SEVEN
"Dad you're walking!" Alexis observed when she and Kate entered Castle's hospital room promptly at eight a.m. the following morning. Had Kate not seen it with her own eyes, she might not have believed it, but there he was standing just a few feet from his bed making his way steadily forward. Granted, he leaned heavily on the pole holding his two IV bags and he reached out for the edge of the bed greedily, but he was still supporting his weight on two feet and that was impressive given what he'd gone through in the prior forty-eight hours.
"Barely." The writer grunted when he flopped down on the end of the bed. Then, with great irritation, he proclaimed, "I had to pee sitting down!"
The younger girl's nose scrunched. "Gross, Dad." Castle shrugged off her displeasure.
Kate stepped further into the room and observed the mostly empty tray of food resting on the table beside the bed. It appeared Castle ate every bit of what was on the plate, but left half a cup of pineapple, which made sense; Castle generally only ate pineapple if it was fresh cut. Shaking her head at the fact that she even knew that, she turned to him and asked, "Did you have another CT scan overnight?"
"Yes and the doctor said he was concerned the results looked abnormal."
"Is that a result of the bombing or a medical discovery they're just making now?" she replied without even thinking first. While Alexis's expression seemed slightly offended, the writer laughed.
"Very funny, Beckett. I like it; we could all do with a little macabre humor right now. Anyway, he said it could have just been because I moved during the test, so they're going to scan me again today to see if I can go home."
The red-head's expression brightened. "You might be able to come home today, Dad?"
He nodded. "No reason not to, Pumpkin. I feel fine. I mean, I'm tired and a little shaky, but I'm not suffering any ill effects. While she was wheeling me back to my room, the overnight nurse, who really could work on her bedside manner," he added as an side, "was telling me all about things she saw during her shifts on this floor—people who didn't remember their names, their families, or even how to count but I don't have any of that. I still know the alphabet and how to kill a victim while hiding it from the police."
"Probably best not to broadcast that last one." Kate cautioned.
He smiled. "Fair enough. But seriously I don't think I have any lapses in memory—I even remember what happened in the bank up until the point where they put us in that vault."
"You remember the bomb?" Alexis asked.
The writer's brow wrinkled as he thought. "Kind of. I remember sitting down in the vault and turning to Mother, making a joke and then telling her that I loved her. And then…maybe a loud noise? I'm not sure. It gets a little foggy from there, but I don't imagine that's abnormal." He sighed and folded his hands in his lap. "Anyway, I'm really hoping the results of the CT scan are clean because I'd like to get out of here. I need to…make arrangements…"
Kate's heart sunk. What a terrible burden he had in addition to trying to recover from the traumatic event he faced. He would not have to bear it alone, though. "You need to focus on getting better." She reminded him. "We'll help you with everything else."
The writer gave her a cautious, borderline offended look. "I don't want Alexis to have to do that."
"I'll be fine Dad." The girl responded defiantly even as Kate shook her head and clarified her response.
"No, no—sorry. 'We' meaning the boys and me. Ryan and Esposito are on their way to the morgue this morning to officially identify Martha's body. After an event of this scale they don't release bodies right away. I'm sure it'll be a week or more, so you have plenty of time."
He gave her an appreciative look. "Thanks Kate."
"I can help, you know."
The writer reached out his hand and snagged on to his daughter's arm. "I know you can, Sweetie, and if you would pick out the outfit that Gram will wear for the funeral I'd appreciate it very much, but you don't have to worry about the other stuff. You need to focus on…hey, shouldn't you be in school? Is it a weekday?" he asked, turning his head to Kate.
"Wednesday." She confirmed.
"Kate said I didn't have to go to school."
As the writer's jaw dropped, Kate quickly clarified. "That's not exactly what I said. I called the principal first thing this morning and he agreed that because of the media firestorm not to mention the stressful events that it made the most sense for Alexis to remain at home for the rest of the week. They are, however, going to be messengering over her assignments and class transcripts so she doesn't get behind."
Alexis folded her arms over her chest. "I'm already ahead in most of the classes, anyway."
Kate smiled; she didn't doubt this.
As the information processed in the writer's brain, his brow wrinkled. "Media firestorm?"
Kate nodded. "As you might imagine, the sole survivor of an event like this would be a media focus no matter who they were, but as you're you…"
"How do they know it's me? Don't they usually keep the victim's names quiet as long as they can?"
"Either an EMT or uniform leaked it when they pulled you out." Kate speculated. Though she had checked with her colleagues, the identity of the media's 'inside source' had not yet been discovered.
