Disclaimer: Sometimes I'm really jealous of Andrew Marlowe.
Chapter Twenty-Five
She woke up panicked. She didn't know where she was or what was going on. She couldn't stop the images of her mother from rushing through her mind. The images of her mom lying sprawled on her back with her eyes empty. Dead. And blood, so much blood.
She was drenched with it. She frantically pulled off the sweatshirt she was wearing and tried to wipe the blood from her arms.
Then she realized it was sweat. She was soaking wet and she couldn't stop the shivers that were racking her body.
She tried to force herself to lie back down but she couldn't do it, part of her was still trapped in the nightmare and she couldn't get out.
She grabbed her phone and hit her speed dial.
He answered instantly.
"Castle," she could barely formulate his name.
"Kate?" he knew right away that something wasn't right, "Tell me what's wrong!"
He could hear her breathing heavily over the phone but she didn't reply.
"Baby? I'm coming over okay, I'll be there soon," as he was saying the words he jumped out of bed. He hadn't been sleeping, he'd been writing with his laptop propped against his knees, and he felt a wave of relief that he'd been awake. He'd get to her a lot faster.
She let the phone drop out of her hand onto the bed, briefly comforted by the fact that he was coming. But then the nightmare dragged her back under again. Her heart was pounding and she couldn't breath and all she could see was all the blood.
He reached her apartment in record time and let himself in using the key that Lanie had given him once for emergencies. He didn't think she'd like it, the fact that he had a key to her place without her knowledge, but right now he didn't care.
He ran into her room and stood frozen for a minute as he caught sight of her. She was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.
"Kate?"
She didn't respond to her name.
He rushed over to the bed and then, worried about startling her, gently sat down next to her.
He touched her softly but she didn't respond. Her eyes were open but she was staring blanking in front of her. He could feel her pulse racing.
He wasn't sure what to do, he had a feeling this was a nightmare, maybe part of her PTSD, but he didn't know how to deal with it.
She still hadn't reacted to his presence so he eased himself behind her on the bed. He cautiously wrapped an arm around her, forcing her against his side.
She startled and her breathing heightened while she looked frantically around the room.
Except he could tell she wasn't really seeing it and wasn't really seeing him.
"Hey baby," he spoke to her softly, holding her firmly against him as he stroked her hair off her forehead.
"It's just a dream, it's not real," he murmured next to her ear.
She turned to look at him and he saw a flash of recognition in her eyes before it disappeared, "There's so much blood," she said and the lack of inflection in her voice scared him.
"No," he promised her and he began running his hand over her body, gently stroking her head and her side and her back, "There's no more blood".
He murmured words into her ear, reassuring her, promising her that she was safe and it would be okay.
He felt her relax a little against him but her breath was still a little too abrupt and her confusion was evident.
As she calmed against him he remembered the state she was in. The sweat was intense, it had soaked through her sheets and even though she wasn't wearing a shirt—he realized with surprise that he hadn't even noticed—she was noticeably overheated.
"There was so much blood," she whispered.
He realized that rational thoughts weren't helping here and he wanted to help her. Plus she needed to get into dry clothes. She was shivering.
"No more blood," he promised her and he gathered her into his arms. He was surprised she didn't stiffen as he lifted her though he could feel the shaking that had been rolling through her since he'd first entered the room.
He held her tightly to him as he made his way to her bathroom.
He turned on the water as hot as he could and sat down on her toilet seat, still clutching her to him.
He knew she still wasn't really aware of what was going on, but he was relieved that her breathing seemed to be stilling a little.
Once the room was filled with steam he adjusted the water slightly and stepped into the shower without bothering to remove his clothes.
He stood with her under the water, adjusting her in his arms slightly so that he could soap and rinse her body.
Once he was sure he'd gotten every last trace of sweat off of her he switched off the water. He glanced down at her and she was looking up at him, she looked confused. Not completely there, but he saw a trace of his Kate and he felt reassured by what he'd just done.
