Jane Doe
"Kate?" Castle says over breakfast the next day, tentative and wholly focused on her all at once. She's in the middle of wiping down their son's face - he must be wearing more of the yoghurt than he actually swallowed - but she turns over her shoulder to look at him.
He's hovering at the sink, apparently finished with cleaning up their dishes from breakfast, and he just looks so delicious in striped pyjama shorts and a t-shirt that clings to his biceps, makes her heart pound. Not for the first time, she wonders how she made it three years before sleeping with him.
"Mm?"
"Can I talk to you?" Rick asks quietly, refolding the already neat dish towel and hanging it over the railing. This is the most agitated she's seen him since. . .well, ever.
Hooking both hands underneath her son's arms, Kate lifts him out of the high seat and brings him in to press a scattering of kisses to his cheeks. He wriggles in her grip, palms flat at her cheeks to hold her off and she laughs, sets him down.
Marlow scurries off towards the toy box in the living room, and Kate watches him a moment before turning back to her husband. It's her day off, he told her this morning when she woke up horrified to find her alarm hadn't sounded.
So. A whole day to figure out how the mechanics of a life with him work. Now that the dust has settled from the accident, it's clear that Kate's memories are most likely not going to come back. It has been four days, and the doctors told her in the hospital that there's a very good chance she might never reclaim those missing years. And that the longer she goes without recalling anything, the more her chances of ever getting the missing time back decreases.
Reaching back for a memory is a strange sensation, disconcerting, like when you climb a staircase and think there's one more step than there is, find yourself falling through nothing for a moment. There are things she knows, now, but it's not the same as having the memories.
"What's wrong?" She asks her husband, coming back around the counter to stand opposite him, the both of them framed in the window above the sink.
Rick scrubs both hands through his hair and sighs, shoving them deep inside of his pockets and staring at his feet as he talks. "You remember at the hospital, they suggested you see a therapist?"
"Yeah, you said I have someone already." Kate shrugs, coming around to stand at his side and lean her hips back against the counter top. Standing opposite him feels too much like a confrontation; leaning her body close against his is infinitely more appealing.
"You do. And I totally forgot to tell you about it. Remind you. God, Kate, now more than ever you must need to see him."
He sounds so utterly grief-stricken that Kate fumbles between their bodies for his hand, laces her fingers through his and squeezes. "Hey, it's okay. I would like to see him at some point, but I'm not desperate. Please don't beat yourself up over it; I forgot too."
"You'll find his number in your phone. His name is Doctor Burke. Give him a call, Kate."
"I will." She nods, a little startled to find Rick's thumb circling the back of her hand over and over as if to soothe her. It's not at all unpleasant; in fact, frissons of desire start erupting low down in her stomach. "And Rick, have you thought about maybe seeing someone yourself?"
From her peripheral vision, she sees the flicker of tension in his jawline and her breath catches in her throat, but he relaxes again almost immediately. "I spoke to my mother about that, actually. She thinks I should see someone."
"I know therapy can seem like admitting defeat. Trust me, I get that. But honestly, it really helps. And it's not a weakness."
He laughs - well, he gives her a reluctant chuckle on a huff of his breath - and she lifts an eyebrow. "Funny, you've said almost those exact words to me before. When I met my dad."
"Because they're true." Kate grins at him, nudging her shoulder into his bicep. "And speaking of your mom - where is she?"
"She doesn't live here anymore. Moved out after we got married, to give us room for our 'growing family'." He makes air quotes around the words, adding a lilt to his voice that makes him a surprisingly accurate imitation of Martha, but even as he does so he's glancing towards the living room. Towards their son.
It's been playing on Kate's mind a lot, what he said to her in the hospital. About them being ready to start trying for another baby. With the loss of her memories, Castle has lost that future too, and she hates herself for it.
"Where does she live now?" Kate asks, mostly to distract herself from the vicious, ragged edge of guilt in the pit of her stomach.
"Only a few blocks away. She's close enough that she can take care of Marlow sometimes if we need her to." Castle replies, untangling his hand from hers and taking a couple steps away to snag his cell phone from the surface of the kitchen island. "Do you think Burke would see me, too? I think it might help me to have someone who knows you."
"Castle." She says sharply, staring at him. He stares right back, confusion knitting his features and she huffs a sigh. "I have no idea if he'll see you. I don't remember ever even meeting the man."
