Jane Doe
"Please don't be late." Rick says, elbow deep in suds at the kitchen sink. The sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows, the material straining tight across his biceps and pectorals. And he most definitely didn't miss the pretty flush in Kate's cheeks over breakfast, the way he had to call her name a couple times before he managed to snag her attention.
Over by the front door, his wife hovers with the bag she uses at the precinct halfway towards being slung over her shoulder. She's wearing pale grey slacks today, delicate in a metallic sort of way like the sky sometimes in the depths of winter. They're taut over her thighs, and he completely understands her distraction this morning. He's struggling in much the same way.
"I won't be late. I promise." Kate calls out to him. Tonight at seven they have their appointment with Doctor Burke, and already Rick's guts are in tumult. His wife huffs and he sets down the dish he was scrubbing onto the draining rack, snagging a dish towel to dry off before he heads to rescue her. "Being late for work is a different story, though."
Their son is wrapped around his mother's leg, all four of his limbs squeezing tight and weighing her down. It's nothing new for Rick; Mal's clinginess is infrequent but intense when it does come. But, well, Kate hasn't ever had to experience this before. And what happens next might well break her heart.
"Marlow, let go of Mommy." Rick says sharply, earning himself a frown from his wife. They figured out a long time ago that no amount of gentle persuasion works here, so now they've taken to going right for a firm, no nonsense approach.
On the floor beneath them, Marlow mewls and rubs his face against Kate's thigh. The difficult part is that, although he'll be fine a few minutes after his mother leaves, Mal's distress is genuine. "Mommy, don't go!" He wails, and Rick folds his arms.
"Marlow Alexander, right now. Let go of Mommy." He counts to five out loud, slowly, but Mal doesn't let go at all. Rick sinks to his haunches and wraps his arms around the chubby biceps of their little boy, peeling him off of Kate as gently as he can.
Mal screams and thrashes, his face rapidly growing a startling shade of red, and Rick stays on the floor with both arms around his son, holding him tight. "Kate, go. Just go now; it'll only get worse if you hover."
When he glances up at his wife her eyes are brimming with tears, her bottom lip trembling, but she steels herself and hoists her bag onto her shoulder. For a moment she hesitates, and he wonders if she'll stay and try to console their son herself, but instead she turns and leaves the loft, closing the door gently behind her.
"Mal." Rick says firmly, holding his son a little way apart from him, hands moving to cup the wings of his shoulder blades. He's such a tiny little thing, really, although he still carries some baby weight that makes him soft and plump and snuggly. "Mal, buddy. Calm down. Deep breaths, my man."
He waits, holding his son's gaze until Marlow starts to relax ever so slowly, his breathing becoming a little less shallow. It worries them both, or at least it used to worry Kate. That Mal can get so hysterical when his mother leaves.
Once Mal's face returns to its normal colour and he can breathe without a hiccuping sob interrupting him, Rick draws his son in and holds him close, a palm cupping the curve of his skull to offer the security and comfort that the boy needs. He's grown up in a lot of ways, a good little talker and so smart a lot of the time that sometimes both Rick and Kate forget that their son's second birthday was only three months ago.
In so many ways, he's still just a baby. "There you go, buddy. It's alright. We can do a video call with Mommy later, and then you'll see her tonight when she comes home. Okay?"
"Okay, Daddy." Marlow mumbles, but when he pulls back he seems back to his usual self. He giggles, pressing his palms against Rick's cheeks and leaning in until his nose meets the sharp slash of his father's. "We can today go to soft play?"
"Would you like to?" Rick grins at his son, pulling back enough to press a kiss to the end of the boy's nose. His son nods fervently at him, grinning wide, and Rick holds his hands out to feed the birds with Mal. "Let's do that, then. Pass the time quickly until Mommy comes home."
"Daddy, I do love Mommy so much." Mal smiles, shy and sweet and a little embarrassed looking. He does tend to get a little bashful around Kate, overwhelmed by the outpouring of love his mother offers him.
Rick knows the feeling well. And misses it terribly. "I love Mommy so much, too."
"Hi." Kate tumbles through the front door of the loft and drops her bag down outside of the coat closet, still a little out of breath from jogging up the stairs. She's running late; taking the stairs rather than the elevator was definitely not any quicker, but it felt more like she was achieving something. "Sorry, I know."
