May 19, 2011 (9w1d)
"I love you, so much."
The words, whispered in the stillness of the night, had been everything he wanted to hear.
But not like this.
"I'm sorry, Castle," she said through tears and a breaking voice.
She placed her hands over her expanding baby bump, protectively cradling the life behind it.
For months now, they had pretended this could actually work out their way. But that was before they knew.
"I have to do this for him," she explained, looking down at the bump. "Josh will love him, provide for him."
"I will love him and provide for him!" His voice had never sounded more desperate, more pathetic, as he begged her not to leave. "Please, Kate."
He stepped forward, cupped her face and captured her lips, salted by the tears they shared.
She didn't pull back, didn't put a stop to what they both knew was nothing more than postponing the inevitable.
Josh wanted to be a family. And Kate just wanted to do right by their child.
Josh's child.
Love alone was never going to be enough.
He wasn't sure when, exactly, he had drifted off to sleep. All he knew was that his slumber wasn't nearly long enough, yet again. The first signs of sunlight filtered through his window, letting him know that any attempt to return to his dreamland would be futile. Although, with the dreams he had been having of late, maybe that was for the best.
He snaked his arm out from under her, careful not to wake her as he slipped from between the sheets. She rolled toward him, inhaled deeply, but did not wake. Judging by the gentle tug on the corners of her mouth, she was having much sweeter dreams than he had.
He needed coffee, pronto.
He slipped a shirt on before heading out to the kitchen, just in case he wasn't the only one awake at this ridiculously early hour. Not that that was likely.
He moved around the kitchen sluggishly, pulling mugs and ground coffee from the cabinets with an exaggerated groan.
Once the coffee machine was set up and working its magic, he leant on the bench, hanging his head low until his forehead pressed against the cool marble bench top.
He closed his eyes for what felt like mere seconds before the mechanical beep from the coffee machine jolted him upright, snapping him out of his unintentional doze.
Slowly, he straightened his posture and stretched out the crick in his neck. Once his body could move with a little more ease, he grabbed the two mugs and plodded back to his bedroom.
"Good morning," he sung to an empty room, frowning once he realised Kate was no longer in bed. "Kate?"
She appeared at the en suite door, toothbrush hanging from her mouth as she pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail, simply making her presence known.
Her skin was pale, forehead mottled with beads of perspiration that threatened to drip from her brow as she started to scrub her teeth in a manner that could only be described as violent.
"You doing okay?" he dared to ask, despite the obvious answer.
She stepped away, spitting the toothpaste foam into the basin and rinsing her mouth with faucet water.
"I'm okay," she said with an exasperated sigh as she stepped back into the doorway.
He held a mug out to her, watching her eyes light up as she reached for it. Her fingers brushed the warm ceramic but just before she could take it from his hand, her nostrils flared and she squeezed her eyes shut, dropping her hands to her stomach.
They stood, seemingly frozen in time, for an unnerving few seconds.
"You good?" he asked slowly, scared that any movement, any words spoken too suddenly, would distract her focus from the all-important task of not throwing up.
He wanted to help her, of course, but he also didn't want to end up wearing whatever was threatening to come back up.
She turned, racing toward the toilet.
"I guess not," he whispered to himself, turning away from her. "No coffee. Got it."
Knuckles beginning to burn from the constant contact with the ceramic mugs, he walked back into the kitchen and placed one mug on the bench before ceremoniously tipping the other down the sink.
He grabbed the loaf of rye bread, cut two thick slices and popped them into the toaster.
After putting the loaf of bread back in the pantry, he pulled a box of chai blend tea leaves from the top shelf, placing it on the bench behind him before returning to the same shelf to dig out a ceramic teapot and leaf strainer.
He filled a pot with water, placed it on the stovetop to boil, and then returned to his own coffee, gulping down the much-needed caffeine.
Shuffling along the bench to where he had left the tea essentials, he measured out the correct amount of leaves and dumped the scoop into the strainer.
The toaster dinged and two slices of perfectly browned rye popped out. He glided to the opposite side of the kitchen, grabbing a plate from the drying rack as he went. He pinched the two slices of toast between his thumb and forefinger, dropping them to the plate and blowing on his now-burnt fingertips.
"You okay, babe?" Kate asked as she walked into the kitchen.
He smiled at the endearment. Babe. He hoped she would never call him anything else, ever again, but he knew that wasn't a likely scenario given her professionalism at work.
