Disclaimer: Really?
A/N: Yes, I know...I should be updating The Reunion, but hey, here's a new one! Why? Because I have absolutely no willpower. Hopefully, I'll update other things soon. I had an idea for what will likely be the third chapter of this, so I started writing, and I couldn't exactly, well, stop. So, yes, I plan on continuing this. And don't worry; I still plan on updating The Reunion. (10/28 Update: I didn't like the quotation I began with, so it has been switched to a - hopefully more applicable - quotation.)
"Life did not stop, and one had to live."
- Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
He'd replayed her messages at least a few hundred times before he even crossed into New Hampshire.
New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire. In that list, he had a state to represent each hour of driving even though he hadn't stayed for an hour in each state. In New York, the city seemed to disrupt the surroundings; people were rude on the highways, and everyone needed to be somewhere else ten minutes ago. Connecticut was another matter, for the drivers there hadn't needed to be rude, yet many people had cut him off, and hardly anyone allowed merging cars onto the highway. Even though he'd only been driving for a short amount of time, he'd nonetheless grown already tired of the sound of car horns. Though Massachusetts was famous for having all of the Massholes on the road, Castle found Rush Hour through there to be oddly calm; everyone understood where everyone else had to be, so car horns were silenced, and merging cars were let merge. Of course, Vermont was calm beyond calm in regard to their drivers, for everyone he encountered there was miles and miles away from the previous person he'd encountered. At that point of the drive, he was glad to be in a place where the population of cows was greater than the population of people. Now, crossing into New Hampshire, he was done with scenery; he simply needed to be at his endpoint and no where else.
Though his GPS had told him that the trip would near six hours with traffic, he'd managed to bring it closer to five as he'd sped on the highways, had kept the cruise control on as he'd gone through back roads upon back roads. Five hours, he was easily willing to drive, yet somehow, he didn't feel as though he himself was driving; instead, he was covered in a haze, a numbness that brought him from Point A to Point B without pause or question. Two hours beforehand, he'd stopped for a drive-through coffee - which, mind you, had been horrible at five in the afternoon, being that the last time the place had brewed coffee had been around eight that morning - but other than that stop, he hadn't dared delay the trip. Despite all of his better judgement, he'd driven, and now, he was crossing into New Hampshire, where he could live free or die.
I wonder how I'm supposed to interpret that, he wondered as he continued on the 10-South exit. After the nearly two-hundred mile span of I-91 that stretched from Connecticut to Massachusetts to Vermont, this final stretch of twenty-five miles on I-89 was nothing, yet he detested the distance, for a longer, more boring drive meant that he would inevitably replay her message, and then, he would speed up, would edge toward eighty-five miles per hour without a second thought. He needed to be there already, knew that with ease, but for now, he was stuck on a final stretch of highway, where he was one of few cars. It was strange, going from New York to a more sparse section of New Hampshire; a traffic jam was being stuck behind one car going speed limit on the expressway, and the exits were at least ten miles apart, if not more. Additionally, people were polite here, had given him the right-of-way when he'd deserved it. Strange, he thought, how kindness can make or break a situation.
Of course, he replayed her message once again as loud as he could through his phone.
Hey, Castle.
Her voice cracked right there; he knew that by heart.
I know I said I would call, and it's been two weeks, and I haven't, but...
She sighed out long and hard right then, but then, her breath hitched, as though it hurt to even breathe out.
God, I really wish I could've spoken to you and not to your voicemail, but I can't stop now.
He wished he could've picked up her call.
But it's three in the morning, so I probably should've expected this.
And then he could picture her smile in his head, the little one she'd given him at the hospital, a glint of Kate that remained no matter what her injuries were. Even though she sounded far-out and distant in the message, she still had this little bit of herself woven into it.
It's quiet here. At first, it was nice, but now, it's intolerable. Makes me miss you, you know?
She sounded so insecure with those words, as though she put them out too quickly and wished to take them back. However, she pressed on anyway.
It's too quiet here.
And that statement sounded more sullen, a little more upset. At this point, he always turned his smile down, for now he recalled why she'd called.
Every night around this time, I think it's too quiet, and I always want to call you, but I don't, and...
She trailed off again. He wanted to know the end of her sentence desperately. Now, his foot was easing onto the brakes, for he was tailgating the car in front of him. Against the wheel, his knuckles were white.
God, Castle, I need you, and that's probably the drugs talking, but I need you. And I-
And then the message cut off, for her message had been on the longer side to begin with, and afterward, she'd called him back, had listed off the address and house phone number for her father's cabin, where she was staying. She'd even specified that she was on Little Lake Sunapee, not Lake Sunapee, because, apparently, there was a difference. Oddly, he'd found that cute, but the cuteness hadn't set in until he'd heard both messages many times over.
Next came the regret, the moment in which he suddenly wished he hadn't left the city on such a whim. For Alexis, he'd left a hundred-dollar bill and a note; he'd stuffed three nights worth of clothes into a duffel, which was now sitting in the trunk of his car. However, he'd put the most effort into bringing her printed copies of every chapter in Heat Rises that was ready for publication. For safe keeping, he kept the stack on the passenger's seat, a constant reminder of why he'd left the city with such ease.