Castle glances up at her from the couch, his arm around Mal. Their son is perched on one of his father's thighs, his tiny feet propped against the opposite leg and a storybook almost swallowing him whole. Castle's mother is here too, sitting tall and regal in an armchair, but when she sees Kate she stands and comes to greet her.
Martha presses an effusive kiss against each of her cheeks and smoothes a hand down her hair, affection just pouring out from her. "Katherine, darling. How are you holding up?"
"I'm doing good, Martha." Kate smiles, squeezing the slender hand somehow encased by her own. "And I think tonight will help a lot. Talking to someone about it. Thank you so much for babysitting Marlow."
"Nonsense, darling. He's my grandson. It's a pleasure." Martha waves her hand in dismissal of Kate's statement and the two women head towards the boys on the couch. Really, they need to have left five minutes ago if they're going to make it comfortably in time for their appointment with Doctor Burke, but Kate doesn't see the harm in an extra thirty seconds to scoop her son up and kiss the warm creases of his neck where he smells so good and already, so familiar.
She holds her little boy close against her for a few moments, and then she hands Mal over to his grandmother. Standing up from the couch, Rick leans in and kisses first his mother's cheek, then his son's. "Be good for Gram, my man. Mommy and I will see you in the morning."
"Bye Mommy, bye Daddy." Marlow beams, and when he gets a smile back from his parents he buries his face in Martha's neck, peeking at them from around his own hands. The difference from this morning when Kate left is astonishing, and she wonders if it's just the factor of his grandmother's presence that has her son not at all concerned by her departure, or whether there's something else at play.
Rick probably knows, but she's a little afraid to ask him. He's been quiet all day, hardly spoke to her at breakfast and when he video called her at lunch he handed the phone straight over to their son. And now she thinks about it, he hasn't said a word to her since she got home.
She manages to bite her tongue all the way to the elevator, but as the car plummets down towards the lobby and Rick's hand stays limp at his side where she was expecting him to reach for hers, she can't help herself any more. "Are you alright?"
Her voice seems to startle him and he half-turns to face her, frowning slightly. "Fine." His voice is quiet, his face is drawn, and suddenly it hits her.
"You're nervous."
"I'm not-" He cuts himself off under the steel of her gaze, dropping his chin and huffing a sigh so long and sorrowful that Kate watches the broad stretch of his chest collapse with it. "Okay. Fine. I'm nervous about it. I've never been to therapy, Kate."
"I thought you said you went when you met your father?" Kate works to keep her voice unassuming, wants Rick to feel like he can trust her. She knows that with the loss of her memories, she lost a lot of the trust he must have once had in her too. But if nothing else, he's the father of her son and she wants desperately to be there for him.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Rick pushes the other deep into the recess of the pocket of his jeans and carefully doesn't look at her. "I didn't. We talked, and you suggested it to me. But I didn't go. I found that just talking it out with my mother and with you helped. But I guess I can't do that this time."
"Rick." She's horrified to find herself whispering, her voice a hollowed out shell of a thing entirely unequipped for the magnitude of what she wants to say. To have him understand. "You can still talk to me. I know I don't remember so many things, but I'll do my best to help. You're my husband. We're a team, no matter what."
He stares at her for a long moment, long enough that the elevator doors slide open and the two of them stride out, Kate slightly ahead of Castle. The doorman holds the door of their building open and they step through, out onto the street. Dusk is rolling in from across the water, the sun just starting to dip into the belly of the earth, and foot traffic is light in this part of the city.
Kate reaches for Rick's hand and grips tight, even when it seems like the natural ebb and flow of their walking might nudge them apart. He still hasn't responded to her outpouring in the elevator, but she supposes that it's just the nerves, anxiety making him mute.
They catch a cab to the therapist's office, an unassuming building that's much nicer inside than Kate was expecting. There's another elevator ride up to the correct floor and then the receptionist offers them a polite smile, asks that they take a seat.
Once they're settled, Kate rests a hand at Rick's knee and follows his gaze outside, watches the sun splash against the windows of the buildings that surround this one. "Have you ever been here before?"
"No, I haven't." He murmurs, but his hand comes to cover hers at his leg and her heart calms its terrified pounding. In all of this, everything that's happened, she hasn't really considered the possibility that he might be the one to leave. "I've waited for you a couple times, met you outside. But I've never been inside."
She nods in answer, leaning back a little in her seat. They wait for maybe five minutes, and then Burke comes to the door of his office and motions for them to come in. The office itself is beautiful, an enormous window stretching across almost an entire wall. Blinds cover it, but they're slatted open to let the light spill lazily inside.