"Oh." He sighed and shut his eyes. "Bright side—book sales will go up." When he opened his eyes again, he grinned at each of them in turn. "Who wants to vacation somewhere tropic this year?"
While Kate groaned, "Castle," his daughter scolded him with, "Dad—you're awful."
He merely shrugged. "Just trying to find the silver lining."
"Okay, steady; take it easy." Kate calmly encouraged when they stopped outside the loft. Alexis, who had previously been supporting her father's left side, ducked out of his embrace to unlock the door. The writer groaned and leaned more heavily to his right, where Kate was supporting him with his arm around her shoulders and her hands at his waist. She could feel his body trembling against hers at the exertion. She understood that feeling well as his weight was nearly collapsing her knees, but she refused to complain; they were almost through.
"Just another minute."
"I can't—I can't. I have to sit." He uttered out, breathless.
"Go get him a chair." Kate commanded the younger girl, who raced inside and disappeared towards the kitchen. With her arms solidly around her waist, Kate half-dragged Castle forward. "C'mon. Three more steps and you're inside and then you can sit."
He grunted and grumbled, but they made it—barely. Castle collapsed into the wooden chair Alexis placed just in front of the door and heaved out a heavy breath. Kate released her arms from around his waist and took a step back, shaking them out. She had never given much thought to the differences in their weights until she had to haul him out of the passenger side of her cruiser ten minutes earlier. It wasn't as though she minded—she would do anything to help him—but this was almost beyond her ability.
"I'm sorry." Castle rested his hands against his thighs, winced, and then looked up at the women apologetically.
"Don't apologize, Dad."
"But I'm just so…pathetic."
"You're not pathetic; you just survived a traumatic event," Kate said, wanting to emphasis the word survive as he had been the only person to do so.
"Remember what the doctor said," Alexis continued, "that even simple tasks would seem really hard for the next week?"
"Exactly—and you just walked from the car and stood in the elevator to get here—that's further than you've gone before, so don't feel bad; it's great progress." Kate reassured with a smile. "Rest for as long as you need and then we'll help you get in bed."
Castle rounded his shoulders and nodded. Then, after a moment's consideration he said, "I should probably go to the bathroom first."
Alexis looked hesitantly at the detective and then back down at her father. "Do we have to help you with that?"
"I'll do it." Kate volunteered. During her father's bout with alcoholism she had the misfortune of having to help him with a few personal care tasks which included seeing him naked during several instances. As they were moments she wished she could have avoided, she wanted to save Alexis from the same fate.
Rick grunted and pushed himself up from the chair. Kate scooted under his right arm as he quipped, "Always trying to see me naked Beckett."
As the slow moving duo made their way across the hall into the master suite, she said, "Yep this is just how I pictured it, too." Oh, yeah, she had absolutely assumed the first time she saw Castle naked would be after he'd survived a dramatic building explosion, could barely stand on his own, and she had to help him take off his pants so he could pee. It was her every fantasy come to life….except, not quite. In all her imagined scenarios there had been less drama and more romance, but since when did reality ever match expectation?
"Do you need to rest on the bed a minute?" she asked midway across the bedroom as he leaned more heavily against her.
He grunted as they trudged forward. "No, no. I'll make it then I can lean on the counter."
It was a tight squeeze through the bathroom door, but they managed it and Castle turned to grip onto the bathroom counter as soon as they were over the threshold, just as he'd promised. Kate rolled her neck, glad for the absence of his weight and watched as he hobbled his way towards the toilet. She had not been in the master bath previously so she gazed around while he made slow progress. She was not at all surprised to see both a walk in shower with opaque glass tiles and a sunken tub filled with massaging jets. Also, the bathroom was about the size of many of the smaller studio apartments in the city, which, again, did not shock her.
When Castle reached the end of the counter he hesitated. The toilet was tucked between the tub and the wall and there were not many places to hold on. Observing this, she asked, "You need help?"
"No, no. I got it, I think."
She nodded and turned away from him as he shuffled his way towards the toilet. "Okay. I'll wait outside then."
"No it's fine; you don't have to."
She heard a rustle of clothing as he presumably pulled down his sweat pants and then the clink of the toilet seat against the back; he had apparently sat down rather hard, which given his weakened state was expected. As Kate stared towards the shower in an attempt to give him a small amount of privacy, an unsettling thought hit her. How would Castle bathe in his weakened state?
