Unscathed
Chapter 26:
"Think you could perk up for a big breakfast?"
She stirs there against his chest, lulled to dozing by the gentle rise and fall of his breath and the nearby sound of the tide.
"Hmm?"
He chuckles, the sound low and gravely against her ear. "Food, Beckett. I'll make you a waffle."
"Mm," she offers, cuddling closer.
It's still early. She can see the sun's still low in the sky, cloud cover mostly intact. It might be closer to waking hours now.
"With strawberries and syrup. Come on. Let's cook."
She grunts, gripping at his shirt where she's curled her hands, suddenly unwilling to leave the cave of his body and face the day. She just wants to lie here on him for the rest of…ever.
"Kate?"
"Comfy," she whines, unable to articulate something more explanatory.
"Want me to carry you in?" he whispers against the crown of her head.
"No," she mumbles, squeezing in tight once before reluctantly pulling back.
She blinks as she meets his eyes, corners crinkling at her as he smiles. "You okay?" he asks.
She nods slowly. "Yeah. You?"
He bends forward and presses a soft kiss to her lips. "Yeah."
She rests against his forehead for a moment before climbing off of his lap, holding out her hand to take his as he stands. His large palm squeezes hers as he guides her into the house and along the sunny, welcoming hall into the kitchen.
Martha sits at the table, a cup of half-gone coffee in front of her, paper open.
"Breakfast, Mother?" Castle asks, releasing Kate to step into the kitchen and begin rifling around for ingrediants.
"Whatever you're making," Martha offers dismissively, head still buried in the paper.
Kate smiles and takes the eggs from Castle as he pulls them out of the fridge. "Why don't you go wake Alexis?" he suggests.
She considers him. She wants to be better, to do this better. "Do you want to?"
He smiles, his face soft. "I want to cook. She fell asleep at nine last night. She'll be catatonic if we let her sleep any more."
"Okay," she says, waving back as Martha wiggles her fingers at her before she turns and pads out of the room.
It takes her a second to orient herself before remembering which doorway leads to the staircase. She lets her hand glide along the white banister and feels the hard wood beneath her feet, trying to stay in this moment, present. She's breathing better now, after her long cuddle with Castle—feels a bit more moored to the house, to her life, than she did earlier.
Alexis is a lump in her bed, red hair scattered everywhere, hands and feet sticking out at odd angles beneath the bright pink comforter. It really clashes with her complexion, Kate notes as she tiptoes up to the teen's side. Her skin looks abnormally pale against the hue of the blankets.
"Alexis," Kate prompts, wanting to see her open her eyes, something about the pasty palor to her skin suddenly unnerving.
"Hmph," Alexis mutters, twitching.
"Alexis, time to get up," Kate tries again, gently touching her shoulder.
Alexis' eyes slowly slide open and she squints up at Kate. "Wha?"
"Breakfast," Kate offers, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind the kid's ear.
"Sleep," Alexis replies, closing her eyes and burrowing into the bed.
Kate laughs. "Nope. Breakfast." She jiggles the girl's shoulder, laughing as Alexis moans. "Dad's making waffles," Kate entices. Alexis cracks an eye open at that. "I'll make bacon."
Alexis sighs and opens both eyes, reaching up to rub at them. "Tired," she announces.
"Apparently," Kate agrees, glancing at the clock. She's been out for nearly 14 hours.
"How long have you been up?" she asks, stretching languidly.
"Hours."
Alexis cocks her head. "Really?" She turns and looks at the clock. "It's only 9:30."
Kate shrugs and watches as the teen hauls herself up to sitting, cracking her neck. "How'd you sleep?"
"Hard," Alexis says, smiling. "Dreamless."
"Good," Kate replies, relieved. With so much going on, it's good that Alexis is sleeping, and well.
"You?"
"Hard," Kate repeats. She did, just not for very long. Hard to sleep anything but deeply after what they—okay, no, not with Alexis in the room.
"Waffles?" Alexis asks, looking a bit more awake now.
"Waffles," Kate confirms.
Alexis slides out of bed and skirts around Kate, sneaking into her ensuite and closing the door with a yawn. Kate stares around at the room, noting the pictures of a younger Alexis and Castle building sandcastles, grilling on the deck, spashing in the pool. Kate smiles and walks closer to examine one of the two of them curled on the porch seat much like she and Castle had been earlier.
Alexis is pointing out at something on the water. Kate figures she must be about seven. Castle stares down at her, an incredibly soft look on his face. Kate wonders if that's how he would look at their children.
