Author's Note: The first of three chapters dealing with 2x5 "When the Bough Breaks."
Then Came Love
Chapter 15
Kate had a bad feeling about this case. Yes, it was encouraging that the boys managed to follow the clue of the candy wrapper to a grocery with Eastern European goods, which had led them to the SRO where the victim had lived and the victim's identity but what they were learning about the victim so far painted a bleak picture of the victim's life, making the tragedy of her murder even worse.
The victim's landlord seemed to have summarized it fairly accurately, that the victim was a nice lady who kept to herself, and who could want to kill such a person? Kate knew all too well, of course, that even the most blameless people can give other people motives for murder (sometimes because of their very blamelessness) but that only made the case harder.
Hearing about the victim's ex-husband and one who might have a violent side from the evidence of the domestic disturbance had seemed hopeful but now, faced with Teodor Hayek, Kate just knew this case was about to get worse.
And it did.
She and Castle listened to Hayek telling the story of the tragedy of their dead infant son, the impact of the story hitting Kate in the chest with all the more force because she could still picture in her mind every time she closed her eyes the image of the ultrasound, their baby, so small and so fragile. She felt her throat tightening with a surge of emotion and felt Castle's glance at her but she did not—could not—meet his eyes because she had the bad feeling that if she did, if she saw his eyes mirroring the emotion she felt, the throb of empathy, she would lose her composure.
And that she could not do. She could not cry in the interrogation room. Could not cry in the precinct, period.
She tried to tell herself that it was Teodor Hayek's tragedy, his and Eliska Sokol's, which it was, and didn't have any real relevance to her. It was tragic but what had happened to their son wasn't a sign or prediction or have any actual connection to the baby inside her. But her attempt at staying reasonable and rational failed, a failure that was made manifest when Hayek produced the picture of his family, the victim so happy, their smiling, adorable little boy. The boy who would be dead in just a couple years.
Oh god. Kate couldn't help sucking in her breath a little and felt the tell-tale sting of betraying tears at the back of her eyes. Oh, shit, no!
It took every ounce of will and all the control she'd built up over the years of being a cop but Kate somehow got out of the interrogation room, telling Hayek he was free to go once some paperwork had been taken care of.
"Beckett!"
Castle. Of course, Castle.
She paused and couldn't bring herself to look into his face as she asked, quickly, "Have the boys double-check his alibi."
"Yeah, of course," he agreed quickly. "But—"
She cut him off by hurrying away, heading for the refuge of the file storage room before she could do something horrifically stupid like cry in the bullpen. She paused to grab a random file off her desk on the way, a cover of sorts, to give her a makeshift excuse and then fled, making it to the thankfully-deserted room before the first strangled sob escaped her.
She shut her eyes against the threatening tears, letting her head fall forward to rest against the cool metal of the filing cabinet, as she tried to bring her rioting emotions under control. It didn't work. She could still hear in her mind the sound of the rapid fluttery thump of the baby's heartbeat, could still picture the ultrasound image of the baby, one precious copy of which she had stashed safely in the very back of her desk drawer. She had the crazy impulse to rush back and get it but she couldn't do that until she got her expression under control.
Her hand fell to flatten protectively over her stomach, the barely-there curve of the baby. Oh please, oh please, Baby, be okay…
She had been a little apprehensive before yesterday's appointment after reading about some of the problems that could be detected at the first ultrasound and she had felt the wave of relief when Vanessa told them everything looked fine but the ultrasound could only detect so much. Now, after hearing about what had happened to Eliska and her baby, the nightmare possibility of the other diseases, both congenital and not, that could affect the baby seemed so much more real, so much more terrifying. Oh god, what would she do?
She didn't know how to deal with this! She hated this kind of uncertainty, this kind of helpless fear. There was a reason she tried so hard to limit her emotional entanglements as much as she could. She had, she knew, built up a sort of wall around her heart since her mom had died, trying to protect herself. But what good was that wall now, faced with the ultimate wrecking ball that was a pregnancy? Because she couldn't, simply could not, do anything about her emotions for the baby now.
She didn't even know when it had happened really—maybe it had only been yesterday on hearing the baby's heartbeat, seeing the baby's image, for the first time and becoming fully aware that this was a new, distinct life—but she had fallen in love with the baby. There was no other way to put it. She had fallen in love, suddenly, absolutely, irrevocably, with the baby. There was no doubt about that. This baby, whose existence she hadn't even known about little more than a month ago. This baby, who was so entirely unplanned and who would turn her entire life upside down and inside out—who already was turning her life upside down. This baby was already everything to her and she couldn't imagine her life without it now—and she hadn't even met the baby yet! It was hard to imagine how she could love this baby anymore than she already did but she knew she could, would, once the baby was actually born.
