She wakes feeling dried out, parched, her tongue thick and her jaw fused. And still her hand throbs.
"Castle," she murmurs, swallowing painfully. And then after a long moment, "Rick."
She lies there feeling the pulse of her own pain, riding it like a wave before opening her eyes to the empty bed. She winces and peers at the clock. Too early. Too late. Something. Not time for getting up. And where is Castle?
She sighs and shifts her hips to move, sucking in a breath at the way it jostles her hand. Wow. The fire in her skin, the raw sensitivity of it - she might cry. She cannot cry, not for this. Stupid.
"Castle?" she calls out, her voice scratchy with dehydration.
She lifts up on the side of the bed, sways there for a moment. From the corner of her eye, she can see the hallway through the open bedroom door, pitch black. She needs a glass of water, badly, and she wants to curl up against him, have him cradle her hand between his, let his fingers make those soothing, wonderful circles against the skin of her forearm. He makes her feel good; she wants to feel good.
She takes a tentative step and it's okay; she has her balance. She can still feel the heaviness of that pain medication he gave her - wait, did he propose to her in the bathroom?
Huh. Something.
"Castle?" she calls again, finding her way in the dark of the hall, moving carefully.
She wants some water. Her mouth feels like a sock. Ug. No more pain meds; this is bordering on nausea.
Kate's just moving into the living room when she comes upon him suddenly, nearly trips over him pacing, phone to his ear.
She startles to a stop; he looks thunderstruck. And ashamed. His jaw drops as he stands there.
She tilts her head at him, eyebrows knitting together. Why is he looking at her like that?
"I need some water," she says, pushing past him for the kitchen.
Oh. Oh, wait.
"Hey, that's my phone," she says, confused as she turns back to him. "What happened to yours?"
His mouth opens and shuts, his eyes avoid hers. She steps in again, her brain a mess of pain killers and confusion. Why is he acting like this?
He turns and moves away from her, escapes to the study. She can hear the low murmur of his voice as he goes, still on the phone.
Kate sways there for a moment, then shakes her head slowly and moves for the kitchen. She needs water. Her hand is throbbing.
Great. It's nearly midnight, and he needs to explain. Damn. This is not how he thought it would go.
He hangs up with Raglan and finds her leaning against the counter, drinking a glass of water, her eyes not quite focused.
"Kate," he says on a sigh.
She turns to him, gives him a soft smile and holds out her hand. "It doesn't hurt so much when you touch me."
He chokes a surprised laugh, staring at her, and then he comes forward and gently takes her by the elbow, smooths his fingers down her forearm, skirting the bandage. She hums and her eyes close; her body cants towards his.
"This what you mean?" he says softly. Maybe he should wait.
"Yeah," she sighs. "Come back to bed with me. Done calling people in the middle of the night?"
"Kate," he gruffs, thumb pressing into the soft skin on the inside of her elbow. "I called Raglan."
She startles, laughs, and then cocks her head as if she can't quite understand him. "What?"
"I called Raglan back. On your phone."
Her jaw drops.
"He wants to meet with you. He's dying, Kate. He has cancer. He said five years ago when he was diagnosed, they gave him only a few months to live. He's hung on, he said, but back then he tried to meet up with you-"
"So he can clear his conscience," she says harshly, but the words trip over her tongue and her anger is muted by the medication. "I'm not interested in absolving him of his sins, Castle."
"Do you even know-"
"He swept my mother's case under the rug. That's all I need to know. I'm not interested in anything else."
"But he has - he has new information, Kate."
"I don't care. We can't even know if that's true. And Castle?" She straightens up, curls her arm at her chest, bandaged palm away from him. "Don't you ever - don't you ever - do that again."
And then she walks away from him.
It's slow. It's crooked.
But she doesn't look like she wants him to follow.
Shiiiip, it's the pain meds. She's crazy and they're making her goofy. She feels like crying; she wants to cry. Her hand hurts and her head hurts and her mouth is still dry and Castle just went behind her back and called Raglan and completely undermined all the work, all the effort she's put into not looking into her mother's case.
And all she wants to do is crawl on top of him and fall asleep to the way he slides his hands up and down her back but he hasn't even come into their bedroom since she told him off.
"Castle," she calls out finally, giving in. She moves to stand but he's already there, lurking in the doorway.
Her chest eases. He takes a step inside, his eyes bleak.
"Why aren't you in bed with me?" she mutters, coming for him.
"You're mad at me," he whispers into her neck.
She shivers and holds her hand carefully at his chest, closes her eyes. "I can't keep it together, Castle. The painkillers and my hand and this - it's sloshing around in my head and I really, I really just want to sleep with you. Please?"
He sucks in a breath, startled maybe, and his arms go around her so tightly, good and tight, and he bends his knees to lift her off her feet, carrying her back to the bed.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs into her hair, a kiss of his mouth at her cheekbone.
"No you're not," she sighs back, lets him maneuver her body in the bed, her leg falling between his, her cheek against his chest.
"I am sorry. For making you upset. But I wish you'd told me."
"I didn't know I was hiding it."
"Oh," he sighs. "But when Raglan called you the first time-"
"When he called the first-? Oh, five years ago? You want me to remember why I didn't tell you something five years ago?"
"Uh."
"Yeah," she mutters, rolling her head to prop her chin on his chest and look at him. "My head is fuzzy. But even I know that there was probably a hell of a lot I didn't tell you five years ago."