"No more blood," he promised and kissed her softly on her forehead.
He felt her nod and watched her eyes drift shut. He grabbed some towels off the rack and wrapped one around her as best he could as she was precariously balanced in his arms. Then he walked back into her bedroom and settled her gently in a chair. He rubbed the other towel through her hair.
He removed his soaking clothes and threw them back into the bathroom.
He searched through her dresser until he found what he was looking for. He yanked the sheets and blankets off the bed, tossing them onto the floor. He didn't bother with a fitted sheet but instead threw a normal one over the bed and grabbed another one to place on top.
Grabbing a pair of boxer that he suspected were a remnant from an old boyfriend, something that he didn't like to think about but was briefly thankful for, he put them on.
He found an oversized t-shirt for Kate and walked back over to the chair. He pulled the soft material over her head and gathered her back into his arms. He was surprised at how easy she was to manipulate, how she hadn't woken up again.
Not, he frowned, that she'd really been awake since he'd arrived.
He paused for a moment before climbing into bed, realizing that the room wasn't that warm, that all they had were sheets, that he was currently almost naked and that her hair was wet. He found the thermostat in the moonlight of the room, thankful that it was right by the door where he thought it would be. He turned it up high walking slowly back to the bed as he felt Kate shift a little in his arms.
He placed her gently on the bed, being careful to put her on top of one of the sheets while pulling back the other. He climbed in next to her and shifted her so that she was firmly pushed against him. Her body was still tense and he softly laid his arm across her stomach, willing the heat from his body to help her relax.
At least her breathing was more even now. Not completely relaxed, but almost.
He waited for a while, concerned that she would have another nightmare, relieved that her breathing was becoming slow and steady. He wasn't sure how long he watched her before he fell asleep.
She woke up and Castle was there.
He was there and he was naked.
She couldn't remember letting him in and she stilled for a moment as she tried to find the memory. But it wasn't there.
They'd decided to spend the night apart and yet he was there and she couldn't remember and…
He stirred a little next to her and she felt a flash of frustration.
Why wasn't she alone? How the hell had he gotten into her apartment?
She sat up abruptly in the bed annoyed.
Then she caught sight of all of the blankets and sheets on the floor. And her eyes shifted to what they were on top of. Had he remade the bed?
And the room was warm. Way warmer than normal. And she wasn't wearing what she'd worn the night before.
She climbed out of bed and bent to pick her sweatshirt off the floor and recoiled at how damp it was.
Oh.
She looked at him again, sleeping peacefully in her bed, and then took in the state of the room.
Stared at the damp sheets and blankets and clothes.
Shit.
She felt a surge of affection for him at the same time that she felt embarrassment wash over her.
The night terrors hadn't been as frequent since she'd been in therapy. At least she thought they had lessened, she frowned a little as she realized that she'd been sleeping alone for a while. Maybe they'd started back up again? Dr. Burke had told her sometimes your sleep just felt disrupted; sometimes you didn't remember the actual terror part. She hadn't been sleeping well.
She walked into the bathroom and bent to remove his clothes from the floor. They were dripping wet.
There was no way she had sweated that much.
Her eyes drifted to the shower. She always pulled the curtain closed behind her but right now it was fully open.
She realized that her hair was a little damp but she didn't smell sweaty.
What the hell had happened?
She walked back to the bed and lay down next to him. She wanted to ask him what was going on but it was still early and she didn't want to wake him. She really didn't want to wake him if he'd spent the night looking after her.
Even in sleep he responded to her presence and rolled towards her on the bed, engulfing her with his leg and arm.
She couldn't help but laugh. Despite the confusion she laughed.
"Kate?" he asked groggily, opening one eye and peeking at her.
A slow grin formed as he saw her smiling at him.
"Okay?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow and shifting to face her.
"Yeah, um," she looked embarrassed, "I don't really remember…"
"Hey," he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, "that's okay".