She needed him. In fact, she'd intended to elaborate, but, damn it, the voicemail box had cut her off. Now, he edged his foot back on the gas, wondered just how bad crossing a double-yellow in order to pass the guy ahead of him would be. Pretty bad, he thought, sighing out and taking off the gas. According to the GPS, he had ten miles more. In need of something to pass the time, he turned on the radio, heard - of course - "Drops of Jupiter" once he managed to tune to a station to the one station that the state seemed to have. He hummed along as the night grew darker, as he paid more attention to the miles on the odometer than to the road. When the GPS finally brought him off of I-89, flushes of relief came over him, full-body feelings of utter thankfulness. Checking the clock, he saw that it was edging toward eight; he'd be there likely past dinner, but nonetheless, he'd be there.
The only thing this part of New Hampshire had in common with New York was that he had to look desperately for street signs in order to navigate tight roads with low speed limits. Pushing thirty in a twenty-five, he headed toward Little Lake Drive, the way she'd directed him to go. At the sight of a twisting and ancient tree, a piece she'd insisted he use to guide himself, he turned left into a dark driveway thick with foliage where his car, though it was small, barely fit. Bearing to the right, as she'd said to, he finally found a small, illuminated cabin where one car was already parked. Though he barely had enough space to, he parked alongside the other car, took the keys from his ignition and the Nikki Heat chapters from his passenger's seat. Getting out of the car, he looked to the cabin, which was, quite literally, a log cabin, a single floor built the way Lincoln Logs stood. It was quaint in a lovely sort of way, a stark contrast to her apartment in the city, and just beyond the small cabin, the little lake lay; a deck beyond the cabin led to a dock on the lake, where a small fishing boat was tied. He had to gather the courage to walk up to the door of the cabin, and as he went through the dark outdoors, he learned just how quiet this part of New Hampshire was; though spring peepers in the distance gave lake sounds to the area, there were no cars, no honking horns, no stay-up-all-night partiers, no New Yorkers. At first, he found the quiet charming, but now, he simply found the silence unnerving, for she had found it unnerving, so now, he knew how detrimental it could be.
With very little confidence and a good amount of self-doubt, he knocked on the cabin's door twice.
"Katie? Did you tell Jack to come by?" Rick overheard.
"No. Why?"
And there was her voice, a strained and tired voice but nonetheless her voice. He relaxed. She was alive, so everything else seemed irrelevant or meaningless.
"Someone's at the door," Jim called back to her within the cabin.
"Who?"
He melted once more at the sound of her voice, and now, he knew for sure that he was hopeless.
"I don't know who."
"Did you call the pharmacy?"
"They don't deliver this late in the evening, Katie."
"Oh."
And then he heard it, a tiny glimpse of hope in her voice. He needed to give her that hope, desperately needed to.
Then, Jim came to the door, and as he opened it, he looked nervous, unsettled. Once Jim's face cleared, Rick looked down to see Kate's gun in his hand, a cautionary piece. Whatever they'd done since she'd been released from the hospital, he'd been spooked that whoever had shot her would eventually come back. Of course, that scared Rick as well.
"I'm sorry," Rick gave quickly, apologetically. "I should've called, but-"
"Dad? Who is it?"
"Did Katie tell you where we were?" Jim asked, his face solid and icy.
Rick nodded, said, "She called me last night and left a message."
Jim nodded slowly. With cautious motions, he opened the door further, invited Rick in. Once Rick headed through the door and into the cabin's main room, he finally let out a breath he'd been holding almost all day. The cabin was quaint, comfortable; the island table of the kitchen sat in the corner to his left while a couch and a few armchairs stood in the middle of the room. To his right, the walls were lined with endless bookshelves, a comforting sight for a bibliophile's eyes, and between the bookshelves sat a stone fireplace that had been built in among the logs of the log cabin. Above the fireplace, a flat-screen television sat, the tags and warranty stickers still on it. No matter what, this television hadn't been there before, not before...everything had happened. Far in front of him, there was a deck built onto the lake-facing edge of the cabin, so beyond sliding doors, the wooden deck led toward a dock right along the lake's edge. To his right, there was a small hallway, where he assumed one of the bedrooms was, and in the upper left corner, another door led to what he assumed was another bedroom.
Looking to the coffee-table next to the couch, he saw piles upon piles of DVDs, books, audiobooks, CDs, magazines, much of anything that could be used for entertainment. Everything from Russian literature to She's the Man to a Game of Thrones audiobook sat on that table; he could hardly imagine how bored she was, here all alone. Well, she had her father there, but at this point, the two of them must've been mutually tiring of each other's company, for she was condemned to the couch while he was condemned to her side, and knowing the Becketts, he knew that the two of them likely found such a situation to be their idea of hell. Countless times, Kate had likely told her father to go back to the city and to let her be, and even more times, Jim had likely told her that he, in fact, needed to be there with her. The arrangement went against both of their personalities, so they must've felt out of sorts by now.
"You have a lovely home," Rick gave, trying to figure out what exactly he could say to Jim in such a situation.
"Thank you," Jim gave as he ushered Rick into the cabin further. "She's out on the deck, but, please, be careful. She's healing well, but she's still..."
