeps so hard between feedings that Castle has to nudge her awake. She panics into consciousness feeling like she's being ripped up out of water, gasping and startled and shaking in the too-early morning hour.
"It's the blood loss," he murmurs when she can't seem to get it together. "They said it'd make you tired for a while."
He's cradling Dashiell close, his finger nudged in the baby's mouth to forestall his howling, watching her like he's afraid he won't be able to wake her next time.
Kate scrapes a hand down her face and then reaches for the baby, trying to cuddle him and fumbling at her shirt. It takes Dashiell a long moment to latch on - he's still fussy about feeding, about everything - and then suddenly that fuzzy, frustrating exhaustion sharpens to a distinct and brilliant sense of right.
She blinks down into Dashiell's face, swaying forward over him, her arms heavy, her body heavy, her whole life pinpointed to this moment.
She forgets to breathe.
And then Castle leans against her shoulder and strokes his finger over the top of Dashiell's head. She feels it like Dashiell must feel it, rippling tendrils of sensation, and the connection between them intensifies to an all-encompassing circle, an infinity loop, electric and suffusing.
"What does it feel like?" Castle murmurs softly, barely a breath in the air.
She can't even pull her eyes away from her son, and if she weren't so tired, maybe she wouldn't be quite so honest.
"It's strange. It's. . .relief. Like coming down after we. . ." She gasps as Dashiell gums her, gives a little laugh and squirms at the sudden pain. Instinct has her reaching down and flicking his cheek, shifting away, and the baby startles and stops chewing to pop his mouth off of her, surprised, staring up at her with those absorbent eyes. His fist against her breast flares out with little fingers, curls in, back and forth, hypnotic. She repositions him and he beings to suck again. "It's weird. And he keeps stopping to play."
Castle laughs and rubs his palm at her back, settles against the headboard. She turns to look at him and she can't understand how they got here, talking about breastfeeding and both half-naked but completely sexless. It's depressing.
His eyes are on Dashiell still, and he lifts his hand to trail his fingertips over the baby's head, down across his ear.
Her eyes slam shut and suddenly she's so tired she could collapse.
"Marry me."
She jerks and meets his gaze, and her mouth drops open. He's flushed bright pink and he clenches his jaw, looking both stubborn and fierce.
Breastfeeding and half-naked and sexless. It's already too much like his last marriage, isn't it?
"No," she says softly, but she leans in and presses her mouth so gently to his, a caress of tongue and lips until the harsh line of his profile softens and melts.
"No?" he murmurs, still too hopeful.
"No, Castle. There's no need." She untangles her hand from Dashiell and touches Castle's cheek.
He closes his eyes.
2.
She's curled on the couch, in and out of it, listening for her son who will wake at any moment. Dashiell passed out about forty-five minutes ago, and this is the longest he's napped since the hospital. The doctor said it might be like this, that he might need time to adjust, but it's been nearly nine days. Forty-five minutes at a time with wild and inconsolable crying in between - and it really should not be like this.
The television is on low and Alexis seems to be haunting the room, in and out as she studies for a test, but Castle sits with Kate and keeps a heavy hand on her ankle, weighing her down as they wait.
They both know it's coming.
"Should we call the pediatrician?" she murmurs.
"You think something's wrong with him?"
She bites her lip. "I don't know. Is this right? - No, don't call." No, but yes? "Did you see the welts on his face?" She curls her fingers around her mother's ring, desperate for answers, for help, but her mother is so far gone.
Just Castle.
"I saw," he sighs. "I cut his fingernails again, and I put those sock things back on his hands. Maybe he's just scratching at his face."
"Maybe."
She has Castle, but she doesn't yet know what to do with Castle. How to make it all fit neatly. She's pretty sure that things are slipping through the cracks and they've only had Dashiell home nine days. But for the life of her, Kate can't figure out exactly what is falling through. Still no coffee, the baby is fussy but he does at least breastfeed now, his sleep habits are irregular and few and far between, and there's all this crying, but-
"Kate?"
She rouses and finds Castle studying her like some endangered species - a lot of awe, a little fear, some sense that he might never see her again.
Oh, that's not good, is it? This - this between them - is probably what's falling through the cracks.
She shifts on the couch and sits up beside him, their shoulders pressed together, and she lets her body lean into his. He lets out a dragging breath, and he carefully strokes his fingertips along her knee.
Things really are coming apart at the seams. She's unraveling. She didn't know it would be this hard, this unending, this vivid and noisy and unrelenting. She's not any good at this and she's still so very tired, and the baby really needs to figure out this sleep thing before one or both of them lose it.
