Chapter Eleven
Rick
He can't remember the last time he felt like this.
The elation combined with absolute hope that everything will be okay – it's almost overwhelming.
He thought it felt good to speak about what happened to him with Helen, but this…
Somehow Kate makes everything more.
He hangs up the phone with a smile stretching his lips, their conversation replaying through his mind.
It's everything.
He discussed Helen's visit with Alexis and Elliot, saw the pride in Alexis' eyes at his ability to talk about his captivity without breaking down, but it's different with Kate.
Everything's different with Kate.
I'm so proud of you.
She was somehow aware of how much it meant to him, to be able to tell her that he knew Lydia held him against his will, to say it aloud.
He didn't tell her how monumental it felt, he even tried to downplay it, but she knew.
Alexis was happy before, but when he glances in her direction he sees that her grin is as wide as his. Her eyes are alight with hope, and he doesn't quite understand.
"I'm glad you and Kate are getting along," she explains. "That you're getting back to the way you were."
"Alexis…"
He stops her reluctantly, because she looks so hopeful. He hates taking that away, but he can't carry her expectations on his shoulders, not if they're unrealistic.
"I don't mean-" Alexis starts, quick to clarify. "I just want you both to be happy."
He nods, grateful that she understands, that he doesn't have to explain to her that while he and Kate are in contact, while they're building a friendship, it won't ever be the way it was before.
He's not the same person he was eight years ago, and neither is Kate. He's learning to accept it, learning to accept all that happened and the fact that his future won't ever be what he imagined, and that that's okay.
His anger towards Lydia still lingers, but it fades with each day, each smile, each victory.
He's getting there.
Alexis is more anxious about his second family dinner than he is.
He's looking forward to it.
He wants to get to know Elliot's family better, and he's confident that he can handle anything they might unintentionally throw at him.
There's no reason to be nervous.
They're the last to arrive, and when the doorbell rings after they've all been seated Abby stands, announcing that she ordered Thai food for dinner with a playful smile on her face.
A collective sigh of relief emanates throughout the room, which lightens the mood instantly, inciting anecdotes of previous meals, all starring Abby.
She takes the teasing in stride, tossing back stories of other culinary disasters as she serves out the food, and he's still laughing over the infamous mac and cheese debacle when Abby turns to him and asks if he likes to cook. When he answers in the affirmative, Alexis grins, detailing the adventurous recipes he created over the course of her childhood with startling specificity.
He's halfway through arguing the culinary integrity of the smorlette when he realises – this almost feels natural.
Everyone's watching him, their expressions at various degrees of amused and sceptical, and he's leading the conversation with an ease he never thought possible a month ago.
It feels as if they've done this for years.
They get home early, and when Alexis and Elliot sit down to watch a movie after putting Sammy to bed, he excuses himself, returning to his room.
He no longer second-guesses his desire to speak to Kate.
He's still nervous, but each conversation bridges the gap between them, eliminates the tentativeness and leaves him that much more hopeful that everything will be okay.
He wants to tell her about the meal, about the feeling of family that – while new and delicate – was present and unmistakable. He wants to tell her about Helen's new boyfriend and the supposed interrogation that is set to occur next month when she introduces him to the family, he wants to hear about similar encounters in the past.
He just wants to talk to her.
She answers the phone almost immediately but her greeting is distinctly laced with sleep. He grimaces, remembering the time difference.
"I'm sorry, I'll call back," he apologises, prepared to hang up, but she stops him.
"No," she says, sounding more awake already. "It's okay. What's up?"
"We went to Abby's for dinner tonight," he begins, paranoid that simply wanting to chat isn't a good enough reason to wake her up.
"Still hungry?" She interrupts, laughing softly and making his anxiety disappear in a heartbeat.
"She ordered in," he answers, unable to mask his amusement.
"Lucky you. How is everyone?"
"Good. Helen has a new boyfriend, she's bringing him next time. I'm told it will be an entertaining night?"
Her laugh is melodic and carefree. "Without a doubt. I remember the first family dinner Alexis attended…" she trails off, and it takes him a moment to realise that she's trying to gauge his reaction before she continues.
But rather than the crippling mix of regret and guilt that he's used to, the mention of another missed moment in Alexis' life evokes only a manageable twinge of sadness.
