Author's Note: The second chapter dealing with "Sucker Punch."
Then Came Love
Chapter 57
Her dad was characteristically early, had already arrived at the diner when Kate hurried in, swiping off some of the lingering drops from the misting rain outside.
Kate stepped straight into his embrace of greeting, trying not to focus on his pallor, the deepening of the lines around his eyes and mouth, aging him more than usual. The mention of her mom's case always upset him and she hated the knowledge, the evidence, of it.
"Hi, Dad."
"Hi, Katie." Her dad's arms tightened around her, also more than usual, and she felt a little breath shudder through him before he cleared his throat a little and stepped back, his eyes sharp on her face.
She knew her dad had to see some of the lingering signs of her earlier tears. No matter how she'd tried, no makeup could completely conceal the slight puffiness of her eyelids, certainly not to her dad who had known her for her entire life.
They sat and her dad ordered a coffee and an appetizer while she limited her order to herbal tea. She supposed she should eat–for the baby's sake–but she didn't have any confidence in her system's ability to handle food right now, still felt off. Maybe later, back at the loft, but for now, she would abstain.
By some unspoken agreement, they didn't talk immediately about what was on both their minds, waited until her dad's coffee and her tea had arrived while she tried to gather her thoughts, come up with words.
Her dad took a sip of his coffee before setting the mug down and fixing his eyes on her. "What have you found, Katie? Tell me what you didn't tell me earlier over the phone."
She hesitated. The details, all that Dr. Murray had told her about the exact nature of her mom's wounds–the gratuitous violence inflicted on her mom's body (she inwardly flinched)—she could not tell her dad about any of that. He did not need to know. It was hard enough for her to think about. She could not even begin to imagine what it would feel like for her dad to be told about the cold-blooded brutality of her mom's execution (she inwardly flinched at the word). She might prefer not to consider anything at all about her parents', um, intimate relationship–the times she'd seen them kiss was more than enough for her, thank you–but she knew how much her dad had loved her mom and no, she couldn't do that to her dad, couldn't add more detail to the nightmare images he must already have of her mom's death.
"There's not much more to tell. Lanie noticed something about the victim's cause of death in our new case and she called in a forensic pathologist to consult and… he agreed that this new case is the work of someone with experience, a professional. And he recognized the MO as the same as mom's case," she finished, her lips almost feeling numb as she told her dad this expurgated summary of what had happened. She could not bring herself to use phrases like "wound similarity" to her dad.
Her dad looked down, turned his coffee cup around slowly, an idle gesture that she knew was an excuse to gather his composure, and then he sighed softly and looked up. "Does Rick know?"
The question, her dad's thinking of Castle even now, startled her a little. "Yes, he knows. He's my partner at work too so he knows." Not for the first time, she was glad she had never told her dad about Castle's prying into her mom's case last summer. She didn't think it would necessarily harm Castle that much in her dad's eyes–her dad liked Castle too much for that, she thought–but she didn't want her dad to know either.
Her dad nodded a little. "I'm glad you've talked to Rick about your mom's case. I know it's not easy for you to talk about but he should know about it."
Oh. Her dad… had a point. Except she hadn't talked to Castle about her mom's case, at least, not until now, not really. What Castle knew about her mom's case was because he had looked into it himself, had somehow found his way into archives to her mom's case file and he'd looked. The actual details of her mom's case were not something she talked about to, well, anyone really.
Will had only known the bare story, that her mom had been killed and her killer never caught and that was why she'd become a cop, that was all. Beyond that, she hadn't really talked about her mom's case with Will and to his credit, he hadn't asked (although for the first time, it occurred to her to wonder why he hadn't asked, if he hadn't cared enough to ask.) She knew Captain Montgomery knew more but that was because he had looked into it himself after she and the Captain had first met (and the Captain had every right to pull her mom's case file) but what the Captain knew had not come from her. The same went for Esposito, who she knew had also looked up her mom's case file after they'd started working together (although neither she nor Espo had ever addressed it in so many words.)
