Title: Patient

CHAPTER 1

Summary: Castle receives uncertain news from his doctor, and Kate helps him through the earliest part of the journey. This is an AU story with nothing but the most minor of spoilers, if any. Begins roughly between Undead Again and Always, at least as far as the dynamic of Rick and Kate's relationship at that point. (i.e.: they aren't in one, but they both want to be. They are trying to push walls and lies and obsessions out of the way…)

Possibly M in the future. This will be Caskett, but you can pretty much pretend the Always ending never happened… I know… BLASPHEMY!

Author's Notes: Since the 12th Precinct no longer physically exists, I used the address of the 9th Precinct, which has been used for exterior shots of the 12th. The address used for the sake of this story is 321 East 5th St. between 2nd Ave. and 1st Ave.

I have created a physician for Castle. Dr. Dean Edward's is an original character and even though it shouldn't contradict anything from the show regarding Castle's general medical practitioner, I felt better creating a character to do what I wanted in this story.

My plan is for this to be a multi-chapter story. I absolutely want to complete it, but as we all know- reviews motivate. Thank you for taking the time to favorite, save, or review this story. Thank you to anyone who has read and enjoyed my previous stories as well. Your feedback is critical.

**I just want to come out and say that this is NOT, nor will it become a "character death" story. I want to explore the nature of the illness side by side with the way relationships grow and change. So please don''t be afraid to read because you are imagining a death. That is just not something I am trying to translate with this story. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Castle, ABC, Disney or related parties.

He left the 12th early that day, saying quick goodbyes' as he walked towards her desk. He smiled at her, expecting to be accused of abandoning the paperwork she was stuck doing on an off day. Instead she smiled back, holding his gaze for that instant too long. The moment during which epics are told and lives are changed. She didn't look away as she said "Tomorrow?" adding an increase in pitch at the end of the word, which would normally indicate that a question was being asked. Really, though, it was a statement. A commitment. He responded with the same word, "Tomorrow." Spoken softly and evenly. Their eyes held onto one another, flowing like vernal pools of blues and greens and browns before he cast his downward. He smiled briefly, again, before slinging his coat across his arm and walking towards the elevator. She watched him, even after the elevator doors had closed.

It was a beautiful day. One of those perfect New York afternoons with the bluest skies and the whitest, fluffiest clouds. It was warm, but not humid, and the breeze was amazing. The proximity of the buildings often created wind tunnels, and Castle loved how they take your breath away, making you feel almost as if you could flying. He decided against taking his car. Dr. Edwards' office was just a few blocks up on 6th, and the walk would do him good.

He had been a patient of Dr. Dean Edwards' for years, and Rick trusted him implicitly. The man had helped find the perfect pediatrician for Alexis, and had always offered more than the quick once-over that most doctors can barely find the time to give these days. They were on a first name basis, and Dean had become a confidant as much as a physician.

He had seen Dr. Edwards earlier in the week. He had a few spells of shortness of breath, and had just felt generally weak. Rick was really bad about keeping up with the standard, once-a-year appointments, and as usual, it was Alexis who had convinced him to go. He kept telling her that it was just a bug, just "something going around", but when the day came, it was Alexis who reminded him, pulling jeans and a royal blue "Goonies Forever" t-shirt from his closet and throwing them at him.

At Dean's office, Castle made small talk with the receptionists and the nurses, all of whom knew him by name, all very clearly charmed by him. When Dr. Edwards had opened the door to the exam room after a small knock, he greeted Castle with a strong, informal and friendly handshake. As he performed routine exams and tests on Castle, listening to his breathing and feeling his chest and arms, he asked about Alexis, his mother, his writing, his work at the 12th. He finished quickly before writing a quick order for a blood draw. All ordinary, all typical, all routine.

As Castle crossed over to 6th, on the way to this unexpected second visit, he began to feel anxious. He thought more about it, about the reason for this return visit, and was surprised at himself that he hadn't asked when the doctor had called. He was a writer. He always asked for more information. He quickened his pace as he made his way to the glass paned office building that housed Dean Edwards' practice. He entered, bypassing the elevators to make his way directly to the stairs. He took them two at a time, winded and dizzy by the time he made it to the 3rd floor. He stopped at the landing to catch his breath, to wait for the world to stop spinning. He grasped at his burning, tightening chest as he stabilized himself on the railing next to the door. He blinked rapidly, waiting for his vision to return to normal, waiting for the burning to stop.

