Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate (obviously, being an Aussie, I do not), and I'm sorry for the delay in updating! And, as much as I originally planned for this to be a short, fun story, it's taken on a mind of it's own and that may not be the case...at least to begin with...

Disclaimer: does not own Castle.


Chapter 4

When Beckett woke, she had no idea where she was or what day it was; all she knew was her body hurt. Not just hurt, but God damn killed, the pain so intense she couldn't help the cry that broke through her parched lips. Her eyes were sealed shut, too heavy to try and open. She could hear voices and shuffling around her, someone saying something about pain medication (yes, please) and then warmth as a hand wrapped around her own. She didn't need to open her eyes to know it was Castle. And if Castle was holding her hand, it meant she was safe…or in some exasperating after-life where he still trailed her around…but before she could dwell on that particular nightmare, Beckett felt soft lips brush across her forehead, painless relief seeping into her bones as she drifted back to sleep.

XXXXXXX

Deciding he didn't want the hospital security forcibly removing him from Beckett's room, Castle grudgingly made his way back home to his loft. It had been three days since they'd found Beckett, and she'd been unconscious most of the time, which was a relief in that at least she wasn't awake and in pain, but it also meant he hadn't heard her voice in what felt like forever.

Jim Beckett had arrived two days ago from visiting family in San Francisco, tired and worried about his only child. Castle wished he'd been meeting Beckett's father for the first time under better circumstances. They'd sat together, each on one side of Becket's bed, while Dr H explained Beckett's injuries to her father. He seemed to take the news well, better than Castle had. Then again, although she was still pale and gaunt, Beckett looked nowhere near as bad as she had when she'd been rescued.

He'd taken Jim (and even though he wasn't 15 and dating Beckett, he'd had the urge to call him Mr. Beckett) back to his loft for dinner, introducing him to Alexis and his mother, and not surprisingly they'd all gotten along fantastically. Amber hadn't spoken to him in three days, likely pouting and waiting for him to make some grand gesture to get in her good graces again, but that wasn't about to happen anytime soon.

Castle knew he'd been neglecting his family, only coming home for an hour or so to change and eat, usually when rest of the household were asleep, and then making his way back to the hospital. He hadn't had a chance to explain what the new living situation would be when Beckett was released. Assuming she woke within the next 24 hours and was ok, she'd be released from hospital within the next few days. Letting himself into the loft, Castle was almost barreled over by his daughter, who he'd barely spoken to since her arrival a few days ago.

"Dad!"

"Hey pumpkin. I'm sorry I haven't spent much time with you."

He pulled away; eyeing her up and down, making sure she was still perfect after months away at college.

"It's fine, Dad. How is Kate?"

Rather than have to explain the whole thing twice, he called out, knowing his mother would likely be somewhere in the loft. She was, and quickly made her way into the living area, concern etched on her face.

"Darling, how is Detective Beckett?"

Pulling his favourite ladies down on the sofa next to him, he updated them on Beckett's unchanged condition, finally broaching the subject of her living with them.

"And…once she's released, she'll be staying with us for a while. She'll need help. I hope that's ok?"

He knew Alexis and his mother would have no objection to having Beckett stay with them. They probably would have smacked him had he not offered.

"Of course she'll stay here, dear. But…have you spoken to Amber about this?"

Trust his mother to bring up the elephant in the room.

"Not yet. I'm sure it will be fine."

He didn't miss the dubious look shared between the two women.

XXXXXXX

Jim Beckett lived in constant fear, always waiting for that knock on the door or telephone call where he was told his baby girl was dead. The words about Katie being injured had barely left Roy Montgomery's mouth before Jim was firing up his laptop, searching in vain for the quickest flight back home to New York. Now that he was finally sitting beside her, watching as her chest moved up and down with each breath, he couldn't help the tears that escaped out the corner of his eyes. Katie was all he had, he couldn't loose her. She was too young, there was so much she had to see and do first. Like give him grandkids for one thing. He chuckled out loud, memories filtering through his mind of a much younger Katie, asking persistently where do babies come from, not at all satisfied with Johanna's 'stork' explanation.

He released his death grip on her hand, rubbing his damp face, wishing she would wake up and tell him everything was ok. That she was ok. That she was happy. He recalled Dr H's blatant disapproval of the way his daughter had been treating her body, minimum sleep and nothing but coffee, and from past experience Jim knew it meant she wasn't happy with her life. With herself. He figured her tag-along author had something to do with that, but as long as Rick and his family were kind and welcoming to him, he wasn't going to upset the apple cart. For the time being.

Jim eventually stood, arching his back, hearing a few satisfying pops. Visiting hours were almost over and he didn't want to be like Rick and get on the bad side of the nurses caring for Katie. Just as his hand reached for the door knob, he heard a small whimper. His head swiveled towards his daughter as a bloodcurdling scream escaped through her lips. Jim's blood went cold, shivers running down his spine, watching in complete shock as she twisted and jerked in the bed, a red patch blooming against the white sheets. A nurse came running in, a syringe ready in one hand. Seconds later his daughter was quiet again, unmoving, and the nurse was pulling the blankets away, her capable hands quickly finding the source of the bleed from a torn stitch. Tearing his eyes away from the hollow, bruised body of his baby girl, Jim Beckett stumbled out of her room and the hospital, blindly hailing a cab. He needed a drink.


TBC

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