Beyond that… she had told Royce a little, at least more than she'd told Will, and Royce had known how determined she was to find her mom's killer, although she hadn't had the time to start looking into her mom's case until she'd been done with training, when Royce had been long gone. She hadn't really talked to Lanie about her mom's case until this past summer, until after Castle had looked into her mom's case and essentially forced her to have a conversation with Lanie about her mom's case.
Come to think of it, she wasn't sure she would have talked to Castle about her mom's case, not really–but then, as she'd already thought, if Castle hadn't cared enough to look into her mom's case in the first place, they might not have had sex–or at least, not nearly this early (knowing what she did about how powerful and enduring her physical attraction to Castle was, she was sure they would have ended up in bed at some point). They wouldn't have this baby to think about. They wouldn't be together now.
Put like that, she was… glad Castle had looked into her mom's case. It had brought them here and as Castle had said, she wouldn't change that.
"Castle knows as much about mom's case as I do," she admitted.
"What does he think about what's happened?"
In some part of her mind, she understood that her dad was focusing on Castle because it was easier, giving them both a somewhat oblique way of talking about and considering this new development in her mom's case without addressing their own emotional reaction. "He said that I should do whatever I think is best and whatever I decide, he'll have my back." Almost unconsciously, her voice softened, some additional strength flowing into her at the reminder of Castle's words.
"Good," her dad nodded approvingly before he reached out across the table to touch her arm briefly. "And what about you, Katie, how are you feeling about this?"
"I… I don't know," she sighed after a moment. "I just… don't want to lose this one, Dad," she admitted. It was not the clearest statement but her dad understood.
He sighed, idly fingering some of the sweetener packets on the table. "You know, I didn't sleep well that whole first year after you got out of the academy," he began after a moment. It wasn't a surprise to her since she knew how much her dad worried about her because of the nature of her job but at the same time, he'd never admitted it in so many words before. "I'd hear sirens in the night and imagine you off in the darkness someplace. I had nightmares where it swallowed you whole."
She swallowed a little. Her dad wasn't wrong about the nature of her job–and what she couldn't help but think was that her dad had used alcohol to deal with his fears, his nightmares. She pushed the thought away. No, no, no, she wasn't going to think like that, not now, not anymore. She'd been over this already, she and her dad had dealt with it, talked about it, and rebuilt their relationship. She trusted him, had let go of her anger and her disappointment. They were fine now. Witness the very fact that they could be having this conversation now. She and her dad couldn't have talked like this so openly even a few years ago.
It was her turn to reach out and briefly touch her fingers to his sleeve, making him look up at her and meet her eyes. "Dad, I…" she faltered, not even sure what she was about to say.
"It's okay, Katie. I still worry but I know you, know what your job means to you and that you have a good team behind you." He paused. "Your mom always said that life never delivers anything that we can't handle. She lived by that. Called it 'Johanna's Immutable Law of the Universe.'"
She managed a faint smile at that. Yes, she remembered. Her mom had cited it often, especially when the teenage Katie had been going through some teenage angst and fretting about it. Her teenage self had rolled her eyes at her mom for it, grumbling that her mom just didn't understand. Kate felt a pang for her own overly dramatic teenage self, so convinced as only a teenager could be that every little thing was the end of her world, never even dreaming how little it all mattered until her mom's death had brought brutally home to her just what a real tragedy was.
Her dad sighed. "And for years I thought she was wrong. Because I couldn't handle losing her."
She inwardly flinched at this admission, the truth of it. The reminder of the bad years, of her dad spiraling into his addiction. When she hadn't reacted all that much better, throwing herself into her training at the academy, living and breathing her job to the exclusion of all else, drowning in murder and her mom's case just as much as her dad was drowning in drink, just a less obvious obsession. It was Captain Montgomery who had pointed out that her drowning in her mom's case at the time resembled her dad's own addiction–and the truth of it had been the real push that had led to her putting her mom's case away years ago. With her dad's addiction breaking her heart, she could not–would not–stand to think she might be following her dad's example in such a way.
"I was wrong about that and now I can almost hear her whisper, 'I told you so.'"