"Right." He mutters, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. He hasn't shaved yet today and a part of her wants to ask him not to. He looks rugged, the way she was expecting him to look when she thought it was 2008. The way he used to look back then, when she was a member of his fansite and she used to DVR his talk show appearances.
"I'll call, and I'll ask him. Okay?"
"Okay." He murmurs. Kate recognises in him all the signs of discomfort, the need to have a moment alone to process things, so she heads for the living room to distract their son. It won't work forever, she probably won't be able to keep Marlow from his Daddy for more than a handful of minutes, but she has to hope that Rick will use the time wisely and figure out a way to handle it.
Ever since Kate's accident, Rick has kept himself and their son inside of the loft, found that more than anything he wants to coddle the boy. For a few desperate minutes, he had thought Mal might be all he has left of his wife, the only reminder of the love they have shared.
He has so needed his little boy close and safe, but now Marlow is starting to get a little stir crazy. He needs the stimulation of the city outside their loft, thrives on the multitudinous people and places open to explore in New York.
After Kate comes off of the phone with Doctor Burke and tells him they have an hour with him in two days time and that her therapist would be open to taking Rick on as a patient separately, he tentatively suggests that they might get out of the apartment today.
The weather is much cooler today, back to comfortable levels, and more than anything he wants to walk in the park with Kate's hand clasped loosely in his own and their son charging ahead of them across the grass.
Mostly, he expects her to say no. But she smiles brilliantly at him and scoops up their son as he runs past her through the living room, brushes her mouth at his ear. "Hey there, beautiful boy. You wanna go to the park with me and Daddy?"
Just that, just Kate referring to him as their son's father, is enough to have him turning half away, swallowing hard. It's utterly embarrassing, how much of a wreck he is for her. And he just can't figure out how to get it together.
She keeps surprising him, inviting him to share her bed and kissing his cheeks and holding his hand and rather than making him relax around her, it has him on edge around her, wondering exactly how far he can push.
He misses her so much, still. Hates that every interaction of theirs now floats like slick oil on top of a sea of discomfort and confusion and awkwardness. Mal is bubbling over with excitement now, tugging at Rick's hand, and so there's no time to creep away and lick his hurts alone.
And anyway. The best, most effective cure for any wound Rick might have is Kate Castle. A walk in the park, some sunshine. . .it will do him good.
They take the subway and Rick is stupidly grateful to see that he doesn't have to tell Kate to hold on to their son. Yes, okay, so not letting a two year old run riot in the train's car might just be common sense. But Kate sits Marlow on her lap and wraps both arms around his middle, her mouth resting at the crown of his head, and it's exactly what they always do.
Opposite them in the aisle, Rick pulls faces to entertain his son and joins a vigorous game of peekaboo. A couple of times, he catches Kate watching him and her face is softened with tenderness, her eyes warm and alight with something he might call love.
If he didn't know better.
An older man is sitting at Kate's side and he leans in, says something to her that Rick loses over the racketing sound of the train's journey along the tracks and the incoherent mumble of the announcements from somewhere over their heads. Whatever it is, it makes his wife blush and glance over at him a moment before she turns back to the stranger and says something he thinks might be thank you.
The carriage is crowded and at the next stop a gaggle of tourists pile on, weighed down with luggage. Rick gives up his seat to one of them and heads to stand opposite his wife instead, their knees knocking together as the train takes a corner. Mal wraps both arms around his father's leg, giggling at the unusual situation and Rick reaches down to muss up his son's hair.
He starts to slip his hand back into his pocket and then thinks better of it, instead tucks a loose curl back behind Kate's ear and skims his thumb along the hard edge of her cheekbone. She leans in to his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, and he leaves his hand right where it is.
The next stop is theirs and Kate seems to jolt back into awareness, standing up and shifting Marlow until she can grip him more comfortably. Rick has the diaper bag slung over his shoulder and Kate's wallet in his own pocket as well; she's got her phone, but all the rest of her things she's trusting him with.
They make their way through the crowd of people in the carriage, Rick first to let the width of his shoulders forge them a path and the heat of Kate's body close at his spine. One of Mal's little hands is splayed at his shoulder blade so he ploughs on through, reassured that his family is right behind him.
They didn't bring a stroller for Marlow; it's too much hassle to cope with the transfer from the Q train to make their way uptown, and their stop is so crowded that trying to battle through with the stroller seems more trouble than is really necessary.
