Jump 5
"What do you have for us, Lanie?"
The M. E. was crouched in the grass on the edge of the park, holding an evidence bag in one hand and examining something she held with a pair of tweezers in the other.
"A good reason why I won't be meeting you two for lunch today. Gonna have to take a rain check. Twenty-year-old Caucasian male, found by a dog-walker an hour ago. Best guess on C. O. D. is head trauma, but I won't know for sure until we're back at the morgue."
The body was sprawled on its back, head resting on the concrete curb of the sidewalk. The victim's shirt was partially unbuttoned, and four angry slash marks streaked through the opening. Esposito walked up and nodded at Castle, who stood peering over Kate and Lanie's shoulders.
"It's two days before Halloween. This guy is found dead in the park before dawn with slash marks across his chest. I know who the killer is."
Kate looked up at him from her crouch, amazed that he would pull out the authorial tone of pronouncement of guilt five minutes into the case.
"Who, Castle?"
She was curious, but she also didn't want to encourage him too much.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Apparently not to us mere mortals," she deadpanned.
"Oh, come on! Esposito? Where's Ryan when I need him?"
Holding up one hand, he arched his fingers into a claw, swiped at the air in front of him, expectant eyebrow raise in place.
When no revelations were forthcoming, he huffed.
"Freddy Krueger! This is classic Nightmare on Elm Street!"
Ouch. Was it possible to sprain one's eye muscles from rolling them too hard?
Lanie groaned non-commitally.
Esposito arched an eyebrow.
"Dude, Freddy's dead."
Before that debate really got going, she figured it was in her best interest to get out of the way. Lanie apparently felt the same.
"I've got all I need from here. When you're through spouting horror movie trailers, they'll load him up." Lanie stood and motioned toward the two techs standing by the white van parked on the street.
Kate stood as well and slipped off her latex gloves, which caught slightly on their way off. Her struggle drew Lanie's attention to her hand. Crap. This was not how they were supposed to tell everyone.
"Kathryn Anne Beckett, is there something you would like to share with the class?"
She finally got the glove off and all eyes were on her fourth finger, except of course Castle's, which were beaming giant spotlights of love at her.
"I was going to tell you at lunch, Lanie."
Her hand was unceremoniously grabbed and Kate had no choice but to follow it, lurching slightly off balance toward her friend.
"Very tasteful, Writer-Man. Kinda surprised how tasteful, actually. He must really love you to not put a 5-carat rock on your finger like I know he wanted to…"
"Thank you for acknowledging my restraint."
His chest puffed out a bit further, if that was possible.
Lanie still hadn't relinquished her bejeweled limb, seemed to be studying it in detail. When she did release Kate's hand, there was no sentimental hug or tears of girlfriendly congratulation. She just stepped up to Castle with a look that on anyone else might have been construed as awe, but Lanie would never look at Castle with…
"I need to get the name of your jeweler."
Kate was really going to hurt herself if she couldn't stop the reflexive ocular reaction to first her partner, and now her best friend.
And of course, Rick's eyebrow arched in triumph.
"Isn't he awesome? I think I have his card."
Rick dug into his back pocket for his wallet, but not before Kate could skirt past the two of them toward her car.
"While you girls are at it, why don't you trade contact information on manicurists."
Rick whipped his head around, slipped the card to Lanie, and trotted after Kate.
"Hey, that was uncalled-for."
Her sigh dripped exasperation.
"Besides, you love my manicurist."
She had her door open and was halfway inside.
"Precinct, Castle. Dead body. Murder. Case to solve. Any of this ringing a bell?"
# * # * # * #
When they exited the elevator in the bull pen, Esposito was already there, leaning over Ryan's desk and looking intently at his computer screen.
"Something to share, guys?"
Kate stood over Ryan's other shoulder and felt Castle hovering just behind.
Ryan turned to face her with a smug little grin as he answered.
"Sounds like maybe you two are the ones with something to share."
Esposito held out a fist toward her partner, who responded with their usual friendly bump.
She held out her own hand to show Ryan the ring. Despite her precinct-induced instinct toward machismo, she couldn't quite contain her own grin as she showed off the diamond. She was allowed to be a little girlie, especially considering that Ryan was more of a girl than she was most of the time.