She choked on something like a sob and a laugh combined. "Mom's favorite words." She could still hear in her mind the familiar tones of her mom's voice as she said those words too, a ghostly echo of all the times her mom had said them to her over the years. Remembered too the times her dad had teasingly chimed in to finish up the phrase when her mom had started it.
Her dad's expression reflected her small, melancholy smile before he sobered. "Your mom was a devout believer in the truth. This might be your mom's way of reaching out to you, Katie, and if she were here right now, she would tell you that the truth can hurt but it will also heal. She lived for that and I know it's what you do too in your job. Let the truth be your weapon to wield, as it was hers, Katie."
She blinked back tears. She had heard a lot about her physical resemblance to her mom, the most obvious connection that people noticed and she valued it, she did, because her mom had been beautiful. (Kate was personally convinced that her mom had been more beautiful than Kate herself could ever be.) But to hear her dad say that he thought, he believed, that she could follow in her mom's footsteps to fight for truth–that meant so much more.
"I just… don't want to let her down," she finally admitted, her voice so low it was little above a breath. That was what scared her most, failing her mom, again. She knew what her mom's case did to her, how viscerally it affected her, and what if her emotions clouded her mind too much so that she missed something? There was a reason that conflict-of-interest rules were in place to prevent cops from working on cases where they themselves had been the victim. Aside from all else, cops were not–should not be–in the business of revenge. Not even Captain Montgomery would allow her to officially be assigned to work on her mom's case; he might wink at it when it came to Jack Coonan's case because she had no connection to Jack Coonan but this indirect way of getting at her mom's killer was her best chance of being able to use official resources, the authority of her badge, to go after her mom's killer.
But it also meant that if she messed up on Jack Coonan's case now, she would be stuck, again, left to pore over her mom's case on her own time, with only the limited resources at her power, little better than what any civilian might have.
Except–that wasn't entirely true anymore, was it? Because she wouldn't be alone, she would have Castle. Castle and his resources, just as his connection with Dr. Murray had already got them this new lead.
"Oh, Katie," her dad sighed. "You could never let your mom down. Just as you've never let me down."
Her eyes stung with hot tears. "Oh, Dad…" she whispered.
He reached out and grasped her hand. "Look, Katie, I know what finding out the truth about your mom's case will mean to you, to us. But Katie-bug, listen to me, whatever happens with your mom's case, you won't be letting your mom down."
Her dad lifted his other hand to tuck an errand strand of hair behind her ear, pausing to chuck his knuckle to her chin in one of his characteristic affectionate gestures, one he didn't use very often now but had been one of his trademarks when she'd been little. He had gradually stopped when her pre-teen self had started to duck away from the gesture (brat that she had been) but sometimes, in the last few years, the gesture had returned. "You don't need to solve your mom's case to make her happy; you don't owe her that. What your mom would want most–what I want most–is for you to be happy, to live your own life, not holding back from it. I know your mom's case is important, to both of us, but what matters the most to me and what I know would matter the most to your mom, is that you're happy, moving forward with your life, with the future you're building with Rick, for yourselves and for the baby."
She blinked and swallowed back the lump of emotion in her throat. "I'll try, Dad." She was trying, would try.
She suddenly remembered that Captain Montgomery had told her much the same thing, hadn't he, that they didn't owe the dead their lives. Montgomery, who understood the calling, the drive, to find justice for the victims, but who also lived for himself, for his family.
Her dad patted her hand and then picked up his coffee cup for another sip. "I know you will, Katie."
This new development in her mom's case might be her mom's way of reaching out, her dad had said, but it occurred to her that maybe, fanciful and a little irrational as it was, it wasn't her mom's case that was her mom's way of reaching out but the baby. The baby who would not exist if it hadn't been for Castle looking into her mom's case–the baby as the living symbol and embodiment (even in the womb) of the future her mom would want for her, just as her dad had said.
She sipped at her tea, now more lukewarm than hot, but still soothing enough.
And, as if she'd somehow guessed that she and her dad had been talking about her, the baby nudged at her and Kate's hand flew to curve over her stomach in automatic response. The gesture drew her dad's eye and she managed a smile, somewhat shaky but real. "The baby moved. I guess she heard us."
