Jump 6
"Darling, what's Richard's cell phone number? I know I have it in my phone..."
Martha had been futilely digging in her purse for at least two minutes, and frustration was giving way to mild panic.
"212 555 4747."
She sighed and dropped her bag back at her feet, turning to Kate with suspiciously moist eyes before resuming her slog through the paperwork.
"Thank you."
The older woman was shaky, but up until then she had been hiding it well.
Kate had found her up and dressed well before their decided time of departure that morning. She had hurried to catch up, quickly eating a yogurt and slugging back caffeine before grabbing her keys and escorting the patient to her car.
As they buckled in, Martha cleared her throat.
"I want to thank you again, Kate. I don't know if I could have done this by myself today. I know we haven't been… the closest of friends, but I want you to know how much this means to me."
Kate's voice had caught tight and silent in her throat, and she had only managed a smile in return. She couldn't really explain the deep need she had acted on to do this, to be here with Rick's mother. All she could do was follow the instinct, let it lead her.
They had had no trouble parking, finding the right office—had been early in fact.
It was a good thing, judging by the number of forms on the clipboard the woman behind the desk had smilingly handed to Martha.
Kate had made it through the week on her usual mix of caffeine and adrenaline, closing what had become known as the Freddy Krueger case on the afternoon before, just in time to finish paperwork. Well, technically she had stayed until almost one in the morning to get it done, but what was important was that it was done, and now she was here.
It had helped that in the end, despite the slash marks (painted on for a Halloween prank at the fraternity) and the "werewolf fur" found on the victim's clothes on the autopsy (from a frat brother's Chewbacca costume, also essential to said frat prank), the college student's death had been accidental. She had seen a brief glimpse of her partner when Lanie had produced the clump of fur, noting that it had been nearly a full moon that Monday. But the mischievous glint in his eye was short-lived, and Castle had sunk back into the worried funk that had clouded his features all week.
It took a day of canvassing homeless people in the park to find the one who would eventually tell the true tale. She knew Castle was hurting when he didn't even seem disappointed that his werewolf theory had been disproven. The kid had fallen from the back of a park bench, where he had apparently climbed to look over the bushes for his similarly-inebriated buddies. The only fault found was in the drunken friends for not looking for the victim when they got separated.
Martha broke her from her momentary musings by standing to hand in the completed forms.
Kate curved her lips into a timid smile as the woman returned to her seat.
Martha just looked afraid. A little pale, eyes a bit too wide, lines and shadows betraying her usual claim on youth.
When she sat, Kate couldn't help reaching out a hand, giving her knee a little squeeze. Martha covered Kate's warm hand with her own icy one.
The contact lasted only a second, maybe two, but she knew it was enough.
A woman in hot pink scrubs with matching hot pink clogs and dangly, sparkly pink earrings entered from behind one of the white doors leading back into exam rooms and beamed at them. Kate saw a feather sticking out of the woman's scrub pocket, and on closer examination recognized a hot pink feathered flamingo pen peeking out.
"Miss Rogers? I'm LeAnn. Why don't you come on back with me."
Kate stood when Martha did, eyes questioning.
The hand on her elbow felt steady, as though maybe she had regained a bit of composure.
"You should stay here. I'll be back soon."
She even managed a wan smile.
"She will be, and I'm gonna take good care of her. Now, Miss Rogers, you'll have to excuse my saying so, but I have loved every show I have ever seen of yours."
"Well, how lovely of you to say! And please, call me Martha."
Somehow, Kate thought the two women would get along just fine without her.
# * # * # * #
Nearly two hours later, Kate almost jumped out of her chair when the door finally opened again, to reveal Martha and LeAnn, now both smiling and engrossed in conversation.
"So the dressing should stay on until you shower tomorrow morning, and then if you want to cover it with a bandaid, you can. Otherwise, just leave it open. Tylenol will probably be enough to take care of any discomfort, but you should fill this on your way home in case you need one when you lie down to sleep tonight—it might be more sore by then."
Martha took the offered square of blue paper, along with the sheet of wound care instructions the nurse had been gesturing toward.
"Thank you so much for everything."
Martha reached in and gave the petite, pink-clad RN a one-armed hug, which LeAnn returned in kind, careful to avoid one side. It sounded as though they were finished, but Kate had spent the better part of the past two hours researching breast cancer, testing, surgery, chemotherapy, radiation—the whole thing—and she couldn't imagine a biopsy could be over so quickly.
"So you're all done? Did you have a biopsy?"
Her gaze flicked back and forth between the two women.
"Oh, dear, they don't mess around here. Biopsy took half an hour. Piece of cake."
The Martha lilt was back. And she had just given LeAnn a high-five.
"She was a champ. Best patient I've had all week."
The flamingo-toned nurse grinned at Kate before turning back to her patient.