Rick nodded in understanding though he knew, for a fact, that he likely could never understand the pain she was in. Cautiously, he walked to the sliding doors, slid one away as he walked onto the vast deck.
They had a wooden swing-seat to his right, the top of the set laced with lit white Christmas lights. To his left, there were lounge chairs, lawn chairs, and a small table, where a citronella candle illuminated the night. Next to the candle, a glass of milky liquid, six fluorescent-orange pill bottles, and a copy of War and Peace sat. Then, he saw her, her body thin and quiet as she lay on one of the lounge chairs, the chair leaned up ever-so-slightly so that she could look out on the lake. Though the night was still warm, she wore a sweatshirt that covered her frail frame and had a fleece blanket spread across her legs. With sunken cheeks and tired eyes, she looked less like her old self and more like a ghost.
"Castle? Is that you?"
Then, he looked down and met her eyes, so perfectly green as always, and in quick motions, he drifted to her, sat down in a chair alongside her so that their eyes were level with each other's.
"Hey," he gave quickly, still meeting her eyes.
Then, to his amazement, her lips curled up into a silly smile, a stark contrast to how she'd seemed moments beforehand, and then, she looked down, grinned sheepishly.
"Hey," she managed after a few moments, looking back up to him.
He wanted to kiss her, needed to feel for himself that she was still there, still alive. In fact, he needed more than that, needed to hold her and whisper that he was sorry until everything miraculously became better. However, now wasn't the time to do something drastic, so instead, he reached a hand out to hold hers, but unsurprisingly, she didn't move hers to his, so he retreated his hand.
"I got your message," he said, nodding.
Then, her smile faded as she bit her lip with embarrassment. Looking toward him, she said, "I'm sorry I didn't call, and...I'm sorry that I called during one of my less-fine hours."
"It's okay," he said, desperately wishing he could run his hands through her hair, could kiss her forehead and whisper that statement over and over again to her.
"I won't lie to you," she said, her eyes meeting his. "I didn't think you'd end up coming here."
"You didn't?"
He almost felt solemn.
"Well," she excused, taking in a breath, "I expected you to call me back, but you have a book to write, and you have your mother and Alexis, and-"
"The book's done, Alexis has a hundred-dollar bill to use at her disposal, and Hurricane Martha has never been under my control," Rick admitted, and then she smiled, resisted laughing as much as she could. Remembering when he'd broken ribs as a youngster, he realized that laughing likely put her in more pain, so from then on, he decided to keep the jokes to a minimum.
"Is that why you've got that stack of papers there?" she asked, glancing down to the Nikki Heat pages he'd brought.
Rick nodded quickly, said, "I figured you'd enjoy some reading material, so I brought by some advanced chapters. Gina's gonna kill me, but I honestly don't care."
Her lips curved up once more.
"Thank you."
"Always."
She smiled down to herself, then met his gaze once more.
"I honestly didn't think you'd come."
"I'm here now."
"It's a five-hour drive."
"It felt a lot longer than that."
"I can't believe you came."
"I couldn't just leave you hanging, could I?"
"Well, you could've, but..."
She trailed off, turned her eyes away from him.
"I could have left you hanging," he began for her.
"But I didn't want you to," she completed, her voice soft, intimate.
With the long pause that came, he looked out on the lake, a little place intended for summer escapades. Because school wasn't over just yet, most of the family summer homes on the lake were still uninhabited, so the lake was quiet, peaceful. Above them, little flecks of stars lined the now-dark skyline; the partial moon illuminated the lines of trees and the hills beyond the lake. Truly, this was a beautiful place, an escape that he understood why anyone would love.
Somehow, she still felt too far away even though he'd driven five hours to her.
"This may be entirely out of place to say," she gave a few minutes later, "but I think you were trying to hold my hand before, and if you were, then that's great. However, I don't get to take my nighttime pain medications for another half hour or so, so I'm not moving for the time being. If you'd like to hold my hand - which, mind you, I would be fine with - you can, but please realize that I'm not reciprocating only because of physical pain."
His heart clenched, but he nodded impartially anyway. From there, he leaned down, reached for her hand, and gingerly placed his hand over hers. Her pulse echoed against his wrist; her hand was clammy yet still warm; she was alive, present, alert. Once more, he exhaled a breath he'd likely been holding in all night.
Looking up to him, she gave a soft smile once more, and, of course, his heart melted once more.
"It's really good to see you again," she said.
"Kate, you have no idea how good it is to see you again."
"How long are you staying?"
"I...don't know."
"Do you have a room booked?"
"A what?"
"A hotel."
"Oh. Uh, no."
"You weren't planning on doing ten hours of driving in one day, were you?"
"I wasn't exactly planning in general."
"Castle."
"Beckett."
"We have a couch that you can take for the night, but you'd be much more comfortable at the Twin Lake Inn down the road," she said slowly. "Though it would be polite to ask you to stay for dinner, I'm on a diet, so you probably would appreciate a different meal much more. If you want something quick, the country story down the road has great burgers and fries, but if you're looking for something more like a meal, try Granby's on the big lake. If you forgot a toothbrush, head to the grocery store next to the nearest gas station. Other than those things, you'll probably be set for the night."