Oh, oh wow, the expression on her dad's face–she didn't think she'd ever seen her dad look like that, so… uplifted, his eyes and smile so bright he could have been illuminated from within. "She moved," he repeated. "You felt the baby move."
She had mentioned the first few times she'd felt the baby move to her dad after the fact but it occurred to her that this might be the first time the baby had moved when she was actually with her dad. "I did. She's moving pretty regularly now."
Her dad's eyes were bright with tears but he was still smiling. "Just wait, Katie. From what I remember, your mom was convinced you would turn out to be a dancer or a soccer player with the way you were moving around the last couple months."
Her lips trembled into a wobbly smile. "Really?" She hadn't known that. Her throat closed up as she thought that it was the sort of thing she really wished her mom could have told her. It was still precious to hear it from her dad but not quite the same. She pushed the thought aside and managed a watery little laugh. "Considering this baby is related to Castle, I expect she's going to start throwing wild dance parties any day now."
Her dad laughed a little. "Probably." He paused, his expression sobering, becoming wistful. "It's going to be wonderful. She's going to be amazing, I have no doubt."
She forced a brighter smile and started to tell her dad about Castle's idea to use Morse code to communicate with the baby.
Her dad laughed harder than she had seen him do in some time, the shadows in his eyes put there by the mention of her mom's case, dissipating.
They didn't linger in the diner much longer, only long enough for her dad to finish his coffee while she finished her tea, and then her dad left a couple bills on the table while they stood up, shrugging back into their coats.
She noted with a sudden pang how tired her dad looked, knew the toll any mention of her mom's case took on him, a weight that couldn't be entirely lifted even with the happier conversation of the last few minutes. "Will you be okay getting home, Dad? I could drive you," she offered, although what she really meant–and could not ask–was if he would be okay, period, if he was feeling at all at risk of relapsing.
Her dad waved off the offer. "No, no, Katie, I'll just call a cab. I don't want to make you go out of your way and you need your rest, probably more than I do these days."
"I'm not an invalid," she protested, more out of habit than anything else.
"No, but you are housing my future grandchild so take it easy, Katie."
"Yes, Dad," she responded dutifully and accepted her dad's hug, the embrace again lasting a little longer than usual.
He released her and stepped back. "Say hello to Rick for me."
"I will and I'll keep you posted on what happens," she assured him, not entirely smoothly. She was tempted to tell him to call his sponsor but she couldn't bring herself to do so, to tell her dad so obviously that she still worried about his sobriety.
"Okay, thanks. I love you, Katie-bug."
"I love you too, Dad," she responded easily. Her dad was the only person she had said those words to since her mom had died–but she wondered when–what it would take for her to be able to say those words to Castle.
They left the diner arm in arm and she saw her dad into a cab before she returned to her car and then to the loft.
When she walked into the loft, it was to be confronted with the sight of Castle, rather uncharacteristically pacing in the front room while on the phone, with an audience consisting of Martha and Alexis. Castle's eyes immediately swung to hers, something flaring across his expression she couldn't quite decipher (or was just too tired to decipher).
Martha pulled her into a hug. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm doing better, thank you, Martha," she answered with at least some truth.
She accepted Alexis's hug as well, half-absently as her attention had been caught by Castle who had just said into the phone, "Actually, Lanie, she's just walked in now. Do you want to talk to her?"
Wait, Lanie? Lanie had called him? Since when? Oh, Lanie and Castle were friends, almost as much as Castle and the boys were, but to her knowledge, Lanie had never yet called Castle directly, nor had he ever called Lanie. She herself was the conduit between them, Lanie as her best friend and Castle as her partner, her… well, her Castle.
Castle met her eyes, holding his phone out to her. "For you," he told her unnecessarily.
She accepted his phone and reached out to grasp his hand with her free one. "Lanie," she greeted. "You're bothering Castle now?"
"I wouldn't have to if you'd respond to text messages once in a while, Beckett," Lanie's somewhat tart tone came over the phone.
Messages, plural? She'd noticed one message from Lanie earlier when she'd arrived at the diner but Lanie must have sent a few more afterwards, which Kate had missed because she'd been focused on her dad. "I was talking to my dad," she explained.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Martha wrapping a hand around Alexis's arm and gently tugging the girl with her to go upstairs, with a wave at Kate.
