restless
He's going to trip.
The fusty heat rising up from the canyons of New York curls inside the open window and turns the linoleum to molasses, his shoes sticking with every desperate step. The soles cling to the floor, a web of tar between him and the ground, and he stumbles.
Kate's on her feet next to him before he even manages to tether himself, her palm cradling his elbow and the slender line of her body pressed close.
"You okay?"
Castle lifts a trembling hand to his temple to catch the bead of sweat that breaks from his hairline, free falling to the precipice of his jaw. "Why is there no damn air conditioning?"
"There is in the waiting room, buddy." Kate offers him a smile, knowing better than to lace her fingers through his.
Not right now. He doesn't want to be tethered, not even to his wife. He needs to move.
"That's too far away. What if she needs me?"
He turns to resume his sentry and Kate falls in to step beside him, nudging at his elbow with her own the way they always have done. It's ridiculous, of course he knows that, but he can't sit still. And Beckett keeps shooting him these concerned glances like she thinks he's going to fall apart on her.
Which he might. He really, really might.
"Rick, come on. Let's go get some air."
"Kate, please." He manages to choke out, turning so fast that she crashes into him. She sets both hands at his shoulders and squeezes, hard enough that the shard of pain has his knees buckling.
"Castle. Eli will call us if anything develops, okay? Let's get something to drink."
Right. Yes. His daughter's husband promised to let them know the second anything changed. Even so, letting Kate guide him into the elevator opens a chasm in his chest.
Outside, the whole world trips by like ticker tape, too fast for him to catch more than blurred colors, the shimmering gray canvas of the city splashed with the ochre and lime and rose of midsummer. Castle fumbles for Kate's hand, clutching at her fingers until she sighs and lets her palm kiss his.
There's a park across the street and they find some respite under the gentle shade of an elm, the dappled sunlight caressing the lines of Kate's face. Rick leans back against the bench, curling his fingers around the slats on either side of his hips. Kate hooks her foot around his ankle and the contact is a jolt that eases him, somehow.
Everything will be alright. Kate's here.
"Do you want to call the kids? Will that help?" She's saying, her phone already out of her pocket and offered up to him.
He can't even reply, can't do anything past lean in and dust his mouth across hers. It's too hot for more, too hot for his hands on her skin, but he thinks she'll understand anyway. How very grateful he is.
"No. Not until we have news. You think they're okay?"
Kate raises an eyebrow at him, her mouth stitched into a seam. And still, even now after almost fifteen years, it has him shifting uncomfortably. "You don't trust my dad with our children, Castle?"
"Of course I do." Rick kisses her again, tastes the rich and beautiful love she's full with. Love for their family.
His and Kate's.
He can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it, though. Here they are, waiting for the birth of their first grandchild, and just last night his youngest daughter was curled up on his chest reading Dr Seuss with him.
"Do you think it's odd? Jack and Bea only being a little bit older than their niece or nephew."
Kate bites her lip and regards him carefully. He loves this about her. She never brushes him off with a half-formed answer. Always takes the time to really consider it, because she knows that it matters to him. And so it matters to her, too. "I think that maybe, on the outside it seems a little strange. I mean, Bea's only gonna be four years older than the baby. But this is our family, Rick. It works for us this way."
"Yeah, I know. It's just weird. My baby girl is only just four and I'm gonna be a grandfather. And you, Kate. A grandmother at forty one."
She blushes, her face breaking into a soft smile that hints at the tributaries nestled at the corners of her eyes. The lines of wear that say to him, every time, this is the life she's lived.
Here is the evidence of their love.
"Kate." He whispers, and her smile falters. "Kate, I don't know how to do this. Be a grandfather."
Kate slips her hand inside his jacket pocket, his shoulder nestled between her breasts. "Rick, come on. You remember when Jack was born? And you said to me that you didn't know how to be a father to a son."
"Yeah."
Holding his newborn son in his arms, Kate's hand cradled around the soft cap of downy hair, he had panicked. He's never had a father-son relationship before, and the tiny human being in his arms needed him to get it right.
Still does.
"He adores you, Castle. He sees the world as this wonderful, amazing place full of adventure and intrigue, and you do that for him. Jack couldn't ask for a better father than you. And Alexis and Bea too. You can do this."
The first time Rick gets to hold his grandson, Kate swipes at the tears tripping down his cheeks and laughs, leaning in to kiss him. The baby's tiny, perfect fingers curl around his own and he cracks open on a grin, glancing up to see his daughter crying too. Jim shows up with Jack and Bea and the two of them charge at him, peering down at their nephew.
It's odd, and unusual, but it works for them.
