Half-Light
She wanted to pick up her son, have her family around her like insulation or cotton wool, but it's ridiculous. Irrational. And so she's without him, Dashiell, the sensation like a phantom limb, like a frayed edge to her shirt that she keeps picking at, telling herself it's nothing, but unable to stop worrying over it.
Ellery sleeps against her chest, little mouth open at Kate's sternum, the wisps of dark hair curling at the girl's delicate ear, the line of her neck. Kate smooths it down again, these flyaway pieces, leans forward from the headboard to brush her lips over Ellery's cheek. She slides her knees up in bed and tilts her head back again.
The weight of her baby girl, warm and sweaty with sleep, does much to keep Kate from spinning out. But when she closes her eyes, she still sees the man at her left rock backwards, sees the explosion of jaw bone and flesh and blood - not right, not good.
She opens her eyes, blinks rapidly, stares down at her daughter: pale cheek, parted mouth, tiny fingers, narrow shoulders under the onesie. She smooths her thumb down the slope of the girl's back, little body hunched up into her mother.
Kate's throat eases, and she lifts her eyes to watch Castle move around their bedroom, dumping clothes into suitcases, stopping midway as he remembers something else and disappears beyond her view. When he comes back with another bag, she finally asks, curious now.
"We going somewhere?"
"Yes." He wiggles his eyebrows at her, plants two fists into the mattress for balance and leans over to snag her mouth in a quick, intrusive kiss. She reaches up a hand to grab for his neck, hold him in place, but he's already darting back.
"Where you going?" she laughs.
"Stuff to do, babe."
"Castle," she growls, pointing her finger at him. He grins back and disappears out the door again.
Kate turns to the sleeping six month old, strokes her finger over the baby's forehead. "Daddy is being goofy, isn't he?" she murmurs softly. She's not afraid of waking Ella; the little thing sleeps all the time, through the worst of Dashiell's tantrums or the tv turned up. "You're out, baby girl, aren't you? Just like your daddy. I'm so glad you can sleep."
Castle returns just then, bringing his smile and a pile of clothes from the laundry room with him. "She's a champion sleeper. We have competitions. She beats me every time."
Kate laughs, feels the sound of it release something in her chest that spills over her eyes as well, faint marks wet against her cheeks. Mortifying, the way she can't seem to control it anymore. She swipes at her eyes with her free hand.
Castle comes to the bed, curls his hand at the back of her neck and kisses her forehead. "Hey." Concern and resignation in one. His lips feather against her eyelid, her temple.
"Yeah." She nods against his touch, letting him know all he needs to know. Just that she's there with him. Everything else is too complicated at the moment.
He leans back, his fingers brush the hair away from her face.
"So. I was thinking."
She takes a breath. "Yeah?"
"The Hamptons. It's summer - there's the pool, the beach, the hottub. . ." Castle leers at her; she laughs again, sighing into it this time, feeling her body relax.
"The Hamptons."
"Yeah."
"Will Alexis be able to go?" Allie. Kate smiles to herself, sees that Castle appreciates the use of his daughter's given name, not the nickname she and Alexis have started using.
"No," he says softly. "I already called."
"Oh." It's been harder than she expected, letting her go, having her leave the apartment after spending all last year with them. "Still. . ."
"It'll be the rest of us. It can be good. You need it," he says finally, as if closing the deal.
She does. Need it. Badly. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes. Let's go the Hamptons in the middle of the week, in the hottest month of the year-"
"We can shoot fireworks." He grins and glances down to their bags at the end of the bed. "Dash will love-"
"No."
"Kate."
"No. My son is not shooting fireworks, Richard Castle."
He narrows his eyes at her. "We'll talk."
"No talk necessary. Final word."
"I was shooting fireworks-"
"Not at two!"
His mouth quirks; he has her. "Au contraire-"
"Seriously? Your mother let-" Kate stops, bites it back. Of course. His mother had no idea. Kate gives just slightly. "We'll talk."
"Yes!" Castle fist pumps and jumps up from the bed.
"That is not a yes, Castle."
"It might as well be."