Alexis looked back at Kate, her blue eyes still wide with concern, and Kate forced a small smile of reassurance for the girl's benefit, as she and Martha vanished upstairs.
"So Castle said, but I was still concerned." Lanie's tone softened. "How are you doing? Feeling better?"
Kate hesitated for a moment. A glib assurance that she was fine wouldn't fool her friend, not in something like this. And it didn't help that Lanie had caught her throwing up in the bathroom earlier. "I'm doing better," she answered, echoing her earlier reassurance for Martha.
"Are you really, Kate?"
Lanie's use of her first name told her how concerned Lanie still was and her friend wasn't done, went on, her voice gentle. "You know, no one will think the worse of you if you took a step back from all this, gave it a couple days."
Kate supposed that was true enough. She had built up enough credibility at the precinct and the excuse of her condition would add to the acceptance of her stepping back from this case. But just as in her earlier talk with Castle, she realized all over again that she would think less of herself if she did. "I know, Lanie, but I… I'll be okay," she managed. She glanced at Castle, met his eyes as he watched her. "I won't be doing it alone."
"No, you won't be," Lanie agreed. She paused and then went on, her tone shifting to sound more like her usual self, "But tell Castle if he does anything to make things harder on you, I'll be using him to practice my scalpel skills on."
She choked on a laugh. "Duly noted but he won't."
"Good." Lanie paused and then went on, "Now, you had better eat something and get some rest, Beckett. Doctor's orders."
Kate managed a small smile. "Yes, Dr. Parish," she answered dutifully.
She heard Lanie's smile in her voice. "See that you do, Beckett. Or I'll have to call Castle again to make sure you're following orders."
"Nice to know you trust me so much," she said dryly.
"I just know you too well," was Lanie's return quip.
They didn't linger on the phone, ended the call after Lanie had extracted a promise that Kate would call her the next day, keep her updated.
Kate handed his phone back to Castle who slipped it into his pocket before loosely tugging her into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment. "Was Lanie giving you a hard time?"
"She's worried about you," he answered somewhat obliquely.
"I know but she didn't have to jump right to bugging you either."
Castle shrugged a little. "I don't mind. And I have to say, I kind of liked that Lanie just assumed I'd be with you and would know how you were doing."
Put like that… She might not like having so many people worried about her–being seen as vulnerable like that grated on her–but, well, it wasn't… bad either to have Lanie (and her dad and the Captain) acknowledging not just Castle's place in her life or her place in his. Of course Lanie had also been pushing her towards Castle from the beginning pretty much. "It was a simple process of deduction on Lanie's part."
"Maybe so, but I still liked it. And speaking of Lanie, that reminds me, have you eaten?"
"She got to you too, didn't she, made you promise to make sure I ate something?"
Castle looked briefly caught out but then smoothed his expression out. "Well, I would have asked anyway. I like feeding you."
Well, really, how was she even supposed to pretend to be annoyed at him when he said things like that? She huffed a little, sternly keeping back a smile. "No, I didn't eat when I met with my dad."
"What would you like?" he asked as he steered her gently towards the kitchen and saw her settled on one of the chairs at the island.
"Just some toast to start with and then I'll think about it."
"How is your dad?" he asked as he dutifully started making toast, along with boiling water for the herbal tea she liked.
She sighed a little. "He seemed okay, just looked a little tired. It's hard on him when my mom's case is mentioned. And then hearing that the man was a professional…"
Castle winced a little in sympathy. "I know. I can't even imagine…"
She hesitated but finally admitted, "I just worry about him when something like this, something upsetting, comes up, worry that he'll… well, you know." There was an odd sort of comfort in knowing that Castle knew about her dad's past struggles, another thing she almost never talked about. She hadn't even told Will about her dad, not really, had told him in vague terms that her dad had struggled a lot after her mom's death, referred to grief counseling (which her dad had been to a few times, while sobering up) but not the actual reality of how deep her dad's struggles had gone, how far he'd fallen. The bare fact of her dad's alcoholism was known to only a few people–Royce, because he'd been her training officer when she'd received one of the calls that her dad had been tossed into the drunk tank, Captain Montgomery (for the same reason), Lanie, and Espo. And of course, Castle. It belatedly occurred to her that she had to have trusted him to an extent already, even back then, to tell him even as much as she had about her dad's struggles.