And Castle is just so careful, tiptoeing and reserved and handling her. She doesn't need to be handled. She just needs. . .help.
No. Really, she needs sleep. Everything would be fine if she could just sleep. And some confidence. Like she can actually do this. Like she's not going to scar the kid for life or permanently damage his psyche because this whole thing feels entirely unnatural and she's got no one - no one - to tell her what to do or how to do or why nothing works.
"You're a good mom," he says suddenly.
She closes her eyes and presses a hand over them, hiding it from view, sinks into herself on the couch. Her other hand curls up at her mother's ring, nearly choking herself with the chain. Castle just - zeroed right in on that. So easily. It must be all over her face.
"You don't give up," he says quietly, and his voice sounds a little intense. Like he's afraid she won't believe him. "That's what's so amazing about you. You're going to do whatever it takes. Dashiell is so lucky to have you as his mother."
She lifts her head and gives him a smile that is entirely too watery, but he just smiles softly back.
"Well, at least you can afford his therapy bills," she tries to joke. "When I scar him for life."
He shakes his head at her. "Hey, don't worry about it. Look at Alexis. Goodness knows she has every right to be messed up. But sometimes love really is enough to prevail."
She lets out a long breath at that and tries her smile again. A little stronger. Sure. Love is enough until it's not. Until there's something really wrong with Dashiell or with her or she gets shot doing her job, stabbed in an alley-
"You can do it, Kate."
She takes a deeper breath in, and his words hit their target, unerringly, because his words have always managed to find her weakest places and shore them up. "Thank you."
He shrugs like it's no big deal, but it really is. It really is.
Kate wishes she knew of a way to give that back to him. Clarity. The belief that everything is going to be all right; they'll make it.
"Hey," she says, feels the sentiment churning in her overtired, anxious heart and tumbling straight out of her mouth. "Hey, you know I love you."
She sees his eyes lighten, his whole body ease. He grins at her then, something of the shy little boy in him, and then he chuckles.
"You must really be tired."
She gives a faint smile back, and really, she really is. Really. No one told her just how tired she was going to be.
"Think you're exhausted enough to say yes?"
"What?"
"To marrying me."
"Not that tired," she mutters, rolling her eyes.
3.
Castle wakes alone in bed, hears the sharp and angry cry of his son from the living room. He gets up quickly, shrugging on a shirt as he goes. He meant to set an alarm this time because Kate's suddenly the one who wakes up - sometimes before Dashiell can even cry - and he really thinks she needs more sleep. He's not gotten up with the kid since. . .
Eight days ago? He's three weeks old, and Kate has been at it nonstop.
When the hallway opens up, Dashiell's cries are piercing, and Kate is pacing the floor, her steps clipped and measured. She's trying to sway with the baby, but Dash won't be soothed.
"Kate," he says carefully.
She turns to him with a desperation in her eyes that floors him. "Nothing I do works at all. He won't sleep, he won't eat, he doesn't need to be changed. Nothing should be wrong with him. Nothing should be wrong."
Castle reaches out and gently pries his son from her arms, a little surprised by how quickly she gives him up, like she can't wait to get rid of him. He presses his lips to Dashiell's soft ear, cups the back of his head. The red marks are fresh on his cheeks, the side of his neck; maybe that's what's keeping the baby up. "Hey, there, my man. Let's give Mommy a break, okay?"
He hears a noise and lifts his eyes to see Kate just standing there, a hand at her forehead, the other on her hip like she's frozen, and her gaze is trapped on Dashiell. And yeah, the kid is still fussy, but his angry cries have disappeared, lowered in pitch to just the restless, unhappy ones.
"Okay, buddy. Help me out here. Gotta prove to Mommy that it's not that bad. Just sleep for me," he murmurs quietly. He raises his head and nods for Kate to sit on the couch, take a moment, and she slumps back, her hand scraping through her hair and tugging.
"This is a disaster," she mutters.
"You're doing fine."
"Look, he's already winding down and you've had him for thirty seconds. I've been up and walking him for two hours."
Two hours? "You should've come and gotten me."
"You haven't had much sleep either," she says. Her hand sinks down now to cover her eyes before she tilts her head back against the couch in defeat. "I don't know how you do it so easily."
"It's only because I'm still loose and half-asleep. He feels it and his body starts to relax as well. The longer you have to go at it, the worse it is for both of you. Learned that the hard way."
"I'm terrible at this." She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and groans. "I can't even figure out why his face keeps breaking out. The pediatrician's nurse called me back; she said it could be baby acne. But I looked it up online and it doesn't look like that."