He looked at her and was actually relieved by her lack of memory. He didn't want her to have to relive that. He didn't want to relive it and he hadn't even been the one sleeping.
She was moved by the concern in his face and she felt she owed him some explanation, not that she really had one, "It was…it was probably a night terror?"
She made it both a statement and a question.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"Yeah," she let out a little huff of breath and he was amazed that he could find her so adorably distracting when they were having a serious conversation, "there's not much I can do about them. With the therapy they should be lessening but other than that…"
"How often?"
"Honestly, I don't really know," she admitted, "occasionally I wake up during them and remember everything and don't go back to sleep, but if I don't and I'm alone…"
He nodded in realization, "You'd have no idea".
"Yeah," she looked down at her hands and shrugged.
"You called me last night," he told her.
"Really?" she looked up in surprise.
"Yeah," he grinned at her, "how else would I know to come here? Gosh Beckett, I love you and I know we're in synch a lot, but I'm not a mind reader".
She couldn't help but return his smile, though her reply was a little sarcastic, "Too bad".
He nodded slowly, "It is actually, because baby, you really shouldn't be going through that alone".
She was briefly irritated by his insinuation that she couldn't deal with it by herself. But then she met his eyes and she saw his concern for her radiating. Plus, he'd just called her baby and she had to admit that softened the blow.
"Was it bad?" she asked hesitantly, not sure she really wanted to know.
"Yes," he looked at her honestly.
"Sorry," she mumbled, returning her attention to the sheet she was picking at.
"Beckett," he sounded annoyed. He used his finger to force her chin upwards so that they were face to face, "Not your fault. And I wanted to be here, I'm glad I was here to try and help".
"Thank you," she looked at him again.
"Unnecessary," he stated, and he leaned forward and kissed her gently.
"How were you here?" she sounded confused again.
"You called me".
"Yes…but did I actually get up and let you in?" She looked puzzled. She knew it was unlikely she'd be able to do that in the middle of a night terror. The fact that she'd managed to call him was incredible enough.
"Not exactly," he looked over her shoulder attempting to avoid eye contact.
"Castle?" she knew what his avoidance techniques looked like.
"I had a key," he muttered.
"What?" she shrieked, "Since when have you had a key?"
"Um," he thought back, "pretty much since you broke up with Josh".
"What? What the fuck Castle, how did you get a key?"
"Lanie gave it to me," he released the information quickly, suddenly afraid of the wrath of Beckett that everyone always talked about.
"Lanie?" she sounded confused.
"For emergencies," he clarified.
"Uh huh," she looked at him in disbelief but didn't ask for further clarification. This was just like Lanie.
Suddenly the realization hit her.
"You've had a key to my apartment for months and I only got yours two days ago?"
She was irritated and he couldn't help but smile.
"Somehow I don't think you would have wanted me to give you my key a week ago let alone months ago. Plus, that was me really giving it to you. This was someone else giving it to me without your knowledge," he was a little confused by his own logic but continued anyway, "totally not the same thing!"
She narrowed her eyes at him before climbing out of the bed.
"I'm going to take a shower".
"I think that might be a little unnecessary".
"Why?" she spun to face him, still obviously annoyed.
"We may have already done that last night?" he said timidly.
She looked appalled, "We didn't do anything else in that shower did we?"
He climbed out of bed and she noticed with surprise that he wasn't completely naked. The boxers hung low on his hips and she was enthralled by them as he walked towards her, easily distracted enough so that she let him pull her into an embrace.
"It wasn't like that," he murmured into her hair.
"I know," she admitted, letting herself relax against him.
"Castle?"
"Hmm," he planted a kiss on the top of her head.
"Thank you".
"Always".
AN: Next stop the precinct! It's finally Monday (for the characters and for us...and that wasn't even on purpose!).
I studied psychology in college so most of Beckett's night terror symptoms should be pretty accurate. Let me know if anything is glaringly wrong! Re-living trauma is pretty common and I figured that the trauma of her mother's death would impact her just as much as the trauma of her shooting.