And though she's ticked at him (because he's probably right; he can sweettalk her into anything), she's also warming up, so grateful for his nudges, the way he cajoles and teases and makes outlandish and crazy statements to get her riled up, back to herself.
Kate untangles an arm from around Ellery, reaches out to snag Castle's belt loop, tugging. He turns back to her, smile still flirting with his lips.
"Thank you."
Kate leaves Castle in the car with Ellery and heads into West Park to pick up her son. She's got the ID card in hand and swipes it across the lock, lets herself in. She has to sign him out at the front desk; Kim brings Dashiell out herself, holding him by the hand.
Kate's chest eases as Dash catches sight of her and grins. She kneels down to catch him, the boy flying at her, backpack thumping, and she wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He smells like play-doh and sunshine and little boy sweat.
"Hey there, baby," she murmurs, then kisses his cheek with a smack, rubs her lip gloss from his skin with her thumb.
"Mommy picks me up?"
"Today I am," she says, grinning at him.
He wraps his arms around her neck. "Carry you," he says, reverting to baby talk.
Kate picks him up, has to slide his backpack off his shoulders to keep from pitching forwards. She slings his bag over her own shoulder, kisses him again, the relief of having him rushing through her like a flash flood, sweeping away her common sense.
"Did Rick tell you we'd be out of town the next three days?"
Kim smiles. "I heard. Thank you for letting us know. Hey, Dash, you have fun, okay?"
"Okay."
His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, twirling slowly. Kate thanks Ms. Kim for bringing him out.
"Oh, and he hasn't napped yet. Just to let you know."
Explains the way his head droops to Kate's shoulder.
"Okay, my wild man, you ready to go?"
"I'm all ready. Daddy?"
"Daddy and baby girl are in the car waiting on us."
"Where we go, Mommy?"
"We're going to our house on the beach, remember our house on the beach?"
"With the pool. I 'member." His fingers twirl again, little fingers brushing her skin as she walks them out of the preschool. The curl has fallen out of his hair in the last year, but it does wave a little at the front; his eyes are dark as her own, more so at times. She kisses his cheek again, can't help it, and he leans his head against hers with a sigh.
"You tired, baby?"
"We almost had naptime."
"Well, we'll be in the car for naptime. You can watch your dvds, sleep if you want."
"Hard to sleep, Mommy."
"I know it is, sweetheart." She squeezes him, sighing at the thought. "But you usually sleep in the car, you know?"
"I do?"
"Mm, you do." She sees Castle climbing out of the passenger seat, opening the back door and holding his hands out for Dash. She passes him over so that Castle can strap him into his seat, glances over his shoulder to see little Ellery - still asleep.
Dash happily kicks the back of the seat in front of him, holds his hands out, gimme gimme. Kate nudges the back of Castle's knee, making him glance back at her.
"His dvd player - the headphones," she murmurs.
He nods. "In the bag up front."
Kate moves around him, grabs the kid's travel bag from the floorboard of the passenger seat. Inside, she finds the portable dvd player, grabs his headphones and plugs them in, then hands it back to Castle.
"Which movie you want, buddy?"
"My movie."
Castle nods at her, but she has no idea. "What movie is that?"
"Incredibles."
Oh, right. The boy's name in that one is Dash; she forgot he liked it so much.
"Daddy, we gonna miss baseball."
"Well, yeah, the afternoon game. I did promise, but we'll watch tomorrow's on satellite at the beach. How about that?"
"Can I swim in the pool?"
"Of course. And Daddy will take you in the ocean too," Kate says, handing over the correct dvd to Castle.
He pops it in, sets everything up, and then shuts the door on Dash in the back seat. Kate glances over at Castle, pulls the keys out of her pocket, holds them up by the keychain he bought for her awhile back - it is, quite literally, a ball and chain.
Castle closes his fingers around the keys, raises an eyebrow at her.
"Three hour drive," she murmurs, shakes her head at him. "I'd rather you do it. I want to. . .turn around and look at my kids."
