Path to Paradise
X
Beckett rubbed the tips of her fingers over the arm of the waiting room chair, nicely appointed (of course, for the price of the doctor's office visit, it should be). Everything in here was nicely appointed, the furnishings tasteful and yet modern, the magazines a complimentary fan ranging from Martha Stewart Living to GQ. Plush furniture, deep-pile carpet that muffled all sound, the waiting room so vast she could fit her whole apartment inside.
But she was completely uncomfortable, the decor unable to ease her mind.
Beckett had watched Castle disappear behind that patient door almost twenty minutes ago, and she wished fiercely that she had bullied her way back with him.
Comprehensive Pain Specialists of New York had a reputation unsurpassed. Online reviews were glowing, and her father's law office had even used them numerous times for some of their highest-paying clients. Castle was in very good hands. She believed that whole-heartedly.
Still she wanted to sit right there beside him and hear it herself from the doctor's own mouth. Or was it the physician's assistant? Whomever it was that was seeing him now.
Her phone vibrated in her lap and Beckett glanced to the screen, dismissing the alert despite the open case at the Twelfth. Art gallery and a too-smooth insurance claims investigator made for a nice story to tell Castle when he had whined about being left out of things, but she currently couldn't find it in her to care.
That had never happened to her before.
She would be mildly concerned but for the-
"Mrs Castle?"
Beckett jerked her head towards the secretary standing at the front desk, surprised by the name, even more surprised that she found herself answering to it. She sat forward, gathering her phone into a fist, ready to go. "Yes?"
"Mr Castle would like for you to sit in, if you're willing-"
"I'm willing," she said, shooting to her feet so fast the secretary leaning over her desk actually stepped back.
Kate didn't bother explaining her non-Mrs status, she merely walked quickly towards the massive grey desk and waited for whatever happened next.
The patient door opened just as the secretary gestured towards it, and a clinic nurse was waiting there with a smile. "Mrs Castle? Come on back. I think your husband is afraid it's too much information for him to keep straight."
"It's Beckett. He's my partner," she murmured, knowing it didn't quite explain, but all the explanation she could muster.
The nurse seemed not to even hear her, simply led Beckett down a hall off of which were many doors, doors upon doors, and Castle behind one of them. Charts hung to one side of each doorway, nestled into sleek chrome holders mounted on soothing grey walls, and she thought she could hear a doctor and patient talking in normal tones somewhere down the hall.
The farther into the maze they got, the more she recognized that voice as his voice, Castle, and then the nurse was opening the door. Beckett saw first the woman in her tailored white lab coat, her hair piled on top of her head in a way that suggested a night out at the best restaurant before being called to her job - even though it was eight in the morning. The dress, though, was knockout, and Beckett was momentarily discombobulated.
But Castle was sitting on a leather exam chair - dentist-like, though far more tasteful and expensive than that description allowed for. He held a sheaf of papers in one hand and a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes. When he turned his head at the open door, relief spilled through his face so quickly that Beckett jerked forward, called to his side by his need.
She touched the back of his neck where his skin was warm and the hair had begun to grow long, a moment to soothe them both, and then she turned to the doctor. The exam room door was closed once more, leaving just the three of them, and the woman had stood to shake Beckett's hand.
The dress was amazing, really, and why was she wearing such a nice dress to work in a clinic?
"I'm Karen Foster, a PA with the CPS Group. You're-"
"Detective Kate Beckett," she interrupted, wanting to make it clear now that she'd been allowed back. "Rick is my partner."
"Ah," Foster said, though she looked between them as if she wasn't at all elucidated. "I see."
"He took a bullet for me," Beckett clipped. And then grunted softly as she realized how defensive she was - and for no good reason.
Foster snapped her fingers. "Right, partners. Rick, I thought you said it was a funeral?"
"It was," he said, nodding his head only to wince at the movement.
"My late Captain's funeral." Beckett sank down to a chair beside Castle's exam chair, crossed her legs slowly in an attempt to regain some of her self-possession. "He has a fragment in his trapezius muscle, on this side." She touched the spot at his back, her eyes meeting his for a moment. It solidified her resolve. "He jumped in front and took me down. Bullet went in his back. He was in surgery for hours."
And no, her voice was not shaking.
"Well, I've given Rick a whole slew of information in that packet about our treatment options. Everything from acupuncture to electrical stimulation to aquatic therapy. We have a wide-range of services and we will find something that works. He's been very honest with me about where his pain levels have been, what he's been doing to combat it." Ms Foster was pleasant as she regarded them equally. "He asked to have you back here with him because it's a lot of information at once and he said you would be his main care-giver."
That was a spur in Beckett's side and it made her sit up straighter, though she glanced apprehensively to Castle. Your mother? she mouthed and he shook his head very briefly no.
"I'll go over again what our plan is for you, Rick, and Kate - Detective - please feel free to ask questions. It's often complicated at first, knowing what's right, and with a history of abuse-"
"He doesn't have a history," Beckett bit out. "I do. I mean - my family. And I think he's overreacting because I am, but-"
"He's not overreacting," Foster said calmly. Her smile was still plainly in place, bland and confident. "Let me be clear, so that both of you are clear. His dosage was inappropriate because he gave misleading information to the hospital team who discharged him, thus giving him access to quantities of opiates he wasn't responsible about. These are behavior indicators for abuse. But-"
Beckett took a breath, finally, her hand fisting on her phone. But her heart was beating wildly.
"But," Foster gave them both a fuller smile, "he did very good seeking help. And you did exactly right, Detective, bringing him here. With your input, and yours too, Rick, we can get you back on track in six weeks."
Six weeks.
"Concurrently, I'd like to refer you to a friend of mine who deals with GSWs. I want him to take some X-rays and see what he thinks might be done about that fragment. He's very good; it's possible we can excise that little guy. If so, we won't have to worry about long-term pain management. It becomes short-term and that's a good deal more manageable, I think."
Beckett released her breath, feeling curiously lighter, freer somehow. Foster knew her stuff; the woman was going to help them. Castle was getting help.
But when she turned to look at Castle, his face was washed in shame.
She reached out and quickly took his hand, squeezing hard enough to force his eyes up to her.
I love you, she mouthed, squeezing his hand three times, one for every word she meant.
She'd done it in the hospital when he was unconscious, and something of that must have still remained, because his eyes cleared and his shoulders came up.
Beckett nodded and turned back to Foster who was sitting expectantly, calmly before them. "Tell me the plan. I'll be with him. I can do whatever needs to be done."
X