"What happened?"
"She called me from the bathroom not even twenty minutes in," Kate says, the amusement in her tone assuaging any belated concern he has for his daughter.
"They bombarded her with questions and she freaked out a little bit. If you ask Elliot he'll tell you that she handled it all perfectly. She was just so worried about making a good impression that she got overwhelmed."
He's sure she impressed them adequately, given the way they've accepted her as a part of the family.
"It's all just friendly hazing. They have a little too much fun with it. I know Alexis enjoys being on the other side of it now."
He chuckles, remembering her gleeful reaction to the news of Helen's boyfriend.
"I assume you appropriately vetted Elliot?"
He finds himself strangely at peace with the fact that he never got the chance to do so himself, and it only furthers his curiosity as to what occurred in his absence.
"Didn't need to," Kate replies. "He made her smile – he showed her that she could be happy when she didn't believe it possible. He was patient with her."
Her tone is too thoughtful, and it all hits a little too close to home. In her silence he can hear what she's thinking, and it's too much.
He can handle stories of Alexis, tales of what he missed, but Kate…
Discussing what they had only reminds him that while his love for her is unwavering, she and Lydia are invariably intertwined.
He no longer confuses them, he knows reality from the story he created, and he can separate his feelings for each of them, yet the concept of anything more than a friendship with Kate triggers memories of Lydia, memories he'd prefer not to dwell on.
"Do you have work in the morning?"
He changes the topic, and her response serves as an immediate distraction.
"Espo has me canvassing," she affirms.
"Espo has you canvassing?" He repeats, convinced that she's tired, that she's confused, because otherwise…
He never really considered that her job might have changed over the last eight years. He just assumed it to be the same as he remembers, the same whiteboard, the same team, the same dynamic, even in his absence.
"I'm not…" she begins, cutting herself off and trying again. "Espo's in charge now, technically. We still work together, but it's more of a team effort."
"What happened?"
The question slips out before he has a chance to consider that it might upset her.
"It was my own fault," she says, seemingly unfazed. "I was a mess after you disappeared, Castle. I could handle it in the beginning, when I had a case to work. But as time passed, as leads became non-existent and everyone started moving on… I was so focused on the end result that I let it blind me. I made a mistake."
He's hanging on her every word, dread seeping through his entire body at the all too familiar image of Kate consumed by her work, the potential consequences.
"I found Jerry Tyson, and I let him get away. I was so desperate to find you, so desperate for him to lead me to you that I was sloppy. I was stupid."
She lets out a breath, and he wants to say something reassuring, but he can't find the words, too caught up in the story.
"They already thought I was a loose cannon. A liability. I was lucky to keep my job. Alexis found me later that night: she convinced me that I had to stop."
He feels not even a trace of anger, not at his daughter nor Kate for not being able to find him sooner, because he can see it too clearly.
He remembers Kate working her mother's case. He has no doubt that she would have done everything she could to find him, regardless of the risk. He recalls vividly how terrified he was that she was going to get herself killed, and he knows Alexis would have had good reason to ask her to stop.
What he struggles to comprehend is how Alexis managed to get through to her, but before he can find a way to ask, Kate answers his question.
"She told me that she couldn't lose me, too."
She inhales quietly, and he can hear his own heart thump against his ribs.
"You don't know how many times I said that to my dad," she says, her voice almost inaudible. "I didn't realise what I was doing to her."
Her words make his chest tighten, his blood run cold.
The thought of his daughter so upset, so alone, the thought of Kate so self-destructive.
"It's not your fault," she returns, emphatic.
"I know."
It's an automatic response, but when he hears his words echo in the subsequent silence, he realises that it's true.
His sessions with Dr Capwell become progressively less draining as he finds it easier to voice all that has happened to him. Now that he can discuss it outside of the therapist's office, doing so within the safety of those four walls isn't nearly as daunting.
It still comes as a surprise when Dr Capwell suggests decreasing his number of appointments.
He's reeling when he gets into the car, buckling his seat belt before looking to Alexis, who raises an eyebrow at his mood.
"Dr Capwell thinks I'm doing well. That I can go down to two sessions a week."
Alexis' jaw drops but she recovers well, leaning across to squeeze his shoulders in a gesture that no longer makes him feel confined.
