AN: Thanks for all the reviews and support!
Another long day, that Kate absolutely never wanted to re-live. Talking to Alexis that morning, hearing her enthusiasm to take care of the boys had been perhaps the brightest moment of these last few dark days.
But then they had spent the day dealing with twin seven year olds who had just had their worlds turned upside down. She'd had to deal with Eli's anger, and Zeke's denial as he worked himself up more and more demanding that they bring his mother back.
Then she spent the afternoon planning the finishing touches of beautiful, vivacious cousin's funeral, and it was all too much, and it was just too hard, and she never, ever wanted to re-live another day like today.
"I'm dying first," she told Castle as they climbed into bed on the small fold-out sofa.
"What?" he asked, looking concerned.
"I am categorically not doing this again. It's too hard," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't go through this. It hurts too much. So I'm dying first."
Yeah, she was probably revealing too much because she was tired and broken and her guard was down. But these had been some of the hardest days of her life, and the idea of having to plan Rick's funeral, even if it was forty years down the line, was far too painful to even consider.
Even if the idea that she was considering 'forty years down the line' was pretty terrifying.
Castle didn't say anything, but he did pull her into his arms on the fold-out. For once, she let herself be comforted. Resting her head on his chest, she was lulled to sleep by the stead thump of his heart.
Kate had always been a light sleeper, and a decade as a cop had certainly not improved things. So the soft padding of tiny feet on the hallway carpet was enough to wake her.
She lay still for a moment, giving her eyes time to adjust to the darkness. There was a street light just outside the apartment, and enough muted light slid in around the edges of the curtains that she could made out the shape of the room as a small body snuck into the lounge.
She had enough trouble telling them apart in the day time, so she couldn't do more than discern it was one of the twins, a blanket clutched tightly in his hand. She remembered the blanket from when the twins were little; they had each had one that they carried everywhere. She had thought they had outgrown that now though.
Kate waited as Eli-or-Zeke made his way over to Castle's side of the fold-out. Although 'side' was a relative thing. The old fold-out dipped in the middle like a saggy banana and no matter how many times she tried to move to the edge, gravity had her rolling back into the middle within minutes. She had resigned herself to sleeping with Castle in one giant collection of interwoven limbs…wow did that sound wrong. There was no interwoven-ness! They were just… intertwined? her mind suggested. Fused? Joined?
Tangled! Gah, they were tangled. There was nothing suggestive about tangles, right?
Except that internal voice that sounded suspiciously like Castle was crooning seductively about limbs tangling in the heat of passion –
She grabbed her internal-Castle voice by the ear and shoved him firmly in a holding cell.
A soundproof holding cell.
She was not having sexy-Castle internal monologue with a seven year old in the room.
(Sexy-Castle internal monologue tried to ask if that meant she would be more open to entangled limbs when there wasn't an elementary student present. Internal-voice-Kate went into the neighbouring soundproof holding cell and screamed in frustration.)
Real-life-Castle suddenly stiffened beside her. Kate had a moment of panic – Oh God, he really can read minds! – before she realised it was just Zeke-or-Eli's scuffing footsteps and intense staring that had woken him.
"Hey buddy," Castle whispered, his voice still gravelly from sleep. "Can't sleep?"
Eli-or-Zeke nodded. He was holding the edge of his blanket in both hands in front of his mouth, his face almost buried in it.
"Well I'm glad you came here. I was having a bad dream." Castle continued.
Zeke-or-Eli looked up from the blanket slightly. "Really?" he asked.
"Yep," said Castle. "There was a waffle trying to eat me. It was horrible."
Eli-or-Zeke giggled.
"What?" said Castle, sounding affronted. "I don't know if you've ever been eaten by a giant waffle before, but it's not pleasant. In fact, maybe you could stay with me tonight? I don't think I'll be able to sleep by myself."
Zeke-or-Eli seemed to consider this. He looked longingly at the bed, but said, "you're not by yourself. Aunty Kate is here."
"Yeah," Castle agreed, and Kate could tell he was scrambling for an excuse. "But – uh – Aunty Kate is a girl," he pointed out.
Kate dug an elbow into his side in annoyance. Had the man even heard of woman's lib? Castle inhaled sharply at the nudge.
But Eli-or-Zeke seemed to accept this excuse and nodded sagely, moving toward the edge of the fold out.
Castle lifted the edge of the blanket on his side, allowing the kid to move onto the bed. There was a moment of jostling as they tried to find a comfortable position, and then the inevitable roll into the sagging middle of the bed.
Ten minutes later, when the second twin emerged sheepishly from the hallway, Kate merely lifted the blanket on her side and let him climb in.
Jim Beckett awoke early on the day they buried his niece.
He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the white ceiling above, his thoughts drifting.
Jim was the first to admit he had got a lot of things wrong in his lifetime. He didn't think he could ever forgive himself for his actions after Jo had died. The way he had become so caught up in himself and abandoned Katie like that. He figured when he got to Heaven, his wife was going to kick his ass for that. Which would be completely justified.
He would give anything to go back and change what had happened. But he had learnt long ago that regrets just led to repetition. He had made amends were he could; he had handed over control to a higher power and humbly asked Him to remove his shortcomings. And he would spend the rest of his days doing His will.
But Jim Beckett had also learned that the best things could come out of the very worst.
He thought of his niece, Margaret, who had been so caught up in the world of drugs and booze and no responsibilities. Jim had wondered how she had felt when she found out she was pregnant. He wondered if she had ever considered abortion.
Yet out of such terrible circumstances had come two amazing boys.
