The first thing she noticed when she woke up the next morning was that he was still there. A small smile crept to her face as she rolled onto her side and stared at him.
He looked ridiculous—he had wrapped his body around a rather uncomfortable looking chair and had a fist balled up and tucked under his chin, like "The Thinker." One shoe was off—his left one—and a red flannel blanket was bizarrely wrapped around his head like a shawl. She suppressed a giggle.
He had moved during the night though. The nightstand was now an arsenal of first aid supplies—a thermometer, gauze, antibiotic creams and pills, even prescription pain pills. And there was nutrition—fruit, crackers, water, a can of orange juice, which made her pause, because who bought orange juice in a can?
The best part though was that it was arranged perfectly, even by category. How long had he worked on that when she had been sleeping?
And then last night suddenly came back to her and the smile left her face. Her stomach clenched up tightly, making her feel sick and nauseous.
He had been right, of course. The last thing they should have been doing last night was crossing a major boundary, especially one that was so emotionally wrought. And even though part of her would kiss him right now if the opportunity presented itself, mostly she was relieved that he had been able to possess some self control.
What was she going to say to him when he woke up? Should she talk about last night? Should she ignore it and deflect? She knew he would follow her lead. If she wanted to brush past this, he would let her. He would never push her.
He stirred then and her heart started beating faster in her chest. She felt a rush of blood to her head. What was she going to say to him?
But then, all at once, like it had been waiting behind the gates, the pain from her injuries seemed to hit every nerve in her body. Not able to stop herself, she groaned out loud.
"Beckett!" he cried, springing to life, yanking off the blanket and sitting up. "What's wrong?"
"Hurts," she managed. "All over."
"Oh, God, Kate. I'm so sorry!" he told her, grabbing the bottle of painkillers and the glass of water, which half spilled on the floor before she felt it shoved into her hands.
"I should have woken you up to take your pills! I'm so sorry!" he apologized, tearing open the pill bottle. He put two pills in her other hand and went to help her sit up.
"Ah!" she cried out painfully when he tried to moved her.
"God, I'm sorry!" he repeated, letting go of her immediately, which caused her to fall back against the headboard. She yelped in pain, barely holding onto the water and pills.
"Sorry, Kate!" he said, guiltily. He took the pills and water back from her. "Open up!"
She opened her mouth for him and he placed the two pills on her tongue. He held the glass while she drank them down. After she had swallowed them, he set the glass back down on the nightstand.
"You should be in a hospital, Kate. I suck at this and those pills are going to take forever to work. I should take you to the hospital."
"I'm okay," she whispered. Then the pain flowed through her again, forcing her eyes closed and a moan to escape from her lips. So much for being strong.
He told her he would be back and then left the room.
When she woke up again, the light in the room had turned a deep orange. It was beautiful. She smiled.
She glanced to her side though and immediately frowned. There was an IV there now. One bag was completely empty, hanging next to the one that was still connected to her and almost empty.
She turned her head and Castle was sitting in the chair beside her. The other chair was gone—this one was plush and leather. It looked way more comfortable.
"Chair," she croaked.
He gave her a questioning smile and then said, "Hi."
"Hi," she said, starting to cough. Very smoothly, he took the glass of water (now filled again) from the table and approached her. He gently slid his hand behind her head, tilted it forward, and waited for her to drink. After she was done, he laid her head back down.
"Better," she half teased.
"I got lessons," he explained in the amusingly giddy way he talked when he was nervous and excited. "Lanie came over and brought all of these cool things with her and then she told me exactly what I needed to do to take care of you. I assure you—you won't be in pain again."
"Thanks," she smiled.
"I'm sorry I made things worse," he apologized.
"It's fine," she yawned. She started to feel funny all of a sudden and made a face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. "Are you hurting again?"
"I feel weird," she explained, her tongue heavy.
"It's the morphine," he said, quickly.
"I'm on morphine?" she asked him. She was mad for a split second and then really didn't care anymore.
"I know you hate serious drugs like that, Kate, but Lanie said it was the only way she would let you stay here. She said they would dope you up more in the hospital. You're really hurt," he finished, trying to hide his worry.
"I'm fine," she replied, her words thick in her mouth.
"You always say that …"
"I get beat up a lot," she explained.
"Yeah, you've mentioned that, too," he said, sadly.
"Where's Alexis … and your mom?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Palm Springs. Mother needed a break from her stressful life," he joked.
"I need a break from my stressful life," she admitted, surprising Castle.
"Oh yeah?" he said casually, taking a sip of coffee.
"Yeah, maybe you can finally take me to the Hamptons."
Castle almost spit the coffee out of his mouth. Where was this coming from? They had never talked about that since the day he won the bet and joined the team again. It had almost been a year. Why in the world …?