"That's incredible, dad. We should celebrate."
"We should," he agrees, smiling as she proposes stopping for lunch on the way home.
He loves this, the time with his daughter following therapy. Knowing that no matter what happens in that room she'll be there when it's over, the routine of grabbing a coffee or a meal together after the session, depending on the day.
The normality.
It's not as if he's been avoiding the conversation.
He just wants to get it right.
He wants Alexis to know she can ask him about it, if she needs to, but he doesn't want to hurt her with the reminder.
She still tiptoes around the subject of his captivity, even though he raised it following his visit from Helen, and while he's aware that she may have her own reasons for doing so, she should know that he's okay with it.
"I want you to know that you can ask me about it," he starts, catching both himself and Alexis off guard with the topic but diving right in. "What happened to me. I'm not afraid of it."
She nods, lowering herself to the couch as he tries to explain further.
It's not like it was before, and he needs her to understand.
He still has nightmares, but he's not afraid to close his eyes.
Some times he makes it through the night without waking once; some mornings he wakes without memory of a nightmare.
It's different.
"I don't know what to ask," Alexis admits. "I'm not sure I really want to know."
He nods, tries to appear reassuring.
He didn't expect questions. He didn't think that she'd demand retelling every moment he spent in Lydia's control.
But she knows she can ask.
"Can I ask you something?" He wonders, his conversation with Kate fresh in his mind. "About Kate?"
"Of course."
"You were the one who convinced her to stop looking for me," he states, leading with what he already knows.
Kate was candid but his curiosity is insistent, and he realises too late that Alexis took his words the wrong way.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, breaking apart before his eyes.
"No," he interrupts, scrabbling to make this right, because he doesn't hold her accountable for the length of his captivity, and she can't believe that he does.
"I don't blame you," he reiterates, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "I've talked about it with Kate, and I guess I'm just curious as to your side of the story. How you convinced her, what was different about that day."
Alexis nods, slowly pulling herself together.
"She was scaring me," Alexis admits. "I mean, we were all trying to get through it, trying to move on, figure out what life was without you, but Kate… She didn't care for her own life. I was sure that she was convinced that you were dead, and all she wanted was answers before she joined you."
He knows Kate's version of events, yet the direct nature of the words hit with full force. He inhales deeply, tries to force air into his suddenly uncooperative lungs, and focuses on the knowledge that she's okay now – they all are.
"I'll never forget that night. I didn't expect… I can still see the crazed look on her face…" Alexis trails off, her eyes glazing over with the memory.
"She had no clue as to who had taken you, she'd been suspended, and all of her friends were telling her to let it go, that you were gone."
The second time around it still pains him to hear, and he wonders why he's so compelled to know the details.
"I told her you were gone," Alexis confesses, her voice small, and he eliminates all distance between them, draws his daughter into his arms.
"It's okay," he murmurs, finds that it is. He can't imagine how they felt – he certainly can't fault them for finding a way to cope.
"I'm glad you moved on," he whispers. "If you hadn't found a way to put it behind you, you wouldn't have this. You wouldn't have Elliot, you wouldn't have Sammy. I wouldn't change any of it."
"Even Kate?" She wonders, more stunned by the conviction in his voice than he is.
Visions of Kate and the remnants of their relationship blur with the way he always imagined their future, but he doesn't falter.
"Even Kate."
Because mere months ago, he couldn't look her in the eye without dissolving into a panic, and now they're forming a friendship, one that is new and yet so familiar.
Because he has learned to hope, and it has him believing that this is only the beginning.
His phone calls with Kate become such an intrinsic part of his life that when they go a couple of days without speaking, he almost aches with the need to call her.
They mostly discuss details of their day-to-day lives – rarely do they broach topics that make his heart rate quicken – but she still understands him in a way no one else does.
Even after all the time that has passed, even though they've changed, he finds that fundamentally, they're the same when they're together.
She's telling him about Esposito babysitting the Ryan girls and the fact that he's absolutely smitten when the need to see her sparks.
Her laughter is contagious, and he can envisage her grin, the one that can enchant him in seconds, and he is no longer content with mere phone calls.
He feels lighter when he talks to her – happier.
She makes him smile, just as she always did, and he knows it's no coincidence that he sleeps better if he speaks to her during the day.