"I made you toast," he announced, holding up the plate. "Well, started to, anyway."
She sat down on one of the kitchen stools and he placed her breakfast in front of her, moving to the refrigerator to gather the butter and some other options for her.
"You didn't have to do that," she said, partially distracted as he dumped an assortment of spreads in front of her.
He pressed a kiss to her hair, sliding his hand soothingly down her back. "I wanted to."
He stepped around the bench, draining the remnants of his coffee before placing the mug into the sink.
"Chai tea, too. I'm just waiting for the water to boil."
He turned back to face her, only to find that she had been staring at him, her chin resting on her palms, with a bright smile plastered on her face.
"What?" he asked with a nervous chuckle.
She straightened her posture, shook her head playfully. "I was just wondering what I did to deserve you," she confessed.
"Oh, aren't you quite the sap today?" he teased.
It was slightly hypocritical, given the fluttering sensation her words had sparked deep in his chest. His heart was full, overflowing with adoration, a feeling no amount of bad dreams could take away from him.
She hung her head, biting on her lower lip. He hadn't meant to embarrass her, but he would relish in the subtle pink flush in her cheeks.
"Too much?"
"Never," he reassured her.
The pot of water on the stove began to bubble and steam.
"Eat," he instructed, firmly as he turned off the stovetop. "I'll make your tea."
"Are you not eating?" she asked as she watched him pour the water into the teapot.
His brow knitted, concentrating on the perfect pour as if it mattered immensely. In actuality, he was trying to buy himself some time. Just a little, before the I don't want you at the precinct today speech he had planned during the too many hours he had lain awake last night.
She was so happy to oblige in his rehearsals. He wouldn't even try to convince himself it would be that easy when she was awake... and actually a part of the conversation.
"I told Ryan and Espo I'd grab something for everyone on the way in today."
His eyes avoided hers, pointedly.
"Oh." She realised, instantly, that she wasn't included in his version of everyone.
His banishment still stood. When he said just for tonight, he hadn't actually meant it. Not that she was surprised.
He poured the tea into a small teacup for her, sliding it along the bench until it sat by her plate of untouched toast, now smeared with butter.
"You know what? I'm feeling much better after having the night off." She nibbled at one slice, as if a measly nibble would convince him she was fine, could hide how desperately she needed to be doing something. She swallowed the non-bite before continuing. "Calmer, more stable."
"No," he said bluntly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but no."
She physically deflated, losing at least an inch of height as her shoulders slumped.
He despised the fact that her sad eyes, dropped to hide from him, were getting to him. To his mother's melodrama, he was immune. Even his daughter's tantrums he could ignore to a certain extent. But this? There was a rawness to her vulnerability that had his stomach in knots.
"Maybe you could take a sick day? Just one."
He knew she had enough banked up, an unfathomable amount of time in lieu owing to her. Just one day wouldn't hurt.
That seemed to be the only way they would see the other side of this: making it through one day at a time. Just one more day, just one more day, until they reached the end.
"And do what?" she asked with a huff, dropping her toast back to the plate. "Bum around my apartment all day? No."
"You could stay here," he suggested.
"That's- no."
That was definitive. The shake of her head, the look of disgust that she didn't even attempt to hide, as if to ask how dare you even suggest such a thing?
"I'm fine. I've been sick every other day, it hasn't stopped me from being able to work."
"Yeah, about that, the increasing frequency of your bathroom breaks has been noted by the team. There's only so many excuses I can come up with before someone figures this out."
She rolled her eyes, not willing to get side-tracked from her goal.
"I just, I won't work on Lockwood's case," she offered the compromise, waiting eagerly for his response.
He mulled over her offer, weighing up his options. He wouldn't deny that he liked the idea of her being close, being able to check in on her throughout the day, knowing that she was safe within the precinct walls.
"What are you going to work on?"
"I don't know." She smiled, seeing his question as a weakness in his defence. "I'm sure Montgomery has something I can do."
"He'll reassign the case to another team."
"No," she refuted his argument with confidence. "We have an understanding," she hinted vaguely.
He started to slowly move closer to her, still silently going through his mental pros and cons list.
She rose from the stool, taking a few short steps until she reached him. The pull was magnetic, involuntary.
She draped her arms over his shoulders, crossing her wrists behind his neck as his hands fell into place at her waist.
"I can do this," she whispered her promise before pressing a kiss to his lips.