Castle was terrified. It was by far the worst episode he had experienced as of yet. As it wound slowly out of his body, giving him back his breath, his vision slowly improved. For the first time, he felt like perhaps Alexis had been right, that perhaps something could be wrong. Perhaps getting checked out was not such a bad idea. He was in his 40's, but he liked to think that he was in reasonable shape. His eating habits could be better, but he stayed away from unhealthy vices, for the most part. Still, he was just beginning to cross the precipice after which the risk for health problems increases, so getting a handle on things now felt like the smartest thing to do.

After checking in with Darla, the long-time receptionist, Castle noticed that he was alone in the waiting room. It was a rarity he almost never saw, especially in the afternoon on a weekday. He hadn't been seated long enough to even open a magazine when Dr. Edwards himself opened the door to the waiting area, waving him back. Castle followed Dean to the examination room he had been in last week, but things felt different. Normally the waiting room was packed, and a nurse came and got him for the doctor, and he waited several minutes for the doctor to come to the room. None of it felt right, and it scared him.

As Castle sat with his legs hanging over the exam table, Dean wheeled his stool towards him. He looked up at Castle and gave him a sad, knowing smile. "Please, Dean. Tell me," Rick begged. He didn't know what it was, but his friend was talking and behaving in a way that didn't reassure him. Coupled with the experience he had just had on the stairs, and his symptoms from the last few weeks, he was afraid.

Dean sighed. "We don't know exactly what it is, Rick." He revealed finally. "We need to run some more tests, but I'm just going to be straight with you." Rick and Dean sighed simultaneously, drawing strength from somewhere in the room, the world, the ether.

Dean continued. "Like I said, Rick, more tests need to be done. It could be a lot of different things. Chances are-".

Castle cut him off. He didn't want to be given the textbook medical spiel, not by his friend, anyway. "Dean, please. Just tell me." He pleaded.

Dean looked down at the brown tiled floor. It was practically a relic of a time when such ugly colors and patterns were acceptable. He took in a hearty breath of air before looking back up at Castle.

"Rick," he began. "Rick, your white blood cell count is very low. It's too low."

"So what does that mean?" begged Rick, his voice raising.

"It could mean cancer, Rick. It could be something else, or it could be nothing, but I need to run some more comprehensive blood tests as well as send you for a CT-Scan before you leave today."

Castle didn't realize that he had started holding his breath until he felt himself begin to choke. His hands shook and he wanted to run. Usually not one to directly avoid uncomfortable situations, for a second he understood what it was like for Beckett, to feel the intense, uncontrollable drive to run in the opposite direction, to escape. It felt so much worse to stay put, to remain sitting in this awful reality playing out before him.

Dean could sense, hell, he could see what Rick was going through. This was the worst part of the job; telling people that their worst fears were coming true. It was especially difficult when it involved delivering the news to a friend. He combed his fingers through his hair as he searched for the impossible words to say next.

"Rick, if it is cancer, we will treat it, but we don't know anything yet. You only appear mildly, maybe occasionally moderately symptomatic, but I want to move quickly on this." Dr. Edwards said in the most reassuring of tones. It was a voice he had perfected over years of giving both patients and families the worst news of their lives.

Castle couldn't speak, although he wondered if the episode he had just experienced in the stairwell would qualify as "mild" or "moderate". The uncertainty of it all made things worse. He trembled and tried to push back the tears that threatened to cascade down his face. In the awkward silence that follows a potential death sentence, Rick wished that there was a way to know the ultimate, genuine collection of facts. He hated these word games and half-truths. Listening to phrases like "Maybe it's nothing" in the same sentence as "It might kill you" felt like a cruel joke. He would have much rather have just heard "Rick, you have cancer" than "Rick, you may have cancer, but we need to poke and prod at you a bit before we can give you more of a definitive answer."