For the night? No, he didn't want to stay for just one night, but then again, he didn't know how long he wanted to stay. Forever, he reminded himself, but when it came to dates, forever was irrelevant, so he had to think of his schedule. Because Gina needed a proposal for his next book by next weekend, he aught to head back to the city at some point, but he couldn't leave her here, not like this. He couldn't abandon her even though leaving would hardly mean abandonment at all; however, he couldn't pull himself away now, for she was alive, and he couldn't stop staring.
"Okay," was all he could manage.
After a moment, she matched with a quiet, "Okay."
"So, what exactly is this diet that you're on?" he asked, almost laughing. "Are you allowed solids?"
"Very funny," she said, giving him the look, "but I was only taken off of solids for the first day, and, let me tell you, I was a witch because of it."
Of course, he laughed, and when she smiled as widely as she could, all of his hours of driving seemed suddenly even more worthwhile.
"They have me on a diet combination of heart-healthy and fattening foods," she said.
"That venn diagram sounds more like two circles."
"It essentially is."
"So what's on the menu?"
"Tonight? Tofu, brown rice with walnuts, broccoli, and, if I finish my plate, papaya slices and blueberries for dessert."
"Wow, sounds flavorful. Sign me up."
"If I could move, I would slap you right now."
"I can't hear you over the sound of the steak I'm going to eat tonight calling my name."
"You bastard."
"Are you even allowed coffee?" he asked, unable to understand how Kate would cope without it.
"No," she emphasized, her face fading. "Not even tea, and tea is good for your heart!"
"Well, so is red wine."
"I'm not allowed any of that either!"
"And dark chocolate."
"Castle."
"Sorry. Shutting up."
He brushed his thumb over her hand, couldn't stop smiling because she was alive, and she was Kate, and for the moment, the rest of the world couldn't possibly matter.
"Castle?"
"Yes?"
"What time is it?"
Looking down, he checked his watch, said, "Around eight-thirty."
"Would you mind going inside and asking my Dad to come out here?" she asked, embarrassed. "Usually, we sit out here together and watch the sun set, but I guess he wanted us to..."
"Reconnect?"
"Yes," she said, "and I can't exactly..."
"Move without pain."
"Exactly."
"Alright," he said, his lips curling into a soft smile. "I'll be right back."
He stood slowly, had to concentrate on lifting his hand from hers because he couldn't bear to stop holding her like that, in the only way he possibly could. As he headed toward the sliding doors, he hardly wanted to leave her; he couldn't simply stand up and go back inside while he left her there, all alone on the deck. He couldn't-
"Castle?"
Quickly, he turned around, looked down to where she sat, a sheepish smile upon her lips.
"It's really good to see you again," she said honestly, looking up at him.
His mouth perked up.
"Believe me," he said. "The five hours of highways were worth it, Kate."
At the girlish grin she gave, he headed inside, pulled the doors closed behind him. Jim was talking on a landline in the kitchen; trying to be discreet, Rick walked in, but, of course, he brushed up against the coffee-table, so a stack of DVDs went cascading to the ground. At the clatter, Jim glanced over, so Rick mouthed an apology, picked up the rented copies of Morning Glory, The First Wives Club, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1, and Up in the Air. Odd, he thought; he'd never pegged her for a fan of certain chick-flicks, but, then again, she had enjoyed Temptation Lane for her reasons, and to be honest, he enjoyed the genre as well, had turned to The First Wives Club for comfort before even though he would never admit to it. As he placed the pile of discs back on the table, he heard Jim hang up the phone, walked toward the island table in the kitchen.
"Hey," Rick tried.
"Hey," Jim gave back. "Let me guess. Katie needs to come in?"
"Uh. Yes."
"You know, she hasn't smiled once here, not until today."
And that hurt, but at the same time, that made him feel endless, for he had made her smile, but at the same time, he hadn't been able to make her smile on all of those other days. Of course, he couldn't have made her smile on those other days, but nonetheless, he wished that he could've been then, if only to make her feel an ounce better.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Rick said awkwardly.
"It's not a bad thing," Jim said, shrugging as he opened the fridge. "She's happy to see you. It's good for her."
Inside of the fridge, stacks upon stacks of labeled Tupperware stood, all taking up the space where sodas and mustards should've been. A carton of soy milk stood alone on the top shelf; thawing salmon stood on the door's shelf; spinach, carrots, and blueberries sat in the crisper drawers. A bleak meal plan, Rick thought as Jim took out a box labeled as dinner for the current date.
"Fun meal plan, I take it," Rick said as Jim scooped perfect portions out onto a plate. "She must love it."
"Of all the things she could complain about, this," Jim said, pointing to the cubes of unseasoned tofu - ew - and at the pile of nutty rice, all of the food looking too single-colored and too much like cardboard for his liking, "is all Katie complains about. Just this. Not the pills, not the lack of mobility, not the boredom. I swear, she'd be quiet as a mouse if we could let her have chocolate cake every once in a while."
"She could use to eat an entire cake," Rick said, nodding as he sat down on a chair near the island table. "She's getting...thin."