"Finally making an honest man of him, Beckett?"
"I'm not sure even I have that power."
"Hey, now, be nice to me, I'm your fiancé now."
"Which just means that she can boss you around more, and you have to take it, or else she might kick you out and keep the rock."
Esposito always had her back.
"We got an ID on the vic. He's a college student at NYU, prints in the system from a DUI a few months ago. He's a Pike."
At her blank look, Ryan explained.
"Pi Kappa Alpha. It's a fraternity. One of the bigger ones at NYU, apparently."
"Well, then we have plenty of people to talk to. Get us a list, and find his roommate, too. Is family coming in?"
"On their way."
She crossed to the murder board to start the timeline, still surprised, absurdly she knew, over the fact that time, and work, and murders in New York, hadn't paused out of respect for her happiness. But then, when had the universe ever had respect for her happiness?
# * # * # * #
After sixty-two fraternity brothers, two roommates, and three girls all claiming to be dating their victim, none of whom seemed to have any idea why he would have been in the park that morning, Kate had finally called off her team. It was almost midnight by the time they slouched into the loft. She was surprised to see Martha's silhouette outlined against the glow of the city at the window nearest the piano.
Her gaze directed Castle's, and he broke the silence of the darkened room with a perplexed look.
"Mother, what has you up this late? Or, well, what has you up this late and not costumed and Halloweening?"
Martha didn't budge at first. When she did turn to face them, Kate noted that her perpetually-filled wine glass was conspicuously absent.
So was the genuineness behind the smile she offered them.
"Oh, just didn't feel up to another night of carousing quite so soon."
She knew Rick wouldn't buy that any more than she had. Something was off. Way off.
"Is everything okay, Martha?"
She may have been a great actress, but either she was slipping, or Kate had learned her tells: the stiffness of her shoulders, the careful steps as she crossed to lean a hip on the back of the couch, the tightness around her eyes.
Those haunted eyes looked up at Kate, who had closed in a bit to mirror her pose against the couch.
"I have no reason to think that it won't be."
Cryptic, not unlike her son when he was under stress and trying to hide it. He had circled around now, too, stood to face both of them with a crinkle in his brow that she now saw matched his mother's.
"Mother, what's going on?"
Martha shrugged her shoulders slightly, took a breath and faced him.
"It's nothing. Or at least at this point, there is no reason to think it's something. I got a call from my doctor today. Went for my physical last week, went for my… went for my mammogram. They saw something."
Kate chanced a glance at Rick. Pale. Stunned. Like he might sink right there before them. Well, then she'd better…
"Martha, what did they say?"
She scooted closer to the older woman, reached for her hand, carefully drew her attention away from Rick, hoping he would be able to get the shock under control.
"Oh, just that I needed more testing. Probably a biopsy."
"Could they tell you what they thought it was?"
"Calcifications. My doctor is lovely—she's about your age, I suppose; I've been seeing her since she finished her residency. She didn't sugar coat—said in a woman of my… mature standing, this could be absolutely nothing, but it could also be a very early stage of breast cancer. I believe her—trust her completely. So when she said make an appointment today, I called. I'm going to Sloan-Kettering on Friday morning."
She was sounding a bit more like herself now; the firm, positive, life-coach-with-a-plan tone of voice was back.
Rick, on the other hand, hadn't said a word.
"I want to ask you both to do something for me."
"Whatever you need." Kate squeezed her hand. Still no words from Rick.
"I don't want to say anything to Alexis about this—not until I know if there's something worth telling her."
"Oh, of course. We won't mention it, will we?"
She looked pointedly at her fiancé, willing him to snap out of his stupor. His mother, for once, really needed him.
"Of course, not a word."
Thank God he had come around.
"Mother, I'll go with you on Friday."
Good boy, Rick.
"No—absolutely not. You have your meeting with Black Pawn Friday morning, and I will not be responsible for the end of you writing career."
"I'll cancel—not a big deal."
"Richard, this is the meeting you have cancelled three times already. Didn't you say Gina told you if you didn't show up you would be 'drawn and quartered'?"
