Thanks to the reviewers and to my fantastic beta :) I wonder if many of you predicted this person as someone who would get a part?
Eight in the Night.
Two: Jenny.
He didn't call.
That was her first chance to worry.
He always calls. Some people (read her unmarried friends) call them overly affectionate. Gross. She thinks one of them called them.
But he always calls.
Even when it's 3am. He calls to say he's leaving the precinct and does she need anything.
But tonight he didn't call.
So she was surprised when he was home when she got home.
Even more so that he didn't get up to kiss her hello. He didn't even move towards her.
He's been like this before, he's a cop. She understands he sees things that would haunt her.
But this seems so different.
She asked if he wanted her to call someone, Beckett, Esposito even Castle. He shook his head as if that would be the worst thing she could even consider doing.
She offered him dinner. He pushed it around his plate.
She tried to tell him about her day – he normally listens so intently. He barely raised his eyes from his plate.
She suggested they take a walk after dinner, they sometimes do so. But tonight it was a no.
She busied herself with tidying the kitchen, she offered him coffee. He drank it. He smiled at her. She thought that was a breakthrough. She asked him what was wrong.
He told her that nothing stays the same.
She's worried. But he kissed her goodnight and told her he loved her. And no matter what he would always answer the phone if she needed him.
He went to bed.
She followed him soon after. He snuggled towards her.
She lay there thinking. Eventually she fell asleep.
But she woke up again. And he was gone.
She took his phone and tried to call Esposito. He didn't answer. Neither did Beckett and neither Castle.
She deleted the calls once she was done. That was her choice. She's his wife and she cares.
She found him eventually. Staring at the cold tea in front of him. She encouraged him back to bed. He came willingly. She thinks he's gone back to sleep. His breathing has evened out and the snuffling sounds have started.
But she can't sleep. Hundreds of thoughts run through her mind. All of them more worrying than the next. He's here next to her, her head is on his chest.
But he's never felt so far away.
Whatever happened today was serious. She's never seen him like this. And for none of his colleagues to answer his calls something must be wrong with them too.
She closes her fingers around a fistful of his t-shirt, holding him close. He's here with her for tonight. That's more than she had for many nights last summer, when he was off chasing gunmen.
She only hopes this isn't as bad. If only she could chase off the vacant look, the glazed eyes that say that his mind is anywhere but with her.
Because they seem to show her that this is worse.
Much worse.