"Frail, you mean?" Jim asked as he brought the plate into the microwave, heated for thirty seconds. "Don't worry, it came up at her last doctor's appointment. The doc prescribed French fries daily. I reminded the doc of what she's recovering from. The doc then prescribed organic fries. Specifically, organic sweet potato fries. I swear to you, Katie would've laughed straight in his face, but on doctor days, she isn't allowed her pain medication, so she was silent the entire time."
"How often has she been seeing a doctor?" Rick asked honestly, both out of curiosity and out of protectiveness.
"Two weeks ago, she was first taken to the hospital, a Monday; she was released from the hospital that Thursday, and since then, we've had doctor's appointments every Sunday and Thursday. We'll keep it to twice a week until she begins physical therapy, and from there, we'll adjust as we see necessary."
"That's...frequent."
"It's usually easy, just a basic blood panel once a week to be sure that no infections are developing and to check on the wounds. At this point, Katie's a pro. She doesn't even flinch when the needles hit her skin, and even I flinch when that happens."
"I realize that I may not have a right to ask about this," Rick tried cautiously, "but how have the treatments been financially?"
And then Jim sighed, deflated a bit. Yes, Rick thought, he's been thinking about that as well, and he doesn't like thinking about it. For any household, two doctor's appointments per week for at least a month on top of pharmacy refills and blood panels and wound dressings and every other part of her recovery would be financially hurtful; Rick could only hope that Kate's insurance covered at least some of the charge.
"I won't lie to you," Jim gave. "It hasn't gotten rough yet, but I know it will. You see, we only came up here last Friday, a little more than a week ago. Back then, I thought I could figure out a way to work from here while only commuting into the city once a week, or maybe even once every two weeks. Though I've managed to get through nine days, I'm not so sure how such a system will work going forward."
Rick nodded in understanding.
"Actually, I'm supposed to bring someone into court on Wednesday," Jim explained. "One of my law partners was just on the phone. We're trying to see if we can figure this out, but honestly, I need the pay for Katie, but I can't leave her here. Hopefully, we won't have to take out loans, but that's still a possibility."
"Let me help."
"What?"
"I have more than enough to let you take the time you need with her off from work," Rick explained. "Please. Honestly, it's the least I could do for you, for her."
Jim smiled smugly.
"You really like her, don't you."
It was a statement rather than a question.
Hesitating, Rick said, "I just know that if it were my daughter in this situation, I would most definitely prefer to worry about her happiness than to worry about the bills."
"You know, there's something else you could do for me that would help out plenty. No checks involved."
"Which is?"
Taking the plate from the microwave, Jim said, "Stay here with her while I go into the city for this case."
Rick opens his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, Jim continued.
"I can write out all of her prescriptions in detail," Jim explained quickly. "The meal plan is easy to follow; she can only eat a certain list of foods and nothing else. In summary, it's minimal sodium, minimal saturated fat and cholesterol, maximum heart health, maximum calories. She's hardly a challenge, especially because she's still in the early stages of recovery. Though she's usually awake, she may doze off during the day, and when she's awake, she typically reads or watches - rewatches - films and television. After going through all of her recent appointments, she's a pro during her times with her doctors, so all you have to do is drive her to the hospital nearby. Believe me, I had to dog-sit for a friend once, and that dog was harder to take care of. Even during a lengthy recovery, Katie fends for herself. Of course, you have to force her to hold back sometimes, but otherwise, she's not a responsibility."
Responsibility? She was Kate, and that was that. For him, Kate could never be an obligation.
"Please," Jim said, meeting Rick's eyes. "If you want to help us out, this would be the best way to do so. Plus, Katie probably won't argue nearly as much about this as she would about a check with your name on it."
"Good point."
"Please, Rick?" Jim asked. "It would do me a lot of good, and obviously, it would do Katie a lot of good, and evidently, it would do you a lot of good as well."
So, with a nod, Castle said, "Just write everything down, and go to court. She'll be in the best of hands."
"Honestly, thank you. This is more help than you can imagine."
"But still put the whole check idea on the backburner, okay?"
"If you can convince Katie to take free money, then you can probably make pigs fly."
"Even better point."
They were quiet for a moment as Jim took spinach, broccoli, and other vegetables from the crisper drawer in the fridge. Next, he placed papaya slices and blueberries in their own corner of the plate. As Jim slid the plate over to another seat at the table, Rick looked toward the sliding door and smiled; she was getting dessert tonight.
He'd been told that cell reception was best where he'd parked, so before Jim brought Kate inside, Rick went out and dialed Alexis' number in the dark. Of course, she picked up.
"Dad? Where are you?" his daughter asked frantically. "Your notes are so vague. If my English teacher had read one, you'd fail her class."
"Very funny, Alexis."
"I'm being serious. Where are you?"
Looking around, Rick gave, "New Hampshire."
"What?"
"There's a lake here."
And a Beckett. Two Becketts, in fact.
"Dad, you could've driven to Virginia in that time. Or D.C.! Or Pennsylvania. Or a whole array of other closer states. Why would you go to New Hampshire?"
"Beckett called."
"And?"
And? Why would she need an and?
"And so I went to see her."
"No, you didn't just go to see her," Alexis said, her anger evident. "Just going to see her would mean walking to her apartment. No, this is different, six hours worth of different."
"It was only five hours."
"Not at all my point."
"Then what is your point?"