She startles, shaking her head. She's only realizing now that they calmly discussed childbirth this morning, like it was just…part of the future. She glances back at Alexis' young little face, lit up with discovery, looks over at her proud smile as she stands beside Castle's head, the rest of his body buried in sand. It would be nice to be around for that—to get to see him be a father like that.
Alexis comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy robe, slippers on her feet, and her face split in yet another yawn.
"I feel like I didn't sleep at all," she says, walking over to lean into Kate's side.
"Oversleeping can do that," Kate agrees, guiding her out of the room.
It would be nice to get to see a kid grow up with Castle. Alexis cuddles into her side as they hit the bottom of the stairs, clinging to her in sleepiness and Kate smiles. It's nice to have this too, whatever it is—whatever compels the teenager to use her as a standing pillow.
"You're soft," Alexis says quietly as Kate guides her into the kitchen.
"Oh good. That means you're putting on weight," Castle says, smiling at them as he stirs the waffle batter.
"It's the robe," Kate counters, Alexis giggling into her shoulder.
Castle scowls at her and looks down at the batter. "Fine. Two waffles for you."
(…)
Two waffles doesn't stop her swimsuit from hanging off of her body.
Kate turns, considering herself in the full length mirror of the walk-in closet. She can hear Castle spraying himself down with sunscreen and sighs. It's all she has to wear, at any rate. And with it hanging like this, her scars aren't really visible.
But he won't like it.
She hates it, but it will make him worry. To her, she looks hideous, angular and unsexy. To him, it will look like she's still recovering. She is. But she'd like to keep the physical evidence hidden. Scars she can't cover, but the weight loss…
"Kate?"
Well, she can't hide it, can she?
She sighs and walks out of the closet, holding her towel and feeling the swim suit whack lightly against her stomach as she moves, the fabric pulling and letting loose with each step.
"Need someone to do your back?" she asks, going for collected and maybe a bit sultry.
It doesn't work. He's too busy staring at her. She fights to stay tall, stay confident. She can fake it. Fake it until maybe she regains that weight and doesn't have to anymore.
"I've missed that suit," he offers after a hard swallow.
She smiles at that—sweet man. "Thought you might appreciate it."
He nods and reaches out, pulling her in the last few feet to press his lips to hers and rest his hands on her hips. "Much nicer than a poke to the chest," he mumbles as they pull apart.
"Oh, I don't know," Kate says, smirking.
He gasps comically. "Dirty woman."
She shrugs and bends in his arms to pick up the spray can, pushing on him to turn him around so she can get his back. She smiles as she puts down the can and begins rubbing the lotion in, enjoys the way Castle slackens at the feeling.
"You have lovely hands," he concludes as she rubs in the last bit, lingering at the small of his back. She smiles and slithers her palms down to squeeze his ass. "Dangerous hands," he cautions, turning around to leer at her.
She laughs. "Not now, stud. Need a few hours."
He turns and smiles at her, chagrined. "Sorry, dear."
She laughs. "Don't apologize. Just give me time to recover."
He nods solemnly then leans in for a smacking kiss. "Strictly platonic beach day. I promise."
"Uh huh. I didn't believe it then, I don't believe it now."
"When?" She bites her lip. Whoops. Didn't mean to say that, did she? "Oh," he mumbles. "Oh, well," he considers her for a moment, then brushes a lock of hair from her face. "This is so much better."
She smiles at that, leans into his touch for a moment, then hands him the special sunscreen sitting on the headboard. "Would you get my back?"
He grins. "See, you never would have let me."
She rolls her eyes and spins around, listening as he uncaps the scar-protection SPF 80 the doctor perscribed. She's supposed to apply it every two hours, more if she swims, and keep something over her back while she sunbathes.
She's still debating whether she wants to bother or not. They'll always be visible, they told her. They'll fade, yes, but they'll never disappear. So is it worth it?
She feels Castle stall for a moment, tracing the line of the first cut and she blows out a slow breath. Yes, it's worth it for him, if not for her, so he doesn't have to see them dark and glaring everytime she turns her back.
She breathes deeply, waiting for him to move on. But he doesn't. "Rick?"
His forehead comes to rest against the back of her head and she feels his exhale over the top of her spine. "I'm just really glad you're alive."
She shivers and stays still, giving him the moment. It takes a beat, and a hard swallow, but she manages an equally quiet, "Me too."
"I still—when I woke up the other day, and you were gone. I knew you'd be fine. I mean, I hoped, you know?"
"Castle," she mumbles, not sure she can take hearing this.
"And you're here, and you are just fine, and it's over for now. But I still—I have this clench in my gut that hasn't gone away."
"Anger?" she wonders.