Burke settles into an armchair and gestures for the two of them to sit, a chair for each of them as well. The belly of the seat is deep, the black leather soft enough to sink into, but rather than finding comfort in the way it swallows her up Kate feels vulnerable, chooses instead to stay perched on the edge.
Once the two of them are settled, Burke clasps his hands in his lap and the corners of his mouth turn up in something that might be a reassuring smile. Already, Kate can see why she chose this man for her therapist. His calm, no nonsense demeanour, the quietness. . .all of it makes her feel more comfortable opening up than she had ever imagined.
"So, Kate, we talked a little on the phone. You said you got in an accident and don't remember anything of the past ten years?" Burke starts. His voice is low, soothing, and although it doesn't settle her in the way the steady rumble of Rick's words do, she still appreciates it.
Already, she finds herself wanting to fidget, half tempted to sit on her hands. "Yes. I woke up thinking it was 2008, and I haven't been able to reclaim any of the missing memories so far."
"I'm terribly sorry to hear that. Have you remained at home with Rick?" Burke asks, looking as if he expects her answer to be that she fled.
Well. He does know her pretty well, it would seem. And her default mode - in 2008 at least - has been to run whenever things get difficult and uncomfortable. But she has a husband and a son now; running is no longer a viable option. "Yes, I have. The option was there for me to stay with my dad, but the doctors and Rick all thought that it might help my memories come back if I was surrounded by a familiar environment."
"The last time you came to see me, Kate, you were pregnant. Your baby must be about two now. How are you coping with motherhood, and not remembering your child?"
It still stings, even though Marlow is more amazing than she ever could have imagined. "I'm enjoying it. But we haven't really encountered any hurdles with him, yet. So I don't know if I'm actually good at being his mother, or just good at cuddles and playtime."
"That's actually something I wanted to talk about." Rick butts in and then pauses, glancing at Burke for permission to continue. He gets a nod of approval and continues on, with a little less fervour this time. "I wanted to thank you for this morning. I know it was difficult to leave when Marlow was so upset, but you trusted me and you did it anyway. So thank you."
"I'm following your lead with him, Rick." She shrugs, a little embarrassed by how genuine he seems in his gratitude. It's just that she feels absolutely undeserving. This morning, her howling son attached to her leg, she had been helpless.
In being Marlow's mom and dad, she wants them to be partners. And so much of the time it seems like she gets to do the fun part and then Rick picks up her slack and is the disciplinarian, and that's just so terribly unfair.
"You're doing so much better than I had dared to hope." Her husband murmurs, careful not to look at either her or Doctor Burke.
The therapist refocuses his attention on Rick and Kate lets herself relax a little bit, grateful that the firing squad has momentarily lost interest in her.
"Rick, I can't imagine this has been easy for you. How are you coping?"
There's a pregnant pause, and then Rick's eyes slowly slip closed and his mouth stitches into a seam. They wait, the two of them, for Castle to speak, and when he does his voice is an ancient thing scarred by battle and loss and heartbreak. "I, uh. . .I'm not. Coping. I need my wife, and I know that Kate can't be that for me, and I don't blame her for that. But it's been harder than I could have imagined, not having the woman who loves me to lean on."
"That's understandable, Rick." Burke says gently. He looks as if he might carry on speaking, but Kate just can't stay silent. Not after that.
"Rick, you can lean on me. I know I'm not. . .where I used to be." She swallows, the acrid taste of how much she despises her own self sitting heavy in her throat. And even now, she finds it impossible to say out loud that she doesn't love him. "But I care about you. A lot. You're my husband, the father of my son. And everything you've done, everything you've told me about our life before my accident, just proves that you're someone I can trust."
"I don't want to burden you, Kate. I remember what you were like back when we met. You didn't want anything to do with me at first. Not until I proved myself. But this time around, you don't have the option of walking away."
Kate's eyes slam closed and she chokes back a sob, startled to find that her whole body is trembling. And then Burke's voice cuts through the silence, calm as ever. "Rick, we know that Kate's not the woman you married. But you're operating under the assumption that she's the woman you first met, when that might not be true. This version of Kate is an entirely new woman."
There's a strangled noise from Rick and Kate's eyes fly open. She glances over at him, finds tears silently rolling down his cheeks and that does it, breaks open the wiry cage around her heart. The two of them sit, both crying as quietly as they can manage and Burke silent opposite.