He sighed, ruefully pulled his hand from her to check his watch.
"You'll have to leave now if you want to go home and change. You'll be late, otherwise."
She wasn't sure if it was a last-ditch attempt to talk her out of this or not, but she simply smiled in response, accepting the victory.
"Actually," she began slowly, dragging out each syllable. "I may have put an overnight bag in my trunk yesterday. Just in case."
And there was that silly little flutter in his chest again. She was making plans. Plans that included keeping clothing handy so that their mornings together weren't cut any shorter than what was absolutely necessary.
He smiled, pressed another earnest kiss to her mouth.
"You eat," he instructed, pointing his finger toward her virtually untouched toast. "I'll go get your clothes."
"Good morning." They heard the singsong greeting from the top of the stairs.
She dropped her arms from around him, his hands leaving their perch on her body at the same time, and they both looked toward the sound's source.
Martha and Alexis descended the stairs, both wearing pyjamas, fluffy slippers and appropriately sleepy smiles for the time of day.
Castle picked up Kate's keys from the bench.
"Good morning, Pumpkin," he said, placing a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "Mother."
"Morning," Kate greeted them both with a smile, returning to the counter stool and taking a bite from her toast.
"I'll be back in just a moment," Castle explained, walking toward the door. He reached for the knob, stopping just short of it. "Oh, I need pants."
He ducked to his bedroom as his family laughed and shook their heads at his blunder. He returned after a short time wearing a more socially acceptable pair of sweatpants instead of his navy checked boxer shorts.
"Okay, take two: I'll be back in just a moment," he repeated as he closed the door behind him.
Kate took another bite of her toast, trying to ignore how out of place she felt once Alexis and Martha entered the suddenly too crowded kitchen. Without Castle by her side, she felt like she was intruding.
Maybe it was the hostility she had felt not too long ago, or perhaps it was the fact that Martha was far too knowledgeable for Kate's liking, or possibly it was just lingering nausea from before, but something was making her stomach knot uncontrollably.
She picked up the teacup, sipping slowly from the aromatic tea Castle had so thoughtfully prepared for her.
"How are you?" Alexis asked as she stepped up to the counter in front of Kate.
Martha stepped toward them, settling by her granddaughter's side and awaiting Kate's answer.
"I'm good, thanks," she answered, not having expected small talk from the girl. "How are you?"
"Oh, I meant how's the nausea?" Alexis clarified.
Kate's stomach dropped as she realised no one here was oblivious to her current condition.
"Right, sorry. I, uh- Castle didn't tell me that he told you."
He hadn't warned her.
Alexis looked at Martha, her eyes wide. She obviously hadn't realised she wasn't supposed to know.
Why shouldn't she know? Kate thought.
"Dad didn't tell me," she explained, a sense of urgency straining her voice. "Please don't be mad at him."
Mad? Of course, she wouldn't be mad.
"No, of course," she assured the girl. "I, uh- I'm fine," she said, answering the initial question, albeit not truthfully.
Alexis seemed content with the answer. Perhaps she didn't actually care and was just asking to be polite. Either way, Kate was relieved when the teenager walked away with a smile.
Martha rounded the bench, standing by Kate's side.
"Don't fret, she knows none of the... details." Martha reassured her. "Simply that you and Richard are family now, and soon enough, there will be a bundle of joy for us all to fall in love with. After that, the details don't matter."
"Details," Kate repeated, sinking further than one would think possible into the stool and scrubbing her hand over her face. Exactly how much did Martha know? "You must think-"
"Oh, Darling, who am I to judge?" the older woman dismissed with the wave of her hand. "You know my story. I know, as well as anyone, that these things happen and all we can do is deal with it."
Martha placed her hand on Kate's shoulder, her demeanour growing more serious.
"You know, I asked myself, every day, for too long, did I make the right choice?" she admitted. "Life wasn't always a picnic, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Richard was a blessing, he changed my life in ways I didn't know possible."
Kate smiled at the sincerity in Martha's words. He certainly was a blessing, although a very well disguised one at times.
"Sometimes I just feel like I don't deserve him." The words spilled from her uncontrollably, a secret she hadn't intended to confess.
But Martha's heartfelt smile eased the small niggle of regret.
"Richard decided, long before any of this happened, that you were worth it. And contrary to what he might believe, I tend to agree with him. Confession: I wasn't sure at first, but I am now. Meeting you has changed him and I can see the changes in you, too. You're not the Katherine Beckett we first met and I believe the future is bright for the two of you."
