A/N: The promised update. Getting closer to the end, for those who are despairing. Should be able to post next chapter quickly. Hope everyone had a great holiday season, safe and sound. I was without internet for 4 days and while it was nice I'm glad to be back to the land of information at the ready. :)
He rolled his way into the kitchen. She was still standing there, staring at nothing as she contemplated John's words to her. When she finally noticed him, she gave him a big smile.
"Up from your nap? How was the workout?"
"Fine. Great. I'm really getting strong in my upper body."
"That's terrific honey. Listen, did John say anything about coming tomorrow?"
"No. In fact he said there's a big snow storm heading this way."
"Yeah, he told me the same thing. Sounds like I need to head to town early tomorrow. Get all the supplies that we need."
"Can I come?" He actually wanted to stay at the house, alone for the first time. But he didn't want her to know that. He'd decided some reverse psychology was in order.
"No, sorry. I think you'd better stay here. What if it gets bad and the car gets stuck? At least here you're safe and warm. I'll go early in the morning. Let you sleep in for a change since John won't be here."
He tried to look disappointed; must have succeeded as she gave a bit of a chuckle and bent down to kiss his cheek.
"You're going to miss me that much Richard Rodgers? I'll hurry back, I swear. Then it will just be us, all alone in this big house."
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
They spent the rest of the late afternoon and evening watching a comedy that he found revolting, but he forced himself to laugh at it with her. She made him dinner then told him she wanted to go to bed early. He didn't argue; he was eager to see if he could make anything more out about the dreams. It was only 9 pm; he hoped having a whole night would lead to some discoveries.
Bidding her goodnight with a chaste kiss on the cheek he retreated to his room. He'd already decided to try testing his legs before bed; all afternoon he'd had a feeling nearly like an itch that he could move them but he'd not dared to try anything with her in close proximity.
Ensuring the door was closed, he moved a chair underneath the knob to make certain she wouldn't see him. It was an awkward maneuver to do from a wheelchair, but since overhearing the conversation earlier in the day between Meredith and John he'd become paranoid. Something was going on and he had no idea what he was involved in. He only knew he couldn't trust anyone. Especially the woman who called herself his wife.
Once the door was secured, he moved the chair so he was positioned in front of the bed. Normally to transfer, he would sit perpendicular, lean onto the bed and lift himself up and over using his newly honed upper body strength. Tonight, he was going to try to stand.
Knowing this could be fraught with danger, he made sure there was nothing around to fall on if disaster and gravity bested him. Using his hands he placed his feet on the ground between the bed and the wheelchair. Since he still had proprioception and sensation intact he moved them slightly until they felt just right. Then, grasping the arms of the chair he slowly pushed off, rising onto his legs as far as his arms could take him.
It was an incredible sensation. He could feel his muscles tensing, moving slightly. Encouraged, he let go with his right hand and tried to stand the rest of the way. Trembling so hard he almost fell he rose, releasing his left hand as well. He felt like a phoenix reborn when he reached the apex. He was standing. Weak, certainly. But his legs worked. It had all been a lie, for some reason. Why, he had no idea. But it was time to start finding out what the hell was going on.
He shuffled forward. His legs obeyed, but he was like a spindly colt standing for the first time. Luckily the bed was right there and he fell with a muffled thud onto it. Grinning from ear to ear, he was elated. He was whole again.
After a few minutes of reveling in the fact that he soon would be out of the chair, he made his way back to it. This time standing from the bed was easier as he just leaned forward to use the arms of the wheelchair; the angle was much better. It felt easier and he walked a total of two steps.
He sat in the chair gratefully; walking was a lot of effort. He rolled into the bathroom and prepared for bed. He removed the chair from the door before retiring; Meredith had a habit of checking in on him and he didn't want her to become suspicious if she suddenly discovered he was actively trying to keep her out.
Excited by the progress with his legs, he hoped he'd have similar success with the dreams tonight. He was relaxed and eager. He felt like nothing could stop him at this point.
Retrieving the pen and paper from their hiding place under the mattress, he placed them carefully under the pillow next to the one he used. He then positioned the wheelchair in the way it would normally be for a transfer. If she checked on him he wanted nothing out of the ordinary to raise a specter of suspicion.
He stood for the third time. Hardest to do yet, the muscles unused for so long, protesting. He knows this feeling though. Has spent the last few months learning this pain, becoming friends with the agony of physical exertion pushed past what he would have thought was his breaking point. He's learned a new definition of can't: quit. And he is not a quitter.
Shuffling to the bed, he collapses gratefully. Has to use his arms to move his legs where he wants them after scooting up to the pillow. Still, all in all a triumphant day. He'd had a feeling and he'd been right. It was exhilarating.