"I was wondering," he begins, his throat dry as he acts on a thought that has only been hovering in his periphery until now. "I'd love to see you."
It's an inelegant invitation, one that doesn't explain that he still can't face New York, but he hears her breath hitch and he knows that she realises what he's saying. "I don't mean right way, I'm sure you have work, and other commitments –" he hedges, giving her every possible out in order to ensure that she doesn't feel obligated.
"No," she interjects, quick to disagree. "I mean I do, but I can get time off. I'd love you see you, too."
He hears the tremor in her voice, as if she's afraid he'll take it back even though it was his suggestion. He's grateful that he's not the only one who feels nervous.
"Okay," he says, a grin forming with the knowledge that they're on the same page. "I can't wait."
He doesn't expect it to happen so quickly.
He assumed it would be months before she could get away from work, before any kind of plan would be set in motion, but two days after their conversation she's calling him about flights, and suddenly Alexis is counting down the days.
Fifteen days until she's here.
He wonders if seeing her might make the stubborn part of his brain realise that Lydia has nothing to do with his feelings for Kate, that he doesn't need the reminder of his past every time he contemplates his future, but it's overshadowed by his nervous excitement.
He envies his daughter and her pure anticipation, because despite everything, part of him is still irrationally afraid.
That seeing Kate will remind him of Lydia, instead of allowing him to set them apart once and for all. That she'll see his scars and not the man he's become in spite of them. That it will adversely change their friendship, the one they've worked so hard to build.
But one phone call to her calms his paranoia, reminds him why he suggested she visit in the first place.
He's desperate to see her.
Sammy's looking at him as if he's crazy, which is not exactly a good sign.
He'll admit he might be freaking out a little bit.
Kate's on a plane and Alexis is driving out to the airport, and he's watching Sammy until Elliot gets home and okay, he could be freaking out a lot.
It's only just hitting him that in less than two hours she'll be here.
She offered to stay at a hotel to make it easier for everybody, but he knows that he inhabits what used to be her room, and he didn't want to force her out of the house too. Not when he knows he can handle seeing her everyday.
He's almost looking forward to it.
Well, he would be, if he could get his nerves under control.
The door opens and he turns to see Elliot enter, a reassuring smile on his face. Sammy abandons his toys, crawling towards the sound of Elliot's voice, and Elliot grins, his attention on his son as he picks him up, chatting animatedly.
After a few minutes Sammy is wriggling for his freedom, and Elliot chuckles, setting him down.
"How was he?" Elliot inquires, his eyes on Sammy as Castle relishes in the conversational nature of the question.
Although it's not the first time he has looked after Sammy without Elliot or Alexis present, it's still new, and he wouldn't blame Elliot for being apprehensive or concerned. But instead Elliot is entirely trusting, and it's exactly what he needs.
"Good," he responds, smiling at Sammy, who appears completely oblivious to their conversation, entranced by the toys that litter the living room floor. "But I think he knows I'm losing it," Castle jokes.
"Rick," Elliot says, his tone quietly demanding attention. "You're fine. There's nothing for you to be worried about. You've come so far, and Kate's going to be so happy for you."
Castle blinks at his son-in-law, speechless. Elliot doesn't waste words unless he believes them to be true and worth voicing.
"Thanks."
Elliot nods, predictably brushing off any kind of appreciation, and Castle takes a deep breath as he hears movement at the front door.
He can do this.
When the door opens there's a flurry of movement, Elliot lifting Sammy into his arms, Alexis wheeling Kate's suitcase towards the stairs, but he only sees her.
Kate's eyes spark the moment they meet his, and his nerves fade instantly.
She's twisting her hands and her posture is tense, but she's still so undeniably Kate.
She's still the woman he wants to talk to every night; she's still the woman who knows how to make him feel as though everything will be okay.
It washes over him now, even without words.
He grins as he moves instinctively towards her, but her smile is muted, and he understands why she's apprehensive.
The days he spent in the hospital are mostly a blur, but he remembers pushing her away time and again, unable to face all that her presence forced him to consider.
He remembers the struggle it was to even meet her gaze. Now he can't look away.
This time, he reaches for her.
A/N: Nic, thank you for being a brilliant beta, you are wonderful :)
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