Already, she's exhausted. It's going to be a long couple of hours.
When they spill out of the building that houses Doctor Burke's office into the almost-darkness of the city, Rick is met with the same disconcerting sensation as when you leave a movie theatre and find the sun has set without you there to witness it. Even though the therapist's office has enormous windows, an abundance of natural light, he was so focused on the words exchanged inside the room that he didn't even notice the darkness until just now.
They need to catch a cab, head home. But first. "Kate."
She turns back to face him and he reaches for her, draws her in slowly against his chest. He knows a lot of the things he said hurt her, but she comes willingly and her head rests at his shoulder, her heels putting her at almost the same height as him.
He talked about how he's finding it hard to trust her. About how there are things he's shared with her as his wife that were so difficult he doesn't know if he has the strength to open up all over again. And he talked about intimacy, about how the small ways she's been touching him leave him confused and reeling and desperate for more. For things she's already made clear she isn't willing to give.
"Are we gonna be okay?" He whispers against the shell of her ear, still trembling. It started within the first thirty seconds of entering the building, and it doesn't feel like he's going to be able to stop any time soon.
Not with Kate's own confessions swirling around his head. That she's scared, terrified of getting this wrong and disappointing him. That a huge part of her thinks he should cut his losses and leave, find someone more deserving of all the love he has to give.
As if there could ever be anyone else in the entire world that could so captivate and amaze and astound him as Kate Beckett has from the moment they met.
She pulls back from his hug, a hand lifting between them as if to cup his cheek before she thinks better of it. Suddenly, his body is flooded with regret. He never should have brought up how the way she touches him makes him feel. Not if it means he's going to lose the only small part of their normal he's been able to cling to.
"Of course we are. Therapy is really difficult, but it's so worth it. I'm really glad to know how you're feeling, Rick. And I'll try to work on being better." She says resolutely, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slacks.
He hates this, he really does. Broken Kate, scared Kate. A Kate who isn't sure where she stands.
Because he knows. He knows exactly where Kate Beckett belongs. Right at his side, the two of them strong and unwavering and just so tall. "I'll work on it too, Kate. We'll figure it out."
"I know." She manages a smile that quickly blooms into a yawn and then she giggles, seemingly embarrassed. He wants to say that a yawn is nothing, that he's seen everything of her, but that's just too much after the brutal couple of hours they just spent with Doctor Burke. "Right now though, I just want to go home."
They catch another cab, make their way up to the loft in an easy silence. After all the talking they both did this evening, it's hardly surprising that they've fallen mute. But he feels a hell of a lot more relaxed, now. Even if he did cry in front of Burke, something he promised himself he wouldn't do.
Inside their home, all of the lights are off and the two of them slip off their shoes and pad slowly up the stairs. Kate nudges open the door to their son's bedroom and they both step inside. Marlow is asleep on his back, both arms wrapped tight around Jolly Tall and his comforter pushed down around his feet.
Rick stands for a moment and watches his wife tug the sheets up over their sleeping son, tucking them around him and brushing a feather-light kiss to his forehead. He leans in as well, touches his mouth to the crown of Mal's head where his hair is a little damp with sleep sweat.
In the rocker by the window, Rick's mother is asleep as well and he rouses her as gently as he can, waits for the sleepy blur of nonrecognition to pass before she smiles at him. The adults leave Marlow's room and head back downstairs in silence; his mother's shoes are by the door and she steps into them, accepts the kiss Rick presses to her cheek.
"Are you alright getting home?" He says quietly, hyperaware of the shadow of Kate's presence at his back.
His mother waves him off, nods. "Of course, darling. I'm a New Yorker."
He accepts that, watches his mother make her way down the hall and waits for her to step onto the elevator before he closes the front door. It's really not that late, not even ten pm, but he and Kate are both drained. They make it halfway to the bedroom before it hits him and he freezes, spinning around to face his wife. "Kate. You didn't eat dinner."
"Oh." She breathes out, almost as startled as he is. "I really don't want to. I don't feel like eating right now. I just want to sleep."
"Alright." He agrees, no energy left to fight with her about this. They dress for bed quickly, take turns in the bathroom, and Rick barely remembers to turn up the volume on the baby monitor to be sure they'll hear Marlow through the fog of exhaustion before sleep closes right over the top of his head.