Castle burst through the door, duffel bag in hand, stealing the attention of both women as he did.
"Four minutes and forty-three seconds," he declared proudly, out of breath, staring at his watch.
Martha sighed, smiled fondly at her son. "A blessing," she reminded herself, eliciting laughter from Kate.
She rode the elevator up to the fourth floor. After spending the morning working alongside a team that wasn't her own, she had never been more impatient to step into the familiar bullpen, wishing the metal box would move faster.
The doors had barely opened before she was stepping out, striding toward the conference room that Castle had informed her they were working in.
"You checking in on us already?" Castle teased as she entered the room. "It's only been..."
He tilted his wrist, checking his watch. "Four hours?"
"I'm not checking in on you, Castle," she informed him with a smile, holding up a brown paper carry bag. "I'm feeding you."
She placed the bag on the table and pulled the deli subs out, one by one.
"Tuna melt on sourdough, meatballs and cheese on Italian and a BLT, extra B." She removed her own - grilled chicken and salad - from the pile as the boys approached. "Bon appétit!"
She smiled at the chorus of distracted thank yous she received as everyone picked out their usual order from the selection.
"I know what this is. This is bribery: you want us to save you from records," Ryan joked as he settled back into his chair, unwrapping his sub.
"Just eat your sandwich," she retorted. "Besides, I've been saved already."
"Oh yeah? What've you been doing?" Castle asked, genuinely curious, before taking a bite from his BLT.
"I'm on loan to robbery for the day," she informed them, all eyes landing on her in response. "Demming is out for the week, so they need all the help they can get."
The further explanation wasn't necessary, she knew that, but she had this overwhelming urge to clarify that she hadn't spent the day working alongside her ex-boyfriend, especially for Castle's sake.
But he seemed completely unbothered.
"Hmm, don't work too hard, they might want to keep you," he quipped with a playful elbow to her arm. "Home invasions just don't sell as many books."
"I don't think Montgomery would ever approve a transfer, anyway," Esposito added. "Dream team, baby."
He and Ryan bumped fists before going back to eating their lunch.
Usually she would take the chance to deflate their egos a little, but with some of the highest closure rates in the area, she figured a boast every now and then was acceptable - so long as it was all in good fun.
Her attention was pulled from the boys by the gentle brush of Castle's fingers at her wrist.
"Come, sit," he said softly, tilting his head back toward the worn out two-seater against the wall.
She followed his lead, taking a seat beside him, thankful that the size of the sofa provided a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why they were so close.
"How are you feeling?" he asked once she was settled, his voice hushed so that the boys wouldn't overhear.
"Better," she assured him with a soft smile.
Still not great, though.
She missed the days when she woke up feeling absolutely fine, when she actually had energy and could eat whatever she wanted without having to worry about a constantly unsettled stomach.
She looked down at the sandwich in her hands, her usual favourite but today it just didn't appeal to her at all.
"You want some of mine?" he offered, picking up on her hesitance. "Meredith had a pretty strong aversion to poultry. She could smell it a mile away. Bacon, on the other hand, she couldn't get enough of. I'm happy to swap, if you want."
"That's sweet, Castle. Thank you." She lifted the top slice of bread, examining the sandwich's contents. "But I'm fine. I think I have an aversion to food in general."
She tried to laugh it off, but his concern couldn't be shaken.
"You need to eat, Kate."
"I'm trying, it's just-" She inhaled, took a moment to settle her frustration. She shot a sideways glance to the boys, who were doing their best to appear as though they were minding their own business, but she knew better. She lowered her voice accordingly. "I'm sick of being sick, you know?"
"I won't pretend to know what it's like, but I sympathise, if that's any consolation."
She shrugged, bringing her sandwich up to her mouth. "A little bit," she muttered before taking a small bite.
She chewed slowly, waiting for the oh no moment, but it didn't come. She made it through half of the sandwich before it did.
She wrapped the other half back in the parchment it came in, deciding that half a lunch was a win for the day.
She rose from the sofa, tossing her scraps in the bin by the door and readying herself to head back to her temporary reassignment.
But she couldn't resist, the temptation was too strong.
"So." She tilted her head to the mess of documents on the conference table. "You're gonna make me ask?"
Castle stood, stepping toward her.