Way back when Maggie had first starting going to Narcotics Anonymous, Jim thought she was crazy. She had come to his place when the boys were just babies to try make amends and to try and convince him to quit drinking and join the AA program.
At the time Jim hadn't been the slightest bit interested in hearing that do-gooder crap. But even through his drunken haze he had noticed something different about Maggie. There was a joy, a kind of peaceful radiance about her that he had never seen before.
It had struck in his mind even years later, when this time he was the one making amends and asking forgiveness.
In all likelihood if Maggie hadn't gotten pregnant she would have died years ago from the drugs. He knew it had been far from easy for her to overcome her addiction and the world's prejudice to raise two boys alone. But out of such a horrible situation had come two of the most precious gifts that Jim could imagine, and he knew that Maggie would never have been able to regret even a moment that lead to them.
From the NA program, Maggie had got into church in a big way. She told him that just knowing there was a higher purpose helped her stay on track. Even the meanings of the boys' names, Elijah – my God is the Lord – and Ezekiel – God will strengthen – were affirmations of the faith that had given her the strength to carry on.
Something beautiful from the harshest of circumstances.
Jim just knew God had a sense of humour.
It was true for Katie too. Jo's death had been a senseless tragedy. The pain still took his breath away each time he thought of it. And yet out of that had come New York's finest detective. Jim would give anything to bring Jo back, but it was a comfort to know that there were a lot of families who could rest easy because Kate had been there to bring a killer to justice. And she might have never gone down that path if Jo hadn't died in those most horrible of circumstances.
It might not be fair. But sometimes you had to go through the dark of midnight to truly appreciate the brilliance of the dawn.
So Jim got up from Maggie's small twin bed, and started the morning the same way he started every day. He dressed, and then ran his fingers over the smooth metal of his sobriety pin. As every morning, he prayed silently. God, give me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, Courage to change the things which should be changed, and the Wisdom to distinguish the one from the other.
He placed his sobriety pin carefully in his pocket, ready to hold onto when he needed a steady reminder of how far he had come, and his promise to never slip back.
Stretching out the cramps from a night of sleeping on Maggie's tiny twin bed, he made his way out to the main room of the apartment. As he made his way through the doorway he paused.
There on the fold out sofa was his sleeping daughter, her head resting on the chest of the man who Jim was reasonably sure was wholly in love with her. The fold out sagged heavily in the middle from the weight of the two adults, who were squashed together in a tiny space, Katie basically lying on top of Rick. The writer and the detective were framed on either side by an identical twin spread to take up a good third of the entire bed.
Jim looked at Rick, who was sleeping on his back with one arm around Katie, a hand resting in the small of her back as though he had been holding her to him when they fell asleep. The twin lying next to Kate had one hand thrown out toward her, his fingers meeting Rick's arm where it lay on Kate's back. The second twin on Rick's side had his back against the writer's, his hands curled under his chin. With the sunlight streaming in through the gaps around the edge of the curtains they seemed a picture of a contented family.
It gave him hope for a moment, that even from this horror, someday something good could come.
He didn't know what would happen in the future. Jim had thought about taking in the boys, but he knew that at his age he would have trouble keeping up with them. Not to mention he didn't like his chances of gaining custody of two kids as a recovering alcoholic. He remembered how expensive Katie had been at that age, growing like a weed, and eating like a horse. And there had only been one of her. He didn't think he could afford to take care of two boys with his current finances.
But after overhearing their discussion the other night, Jim hadn't been surprised with Katie had said that she and Rick were putting in a joint application for custody of the boys. He hoped that they were making the right decision.
He was pretty sure that if Maggie could pick, she would want Katie raising the boys. They had always been so alike. He remembered watching them grow up, the summers when they would head out to his brother's place on the lake and the two girls would spend every minute together. He thought of their matching mischievous grins when they were up to something, the twinkle in their eyes when they asked for second helpings of ice cream after dinner.
Their lives had taken very different paths, but when you got to the down to the important things, both girls had a heart of gold. And Jim knew that Kate was going to be an amazing mom one day, just like Maggie had been.
Taking on two seven year olds would be a strain on any relationship, and Jim couldn't help but worry about Rick and Kate. Even if they claimed to be 'just friends', Jim knew love when he saw it. He had been a bit hostile toward Rick initially – he liked the man's books, but given his playboy reputation, Jim wasn't so sure how close he wanted the writer too close to his daughter. For all her denials, Jim could tell that his daughter was not unaffected by her new, handsome shadow.
But then he had seen the way Rick looked at Kate. There was a devotion in the young man's eyes. A steadfastness. Jim had seen many men and boys look at his daughter over the years.
Some looked at her body, though Kate had the good sense to steer clear of them. Some wore her on their arm like a prize, proud to show her off. They never lasted long.
Some looked at Kate like she was something precious and delicate, and while Jim knew that they loved her, Kate could never be swaddled and protected. Kate had built herself through pain, and was strong as iron.
But the way that Rick looked at Kate – like he couldn't believe this strong, extraordinary woman was giving him the time of day – reassured him. Jim had worn that look, every time he saw wife. He knew that, like himself, Rick would spend his days trying to be worthy of the woman by his side.
If they did get custody of the boys, they had a rough time ahead of them. Jim fingered his sobriety pin one more time. He pictured his beautiful faces of his wife and niece, looking down on them. "I'll help them," he promised. "None of them will be alone."
His gaze fell again on his daughter, surrounded by the people she loved. Soon enough they would awake to one of the hardest days of their life. For now, Jim took a seat to the kitchen counter, and remembered the words of Winston Churchill. "Kites rise highest against the wind," he whispered to the silent room.