Alexis sighed, gave, "All you've done since she left is go to the precinct. When you aren't at the precinct, you're in your office, and honestly, I can tell when you're moping. You haven't been yourself since she left, Dad, and that's not healthy."
Yes, he hadn't been himself, but...that wasn't the point of this conversation. This wasn't a conversation about how he'd finally felt whole once he'd seen her again. Though he knew that the best of pairs stood strong alone, he'd had trouble standing strong when he could only picture Kate as a ghost, an apparition that only came to him in the worst of his dreams. Then, there was writing, and somehow, he drifted toward pointlessly sappy scenes, during which Rook used his phone to take an in-bed picture of Nikki, who was surrounded by white sheets like some kind of angel, flits of sunlight surrounding her brunette curls, but he knew that these scenes were no way to start another book. Murder seemed much less elusive when he felt that she could be the victim.
But seeing her again, goodness, it had made him feel whole again. However, he only needed to see her once in order to feel that way, so he could've gone home after seeing her for only five minutes, and from there, he would've gone to he precinct, and then he would've gone home, and he would've felt as though the world couldn't possibly be as bad as his mind had made it out to be. He would feel new reason in looking for her shooter; he would kiss his mother and daughter; he would write into the wee hours of the morning. Though she didn't complete him, he felt peace of mind knowing that she was alive. For now, it was enough.
"Yes," he said to Alexis, "but-"
"But nothing, Dad!" Alexis countered, not allowing Rick to explain. "On that day, you could've been shot. Hell, I could've been shot. This is about more than just her. It's about your safety, your sanity. At least value those things. If not, I can value them enough for the both of us."
Rick was quiet. Though she had a point, he wanted to argue anyway.
Sighing again, Alexis asked, "When are you coming home?"
"In a couple of days."
"A couple of days?"
"Kate's father needs to go back to the city in order to work in court, so I offered to take care of her while he travels."
"You have that book proposal that you need to work on."
"And it'll be in on time. Even if I were in the city, I'd likely leave it until the last minute. You know that."
With one last sigh, Alexis gave, "Be careful, Dad, okay?
"I'll be careful, pumpkin."
"Okay," Alexis said. "Bye, Dad. Love you."
"Love you too, Pumpkin."
And once Alexis hung up, he paused, looked out across the lake. Though he aught to be in the city, he felt as though he was needed here, both for Kate and for Jim, so, in theory, he could go back to the city, but instead, he had Kate here, so he needed to be here. Therefore, calling the inn Kate had recommended and booking a room so late in the evening was something he needed to do, not something he simply wanted to do; the evident difference between a need and a want was apparent as he asked for a single bed, directions to somewhere open for dinner this late. Before heading back into the cabin, he stopped at his car, opened up the passenger's door, and placed his phone on the seat. No matter what, he wouldn't let anyone interrupt the night.
Going back into the cabin, he slipped into the place easily; Jim had headed off elsewhere, so now, only he and Kate were in the living room. She lay on her back on the couch, and with her feet flat and her knees raised, she rested the Nikki Heat pages against her thighs. When he closed the door behind himself, she slowly closed the pages over her fingers, looked up toward him.
"Hey, Castle," she said, her voice quiet, sleepy. "I thought you'd headed out."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I would've told you first."
"Want to sit down?" she asked, shifting slightly, but at that, he motioned for her to stop, and instead, he sat down on the floor with his back against the couch cushions.
He folded his legs against the coffee-table, and when she gingerly brought her hand to his shoulder, his breath halted as his mind stirred. No where in their history had they done this, this touching, this contact; most commonly, they were close in minds and far in bodies, but now, she looked for his hand to hold, so he reached his right hand across to hold her left, entwined his fingers with hers. Though he wanted to know why, he dared not ask.
"You're moving about much better," he commented as he stroked his thumb over hers. So long as she allowed contact, he wanted to know exactly where his boundaries were.
"Post-dinner pills. Also known as the best part of the day," she said. "It's a heavier dose before bed. Before, I couldn't sleep, so they upped them. In half an hour, I won't be able to speak in coherent sentences."
At that, he smiled widely, tried not to laugh for fear that she would laugh as well, and if she laughed, she could feel pain, and if he dared bring her pain, goodness, he didn't want to know how that would feel.
"How have you been, Rick?" she asked, her voice still soft. "I mean, we spoke about me, but..."
She trailed off, so he glanced back to her, saw a certain sense of concern in her eyes. Though she was frail and off-the-grid, she longed for information, information that she likely withheld from herself in order to keep herself safe. However, she still had that longing, that knowing that came along with realizing how bad something was for her even though she adored it so much.
"I've been fine," he said, rather lied.
"You finished the book. That's good. What else have you been doing?"
"Not much."
"Oh, come on. Was there at least one release party you can tell me about?"
"No."
She paused. "Oh."