She flinched as she remembered what Hayek had said about what losing their son had done to Eliska. It tore her heart out…
The stark words sounded… right, as much as any words could express what was inexpressible.
Oh god. Her other hand lifted to flatten over her own heart, the ache of fear she could already feel at the mere thought of the possibility of anything going wrong with this baby.
"Beckett?"
The sound of Castle's voice startled a little gasp out of her, not so much surprise at his having followed her since she'd known he would, but the gentleness, the empathy, in his tone.
She felt his hand touch her shoulder lightly and she was reminded of what had happened just a couple weeks ago, the end of the Jenna McBoyd case, the way Castle had found her in this very room.
She'd been emotional and fighting tears then too—but this time, this time was different. This time, she knew he knew without words exactly what was paining her now and she knew he understood. And maybe it was because of that, or maybe it was just because she felt closer to Castle after the last couple weeks, after talking to him about Alexis—more, after seeing the image of their baby together—but this time, it felt… easy, natural even, to turn towards him, to bury her face in his shoulder and let him hold her.
And this time, he did hold her. He wrapped his arms around her, brought her more firmly against him, her arms trapped between them.
He was hugging her, she thought fuzzily, inanely. And realized with vague surprise that this was the first time they'd really hugged. The way he'd had his arms around her on That Night wasn't the same, hadn't been a hug. That had been about lust, the purely physical urge to get closer, and maybe a little anger, nothing gentle about it at all. Not like this.
This was different, more than anything that had happened That Night. Almost absurd as it sounded, considering everything. But it was true. What had happened That Night had just been sex-this, now, was about emotion and it meant something.
And he was… good at hugging. The thought darted into her mind and it should have been ridiculous because since when was hugging something that someone could be good at? But somehow, it was true. He was good at this and being hugged by Castle was… good. Better than good, almost frighteningly so.
He was, as she was well aware, taller and broader than she was but it had never been more obvious than it was now, with his arms so strong and firm around her, the breadth of his shoulders and chest against her, surrounding her, making her feel warm and sheltered and… cared for in a way she couldn't quite remember feeling in years. And she just… fit against him, somehow, her head perfectly positioned to rest against his shoulder, as she breathed in his familiar scent—and when had she become familiar with his scent? (And it was, still, a little unfair and ridiculous that for all her newfound sensitivity to smells, his scent didn't bother her at all, was a scent she even liked. A scent that even at that moment made her feel flushed and warm, a tug low in her belly, that she recognized, dismayingly, as attraction, desire.)
But before she had even begun to process that realization, let alone managed to react, he pulled her from her thoughts. "It's okay, you know," he told her gently. "Our baby is fine, will be just fine. Remember what Vanessa told us yesterday, everything looks good, normal, nothing to worry about."
He knew—of course he knew—exactly what she'd been worrying about. She forced herself to straighten up, lifting her head to look at him as he let his arms fall from around her. (And she refused to feel bereft over the loss of his embrace.)
"You can't be sure of that," she contradicted, her voice not entirely steady. "An ultrasound can only screen for some things and remember the picture Hayek showed us. Their son looked perfectly healthy, didn't he, but look what happened."
Something that was almost a wince flickered across his face at the reminder of the picture. "Okay, you're right, there are no guarantees but there is more testing we can do for congenital disorders. You had a blood test done at your first appointment, right?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I did." Her doctor had told her it was mostly a precaution since Kate was young and in good health and didn't know of any significant family medical history to be concerned about. "But that's just me and I don't think my doctor tested for everything, just the basics. And anyway, for congenital disorders, both parents have to be carriers, right?"
"So I'll get a blood test done too," he volunteered easily, as if offering to take a walk rather than have blood drawn. "It's not an absolute guarantee but we can at least be as sure as we can be. And there is Alexis too, who's perfectly healthy."
She sniffed a little. "You would do that?"
"For the baby? Of course, there's nothing I wouldn't do to make sure little Nikki is healthy."
"Oh," was all she could manage because it occurred to her, some clarity of thought emerging from her fog of emotion, that his having a blood test done wouldn't really be for the baby at all. It was for her own peace of mind. The blood test results wouldn't ensure the baby's health, would only tell them if there was some chance the baby might have a congenital disorder. He was doing it for her. "And I'll talk to my doctor, find out what tests she already did and make sure everything's okay on my end."
