Chapter Four

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October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

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Kate pulls the blankets of her bed up higher, as if burrowing under their weight will push her down–minimize her somehow. She's been avoiding the outside world for hours; is trying this on as another way to cope.

After Castle had left her shocked, stunned, in that hospital bed, the doctors had finally released her and while going to stay with her Dad wasn't a bad idea, she just wanted to be home, wallow in her own pity party, ignoring everything.

At least that had been the plan until, they'd medically advised her that she really shouldn't be alone just yet, that she needed someone around to ensure that the consequences of that day continued to remain absent. No more collapsing, no more heavy bleeding, no temperatures, no infections. Their list just went on and on until she relented, finally called Lanie back, asked her friend to stay over on one condition; no discussing what had occurred.

Kate has to give her best friend credit where credit's due. Considering all the phone calls and texts that she had ignored from the Medical Examiner and the boys at work– Lanie had still come through. She'd arrived at the hospital, helped her discharge and taken her straight home, all without a word in regard to what had happened, nothing more than small talk.

After arriving at her apartment, Kate had done her best to avoid all conversation. She'd cleaned the place from top to bottom, as if being clean could in some way, erase the feelings inside, could tidy her mind as it hurtled from one agonizing thought to another.

It wasn't until she had showered that she'd snapped. Curled on the cold floor as the water crashed down from above, she had scrubbed her skin raw in a misguided attempt to strip herself of her emotions, before she'd collapsed. Sob after dry sob, had wracked her body, her heart cracking under the pressure and yet she still couldn't weep, and she so desperately craved the release–the ability to cry it out, but nothing would come. And that had destroyed her all over again.

What kind of person doesn't even cry over their baby.

Pulling the sheets up higher, Kate tries again to disappear within the darkness, clear her mind of all that has happened.

Sensing movement by the doorway, she closes her eyes, blocks Lanie out as she approaches, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. Silence surrounds them, pierces as if pointed, and both women wait for the other to cave first, to break the quiet. Two headstrong, independent individuals who have spent years perfecting the art of getting under each other's skin; exposing the truth.

A loud knocking on the apartment door interrupts them and Lanie jumps; the noise startles her out of their stillness, and the bed shifts as she stands. The noise though, has the opposite effect on Kate, who becomes frozen, muscles tensing–she doesn't need a clock to tell her that twenty-four hours have passed, that Castle is here.

As Lanie huffs a sigh, most likely in disappointment–when isn't she a disappointment–she heads out to answer the door, to let him in.

Oh, damn. Castle. Here. She's not ready. She's not ready.

Inching down, Kate repositions her head so that she's completely buried, remains hidden as she hears them approach, and she holds her breath waiting. Waiting for the grief to rip her apart again. The sight of him, she knows will fracture all the boxes she has managed to create. All the internal structures that now hold her feelings. So many feelings.

"Kate, you ready to go?" Even through the blankets, she can hear his voice rasp as if the words had moved through sandpaper before finally reaching her.

She wants too. Desperately wants to get up and crawl into his arms, stay there for as long as he will hold her. But the darkness has crawled inside her heart and haunts her thoughts–leaves her doubting everyone around her, leaves her doubting herself, and it laughs at the idea.

He doesn't want her, he doesn't want something so broken and shattered. It's best in the long run, best for him if he gets on with his life. Away from the tragedy that is her. He needs to find someone who is worthy of his magic, his light, his love.

"I'm not coming."

The sentence may be muffled, but she still manages to get it out clearly, strong in its deception, hiding the declaration that she wishes she could say.

Don't go.

There's a pause, almost as if he's waiting for the rest of her statement, doesn't believe that those three words are all she's going to give him. He fails to realise that those three words are all that she has left. She can't do this, and she wonders for a moment if she's going to survive this.

How could this be worse than a shot to the heart? How could a shooting even begin to compare to the emotional trauma that currently rages through her? Through them both?

"Get. Out. Of. Bed!" Each word is punctuated with a deep breath, as if she was a tantruming child who was refusing to get up for breakfast, rather than an adult responsible for her own life. For the first time since this all began spiralling downhill, she feels something, something other then the black hole that has engulfed every part of her.

She's pissed.

Shoving the covers down so that they pool at her waist, Kate sits upright, back straight, eyes blazing as she spits out, "Don't talk to me as if I were a child!"

Caught in her anger, she misses the signs that he's just as frustrated. Hands curled in fists, biceps tense and protruding, his jaw clenched, as he hisses through his teeth. "Then stop fucking acting like one."

His accusation hangs between them, can be seen as if he'd written the words across the space, bright and burning. Her head recoils as if he had physically slapped her, knees rising as she curls in on herself; her fears confirmed, her guilt verified.

Dropping to sit on the end of the bed, Castle scrubs both hands across his face, shoulders slumping, and his eyes shut tightly, causing little wrinkles of skin to form around his eyes.