"Now Dr. Leigh will call you with the pathology results on Monday, but like she said in the procedure room, the odds of this being something dangerous are extremely low. I know what I'm about to say is probably pointless, but please try to keep your mind off of it this weekend."
Kate smiled at the sassy young woman whose personal flair fit right in with Martha's. Kate had spent her free moments during the week brainstorming with Rick about just what they could do to help her mother get through the weekend of waiting.
"I think we have some things planned to help with that."
Kate stepped up to the pair and Martha reached for her hand, squeezed lightly, and didn't let go. Though she wasn't back to her old self, a weight had lifted from actress' shoulders while she had been away. Kate held her eyes for a moment, feeling buoyed herself.
LeAnn piped back up, pulling a disc from the pocket of her scrubs and holding it out to Martha.
"I almost forgot to give you the digital images from your scan. Hang on to these in case you need them next week, or even next year when you get your mammogram. We have them, of course, but we always like to make sure our patients get their own copy, too."
Martha slipped the DVD into her purse alongside the paperwork and prescription. She still hadn't let go of Kate's hand.
"Now Martha, I knew you had that famous mystery writer son, but I never knew you had a daughter until today."
Kate looked down at their joined hands and a flash of memory at once bright and heart-wrenching overtook her. When her gaze rose again to the owner of that hand, she met soft, kind, but very blue, eyes.
A blush overtook her neck, started to creep into her cheeks, but as she opened her mouth to correct the nurse's mistake, Martha was answering instead.
"You know, LeAnn, neither did I."
# * # * # * #
Late that night, after a show and an after-theatre supper at Sardi's with Martha, she was half-way into her pajamas when it washed over her.
Standing in their bathroom, button-down and bra tossed into the dirty clothes hamper, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The reading and the researching she had done whispered to her, quietly tickled her subconscious mind.
They had always been there, for better or worse, as small or inadequate as she might have found them at times, they were a part of her.
She wasn't vain. She had no illusions that her slightly asymmetric 32Bs would ever inhabit a Playboy centerfold, nor would she want them to. And she knew with the scars no one would find her flawless, exquisite, perfect ever again. But they were a visible, tangible reminder of her often-elusive femininity. And she loved them.
She held up her hands, pressed her palms over her chest, flattened her breasts, looked hard.
If they weren't there…
"I would still think you were the most beautiful woman in the world."
Her eyes snapped to his in the mirror, where he stood in his pajamas at the bathroom door, watching her reflection.
She dropped her hands clumsily, didn't know where to put them with his eyes on her. They hadn't left the reflection of her face.
"I didn't fall in love with them; I fell in love with you."
He stepped up behind her, kept just a breath of distance between their bodies. She could feel the heat from his chest on her shoulder blades, but he wouldn't touch her now, somehow he knew she needed the space.
"Don't get me wrong. I love your breasts. I love how they look, and how they feel, and the noises you make when my hands and my mouth are on them. I love that I even get to touch them."
She felt his warm breath on her shoulder just before he placed a soft kiss against her skin there. But his hands stayed at his sides, and he backed away again, just out of her space.
"But as far as I'm concerned, this gorgeous package is just a bonus."
Narrowing his eyes, he took a few even, measured breaths. She knew there was more, and though her psyche had shifted, though she now wanted contact, wanted to feel him against her naked skin, she waited.
Finally, he stepped into her, pressed a warm palm to her sternum, over her scar. The heat spread from that point on her chest, firing nerves from her scalp to her fingertips hanging limp at her sides, to the sensitive skin skirted by the drawstring of her pajama pants, all the way down to her toes. Nothing about the touch was sexual, but it awakened parts of her that were lying dormant, afraid of all that she had been contemplating after her ordeal with Martha.
"I love this."
He pressed hard against her ribcage, pulled her back against him. She drew in a breath, fighting the weight squeezing her chest.
"The heart that's beating underneath."
He nuzzled against her ear, spoke with such quiet openness, such clarity into it.
"I love the woman who, though I can count on one hand the number of personal days she's taken in the five years I've known her, took one today to be with my mother when she needed someone."
His other hand came around her waist, palm circling over her navel. Everything lit up with that subtle, slow caress.
"And no matter what—"
He kissed the angle of her jaw. She sank back against him.
"—you will always be perfect—"
The tip of his tongue flicked over her pulse point. Her lids closed under the onslaught.
"—and beautiful—"
His hands found her edges and turned her in his arms. She went along, spiraled into him.
"—and I will love you forever."
His forehead tipped into hers, and she was caught by his eyes.
Even if his arms hadn't been wrapped around, holding her tight against him, she wouldn't have been able to pull away with those magnetic eyes on her.
And even as she succumbed to his lips, melted into his kiss, she believed him.
# * # * # * #
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