"Your dad is strong, has to be, to overcome what he has."
"I know he is. And I do trust him, I do." She grimaced a little. "I just… can't help worrying, remembering all the times before… when he wasn't strong. I wish I could forget those bad years, seeing my dad like that… but I can't."
It was an amazing thing, being able to share her worries over dad with someone else, someone who cared about her dad the way Castle did, not only for her sake but because it was the kind of person Castle was and to Castle, her dad was already family. That was really it, to have someone else who thought of her dad as family.
"No," he agreed gently. "Even I know that some sort of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind trick isn't possible."
Such a Castle-like response. It provoked a faint, somewhat wobbly smile from her. "Even you, huh? That really does make it absolutely, positively impossible," she tried to tease.
"Everything's impossible until it becomes possible," he intoned with exaggerated gravity.
Ridiculous man. Dear, ridiculous man.
Her toast and tea were now ready and he placed both in front of her before moving around the island to slide his arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her hair, and she leaned into him for a moment.
"Your dad really is going to be okay. He has you and the Sprout to think about, keep him going."
She remembered her dad's expression when she'd told him that the Sprout had moved. Castle was right, of course; she did believe that her dad would not risk doing anything to lose his chance to spend time with the baby. "Oh, she kicked while I was at the diner with my dad. I told him and I'm not sure I've seen him so excited or so emotional in years."
"See, I told you, the Sprout's brilliant. Look at her timing; she'll keep your dad on the straight and narrow."
"Must you gloat? I hardly think her timing was intentional."
He gave her a look of fake horror. "I think you should have more faith in our daughter's natural intelligence. Anyway, look at Alexis; my daughters are all smart. And considering the Sprout will have your brains too, she's guaranteed to be a genius."
She really didn't know why but something about the pride in his voice, his expression, as he spoke about the Sprout being a genius made her throat get tight, her eyes prickling. It really was stupid but what with her pregnancy and the emotions of the day, she just didn't have any of her usual emotional shield. She swallowed hard and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, absurd as it was. "I think the Sprout wants eggs. Can you make some fried eggs?"
"As you wish," he returned lightly, not even blinking at the complete non sequitur. (Although, she supposed, Castle was something of a master of the non sequitur himself.)
He promptly suited action to the words, moving to the fridge to get some eggs, and pulling out a frying pan. He really was so… good to her–and she wasn't even thinking about his willingness to cook for her but everything else, the way he listened to her, the way he made her laugh, the way he held her. And she loved him for it, for all of it, for everything he was.
"Castle."
"Hmm?" He half-turned away from the stove to look at her.
She loved him–but somehow, something about the way he was looking at her–he really did have the most beautiful eyes, she thought irrelevantly–made the words clog her throat or maybe that was just her fluttering heart that had leaped up into her throat and seemed to have gotten stuck there.
"I hope our daughter takes after you," was what she managed to say, instead, not quite steadily. "I hope she has your heart, your humor."
He stilled, staring at her for a long second–and oh god, the look in his eyes…
And then there was the sound of a sizzle from the pan and he blinked and started, whirling around to return his attention to the stove. After another second, he coughed a little and answered, his voice a poor imitation of his usual light tone, "I hope our daughter has your eyes and your strength." He paused and then added, "The eggs will be ready in a minute."
The eggs, right, the eggs.
The plate appeared in front of her along with a fork and she gave Castle a small smile. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
And then he proceeded to watch her eat the eggs as if he couldn't imagine anything he would rather do than simply watching her eat. Color flared in her cheeks in some self-consciousness but then she looked up at him through her lashes and looking at him, she thought–knew–that he understood the three words she hadn't been able to say. It was enough, for now.
Whatever happened the next day with her mom's killer, she thought she could face it, as long as she had Castle.