"Sorry. I just… Alexis was up half the night and the other half was…"

He shakes his head, as her heart splinters. She's been so seized by the hell that has descended onto her life that she's overlooked what he has been experiencing, continues to be going through. How close he has come to losing so much more than just the concept of a child.

Hurtling herself forward, Kate crawls rapidly to breach the distance between them, shoves each and every thought aside as she reaches him, slides effectively into his lap, as he pulls her near.

Long legs wrap around his waist as she attempts to get closer, chest to chest, arms moving high so that her hands can coast across his shoulders, fingers sliding into his hair as she pulls him closer. Feels his hands spread wide and firm across her back as her draws her in, holds her tight.

Kate attempts to portray with her body that she is here, that she is here for him too. Even if she continues to believe that she can never be enough for him.

He pulls her closer, fingers digging into her petite frame, as he tries to keep it all together, tries to push down the urge to weep against her hair, hold her tight and never let her go.

He's drained, so thoroughly fatigued after last night. He had gotten up repeatedly to check on Alexis, standing in her doorway just so he could watch her sleep. He needed to reassure himself that his child was safe under his roof once again. But, then it would all come crashing down; it could have been children; he could have been a father once more.

So many hours had slipped by as he turned the concept over and over in his head; more children meant more to worry about, would leave him open to more pain, the chance for more loss. There was already so much to lose; he couldn't help but brood over the fact that this could be the event that tears Kate and himself apart, scratching and clawing at them until they are no more. That together they are no more.

Yet, if they are able to make their way to the other side of this nightmare, come through stronger, become more, there's the chance that the images he creates, the stories he tells himself late at night, as he holds her within his arms, maybe, just maybe they could come true. A cheeky little boy, with Kate's emotive eyes, the ability to say so much with just a look, as he regales them with stories about far off lands; new and interesting worlds. Or, a reserved little girl, with loose curls that drift across her back, as she peers stubbornly down her nose against all that you ask, just because she can. Just like her Mom.

His fingers tunnel harder into Kate's sides as he grips her forcefully, as if he could somehow hold onto those images, if he could just hold onto her tight enough. He compels himself to relax, concentrates on flexing each hand until they loosen, settling down against her hips where her body meets with his.

Brushing his lips against her hair, he breathes in the hint of shampoo mixed in with all that is her, and he embraces this moment, the feeling of her in his arms.

Geez, he has missed having her in his arms.

Pulling back, Kate shifts toward the bed enough, so she's no longer across his lap, and he can feel the bubble that had been encasing them, stretching, getting ready to burst. He knows he needs to get her out the door before her objections begin, he needs to get her to the Loft, he needs to get her home.

Shifting Kate the rest of the way so she can fully rest back on the sheets, he stands and examines the room, makes a show of looking around while asking, "Have you packed your bag?"

Their eyes lock for a moment, a battle of will power and determination, but whatever had her lurching into his arms, seems to be able to override the objections that are no doubt hovering at the end of her tongue. Shaking her head to indicate no, Kate dips her head, begins picking at the skin surrounding her nails, clearly doing her all she can to avoid the next words out of his mouth.

Except that it's not his words that break their standoff.

Moving into the room, forgotten by both, Lanie heaves a large duffel bag into his arms, while commenting, "This should see her through for a little while."

Kate's head immediately snaps up, eyes narrowing as she glares at their friend who may have overstepped her place in this, but he's taking the win. Hoisting the large bag onto his shoulder, he uses his free one hand, to reach and grasp Kate by the arm, pulls slightly harder than is expected, and she half falls forward before catching herself.

Transferring her glare onto him, her mouth opens and he jumps in. Hoping that if he can keep her off balance enough, he'll be able to get her walking through the front door without her realising that she's being carefully shoved out of it.

"Do you need anything else? We need to get going, Alexis is home by herself."

He knows using his daughter is slightly underhanded, but his tight hold on his emotions is crumbling, and the desire to pick Kate up and throw her over his shoulder is increasing.

He wants his family home, safe, under one roof, so he can relax for a moment. Try to get a grasp on all that has happened, all that they've lost, so he can work on a plan to get them moving forward. This is his fault. They're no longer pregnant because of him. He needs to fix this, make them right again; make his family whole again, and this involves Kate walking out her door, and through his.

He feels her stand straighter, hands slide and drift until they are clasped, together, and he looks forward, eyes the nearest exit as if that alone will get her through. He's surprised when it seems to be working, as she starts shuffling forward in apparent defeat. Taking what he can get, he waits until she has moved enough so that he can follow behind, wants her to know that he is right here, that she's not going anywhere without him. That he'll always have her back.

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Thank you to every person that reviewed, made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts. The response knocked me flat!

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Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

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Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

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