Castle's arm hooks around her neck before she has a chance to even register the tenderness springing up in his eyes. She goes into him, takes in a deep breath of the scent of his skin, kisses his neck. She's wearing jeans, a white tshirt, boots with a low heel, sloppily pulled together really, but it's about all she can manage right now.
She still sees Berlinsky when she closes her eyes, and sometimes even when her eyes are open. The gaping maw, the roll of his agonized eyes, the scrabble of his panicked hands against her vest, her neck, trying to get purchase on her as he fell - needing help or mindless with pain.
Castle's mouth against her temple, his soft and heavy breathing brings her rushing back into the present moment. Kate sucks in a breath and squeezes his forearm, letting him know she's okay. For now.
"I'll drive then," he says.
When they both get in the Audi, his hand creeps over the center console and lays on top of hers, lacing their fingers together, not letting go.
She tries to shake him off when he starts the car, but he makes her wrap her hand around the gearshift, put the car into first as they drive through the parking lot and out the church's main gate. He still doesn't let go, even though it's awkward, and then they shift the car into second, third, fourth at his directing touch, her palm to the warm leather.
Changing gears together.
"He has Julie tomorrow at nine," she murmurs, flipping through the planner that Castle likes to refer to as their Dash-book. "I'll call her and cancel."
"Ask what she wants to do about the washing machine."
Kate bites her lower lip, rubs her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I forgot to tell you."
"What?" he says, glancing over at her briefly before putting his eyes back on the road.
"She's going to email a social story. For the washing machine. She told me to read him the story before we have to do a load, and then whenever we see him about to have a meltdown."
"Really?" Castle huffs out a breath. He's the one who found Julie, Dashiell's behavioral therapist, and he was the one who insisted that they follow her to the letter. But Kate often has to fight him to believe in those methods as wholeheartedly as she does. She has a feeling that Castle thinks that she's trying to fix their son, but she's not.
"It will work, Rick," she says wearily. She doesn't want to have this fight again. "You know the social stories work. Remember the story we used to get him to wear his sunglasses?"
"Yeah, but that was actually in his benefit. The noise of the washing machine actually hurts him, Kate. I don't think telling him a story is going to change his body's inability to process sounds correctly."
"I think it can. The power of suggestion, first of all. And jeez, Castle, coming from you? You seriously want me to believe that a story can't change someone's life?"
He growls but she knows it's not at her. Well, a little of it is, probably. He's mostly just upset that she keeps holding out for a magic cure for Dashiell's issues. She knows it won't happen overnight, but she's not going to dismiss something before they even try.
"All right. Fine. I'll tell him a social story about the washing machine. Did you print it off?"
She's about to say yes when her lungs expand into a yawn that cracks her jaw wide and arches her back. She huffs a laugh, rubs her eyes, closes the datebook with all of Dashiell's therapy appointments. "Okay, truce. I'm a little. . ."
"Exhausted?" he offers, shooting her a grin as he drives. "My bad. You should sleep. I'll call Julie and cancel when we get to the house."
She hums and nods at him, her eyes already closing. A flash of memory - dangling jaw, clawing fingers - has her jerking upright, eyes open again. She swallows hard and turns in her seat to look at her kids.
Dashiell is asleep, his head propped against the car seat, mouth open, headphones slipping off his ears. She leaves him as he is, knowing that even a touch will wake him up again, then cranes her neck and looks at the tiny little girl in her carrier, still so very small even as six months.
"Kids asleep?" Castle says softly.
"Yeah."
"Your turn, Kate."
"Yeah. Just." She can't say she's having flashbacks, can't really say anything at all. She doesn't want those pictures in Castle's head either.
He lifts a hand from the wheel and clasps hers. "I'll wake you before you can wake them."
She blinks back the overwhelming urge to cry, knowing it's just the day and her kid's issues and her own hormones, but she tilts her face up to the roof of the car on a sigh, chewing on her tongue to keep from spilling more tears.
Castle releases her hand. "Sleep."
"Yeah." This time when she closes her eyes, there's just the outline of pink around darkness, the sun still trying to get at her behind her eyelids. And that's okay.