She was quiet for a moment, and then, she brushed her thumb over his, but now, he didn't want to have those gestures; in light of seeing her, he'd forgotten how he'd been for the past two weeks. Though he'd always pictured her as being the walking ghost, he somehow had become one as well, and he wasn't the one who'd been shot. He wasn't the hurt one, yet he'd needed to see her, had this feeling deep within himself of want as he'd driven to see her. Of course, she was injured, had to take that startling array of pills, but there had been nights when he'd skipped alcohol and gone to Benadryl instead in hope of some soundless sleep. Maybe Alexis is right, Rick thought; Kate wasn't good for him, but as she brushed her thumb over his once more, he wanted to be there, to be with her, for she was beautiful, and she was strong beyond any comparison he could make, and in this entire damned world, he couldn't find salvation until he knew that she was breathing. And he loved her, the most obvious of all of his thoughts, and despite his admission of it, he still couldn't let her know. The planets are against us, he'd once used as an explanation after two shots of whiskey; that was why she hadn't heard him. In the end, he didn't know if he'd be able to say it out loud again even though those three words were still on the tip of his tongue.
"How's Alexis?" Kate asked, hushed as she switched topics.
"Great," Rick said, almost proudly. "She's excited to be done with junior year. However, that means that she has something new on her plate."
"Which is?"
He groaned. "College visits."
With that, Kate laughed lightly; though he wished it wouldn't, his heart melted once more.
"So the father of the soon-to-be graduate isn't into looking at universities?" she asked.
"It's..." he paused, his words coming too slowly. "It's the first time I haven't been able to do everything in my power to make her happy, you know? Of course, I've messed up sometimes, but for this, it's her thing, her acceptance. And she's ambitious, as you know, so she isn't going to back down from a challenge, and I...don't want to see her lose that over a letter, you know?"
She squeezed his hand. He tensed.
"I know," she gave.
He nodded, then said, "And then there's the distance, which I'll have to get over, but the loft will be so empty without her too. Not the good kind of empty."
"Empty Nest Syndrome. You'll still have Martha."
"In this imagining, the queen has left Chez Castle."
Kate laughed lightly again. God, that sound. He swore that it intoxicated him.
"It won't be the end, Castle," Kate told him. "It's a new beginning for her, and at first, it'll seem overwhelming, both for you and for her. However, it'll eventually get easier. No matter how great you two get along, you'll get along even better once she moves out. And she's so smart and so responsible, so even when she goes through inevitably worse times, she'll know what to do, and if she doesn't know what to do, she'll know to ask for help. Rick, she's prepared for this, and though nothing I - order anyone else - can say will convince you of that, you'll eventually see that she can do this. Help her when she needs it, and let her fail if she has to. She's going to be great, I promise."
And with that, he looked back at her, a wondering brow in her glance to her.
"Sometimes, I forget that you were a girl once."
"Still am."
At that, he smiled.
"You're still avoiding my question," she said.
"Remind me of what it was?"
She rolled her eyes, said, "I wanted to know what you've been up to."
"Oh. Yeah."
That.
"I've been..." he tried. "I've been heading to the, uh, precinct. Recently, that is. Sometimes. And, well, the boys are there, and the, uh, new captain is going in come in, well, sometime next week, I think."
At that, he could feel Kate's hand tense, but she tried to play off her tenseness, tried not to let her voice crack as she asked, "What have you been working on?"
And he couldn't let himself lie as he said, "The shooting."
He refused to say your shooting, for they'd always called it the shooting at the precinct, unable to put Kate's name in front of that word. Though reality still stood, they - he and the boys - dared not acknowledge it, not now. When she returned to the precinct, they might be able to change the word, but for now, it was the shooting, never her shooting.
Swallowing, she asked, "Any new leads?"
Though saying so stung, he forced out, "No."
"Castle, don't lie to me about this," she said, her voice suddenly on edge.
"I'm not lying to you, Kate," he said honestly. "We've been over it hundreds of times, and every time we find a lead, it's a dead end. It may not seem like it, but we're trying, Kate, which you would know if you'd called before now."
Oh, shit.
He'd let that slip, and yes, now he was ashamed. Though she hadn't kept the promise that she would call within a few days, she wasn't in the place to be blamed; he could blame her when they were back at the precinct, when she was okay again, but right now, as she lay helpless, like a child, on that couch, she didn't deserve his jabs. The least he could offer her was a chance to fight back.
Then, she retreated her hand, and with that, he regretted his statement even more.
"Kate, I'm sorry," he tried, meaning it as he spoke.
"No, it's fine. You're right," she said, and she was making that face, the one he knew meant frustration because she didn't want him to be right even though he was. "I should've called, and I shouldn't be asking about this anyway. It's fine."
And then they were silent for a long while, his mind swimming in thoughts of how he shouldn't have said that, but at the same time, he should've. As Alexis had said, Kate wasn't the best person for him to be around, but if he wanted to prove that wrong, he couldn't feel this terribly about stating the truth. She should've called, and so long as she knew that, he could have peace of mind. However, he wanted to hear her side, wanted to know why she'd only called him on a three-in-the-morning whim. If she couldn't tell him why, then they surely couldn't save each other in this thing, this partnership that they were in. He needed honesty, and though he'd originally trusted her for honesty, he was unsure if she could be honest about all of this, for honesty would mean trouble for this; honesty would mean heavy emotions, hard triumphs, strength that he knew she had but that he knew she would be afraid to use. For this, honesty would mean feeling afraid, and at the moment, he couldn't trust her to put herself in the way of more fear. Though he wished it weren't so, this situation of theirs was tainted, was never going to end harm-free, so instead, he could only coax her, could try to tell her that fear was alright for now, and if she didn't want to feel fear, he could wait, but he could only wait so long.