Dr. Edwards broke the silence, repeating himself by insisting that they 'move quickly'. What the hell did that mean, anyway?

"I'd like to send you down now for the additional blood work and the CAT scan, so that we can get some answers and move forward accordingly."

Rick nodded his head, unable to verbalize the millions of thoughts that were swimming around each other in his mind. Dean wrote up orders for the blood work and procedures and gave him verbal directions to the lab before looking him squarely in the face. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything," he said simply before sending him on his way. More vagueness. Castle hated it.

The lab was nearly empty, as if the world decided to stay well that day, to stay out of hospitals and waiting rooms and doctor's offices. He apparently hadn't got the memo. The lab had a sterile smell to it, like bleach and rubbing alcohol. It smelled clean and sanitary. It smelled like sickness.

"Richard Castle?"… He was pulled out of his shocked, quiet numbness by the phlebotomist calling his name. He got up slowly, following her into a clinical area with plastic chairs and sinks, red biohazard containers, and large plastic tube full of supplies. The woman worked quickly, not saying much. The silence was okay with him though, because he didn't have much to say either.

She snapped a blue rubber tourniquet above his elbow, and flicked at the inside of his arm while looking for a vein. She gave no warning as she pierced his skin with the needle, but he barely felt it. The only thing that affected him was the minor dizziness he felt after what looked like a dozen vials of his blood were collected. It seemed like more than usual. She quickly marked each vial with his name, and when he tried to stand, she simply held her arm out, adding "stay put", without looking up from her task. He remained seated in the chair until she finally lifted the armrest so that he could get up. She placed a piece of medical tape and gauze over the tiny drop of blood at the spot where the skin had been broken before walking him back out to the waiting room and to the exit.

He roamed around in a mild stupor until he found someone who could direct him to the radiology department. He wanted to get the CAT scan done and over with so that he could get out of this place. The air was stifling, the smell was chemical, and everyone was in a hurry. He also had cancer, it seemed, and he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Laying prone on the CAT Scan table, he felt like a child. Afraid, alone, and reassured by phrases like "you're doing fine, just a few more minutes" and "we're right here if you need us"… They were expressions he would say to Alexis when she was hurt or sick, and the truth was that they helped, felt comforting, at least for the moment.

After a claustrophobic experience in the CT tube, he was finally able to leave the hospital, at least for the day. Dean met him as he was heading towards the exit, promising again that he would put a rush on everything, and that he would call him as soon as possible. When he took his hand to say goodbye, Dean pulled him into a hug that made him feel like he was dying.

Castle crossed over to 5th street, making his way back to the 12th Precinct. His car was there, comfort was there, family was there. Kate was there too, although she might make him feel even further away than he already does. Or she could heal him. It was like Russian roulette.

He tried to convince himself that he was glad he had decided to walk the short, fifteen minute distance from the precinct to Dr. Edwards'. He thought the walk back would give him time to think, time to get a handle on it all. It only took a few minutes for Castle to realize that he was in over his head. The thoughts were coming too quickly, contradicting themselves. He felt trapped in the crowds of people jaywalking, stopping to look at maps, taking photos. He felt claustrophobic for the second time that day. He felt like everything was collapsing in on itself as he struggled to get to the 12th, he wondered if this was what a panic attack was like. Was this what she has been going through for the last year?

He backed up against a wall a few blocks from the station, his hands on his knees, his head down. He struggled to catch his breath, but felt like he was drowning in himself, in the world around him. He felt like he was being swallowed. The parade of voices from every direction made it impossible to think. He wanted to scream, to run, to curl up like a baby, in the fetal position.

A second before he was sure he was going to drop, he felt two hands on the side of his face.

"Castle?" she questioned as she pulled his head up. It was Kate.

When she saw his face, she was horrified to see it red, swollen, tear stained. She could hear him choking back sobs. She didn't know what this was about, but she knew the feelings that bring about such a reaction. And she knew him.

She reached for him, snaking her arms underneath him, wrapping her arms around his back. After a few still seconds, he reached for her in return. He grabbed at her back and sobbed against her neck. She knew enough not to ask questions right now. Questions push people away. She lifted her head and looked around at their location. They were less than a block from the 12th, but there were people everywhere. Too many people, too many for either of them.