"But, Kate. Kate, I don't understand this. What about your mom's case? If Raglan can give you-"
"Can we not? I don't - my capabilities are severely compromised and it's hard enough ignoring the fact that you took my phone and went behind my back - oh, shit, Castle, you went behind my back about this again. Again. And what can I do? It hurts. And I can't even kick you out of my precinct because you're barely there as it is, and I cherish Thursday, and I can't kick you out of my life for sticking your nose in it because it's your life too, and I'm so pissed at you but I can't even hang on to it, because of this shitty, confusing pain killer that is making me sick to my stomach-"
"Okay, okay, hush, Kate," he murmurs, curling up around her and she realizes she's crying now, she is, and she hates it when he does stuff like this, messing in her business. But she said it already, it's his business now too, it is, and it's not like she wouldn't tell him. She would have told him if there was anything to tell.
"Don't shush me," she mutters. "Now I'm ticked off and I'm crying, and I hate these pain killers. I hate them."
"I'm sorry."
"I just wanted some sleep, Castle, and now I'm - I'm messy."
"Messy?"
He's laughing? Is he laughing at her?
"It's - I am emotionally compromised by these pain killers and my hand, and I - God, Castle - I nearly dropped a whole dish of burning hot food on my son, and it was only - it was a miracle, oh God, it had to have been divine intervention that he made it out of that unscathed-"
She groans and presses her face against him, trying to stem the tide of fresh, hot tears.
"You did good, Kate. You caught it, you kept him safe."
"That's all I'm trying to do here," she says, talking into his chest and hunching her shoulders. "I just want to keep everyone safe."
"You're fine, babe. You're doing that. We're safe."
"I know I sound crazy. I can hear the crazy," she mutters, sucking in a deeper breath, trying to keep in control of it. "But you don't know, Castle. You haven't seen me at my worst."
"Oh, I think I have."
She lifts her head, surprised, a little - oh, giggly is not the right word, but maybe? - and she hates these painkillers with a vivid and lurid passion.
"No," she says insistently, reaching up with her right hand to pinch his ear. "My mom's case. You haven't seen me when it's bad."
"I have an idea," he says, too gentle, too good. But no. Not good. He is undermining her every step of the way here.
"I am trying to walk that balance, trying to keep the cop stuff away from my family, or - or - not in it all the time, not make everything about murder victims. But Castle you are making this very hard for me and I sound so - I'm confused and I'm not - I can't get at the words."
She drops her head, closes her eyes, tries to force her brain to concentrate, but she's so tired, she just wants to sleep. It would be so much better if she could. . .there's something. . .
"Kate. Love? Don't fall asleep yet."
"No. Not," she answers, tilts her head, but her body is sinking against his, boneless.
"Kate."
What is this about?
His mouth at her ear. "Raglan. Not seeing you at your worst-"
"Oh, God, you can't push me into this, Castle," she cries out, feeling the wave of grief rise up in her again. "You can't. I need you to have my back, not stab me in the back."
He clutches at her; it hurts. He's hurting her.
"Kate," he says, his voice raw. "No. Never. I'm not. I promise."
"I can't go near this," she says, the words swimming up out of the darkness. Her body starts to keen with drugged exhaustion. "Can't. I'll fall down that rabbit hole again, and I don't know what happens to my kids if I do that. This is so good, we are so good, Castle, don't make me screw this up."
"Okay, I'm sorry. I got it. No more. You won't screw it up. I won't let either of us screw it up."
"I can't talk to him. I can't go near it; I'm afraid I'll never get free."
"I'm here, I'm your partner, right? I won't let you fall, Kate. I'll never let you fall back down that hole."
She can't think. It's all gone - it's crumbling before her very eyes and scattered.
"I just love you," she murmurs, thoughtless and slipping into the black.
He's an asshole. He can't believe he never thought of it like this, can't believe it didn't occur to him that she might actually be afraid of what her mother's case does to her.
She's right. He's never seen it bad. He knows she was nearly suspended trying to investigate it on her own as a uniform. Captain Montgomery has regaled him with stories about how he found Kate crouched over the archives' folder with a flashlight, pouring over the case without permission. How Uncle Mo saw in her right then and there the tenacity and fortitude to be a homicide detective.
He's grateful she had people like the Captain to guide her, keep her from disappearing under the weight of her mother's unsolved case. For a few years, he really did believe that if he threw enough money at it, justice would be served. He really did think that if he just kept attacking it with experts and forensic pathologists and his own mind - if Kate had those resources, then it would be easy.
But after Kate shot Coonan, her mother's case was a snakepit of confusion, questions begetting questions.
Castle remembers how she sobbed over the hired killer's body, how she begged. That was his first glimpse into the maelstrom of her abandoned heart, into the raw and brutal force of her need for closure.
He hopes that in these past few years their family has helped to heal a lot of those wounds, but still, he can come across her suddenly and see that wellspring of grief in her eyes.
He's not going to fool himself into thinking that five years of marriage can combat sixteen years of not knowing why. Of not having a name. A person behind bars.
She's right; he won't, not in a hundred lifetimes, he won't put her in this position ever again. He sees it now. He's ridiculously grateful to the pain pills for making her unhinged enough to even tell him this much. Because he honestly thinks they would have wasted a few days on pissed off and hurt, and then come back to this only after he maybe had done something very very stupid.
If he hasn't already.
But he does have an idea to fix this.