He lifted a hand to touch her chin, met her eyes directly. "It really will be okay, Beckett," he told her again, gently. "The chances of anything like that happening with our baby—I think our chances of winning the lottery might be higher."
He was trying, she knew that, and he was right too. Intellectually, she knew that, but emotionally… She was still scared. She wanted to be certain but there was no way to be absolutely certain. And there were always accidents and all sorts of other illnesses after the baby was born… She tried to cut off that unhelpful line of thought.
"Sorry," she managed a rueful grimace. "I guess I'm just freaking out a little."
He made a small face of understanding. "It's okay. After hearing Hayek's story, I'm freaking out too. You can be sure I'm going to give Alexis an extra hard hug tonight."
"You don't seem like you're freaking out." He seemed amazingly calm. And since when was Castle the calm, steady one when she was freaking out?
"I could be turning over a new leaf, trying to become the strong, silent type."
A huff of breath that might have been a laugh if it had been allowed to grow up escaped her. She could give him the strong part but silent? She could think of few adjectives less appropriate for Castle. "You, the silent type? When pigs fly."
"Well, if not that, then maybe it's just from having Alexis. I already know how scary it is to become a parent so I'm sort of used to it, well, mostly. I read somewhere that being a parent means having to get used to knowing your heart is running around outside your body, which isn't something you can entirely get used to. Or to put it more poetically, having children is giving hostages to fortune. Sometimes I think becoming a parent is the single most terrifying thing in the world."
Oh damn. This was the side of Castle she… liked, the serious, thoughtful side of him she rarely saw but that never failed to touch her. The side of him that reminded her that for all his silliness, he was still the same man who wrote the books she liked so much, the books that had impressed her even before they'd met with their understanding, their emotional depth. And was it possible that he might be more attractive when he was thoughtful than when he was smirking or smiling?
He blinked, his expression changing. "What is it?"
"Just you. You spend so much time acting like a 12-year-old and then you can say something like that, something so… thoughtful."
His lips curved into the familiar smirk. "I know, I'm really quite something, aren't I?" he responded airily. "I amaze even myself with my own brilliance sometimes."
She huffed a laugh. And there was the Castle she knew so well. "There you go again with the vanity. You just have to ruin the moment, don't you?"
"It's a gift."
She snorted, aware of her spirits lifting almost in spite of herself at having this familiar exchange with Castle. (He was good at this too, cheering her up, making her feel more like herself.) "That's one word for it." she narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't think I didn't notice that you called the baby little Nikki. When exactly did we decide that would be the baby's nickname for now?"
He shrugged, an insouciant grin curving his lips. "I made an executive decision since you hadn't come up with any other ideas and it seems weird to always refer to him or her as The Baby, especially after seeing the baby."
She tried and failed to frown. He might have a point about it seeming a little weird to always refer to the baby as such but Nikki? Really? "You're the bestselling author. You can't come up with a more creative nickname than the one you already picked for your own character?"
He grimaced. "Now you're just trying to bait me into responding to the challenge of a more creative nickname."
"Ooh, you are a clever one, aren't you?" she flipped back, smirking at him. "Is it working?"
"No," he denied immediately and then gave her a disgruntled scowl. "Damn it, yes."
"Like I told you, you're an easy mark." She sobered. "Come up with a nickname later. Eliska Sokol's murder isn't going to solve itself. She might have lost her son but I'm not going to compound the tragedy of her life by letting her murder go unsolved."
"Right beside you, Beckett."
And he was. Kate was conscious of Castle keeping pace beside her as she strode back to the bullpen, determined to make up for her earlier breakdown and get justice for Eliska Sokol. The boys looked up as she entered the break room where Ryan was grabbing a cup of coffee and Espo confirmed Teodor Hayek's alibi, unsurprisingly. Which meant they were essentially back to where they'd started, knowing little of Eliska Sokol's life beyond her murder and that she'd been fired just days before. But as Kate knew, cases weren't solved by sitting around wishing for more evidence to present itself.
"Let's go back to the building, see if we missed any of her neighbors on our first canvass or if anything's jogged her neighbors' memories in the last day." The victim's residence was their only lead right now about the last days of her life that had to contain some clues if they could only find them.
A couple tiring hours later, Kate was not feeling quite so sanguine. Her feet were starting to hurt and her throat was dry from questioning people and her mood was lowering because she and Castle had nothing useful to show for almost two hours of talking to basically everyone who lived in the building, again. And a few of the residents had not been thrilled to be questioned by the NYPD for the second time in as many days.