And then it hit him—she was on morphine. Lanie said she might act a little … less guarded … but he had never expected this. He didn't know what to do. Should they talk about it? Should he let it go, joke around, and pass it off, like they usually did? Would she even remember what she was saying?
After all of that thinking though, he ended up saying the first thing that came to his mind.
"You could have come with me in May," he told her.
"I tried to," she said matter-of-factly. "But you seemed to be having a great time with Gina."
"You tried to? What do you mean?
"You were with Gina," she reminded him.
"I only invited Gina because you wouldn't go," he said, defensively.
"Didn't look that way to me," Kate said, yawning.
He couldn't believe the casual nature of this conversation. He almost didn't want to go further, but he figured it was better to talk about this now—even considering the circumstances—than never.
"Well, I am sure you had a great summer with Demming," he countered, wincing when he remembered the two of them together, talking at her desk, Demming whispering in her ear. It had killed him to see that.
She laughed then—actually laughed. His feelings were hurt for a moment, but he wanted to be patient with her, so he pushed them aside.
"I broke up with Demming right before your little going away party, Castle," she said, a little more seriously.
"You what?"
"If you had listened to me when I asked you to step outside, I would have told you … can I have more water?" she asked, politely.
This was absolutely maddening. For her to be so—unemotional about this, to be so nonchalant. He knew it was the drugs, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
"Castle? Water?" she repeated.
He handed her the glass. She took a sip and handed it back to him. He set his coffee down on the nightstand, too.
"That's why you were so mad at me when I came back in the fall …" he mused aloud.
"Um, yeah. I was about to tell you and then Gina walked in and you were all over each other, just laughing at me and shoving it in my face …"
"Kate, I had no idea. I thought you were laughing at me," he explained.
"Oh, so when you asked her to go, it was just to make me jealous?" she inquired.
"Well, yeah," he said, simply.
"Oh," she replied, dropping her eyes and looking down at her hands.
He was staring at her intently, beside himself with frustration and pissed off at how much time had passed since then. They should have talked about it back then, but he had been so glad to be her partner again, he hadn't wanted to push.
"Why did you break up with him?"
"Why do you think, Castle?" she retorted.
"Tell me," he insisted.
"You know why," she sighed.
"Why can't you say it?" he asked, exasperated.
"Why can't you?" she bit back.
"Jesus, you're impossible!" he cried, standing up and walking away from the bed. He went over to his dresser, put his hands on the edge, and dropped his head.
"I know," she admitted.
"I had no idea … about any of this," he told her, ignoring her statement. "I knew you were mad at me, but I never knew why."
And then it hit him—the guys, how strange they acted when he came back last fall, how mad they had been at him. Even Montgomery had acted strange. And then he remembered that everyone had been inside the room watching them, probably waiting for them to do or say something. And the show he put on with Gina, acting like he didn't care. He was mortified.
"Everyone knew?" he asked, feeling sick to his stomach. He looked at her then.
She nodded.
"God, I was such an ass!" he shouted. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Um … jealous. I wasn't about to ruin your reunion with Gina."
"But if I had known that you and Demming …"
"Did you sleep with Gina that summer?" she interrupted.
"What? No!" he assured her, coming back to her side. Instead of the chair though, he sat beside her on the bed.
"I'm so sorry, Kate," he told her, gently pulling her into his arms. "I had no idea. I would give anything to go back to that day, to do it differently. I didn't call you that summer because I couldn't take the thought of you with Demming. That's why I didn't want to come back. It had nothing to with Gina or the book. I just … you were breaking my heart …" he confessed.
"I know the feeling," she said so quietly, he wasn't positive she had really said it.
He pulled back from her then and willed her to look at him.
"We need to talk about last night," he insisted.
But she shook her head and lay back down against the pillows.
"I'm tired," she whispered. "I'm sorry …"
"Please Kate," he objected, but it was a losing fight. She couldn't even keep her eyes open anymore. Within seconds, she was asleep again.
"Damn it!" he said, even more frustrated than before. But what could he do? Force her awake? Make her talk?
He moved back over to the chair, determined to finish this conversation when she woke up again. If she even remembered …
Watching her sleep, he thought about all that had transpired that night when she had come into the party and asked him to step outside. He remembered her saying that she had something to tell him, but he had been trying so hard to pass off that charade with Gina, he hadn't even noticed. He had already closed himself off by then, already decided that he couldn't work with her anymore. If only …
He sighed, not having a clue how things would progress now, but he was certain of one thing. He had given her too much space in the past. He had been too willing to let things go, to avoid talking about the important things. He had been too scared to push her on anything, lest she push him away.
He couldn't let her off the hook like that anymore. She was used to being closed off emotionally—it was easy for her. If he kept letting her get away with it, she would never change her ways and they would never move forward.
As soon as she felt better, he was going to press her more, challenge her. And he was so grateful she was here. Home field advantage was definitely a bonus and he needed all of the help he could get.