"Castle," she tried, her voice raw, "I need you to understand that I don't want to seem damaged to you. I'm still here, and though it may not seem that way from time to time, I'm still who I was before all of this happened, just like you, even if you don't realize it. However, I'm not in the right place right now, so any support you have would be more helpful than you could imagine. And...ever since my mother passed, I've built up this wall, one intended to keep me from being attached to others, and now, that wall has only worsened, so if I don't respond the way you think I should..."
She paused.
"If I ever seem as though I don't care, please, realize that I'm only trying to cope," she said, reaching her hand back down to his shoulder. "I'm not in the right place right now, Castle, but, believe me, I wish more than anything that I could be there, and maybe, I'll feel free when I get there. However, I'm not there yet, so please, be patient. One day, I promise that I'll come around."
So he nodded, the back of his head brushing against her left side and forcing her to hiss back, to cringe, and when he turned around to look at her, he saw her biting her lip, her brow furrowed, her eyes shut in pain.
"Kate, I'm sorry," he tried again, this time much more apologetically. "I'm...I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine, Castle," she said, tenseness still in her voice as she tried to relax back down into the couch. "Just...healing wounds."
"I'm sorry. I'm-"
"It's okay," she insisted, opening her eyes again.
He nodded slowly, this time much more conscious of where the back of his head was. How poetic was it, that he could bring her shooting pains with only one wrong movement?
"I should be heading out soon," he said, standing up quickly. "I need to eat, and-"
"Rick."
As he stood above her, she seemed too small, too frail. She wore clothes that were never intended to see the light of day, had a long line of pill bottles left on the kitchen counter, could only eat certain things. Though he wished she weren't, she was hurt, and now, he couldn't do anything about it. However, he could help her heal, both physically and mentally, and though helping her would be a hard task, he would put himself forward, for he loved her, truly loved her. Even if she needed time and space, he would be there for her in any way he could, whether he needed to be near her or far from her.
"Don't leave on that note," she insisted. "Not on a bad one, okay?"
Looking down toward her, he saw that sheer intimacy in her eyes, that thankfulness for seeing him that she'd shown before. Goodness, he could never give up on her, never.
"Okay," he said. "Want me to sit back down?"
"Could you?"
"Of course."
So he sat back down, and as he found a comfortable position, he asked, "How are you liking the new book so far?"
Grinning, she said, "You'll see. Do you mind if I turn the TV on?"
"Not at all," he said, though he wished she could've answered his question more thoroughly. "What's on?"
"Season one of 30 Rock on disc," she said. "I just caught up on Parks and Recreation, all of it from the beginning, so I needed something new to watch."
"Bored, are we?"
She groaned.
"Out of my mind."
He passed her the remote, which sat haphazardly atop a rented DVD of Matilda, and as she turned the television over the fireplace on, he sat there, comfortably silent. Though he'd missed the first few minutes of this episode, he still attentively watched, laughed at the funny parts, but what he found far more interesting than the episode was the way Kate's hand drifted down to his shoulder once more, and when he took her fingers in his, he swore that not leaving was the best decision he'd ever made. Whenever she laughed, she squeezed his hand involuntarily, and during quieter moments, she held his hand just a bit closer to hers.
Back when Alexis had been younger, they'd read Harry Potter together, and upon learning about the patronus, Alexis had been infinitely intrigued. The spell would protect whoever cast it; in order to cast the spell, the wizard or witch had to think of their happiest memory. Then, the patronus would take the shape of animal, a different animal among most people. For Alexis, her patronus, supposedly, was a rabbit; Rick had insisted that his would be a lion, so brave and bold, but instead, Alexis had told him that a house cat would be much more suitable. However, he liked the idea of a silver lion that would protect him as he thought of his happiest memory. When he and Alexis had cast spells throughout their living room, he had merely pretended to think of a happy moment, but now, he had no trouble in finding one, for sitting with her like this, feeling warm and appreciated and jovial, had to be one of his better moments. Of course, this was, by far, not his happiest moment, but if he ever needed fodder for a patronus, he would think of this night, sitting here with her while Liz Lemon made a quip about product placement.
And what would Kate's patronus be? He didn't bother thinking of her happiest memory, for he could easily ask about that. However, he wanted to know what animal hers would be cast as. A dog could be suiting, he thought, a lone wolf, a loyal friend. Despite the match she had with a dog, he felt as though she was more than her loyalty; instead, she had a certain strength to her beyond what dogs had, though he knew that dogs were strong, so he thought of other animals. Could she be an eagle? A bear? A stag?
A phoenix.
It was the perfect match in his humble opinion, and with ease, he could imagine this room, this darkened room lit by candle-like lamps and by the television screen before them, filled with the silver sheen from the paths of his lion and her phoenix, who now sat quietly beside them. As her phoenix perched on the top of the couch, his lion leaned on his paws alongside Rick and below Kate's legs. Both animals were calm, collected, and sleepy as Kate held his hand, and now, he felt the same way as well.
And then, he was sure; it would be impossible to keep him from being there for her.