As the last door on this floor closed in their faces, Kate allowed herself to slump, leaning against the wall for a moment.
"I have to say, Beckett, this is one of those aspects of your job I'm really glad I won't have to write about."
Her mind snagged on the word, won't. As in will not, as in future tense. Wait. He was writing another Nikki Heat book? She thought he'd told her nothing was set because Black Pawn was waiting to see how the first book did and as she well knew, Heat Wave wasn't going to be officially released until Friday. "Were you going to tell me about the other book?"
He blinked. "I, well, I haven't really had a chance and nothing's official yet so I didn't want to jinx anything. I didn't really think you'd mind."
"You didn't think I would mind?" she repeated.
"Well, yeah. And writing a certain British secret agent would be a very big deal for me."
It was her turn to blink and stare. She inwardly goggled. Was he writing about James Bond now? "Wait. I was talking about Nikki Heat. Are you talking about—"
"If they actually offer it to me," he interrupted her. "They might not."
Whoa, wait. An offer? So this wasn't just some crazy pipe-dream or Castle planning to write Bond fanfiction or something. "But they might offer it to you?"
He lifted one shoulder into a self-deprecating half-shrug. "That's what my agent told me yesterday morning." He paused, glancing at her. "That's what made me late yesterday. Anyway, she said I'm on their short list of authors being considered for an official reboot of the book franchise."
"Oh. Wow." Her voice sounded flat to her own ears, as she tried to ignore the strange sinking sensation inside her. "That's great."
A facsimile of one of his usual cocky smirks appeared and now, she could see a glimpse of the Castle she knew, the perennial boy, a boy who had no doubt been a Bond fanboy for years. (The first Derrick Storm book had been a fairly obvious tribute, even if Storm himself had developed further as a character in later books.) "Yeah, it really is. Like I said, it would be a very big deal for me."
Yes, even she knew that. Bond was iconic, a worldwide household name, and had been for decades. It would be a huge, career-making deal for any author, catapulting him into instant immortality in the mystery writer pantheon.
She should be happy for Castle, she told herself sternly. What kind of friend wouldn't be happy at such a thing, the equivalent of a big promotion?
She pasted on a smile. "Yeah, it's exciting for you."
"Yeah. I think I'm still a little giddy when I think about it," he agreed, grinning, and then sobered. "I mean, it would mean not writing another Nikki Heat."
And there, he'd said it, put it into words. The reason she felt this sinking sensation inside her, no matter how she tried to fight it. Only it wasn't about whether he would write another Nikki Heat, that part she didn't care about—much—and since when did she care at all, anyway?—but because she knew what his not writing another Nikki Heat would really mean. Could read the writing on the wall. He wouldn't need to work with her anymore. Couldn't work with her anymore, really. She wasn't so ignorant of the process of writing a book as not to understand that and writing a character as iconic as Bond would be a huge opportunity, yes, but also a huge responsibility with a lot of pressure on him to get it right, live up to the standard set by the original books. Castle would need to immerse himself in that world, the Bond universe, and there would be no time, no room, in his life for working with an ordinary cop.
And if anyone had told her even a month ago that she would be feeling so dispirited at the prospect of Castle no longer working with her, she would have scoffed at the idea. And yet, here she was, trying very hard not to feel as if her heart were somehow sinking into the pit of her stomach.
It was stupid, she told herself. It wasn't personal, had nothing to do with her personally. She wasn't Nikki Heat and anyway, his work, his writing, had nothing to do with the rest of his life, that is, his being there for the baby. So it was only about his not working with her anymore, her not seeing him almost every day at the precinct.
"Well, yes," she agreed with studied nonchalance, "but really, we're talking about possibly the most famous secret agent ever, one of the biggest characters ever when it comes to mysteries, so there's no comparison." He would have to be an idiot to turn an offer like this down and Castle was certainly not an idiot.
"So you'd be okay with me not writing another Nikki Heat?"
She forced a small laugh. "I mean, it's not like I asked you to write the first one." Which was true enough. And anyway, she wasn't Nikki Heat. Really.
He frowned faintly, taking a small, quick step towards her. "But you know, even if I do write about… him, it's not like I'd really be going anywhere. I'd still be here for you and for the baby."
She managed to widen her eyes at him, manufacturing a nonchalant smile—at least, she hoped it was nonchalant. "I know that, Castle. This is about your writing, your real job, after all. And you wrote Derrick Storm while you had Alexis," she pointed out and wasn't sure if she was reminding him or herself.
"True," he agreed slowly, his expression still vaguely troubled, but before he could say anything more, they heard the boys approaching from the end of the hall.