He had been underground in filthy rubble and while the hospital had wiped off any obvious dirt, he still had not actually had a proper bath or shower, and he'd need one sooner than later. Dragging her teeth across her bottom lip, she considered the options before an idea hit her. "You know, maybe we should get you one of those shower chairs."
"Like, for old people?"
"Not just for old people, Castle. I mean, look at you—you can't stand for a shower right now and that tub? If you got down and couldn't get back up I couldn't help you."
"I'll hire a nurse." He concluded just before flushing the toilet.
Feeling it was safe to turn around, Kate did so with an arched eyebrow. "A big burly male nurse? I'm sure he'd love to give you a bath."
The writer frowned as he hobbled his way back towards the sinks. "You should probably get the shower chair."
She chuckled. "That's what I thought. I'm sure someplace in this city has them in stock. I'll call around and maybe Ryan can pick it up. Or my dad; he said he'd do anything to help."
Castle met her eye, but only briefly before reaching out to dry his hands on an evergreen-toned towel. "He shouldn't. I mean...everyone's already doing a lot…"
"And none of us mind, Castle." She pointed out while ducking under his left arm and supporting him on their journey back towards the bed. "We care about you and we're glad you're okay."
Castle said no more during his journey towards the bed, which actually took almost two full minutes by the time he reached his side the trip normally would have taken under ten seconds. Kate pulled back the linens as he balanced on his own, and he collapsed forward just in time, groaning as he pulled one leg into the bed and then the other. "God, who would have thought oxygen deprivation did this? It's worse than having the flu."
He made it sound as though he'd held his breath for a few minutes too long underwater, but that could not have been further from reality. Earlier that morning, just after Castle returned to his room from his CT scan, Ryan and Esposito visited and gave them an update on the situation at the bank scene. The initial autopsy reports from those in the vault did show that they died from suffocation. One of the more experienced crime scene investigators theorized that though the vault door had been knocked loose in the blast, the debris crushing down on top of it did not allow for very much oxygen to penetrate. As the hostage closest to the door, Castle had received the majority of the fresh air that made its way inside. Esposito concluded this explanation by saying that it was just at theory, but it made sense and it was the only explanation they had at that time.
After hearing this news, the writer had been largely silent and Kate could not say she blamed him. As someone who appreciated facts and detailed answers this theory satisfied her. Yet, had she been in the writer's place, she wasn't sure it would have. She would have been second guessing her position in the vault and wondering what would have happened if the door had cracked open just a little wider or if the debris had fallen just a little differently.
Even as it was, he'd barely received enough oxygen to survive. The neurologist had cautioned him as to just how lucky he was. When he entered the ambulance his blood oxygen had been at a near lethal level and to come through without lasting effects was a downright miracle.
"It wasn't just oxygen deprivation; your whole body was shutting down, Castle. Even just another hour and-"
He cut her off before she had to say it. "I know." With a heavy exhale, he leaned back against the pillows, but almost immediately his face contorted into an expression of discomfort. He shifted around trying to get comfortable, but struggling. It seemed he had inadvertently sat on the edge of the topmost pillow and his weight was preventing a proper adjustment. "What the—something's wrong with these stupid…"
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Kate leaned forward to assist him. "Here, let me…just scoot down a bit." He did as she requested and she was able to pull the pillow out from beneath his butt. She pushed it back against the headboard with the other and he was finally able to recline. "There is that..." Her voice drifted off when she realized just how close their faces were. As she hovered above him, her hands on the pillow at either side of his head, their noses were almost touching. He gazed up at her, not curious or annoyed, but serene; relaxed.
Kate gazed down into his azure eyes and her heart stuttered in her chest. She had come so close to losing him—so close. Barely thirty-six hours earlier she curled up in the exact spot he lay in and cried herself to sleep, devastated at the loss of the man she loved with all her heart. Now, he was there with her and her still grief-stricken brain couldn't resist the urge, not when she feared she'd never have the chance.
Without pausing to consider, Kate lowered her face and brushed her lips against his. When she didn't feel him kiss her back, she recoiled, mortified. "I-I'm sorry."
"No." He reached out and grabbed her arm before she could slide away. She gazed back, tentative, but he smiled at her. "Never apologize for kissing me, Beckett; I was just surprised."
She shook her head when she could feel betraying tears pricking at the back of her eyes. "I was just…I never thought I'd see you again."
"Kate." He reached out his hand to capture the tear sliding down her cheek, but she pulled away, just out of range of his touch.
Clearing her throat, she put back on her tough, Detective Beckett exterior. "You should rest; I'll check on you later."