His hands begin smoothing the cream across her back in dedicated, careful strokes. "No," he says after a long pause. "No, just—three weeks you were gone. I nearly died with it, Beckett. If you hadn't come back, hadn't been alive if we ever managed to find you—I was barely eating as it was. I can't—I don't think I could do it again."
"You won't have to." It comes out choked and small, but she promises, she promises.
He smoothes his palms across her lower back, just under the line of the suit, dragging her back into his chest. She stares out at the ocean through the window, her eyes prickling from the clutch of his hands and the desolation in his voice.
This hurts. His trauma, his pain, hurts her. It brings back pain she's been fighting damn hard to push through. She takes a shuddering breath and tries to stop. She doesn't want to cry today.
But then the chest behind her takes the same breath and she forces herself to turn around. She lifts her eyes to his and he's crying too.
It startles her, forcing a wet laugh out of her mouth, and he cracks a sad smile. He pulls her close and she gratefully buries her face into the hollow of his throat, her arms wrapped high around his neck. His arms band around her back, one hand snaking up to cup the back of her head as she cries. She feels his breath hitching in time with hers, feels his tears hitting her bare shoulder.
"Why are you crying?" he whispers after a long few minutes.
"Because," is all she can come up with. "Why are you crying?" she mumbles into his throat.
"Because," he agrees.
She smiles, sniffling, and slowly pulls back. She takes in his puffy eyes, red nose, his tear-streaked cheeks, and reaches up to smooth her thumbs beneath his eyes. He does the same and she shudders, feeling him brush across her scar.
"Didn't—didn't think this would happen two years ago, huh?" she asks.
He huffs, then snuffles, loudly. She can't help but laugh. "No," he says, scowling playfully at her with wet eyelashes. "But I—it's—"
"I'm glad you can cry with me," she supplies for him. He nods solemnly and bends down to dust his lips to hers, both of them far too stuffed for anything deeper.
"You okay?" he asks asks, brushing back her now mussed hair.
"Are you?"
"Are you avoiding the question?"
"Are you?"
He opens his mouth then shuts it, considering her. She's not sure she can put it into words, the rush of saddness, almost mourning that overtook her. Mourning for his pain, his saddness—mourning for her own?
"I feel like swimming," he decides.
She smiles. "I'd like that."
"Then let's go."
He pulls back and they make quick work of grabbing their things and washing their faces, glancing sheepishly but freely at each other, side by side at the sinks in the bathroom. He splashes her a little to get another laugh and she finds herself freer for it as he drags her downstairs to the kitchen.
They meet Martha and Alexis on the deck, an assortment of beach chairs and towels piled up by the stairs. Alexis is wearing a modest blue bikini, hair long around her shoulders. She's thin. Not as thin as Kate, but thin, and somehow more grown up looking there in a bathing suit and bare feet.
Alexis' eyes light up as they come onto the porch and she scurries straight to Castle. "Would you do my hair, Daddy?"
Kate rubs a palm against Castle's lower back as he nods mutely. Alexis grins and spins aroung, passing back a hair tie. Kate stays close, noting the slight tremor in Castle's hands as he goes about deftly parting his daughter's hair and winding the strands into an impeccable french braid.
"You're good at that," Kate mumrurs, seeing Martha regard the three of them with a very soft smile.
"Dad can do anything with hair," Alexis agrees. "You should let him do yours. Gets less windblown this way," she adds as Castle ties off her braid and steps away. "Thanks!" she adds, flashing a smile over her shoulder before picking up the towels and leading Martha down onto the grass and out toward the little gate that leads to their private section of the beach.
"You okay?" Kate whispers as Castle stands still, watching them go.
"If I say no, can I braid your hair?" he asks, taking a deep breath.
She smiles. "Please."
And somehow, unlike the scars and the sunscreen, his large, dexterous fingers in her hair just make them both smile—something weirdly healing in the gesture.
"Come on," she encourages, spinning as soon as he's finished to take his hand.
"You're beautiful," he says, bending to kiss the corner of her eye.
She blushes and meets his eyes, the breath knocked out of her.
"I'm really glad you're here."
"Me too, Castle."
(…)
"Is everything okay?"
Kate looks up from her book, an old copy of Pride and Predjudice she snagged off the nightstand that she's been skimming. Her mind feels foggy after their…whatever it was, like she's slogging through too many feelings to focus.
"Hmm?" Kate offers, turning to meet Alexis' gaze, twin pairs of sunglasses sheilding their eyes as they sit beneath a comically large beach umbrella Castle hauled out, along with four beach lounge chairs and a cooler of soda and water.
"You and dad," Alexis prompts.