"Wish you wouldn't," he sung back in a playful tone, but they all understood the truth behind his words, the pleading.
She stood her ground, and suddenly he was too close. The four-inch height advantage he had on her made her feel so small, fragile, vulnerable.
"Castle..."
She needed something, anything. Just a small shred of hope that she could cling to while she played pretend with the robbery squad.
"We don't have anything for you," he apologised.
He looked at the boys, her eyes following his.
"We are waiting on Miami-Dade PD, they're tracking someone down for us," Esposito explained.
"There's a good chance this is just another dead end," Ryan added, setting the expectations.
She nodded slowly. A lead, most likely a dead end. But, still...
"It's something," she said with a shrug. "Thank you."
She took a step back, away from Castle. She wasn't thinking about Lockwood, wasn't curious as to why Miami-Dade was involved in this.
She was okay, really.
"I should be getting back." She pointed her thumb over her shoulder, toward the door.
She wasn't wondering who they were trying to track down, or why.
She didn't need to know how this mystery person played into this, at all.
She was fine.
"Kate..."
His body crowded her space again, fingertips were at her wrist again.
She wasn't thinking about how desperately she needed his hand just a few inches lower, fingers intertwined with hers, calming her with such ease as he would if they were alone.
"I'll talk to you later," she said with a smile.
She wasn't thinking about the boys watching them, studying the interaction, deconstructing each look, each touch.
Suddenly, she wasn't thinking at all.
She inched forward, stretching to her tiptoes and planted a peck to his cheek.
The room was silent as she walked away.
After receiving a phone call from Miami-Dade PD, the boys had left to follow up on the Yanavich lead. His presence, apparently, was no longer needed: Esposito had all but ordered him to go home as they left the bullpen.
Go home lover boy, they had teased.
He didn't need to be told twice.
He took the elevator down to the records room - where Beckett had retreated once her temporary team had resigned for the night - stepping out into the near-deserted floor. Walking down the darkened hallway, he headed toward the warm yellow light that shone through the opened door at the other end.
He stopped at the door, leaning against the frame and taking a moment to absorb the sight in front of him: Kate, sitting cross legged on the floor, surrounded by a dozen open files.
She was too busy scribbling notes on a lecture pad to even notice his presence.
"You ready to go home?" he asked, beckoning her attention.
She looked up at him, smiling warmly, before checking the bulky watch at her wrist.
"Wow, I got so caught up in this, I didn't realise the time. Sorry."
"We can stop for dinner on the way if you'd like."
She looked back up at him, leaning her elbows on her thighs.
He recognised the look in her eyes: the unspoken apology.
"I'm just- I'm kinda on a roll with this," she began to explain. I was hoping..."
Her voice trailed off as his concern flickered across his face.
She knew what he was thinking: she couldn't allow herself to spiral on her own case so he was worried she was going to throw herself into someone else's.
"Another hour?" she asked for permission, something she would usually never even consider. "Then I promise I'll call it a night."
He pushed himself off the door frame, stepping toward her, careful not to tread on any of the files. He held his hands out to her, pulling her to her feet.
"I can help," he offered, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.
"I appreciate the offer, but you look exhausted."
She slipped her hand from his so that she could straighten the collar of his shirt.
"You should go home, try to get some sleep," she suggested earnestly.
"Sleep better with you there," he grumbled, earning him a loving smile.
"Go home, have some dinner," she ordered. "By the time you're ready to crawl into bed, I'll be there."
She leant forward, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.
"I'm going to hold you to that," he warned as he began to back out of the room. "One hour."
"One hour," she confirmed with a nod of the head.
As he started to turn and walk away, something stirred in her stomach, like nervous butterflies.
"Hey, Rick?" she called out to him.
He turned back to her, a sweet smile on his face. "Yeah?"
She stepped over the files on the floor, closing the distance between them. With a quick glance down the darkened hallway, she decided they were sufficiently secluded.
She leant forward, a hand resting over his heart, and locked her lips to his in a long and slow kiss.
She only hoped that it would portray all that she felt, everything she couldn't yet bring herself to say.
I'm sorry.
I love you.
She pulled back, just a few inches.
"I'll see you soon, okay?"
He nodded, brushing stray tendrils of hair from her face. "Okay."
As he walked away, her phone began to ring, the trill piercing through the silence of the almost abandoned floor. The sound was cut off as he reached the elevator, her voice was the last thing he heard as the doors began to close.
"Sir?"