Mal is a good walker, doesn't tire too easily, and whenever he does he's happy to curl up against the solid plane of his father's chest and let Rick carry him. Or his mommy, but more often than not Kate will instead stick close to Rick's side and pull faces at their son instead of carrying him herself.
When they make it out from the subway the sunlight is brilliant and Mal whimpers, buries his face against Kate's neck. Rick's wife is at his side now, one arm around their son, and with her free hand she reaches down and tangles her fingers in his.
It makes his stupid, tender heart kick hard in his chest and he sucks in a breath that catches in his lungs, makes him feel a little weak at the knees. They slip easily into the flow of foot traffic that crowds the sidewalk, and Rick is surprised to note that even when people knock against them Kate fights to keep a hold of his hand.
Once they arrive at the park Kate sets Marlow down, letting him run free across the grass and the two of them follow behind their son at a slower pace. If their son were more keen to escape they might keep him on a little more of a tighter leash, but Mal's most favourite game is spinning in circles until he gets dizzy and falls down into the grass.
And even when their son roams a little wider away from them, he comes back every five minutes or so and he seems like a different creature, shy and bashful as he presents his mother with a flower or a pebble he's found for her.
Kate halts Rick with a hand at his thigh and he has to fight not to let his whole body react to her touch, turning instead to face her. "Is it okay if we stop here?"
"Sure." He manages a smile despite the tumult in his guts. "Everything alright?"
For that, he earns himself the kind of beaming smile his wife usually hands out only on special occasions, when he's surprised her or he's been particularly sweet. "Yeah, good. I actually packed a couple extra things in the diaper bag. Thought we could have a picnic."
Oh. . .wow. "Sure, yes. Yeah. That sounds wonderful, Kate, thank you."
She shrugs like it's nothing, but the corner of her mouth quirks up in a pleased little smile even as she dips her head and takes the diaper bag from him. Unzipping it, she tugs out the multicoloured old blanket they always use. He can't even imagine where she must have found it; he hasn't seen it for a while, assumed it was lost in the belly of some closet somewhere.
A snap of her wrists and Kate lays the blanket down on the grass, sinking to sit cross-legged on top of it and calling out for their little boy. "Marlow, baby, come here. Come get some lunch, my man."
Their son flops down on his stomach on top of the blanket, pillowing his chin in his hands and grinning at his mother. Rick expects her to start rummaging for food in the bag but instead she surprises him - again - when she rolls onto her stomach and puts herself nose to nose with their little boy, pressing a smacking kiss to his cheek and then the end of his nose, too.
"Mommy, you're silly!" Mal giggles into the cup of his palms, peeking over the tops of his fingers at Kate. He catches her pulling a goofy face at him and he creases up with joy, erupting in a shower of giggles that pull Rick down, finally, to join his family on the blanket. Kate sits up when he does so, drawing her legs underneath herself and beaming at Mal.
Settling a palm low down at the flare of her hips, Rick grins at his wife and holds her gaze even as he responds to their son. "Mommy is silly, you're right Marlow."
And then he does something stupid. There are no excuses this time. No explanation for why he can't stop himself from leaning in and touching his mouth to Kate's. It's slow, gentle, and he takes a moment to savour the way it feels to be kissing her before he forces himself to break away.
When he gathers the courage to open his eyes Kate is staring at him, slack-jawed and her mouth still glistens everywhere he touched her.
"Momma, what I can eat?" Mal says insistently, crawling across the blanket to wedge himself between his parents. It seems to shake Kate out of whatever's going on in her head. Please God, let it not be her hashing out an escape plan.
He knows he's pushing it too far, but damn it-
He's in love with her. And he's entirely out of practice at resisting his baser desires.
Kate pulls tupperware containers out of the diaper bag, sandwiches and carrot batons and a bag of chips to split between the three of them. She offers Marlow a bottle of water and he gulps down half of it in one sitting, apparently wiped out from the subway here and then his running about.
"Here baby, I made you PB&J." Kate says, her voice softer the way it often gets after he kisses her. Usually though, it doesn't happen unless he seeks a longer, deeper kiss from her. A brush of their lips has become so commonplace it hardly ever earns him more than an appreciative smile from her. But, well, none of this is commonplace for this Kate. He's astonished she's still sitting here in the grass with them.