"I was thinking maybe allergies?" he says quietly. "I'll switch to that Dreft detergent - it's chemical free, no dyes. Maybe he's breaking out because he's allergic."
She blinks and scrapes her hand through her hair again. "Okay. Yeah. Let's - try that. I didn't think of that. I'm just - I'm totally worthless at this."
"Kate," he huffs at her, lifting a knee to nudge her with his toes. She startles and looks at him, and he shakes his head. "You're kidding me, right? Here. You take him, watch how he'll fall asleep for you."
He hopes.
She looks like she might refuse, but he eases Dashiell over into her arms and sinks down on the couch beside her. The baby stirs and squirms for a moment, but he's a momma's boy already, Castle can tell. His pale pink mouth opens and he gives a pathetic little mewl, but his long lashes are fluttering shut, his little fist coming to clutch at her shirt. He always does that - hangs on to her, keeps her close. The welts are still red, but they'll figure it out.
He feels Kate take a deeper breath beside him. "You've got the magic touch."
He grins. "Not gonna happen like that ever again. We just used up our one free pass as new parents."
"Oh, shoot. We should've saved it for when we really need it."
He watches Dashiell struggle against sleep, still not quite completely out, and he traces a finger over the boy's forehead. That movement makes the baby startle and his eyes open, and they both hold their breath until Dash sinks back under again.
"Oh, Castle, you nearly blew it," she whispers, lifting her eyes to his with a tender smile.
He gives her a crooked one back. "That used to make Alexis drop right off. But we'll learn what to do for Dash too."
"Steep learning curve."
He's not sure what else he can say in the face of her pessimism, so he just watches their son sleep in her arms, the late hour and the darkness of the loft conspiring to knock Castle out as well.
The edges have just begun to blur when she sighs. "How was it when Alexis was a baby? With Meredith? Did she. . ."
Meredith. "Uh. I - do you really want to know?" This can't be a good idea.
"Yeah. Give me some parameters. Because you're right - Alexis turned out great. So Dash has you, the man going for Father of the Year award, but how bad can I get, how low is the bar here?"
He cocks his head at her, wonders if brutal honesty at nearly one a.m. is really the best way to go. But she'll see through any attempt at evasion, and this is so not the time to be messing with her, even if she is teasing.
But Kate already beats Meredith by a long shot. If he were keeping score.
Which he's not.
"Meredith loved being pregnant. She had everyone's eyes on her; she could do no wrong. But as soon as Alexis was born, and the focus shifted to the baby, she wasn't happy. I didn't know how to pay her enough attention and also figure out how to be a parent, and instead of trying, I guess I cut her out of the loop. She didn't like babies that much and she didn't know what to do with the crying and feeding and schedule. So I did it."
"All?"
He shrugs.
Kate's fingers smooth Dashiell's knee, his socked foot, and he watches the baby as well.
Maybe he shouldn't have been quite so honest. Maybe she really didn't want to know. "Too much?"
"No, no. I. . .didn't realize. I was joking but. . ." Her head lifts and she gives him a studying look. "Is that why you always go get him before I even get a chance?"
"You need your sleep," he murmurs. She nearly died in that hospital, nearly died because she gave him a son, a kid she wasn't really gung-ho about in the first place. And he'd promised her that she wouldn't have to worry about it, wouldn't have to stress over it.
"Are you trying to cut me out the loop?" she asks, and he doesn't hear any accusation, just that careful and deliberate focus she's always had. "Are you expecting to have to do this alone?"
He grunts and runs his hand down his face. "I asked you to marry me, Kate. Does that sound like I'm trying to cut you out of the loop?"
She snags his hand and draws it away from his eyes; he looks at her but there's very little hope for a different answer. She's cradling his face with her hand, and he forces himself to just not ask. Not in so many words.
"It's not a trap," she says quietly, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip.
He frowns. "I'm not looking to trap you, Kate. I-"
She silences him by pressing her thumb to his mouth, huffing at him. "Did I say that? I meant you. I'm not going to trap you into a third marriage just because we have a kid together."
He frowns deeply and pulls back from her touch with a growl. "Isn't that one of the best reasons to get married?"
"No," she says calmly. "Did it work with Meredith?"
"You're not Meredith," he says intently. He's never - they haven't gotten down to the part where they talk about things like this, about why his marriages failed or why she can't seem to let anyone close enough to do real damage. Is this where it starts?
"Castle. We'll do this at our own speed."
Her speed, she means.
But he's good with that. He will do whatever she wants him to.