"You sure we talked to 4-E last time?"
"The robe lady? Yeah, she didn't know our vic but wanted us to help her with the ghost in her apartment," Espo responded before looking back up at her and Castle.
Kate straightened up, sternly pushing aside her inconvenient emotions and trying to focus entirely on the case again. Eliska Sokol deserved no less. "You guys a bust too?" she asked more out of form since she could read the answer in their expressions.
"Yeah," Ryan responded.
Kate felt her shoulders slump a little. Which meant they were back at square one, no leads, nothing. Damn. But there had to be something, some thread they hadn't pulled, some avenue they weren't seeing… "Okay, well—"
But before she could continue, they were interrupted as a young woman with a suitcase stepped out of the stairwell a couple doors down and they had to move aside to let her pass.
Kate turned back to the boys. "Well, maybe—" Wait. Suitcase. She stopped, blinked, and stared after the young woman. She'd been distracted and hadn't really registered the woman's face though. She glanced at Castle—he had a quick eye for faces, she knew. "Did we—?" she began, addressing him.
He blinked and then straightened up. "No."
She felt a little surge of energy. "Did you?" she asked the boys, knowing by their expressions that they had caught on to her train of thought and barely waited for Espo's quick shake of the head before almost jumping forward. "Miss!"
The woman stopped and turned. "What?"
Neither her tone nor her expression were encouraging but Kate had been a cop long enough to be mostly immune to that as she hurried forward to introduce herself, knowing Castle and the boys were right behind. She quickly explained that they were looking into the murder of Elisa Sokol in 5-C and wanted to know if the woman knew anything, might have seen anything.
Something flickered across the woman's expression at the mention of 5-C and Kate felt a spike of hope, anticipation. The woman didn't appear to have known Eliska by name but she had known Eliska by sight. But even as Kate thought it, the woman's expression seemed to shut down in a look Kate had seen too many times before. The reluctant witness look. And sure enough…
"I didn't really know her and I don't want any trouble. I just got off a plane and I'm tired and hungry and I—"
"Oh, I totally understand. I've had to fly quite a bit myself and flying is exhausting," Castle interjected, shifting his stance slightly towards the witness and giving her one of his charming smiles that somehow managed to make his interruption seem not rude but out of sincere interest. "Where did you go, if I may ask? Anywhere interesting?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate noted Espo opening his mouth, no doubt intending to cut Castle and his irrelevant questions off but she shot Espo a quick look, silencing him. Espo might not see it yet but Kate hadn't worked beside Castle for so many months without learning to recognize when Castle was prattling just because or when he had a purpose.
It was one of the ways in which she'd found Castle could be almost surprisingly helpful. Oh, Kate knew she would probably get the same information as he could, given time and her own more forceful and direct brand of questioning, but Castle, well, he had his own way of questioning and she had (reluctantly) accepted his way might be faster and more effective sometimes. He used his charm, his undoubted skill with people, a skill that was all the more apparent and effective when it came to women. It had irritated her at first; she'd mentally grumbled at his apparent inability to keep from flirting with any female between the ages of 20 and 90, but then, grudgingly at first, she'd realized there was a method to his flirting and, no, he didn't actually flirt with every woman they encountered.
His charm was working now. Under the influence of Castle's smile, the woman, Shirley as she introduced herself, thawed and after exchanging thoughts on Charleston, where Shirley had spent the last few days, Castle eased the conversation back around to Eliska and what Shirley had witnessed before she'd left for her trip. Because she had witnessed something, something big, and Kate had to bite her lip to keep from jumping in as Shirley told them about the argument she'd witnessed Eliska having with a man on the very evening she'd been killed. A man, who wore a pager on his belt.
By now quite thoroughly thawed, it didn't take much for Castle to persuade Shirley to accompany them back to the precinct—after dropping her suitcase off at her apartment—and sit down with a sketch artist to describe the man she'd seen, all the more because Castle readily offered to pay for a sandwich for Shirley's dinner on the way to the precinct.
Castle was helpful in solving cases, just look at how he'd persuaded Shirley into telling them what she knew, so it was no wonder Kate wouldn't be thrilled at the thought of him leaving. Yes, that was all it was, really. Her work, solving cases, getting justice for victims like Eliska Sokol, that was what was important to Kate so of course, she wouldn't be happy to lose Castle's help, with their cases.
Her reaction wasn't personal, had nothing to do with her personally, she told herself. She was just thinking about the victims. That was all, really.
~To be continued…~
A/N 2: Thank you as always to all readers and reviewers.