Rick takes the sandwich that Kate offers him, uses his free hand to pop the top of the container that houses the carrot sticks and offer them first to his son and then to his wife. They eat with the sounds of Marlow's chatter filling the spaces that would otherwise be rapidly growing awkward between them.
He'll have to apologise, once Mal is out of earshot. And more importantly, he really has to figure out a way to control himself around her. He managed it for three years, after all. Sure, that was before he had any idea just how good it is to love Kate Beckett and share a life with her, but even so. Those are skills that were once finely honed, and he can only hope that he'll figure out how to recapture them with some speed.
After their son finishes eating and Rick wipes the smears of jelly and chocolate from around his mouth, he moves a couple feet away from him with the toy trucks Kate produces from the bag like magic.
Probably still close enough that he can hear his parents talking, but Mal is so engrossed in his game that Rick is sure he's not at all aware of the awful discomfort rolling over the two of them in waves.
Even so, he can't quite manage to find the courage to speak, and it's Kate who breaks the silence. "You kissed me."
"Kate-"
"And it was. . .not the first time. Since the accident." She finishes, somehow managing to look at him. He feels her eyes roaming the terrain of his face and his blood rushes cold, but he does her the courtesy of meeting her gaze.
Onto his face, he does his best to project the remorse that consumes him. The last thing he wants is to make her uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry, Kate. I know it's too much. I really am trying. It's just habit, I guess."
"Rick." She cuts in, gaze dropping to her lap. He follows it, watches her picking at the jagged edge of a fingernail. "I liked it. Kissing you."
"You- you did?" He finds himself stuttering, clenching his fists to stop from really, just laying her down in the middle of the park for the whole world to see.
A flush rises in her cheeks and she chews at her lower lip, but she's not taking it back and hope blooms in his chest, sweet as nectar. "I did. But Rick, we can't keep doing that. It's not fair for me to reciprocate that part of our relationship when I can't give back all the rest of it."
"Because you don't love me." He says, matter of fact. And he is trying, really he is, but there's an acerbic edge to his voice that makes his wife flinch. The hurt is just. . .so much.
For a moment, he really thinks that Kate might cry. "I really do care about you, Rick. You're a wonderful man. But as much as I might-" she pauses, seems to visibly steel herself. "Want you, it doesn't seem fair. "
"People who aren't in love can still have sex, Kate." He says quietly, tries not to sound like he's begging. Although really, that might be the very best descriptor of how he feels.
When Kate got hurt a carnal need blossomed in his stomach, a hungry maw gaping wide the same way it has every time one of them has gotten hurt since they've been together. The desperate yearning to reaffirm both of their lives, and this is the first time that they haven't been able to do so. So yes. He wants her badly, but maybe even more than that he just needs her.
"Not us, Rick. You told me. We've never been together without love being a part of it."
Shit. She's right. And honestly, however much he wants her, is he really ready to make love to her and not feel in every brush of her fingers and roll of her hips and touch of her mouth that she loves him back?
Most likely not. "Okay, Kate. Okay. I'm sorry." She nods, but he really doesn't think that she gets it. "You're more than enough for me. Just this. And I will never, ever cheat on you. I've got you; I don't need the sex. And I sure as hell won't go looking for it someplace else. It's not the sex that I want, it's you."
Relief floods her features and apparently her body too, hard enough that she's trembling with it. He snags her hand, brings it up to his mouth, brushes a kiss over her knuckles. And she looks so grateful, he feels a fissure strike his heart in two.
"I'm really trying, Rick. I don't know how to remember. I don't know how to be your wife again."
Her breath catches on something close to a sob and Rick curls his arm around her shoulders, draws her in close enough that his mouth meets her temple. "Shh, Kate. It's okay. You're doing so well. I couldn't be more proud of you."
And then she really does cry. But somehow, miracle woman that she is, she has it together by the time their son comes back and falls, delighted, into his mother's embrace.
A/N: I'd like to take the opportunity of this, the halfway point, to thank my wonderful beta BerkieLynn and my never-tiring cheerleaders Alexis, Lulu, Chole and Shannon, without whom this fic may never have gotten off the ground.
And you, the people reading and reviewing and favouriting and tweeting and showering this fic with so much love. I wish I had the words to truly explain how tremendously grateful I am to all of you.