"Can you walk with me for a minute, Castle?" she asked. He nodded affirimitively against her, and she turned to open them up. With their arms still wrapped around each other's backs, she moved for them. She led them across the street, and then down an alley near the back of a pizza joint. At the end, the walls opened outward, creating a dark circle with a sunny space that looked like a miniature flower garden. There were wooden crates turned upside down like stools. She let go of him to grab one, setting it down beneath where he stood. She grabbed a second one, setting it close and across from him. She sat, and motioned for him to do the same. He slumped down onto the box, falling into her embrace, their knees seated in between one another.

She had found this little spot during one of her worst panic attacks, when she had searched wide-eyed for a place where no one could see her. She had run out of quiet hallways and vacant offices, but was desperate for a place to catch her breath, to take it all off and breathe. She had darted out the front entrance of the precinct, tearing at her vest, panicked and seeing only in tunnel vision. She must have looked insane, surely not displaying the straight edged, fearless demeanor expected of a member of New York's finest. She didn't care… No, that's not right. She cared, but she couldn't even see objectively during those moments. It was just her and the daunting wall that laughed, cackled at her, challenging her. On that routine work day, she spoke foxhole prayers both aloud and in her head. She ran quickly and diagonally across the road, eliciting horn blows and middle fingers as she narrowly missed being run down by a Suburban. Once she was safely across, she ran between the side exits of a pizza shop and an abandoned office building, following the dark and damp backstreet to the end, where it opened up to a large but vacant concrete shelter. It was lacking a roof but It was quiet enough and comforting in the privacy and solitude it offered. For Kate, it had become a place where she could work through her anxiety alone, where she could cry and express her frustration without feeling judged by the world, by her friends, her family.

She held his head in her hands, absorbing the intensity of his sobs before moving her right hand to his back, tracing comforting circles over the space with her open hand. She whispered in his ear the only reassurances that she knew had helped her. She told him that he was not alone, that she would be there as long as he wanted and needed her to be. She told him that they would get through it together.

As he listened to her words, his breathing began to slow and his tears came less frequently. She rocked him slowly, having stopped talking to give him time to allow the silence to heal him in this moment. As he caught up with himself enough to control his emotions, the first feeling he felt was one of shame, embarrassment. He felt like less of a man, and as he tried to pull away from her grasp, she resisted him. She knew the need to escape. She was an expert at it and knew that it only made things worse. The only thing that running away had done for her was further isolate her from the people she loved, from Castle. It kept her alone and suffering, sending her further into her depression, her PTSD, her crippling anxiety. She refused to let him go there.

"Castle", she began in a soft, supportive voice, her mouth against his ear. "You don't have to tell me what happened to you today, although I wish you would. Regardless, though, I'm not leaving you right now. I'll take you home and we'll figure this out together." She said. She wasn't giving him an option. And he knew he could not fight her on this one. He knew that if the tables were turned, he wouldn't leave her either.

"My car's here." He mumbled to her as they stood up to head out of the alley.

"That's okay, Castle. Can't think of a safer place to leave it, right?" Her tone was light, purposely so. He knew she wouldn't let him drive away alone, or hell, drive at all for that matter, so he followed her across the street and back towards the 12th. They took the stairs to the second floor of the parking garage, where she had parked her car that morning. They went slowly, but he was reminded with a jolt of what he experienced in the stairwell at Dr. Edwards' office earlier.

They had walked in virtual silence until Kate unlocked her car with her key chain, opening the doors from ten feet away. He slumped into the passenger seat while Kate put her gun and bulletproof vest in the trunk.

When she slid into the driver's seat, she caught Castle's eyes for a quick moment. She gave him a momentary smile, one that she tried to insert translations of support and comfort into. He smiled back, close-mouthed and unconvincingly. She sighed as she twisted forward in her seat, turning the keys into the ignition until the engine roared to life. She put her right hand on the back of Castle's seat, reaching for the shifter and putting it into reverse before looking behind her. As she began to move her foot from the accelerator, Castle's hand came to rest on hers, over the shift stick.