He settled back on the pillow. Keyed up, not ready for sleep but wanting to sleep so badly. He forced himself to relax, closing his eyes and doing some relaxation techniques John had taught him in the early stages of their relationship, back when he'd get tensed up and frustrated over his inability to do nearly anything.
Soon he was falling into the welcome arms of the Sandman. Initially his dreams were just random nonsense. Nothing he wanted or needed to remember. Then Alexis appeared.
She was sitting on a bench in a park. Once again it felt like they were in a large city; he could hear the cacophony of traffic nearby, but a copse of trees blocked everything out. The grass seemed impossibly green, sun beating down and washing out all the other colors. His daughter was alone, head down like she was reading a book.
He approached slowly; she made no sign that she knew he was there, but as he neared he saw she was not reading a book, but was holding a photo. It was a picture of him.
He reached out to touch her but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't quite get to her. Every time he thought he was near enough the ground would shift and he'd just be out of reach.
He shouted her name. She didn't move. Then he saw her mouth open and close; she was talking. He ceased struggling and suddenly found himself next to her. He remained motionless, afraid to move lest he be distanced from her again.
"Dad, if you're out there you have to listen to me. She's better; she's trying, but we need you. Her especially. Dad, she's pregnant. You're going to be a father again. Anything is possible if you're here with us Dad. But please, you have to help Kate. Promise me you'll help her."
He gasped awake. Nearly cried out; would have been a disaster as he'd stopped having nightmares weeks ago. She would have come running if she'd heard him, certain something was wrong. Grabbing the pen and paper he wrote furiously, trying to capture his daughter's words verbatim. He had no idea what they meant. He didn't know anyone who was pregnant. Unless Alexis was trying to tell him she was? And who was Kate? The name seemed familiar, the owner a silhouette at the far reaches of his mind.
He lay back again. The dream with Alexis was similar to many others he'd had with her. She seemed to want him to do something, go somewhere. Perhaps the city that he so often dreamed of being in?
He wasn't sure what city it was exactly. It was obviously large. Probably Chicago or New York. With the park from today, if that was a feature that could be trusted and not simply a construct of his mind, it would fit best with New York. Which as far as he knew he'd not been to recently and certainly hadn't lived there as an adult according to Meredith's recount of his life.
Yet the niggling of doubt introduced when he'd overheard Meredith's conversation earlier suddenly made him doubt everything she'd been telling him. This was going to be a difficult situation unless he could get his memory back. He didn't know what to trust and what to suspect; trying to build any sort of relationship on a foundation of mistrust was like building on quicksand. He wanted to believe her, but there were enough odd things and stories that just didn't feel right…if he could remember, it would solve a lot of his current issues.
He slowly drifted off again, still thinking about Alexis and what she was trying to tell him. He found himself dreaming of her as a child. They were on a beach, playing in sand then in a park playing on a swing. Scene shifted to scene like they were brief glimpses into his memory. Once again no person resembling his current wife appeared.
Just as suddenly, he was moved. He found himself in a large, empty room again. This time it wasn't as dark as it had been previously. It seemed warmer, less oppressive than the times he'd been here before. Once more there didn't seem to be any furniture when he first looked around, but he knew what he'd find when he turned one hundred eighty degrees.
It was there, as he'd expected. Sitting alone, though now with some candles surrounding it on three sides. He approached the box, hoping it would be translucent and was rewarded with the sight of her. Reposed again supine with her beautiful hair cascading around her. She appeared to be asleep.
He reached out, touched the box. Last time he'd awakened at this point, unable to see if he could touch her. The box was surprisingly warm to his touch. It appeared to be seamless, but when he tried to lift up on the top of it the whole of it simply disappeared and she was left in front of him, lying on a table of some sort. Undisturbed by the removal of the box that had been between them.
He marveled again at her luminous beauty. She looked like Princess Aurora from the fairy tale, sleeping under a curse. Waiting for him. He touched her gently, reverently, on the arm. Nothing happened. Mentally shrugging his shoulders, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. They were unexpectedly warm and very soft. He rose up again and was disappointed to see she remained unchanged. At a loss as what to do next, he just stood and admired her. She seemed familiar, but he had no idea what her name was or what she meant to him.
Unwilling to move from her side, he was about to lean down and kiss her again when her eyes flew open and he was staring into two stunning hazel orbs. She stared at him, her expression full of love and longing and grief. He reached for her hand, clasping it to him. They just stared at each other for a few moments then she suddenly whispered "Castle."
A huge roaring sound filled his ears and then he was spinning, spinning out of control. He was falling, buffeted by the noise and by the sensation of his body plunging through space. Just as he was certain he was about to hit the bottom, he jerked awake.
He remembered. Everything.