Martha snores softly on Alexis' other side, sprawled out on the lounger piled high with three plush towels, fast asleep.
"We're fine," Kate says automatically. She glances out at the water, where Castle's wandering, collecting shells. She'd still be with him, but they both noticed the sunburn creeping in on her shoulders and he summarily banished her back to the shade.
"Kate."
Kate looks back at her and finds Alexis' blue eyes staring at her, sunglasses pulled down. She sighs and tries to muster an answer she couldn't find earlier.
"It's—I think we're both just…adjusting."
Alexis bites at her lip, her eyebrows creasing in worry. "To what?"
"Oh," Kate lets out, reaching out to smooth back the small whisps of broken hair that have fallen out of the girl's braid. "Nothing bad, Alexis."
Alexis puts down her sunglasses, still unsure, curling up in her chair with her legs stretched out across between them, pushing on Kate's thigh. "Then what?"
"We've been busy the last week. I think we're decompressing." There. That's what it is. They're decompressing, and apparently decompressing means sobbing all over each other with no provocation.
"But you're okay?"
"Of course we are," she say immediately, removing her own sunglasses, hoping the girl can see the honesty on her face—how they're just fine.
"Together, though," Alexis insists. "You're happy, right?"
Kate blinks. "With your dad?"
"I know you guys were fighting before we left, and you seem okay, but I just—never mind," she says, pulling her legs back and shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I'm being stupid."
"Hey," Kate says, reaching out to grab the teen's hand. "It's not stupid." Alexis eyes her dubiously. "We had a fight, but that doesn't mean we're not happy."
Alexis nods and squeezes her hand, but Kate hangs on, unwilling to let this go. She wants the bouncy teen who wanted a braid back—the girl who felt safe and at home here.
"Hey," Kate prompts, waiting until Alexis meets her eyes. "I love your dad, and no amount of fighting is going to make me stop. It's been uglier and we've made it through."
"I know," Alexis says.
"It's going to take some time for us to feel safe, and I need to get used to your mansion here." Alexis laughs at that. "But we're good, kid. We're happy together, and we're happy here, okay?"
"Okay," Alexis says softly.
Kate smiles and gestures to her book. "Read with me?"
Alexis hesitates for a moment then climbes out of her chair and snuggles in beside Kate, the two of them a jumble of angular bones and angles until they manage to settle with Alexis' legs thrown over Kate's. Kate cracks the book back open and smiles as Alexis rests her cheek on Kate's shoulder, eyelids already fluttering.
"Are you okay?" Kate asks, wondering how many more time she can ask the question today.
"Yeah," Alexis breathes out. "Just…I don't know."
"I hear that," Kate agrees. "We have the whole summer."
"Yeah," Alexis agrees. "I'm tired, Kate."
Kate nods and rests her cheek against the crown of the teen's head. "Me too."
"If I fall asleep on you," Alexis mumbles, already halfway there.
"Then it's a normal day," Kate supplies, smiling as Alexis huffs lightly before completely passing out.
"You're too much for her, Beckett."
Kate startles, reaching up to cup Alexis' head as she stirs before lolling back to sleep. Castle winces, stepping up to them, his boardshorts clinking, hands filled with pebbles and sea glass.
Kate smiles at him and shifts her feet, making room for him on the end of her lounger. She's surprised it doesn't give out with all three of them on it, but then again, maybe that's why he bothered to drag them out.
"Good haul?" she asks softly, marking her place in her book before reaching out as he passes over a gorgeous, almost pearl-white shell.
"We used to make mugs with them," he offers.
"Mugs?"
"Collect sea shells and glass, then glue them to mugs and fill the rest in with clay. Alexis loved it."
"Fun," Kate says, imaginging the two of them sitting at that kitchen table, gluing and laughing together.
Alexis shifts, her arm wrapping around Kate's side. Kate watches Castle smile, his fingers coming out to brush against her ankle.
"She looks comfy." She watches for a flare of sadness, wonders if this makes him feel excluded somehow, but he just looks peaceful, happy even. "Let me know if anything falls asleep, and I'll move her," he says, standing and plopping down in Alexis' unused chair.
He glances to his right and laughs. "Mother is passed out."
"Has been for a while," Kate adds. "Think she was partying hard?"
"Undoubtedly," he says, but there's no trace of ill will there. "Someday, you'll see one of her parties. You'll be exhausted too."
Kate groans. "This is more than enough."
He laughs and reaches out, tangling their fingers together on the arm of her chair. "Agreed." He stares at them, watches the rise and fall of Alexis' chest, sweeps his eyes up to Kate's face. "More than enough."