"Gina is melodramatic."
"True, but no. Go to your meeting. This will all turn out to be nothing. I'm sure of it."
It wasn't really her place; nothing between them had yet suggested it was, but something made her speak up despite that fact.
"I'll go with you, Martha."
She still had her by the hand, and when the older woman's eyes turned back to her, she felt a little squeeze, gave a firmer one back, saw a flicker of something… gratitude, maybe.
"I have so many sick days saved up, personnel has stopped giving them to me. And you should have someone there, especially if you have a biopsy."
She was ready for the gentle but vehement rebuff, but Martha surprised her, both with her words and their quiet tone.
"Thank you, Kate."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a perplexed look cross Rick's features.
"What time do we need to be there?"
The corners of Martha's lips tipped up as she tipped her head slightly to one side. Maybe she had thought Kate's offer was a platitude, meant to give comfort but not to be accepted.
"The appointment is at nine, but they suggested I get there early—paperwork, I think they said."
"Sure. Is it at the main hospital?"
She was silent for a beat, still looking intently at Kate, as if she still hadn't quite figured out what to make of her pragmatism, or her sincerity. Martha blinked and seemed to break out of her musings, voice just a bit shaky when she answered.
"It's just down a block. They have a breast center."
"It's a date, then."
Kate smiled, not quite sure how to reassure the usually-effusive woman of the earnestness of her offer. And then it hit her. She needed to speak in this family's language.
She straightened, stepped in, and wrapped her arms around the actress.
Though Martha's frame was a bit stiff at first, Kate persisted with her hug—tried to channel every one she'd ever gotten from or given to her own mother, and after just a moment, she felt strong arms clutching at her ribcage, rustling red hair brushing her cheek, and she held on.
# * # * # * #
Well after midnight, when she and Rick finally crawled under the covers and settled into the darkness, Rick's utter silence was unnerving.
He had hugged his mother, told her how sure he was that this would all turn out well, and made her cackle when he suggested it would make an excellent addition to her one-woman play.
But as he had looked to Kate over his mother's shoulder, she saw the utter fear that his chipper tone had been hiding. He was scared out of his wits, and she knew that like her, he had no idea what to do with that amount of fear when it couldn't be directed at an enemy.
He was on his side of the bed now, on his back, fingers laced together over the tip of his sternum, his profile just discernible in the moonlight slanting through the gaps in the blinds. Silent, observing, she could make out the dark curl of his lashes fluttering as he fought to close his eyes, keep them shut. When they popped open for the third time, he let out a sigh of frustration.
Though he hadn't even glanced away from the ceiling, he somehow must have known she was awake, could sense her eyes on him from where she lay tucked against her pillow, facing him.
"She's going to be fine. This is all going to be fine."
His voice was taut, low, and deadly calm—a sure sign to her that he felt anything but.
She had kept her distance, reading that he wanted space, emotionally and physically, to process. But now she did reach out a hand, let it creep underneath the covers to where the crook of his elbow was just peeking out.
Her fingertips found the soft, tender skin just below the curve of his biceps, soothed in circling silence until he turned his head to engage her.
The ragged inhale should have prepared her, but then nothing could really prepare her to see the man she loved fall completely apart.
"Kate, she's my mom."
Everything cracked apart on that last syllable.
His eyes squeezed shut but couldn't stop the tears from overflowing.
Before he could move to her, she slid to him, had him held tight, encircled with arms and legs and curving back and neck. Her lips found the shell of his ear, hummed quietly into it.
"I know, I know. And she's strong, and she's healthy, and no matter what happens on Friday, you're going to have her around for a long time."
Though she could feel the grief pulsing with every silent, shaking sob, somehow a warmth washed over her. He was letting her help. He was letting her catch him, for once, when he fell.
Long after he had stilled and slipped into sleep in her arms, Kate lay awake, just letting his ribs expand under her fingers, his breath tickle her cheek.
She had feared so much of loving, of intimacy, for the very reason that she didn't think she was strong enough to handle more grief.
But she understood now.
It was only in love that she could find that strength.