"Stop, please." He said quietly. Without a word, Kate put the car back in park, and turned the ignition key to the "off" position. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to him once more, waiting for him to speak.

Kate watched his face as he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. He rolled his head back onto the headrest and sighed loudly before finally opening his mouth.

"When I left today, I went to my primary care up the street. I've been getting these …episodes… of tightness in my chest, and I just hadn't felt myself, so Alexis made the appointment." Castle lifted his head to look at her. Her arms were wrapped around the steering wheel, and she had rest her head on them like a pillow, facing him, listening.

"I went in last week and saw my friend Dean, uh Dr. Edwards. It was nothing, no problem. Just routine blood work. It was nothing." He repeated.

"Then why did you go back today, Castle?" Kate asked. She hadn't wanted to push him, but now she was scared. She knew that whatever had happened in that office today was enough to push him to a place that was darker than she had ever seen him go before.

Castle continued, while straightening out a paper clip he had found in his pocket. "Dean thinks I have Cancer, Kate."

He had blurted it out in a manner that shocked him as much as it had her. He hadn't said it out loud yet, and hearing the word spoken in his own voice was jarring.

He looked back at Kate, and saw her mouth hanging open, her hands turning white as she gripped the steering wheel. She looked downward, her hair hanging loose and brushing across her thighs. He watched her, staying silent, holding his breath while she gathered herself around the news that he had just dropped on her. He reached for her, the tips of his fingers lightly grazing her hand as it sat wrapped around the wheel. Her grasp loosened some, and she slowly turned to look at him again. He took in a sharp gasp when he saw what looked like tears in her eyes.

She sighed, long and quiet as she returned his gaze. There were tears in his eyes too as she reached for him awkwardly over the center console, pulling him as closely as possible. Their arms were wrapped around each other, her head on his chest as he cried in her shoulder for the second time that day.

They stayed draped around one another for several minutes, their arms drifting across each other's backs. Kate moved first, pulling back slowly, her eyes pointed towards her hands, which had come to rest on his chest. She tapped him lightly there with her open palms before looking up to him again and opening her mouth.

"So, where do we go, Castle?"

He wasn't sure he understood her question, and he knew it showed. He simply stared back at her, dumbfounded… It could mean so many things.

She took his face in hers and spoke again with intention and purpose. "Castle," she began. "How do we fix this? When do we get the answers to make you better, if that's what this is?"

She had found out about Castle's condition, whatever it was, only minutes after he did. He knew as much as she did, he was just as confused.

"I… I don't know," he stammered. "Dean called me in for a second appointment, said he had something to discuss with me. He told me my white blood cell count was too low, and he sent me for more tests. He told me he'd call me as soon as he knew anything, but Beckett, he scared the shit out of me. I've never seen him like he was today." Her hands were back on his chest, and she could see them rising from the heart pounding beneath them.

She bit her lip hard, trying to hold back any more tears. He was going to have enough of his own without having to take the time to wipe hers away.

She breathed deeply before speaking again. "Okay, Castle. I'm just going to need you to let me help you walk through this." She put her hand up to silence him when he started to open his mouth. "I need you to let me be there for you. I know things have been difficult lately, but the concept of 'partners' will always apply. The concept of 'always'… will always apply."

He stared at her, mouth gaped as he nodded his head slowly.

"Good", she said, turning the ignition over once again before pulling out of the parking spot. Once the car was in drive, she reached over to him once more, and put her hand in his.

His biggest fear had always been dealing with the big stuff alone, or leaving Alexis without a parent. The thought of withering away to some bad luck, luck-of-the-draw disease, of falling further and further from his own life, it terrified him. He didn't know if he even had cancer yet, but the whole thing sounded pretty grim.

Feeling her warm hand in his made things just a little less heavy, hearing her promise to be there with him, whatever that meant, made it all a bit less menacing. They were going to get answers and they were going to deal with them. They were going to travel this road.

He got so much more comfort from the pronouns, "they" and "we" than from the singular "I". He might be able to get through this terrible day as long as they did it together.

Tomorrow still scared the shit out of him.