Close Encounters 23
"He's still in the connecting room," Castle said. Kate watched him shut the door and lock it again, and her shoulders eased.
She was reclining against the pillows in bed, waiting on him to 'secure the perimeter,' as he'd said, before they started. She was already stripped down to just panties and a bra in preparation for a sponge bath in the small bathroom. "And Hunt?"
"Not supposed to be back yet. He had to go out to Verviers for supplies; it will be a while." Castle came in close, leaned over the mattress. "You ready?"
"As ever." She wrapped her arms around his neck and he scooped her up. It took everything in her to hold on to him, but she wasn't going to give him up. She wanted to be close, right up against his chest; she needed it.
She was better, but things weren't right. She still wasn't right.
When he navigated her through the doorway into the bathroom, she glanced down at the bath chair he'd concocted. It was one of those jacuzzi tubs, European style shower with the nozzle, but there was also a flight of three shallow steps that led up the side to the deep basin.
"Hey, we don't have to get the bedding wet," she said, nodding towards the tub. "Pile it up on those steps and I can lean my head back. I'd just be resting against the side."
Castle paused. "Huh."
She turned her smile into his t-shirt and let her eyes fall shut, taking a second to rest.
Castle grumbled as he thought it through. "Yeah, that's a better idea. If I put you down on the bath mat-"
"I can take it," she laughed. She hoped anyway. She could test her endurance a little here, see how much she had in her.
"All right. But maybe lie down on the rug. It's soft - deep pile, too."
She might do that. She probably only had the energy for this one thing, and no point wasting it on sitting up for thirty seconds.
Rather pathetic, but true.
Castle lowered her to the bath mat, arranging the catheter bag so it wouldn't tangle. She went ahead and put her cheek to the fluffy rug, felt his hand push through her hair and scratch her scalp as he left her there.
She managed to keep her eyes open, watched him gather the duvet cover and position it across the shallow steps. He frowned and went to the bedroom, came back with two of the four pillows, bunched them up at the right angles of the steps.
"I think that will work," Castle murmured. He came back for her, scooped her up like she weighed nothing, and then he laid her against the duvet. She could feel the steps digging into her hip and ribs, but she could stand it.
"Good," she said, nodding at him.
"Good," he echoed, a sigh of relief. He moved past her to turn on the water, and she let her eyes close.
She was glad she hadn't said something about the hard edges; she could handle a few bruises if it meant she could get clean. She really wanted that, really wanted to be rid of the lingering sweatsick.
Castle's fingers came to her neck, his other palm cradled her head and lifted so that he could comb her hair out from under her. She could tell just how short and irregular the length was just by the movement, and she opened her eyes to see his face.
He didn't look so great. He looked grieving, actually, his eyes morose. His fingers kept getting caught in tangles, and a few times he gave up even trying to get them free. The feel of his hand in her hair and his warm skin at the back of her neck was lulling, and she found her eyes slipping shut again.
He lowered her head to the top edge of the bathtub, positioned just far enough back that her chin went up. She felt goose bumps flare over her skin and she crossed her arms, laid them over her stomach to keep in her body heat - what was left of it.
The water suddenly roared into the tub just past her head, a thunderous rush. She felt the spray at her temple where it was bouncing back, and then the close press of Castle's body as he reached over her to adjust the temperature.
He smelled rather ripe himself, oil from his skin and the musk of old adrenaline. He probably could use a shower after this, get clean, take some time to decompress under the hot water. She'd have to push, insist on it.
"There we go," he said. "Okay, I'm going to grab the nozzle and get your hair wet. You ready?"
"Yup. Ready."
"Tell me if it's too hot."
"I will." She realized her eyes were clenched tightly closed and she tried to relax. Just then the whine of the pipes changed pitch, and the water sprayed instantly against her face. She gasped, laughed as her lashes dewed, but Castle had already angled the nozzle away, was wiping her cheeks with the hem of his shirt.
"Sorry," he said, but he was chuckling. "I didn't realize it was so forceful."
"I'm okay, I'm good," she said, grinning up at him. He pushed his fingers through her hair and held the back of her head to brace her.
Then the concentrated spray from the nozzle hit her again, but far back on her scalp so that it merely soaked the ends. He carefully worked it higher, and the heavy weight of the water in her hair was doing wonders for her tension. Her body began to warm up again, the goose bumps faded, and she let her awareness drift.
She was half asleep with it when Castle turned off the water. She heard him squeezing out shampoo and then both of his hands were in her hair, working the soap into a lather. It was quiet now, with the water turned off, and his hands moved capably. He massaged her scalp, rubbed his thumbs at her temples and back along her hairline. His forearm kept brushing her nose or cheek as he worked; his body was a tantalizing warmth just hovering over her.
She opened her eyes at a pause and saw him there, regarding her, and when he saw that she was looking, he smiled.
"Hey," he roughed, sounding tender and surprised.
"Thank you," she couldn't help saying.
He dipped his head and his mouth brushed hers. "Anything."
And then Castle was turning on the spray and rinsing her hair clean, the drugging sensations of warmth and weight and white noise making her eyes fall shut.
He did the conditioner too, and it took a long time to work it into her tangled hair, despite the short ends. He kept at it though, untangling the clumped pieces, little chunks of mud that she could actually feel come out. He didn't stop even when she thought maybe it was enough; he was sapping all of her strength this way, her whole being like clay in his hands.
"Feels good," she murmured.
"Good," he breathed. His kiss dusted her cheek even as his elbows bracketed her ears, his hands in her hair and working deeply into her scalp.
Kate shifted her arms from her stomach and opened up to embrace him, loose, weak, but touching him. Castle moved closer, his knees pushing up against her shins, giving her some leverage. He cupped the back of her head in both hands and she opened her eyes in time to watch as he dipped his head towards her again.
Their lips touched.
She was immediately breathless, heart pounding so hard she felt it shaking her against the steps, but she held on to him by her fists in his shirt. He didn't move, just hovered there, staring down at her, love moving through his eyes, deep, unfathomably deep.
He kissed her again. Light, so light and delicate, and she could weep with it if her heart wasn't clutching at a rhythm.
He withdrew then, fingers running out of her hair, and then it was back to business, the water coming on and sluicing out the conditioner, his eyes on the job.
Her heart slowed and came to normal - as normal as she got right now - and then Castle sat back on his feet, his wet hands on her knees, squeezing.
"Ready for the washcloth?" he said. One of his eyebrows raised.
"Very." She gave him a crooked smile, and he drew her knees down, straightening her legs a little. Her blood rushed to her cheeks, her fingers tingled, wanting to touch him.
"I'll be careful around this," he murmured. "But I have to clean it too."
And just like that, the electric buzz going through her crashed and fell apart. The catheter. Right.
"Yeah," she said, nodding.
"You okay?"
She shook her head quickly. "Fine. Good, I'm good. Just tired."
Tired of this. Tired of being a medical patient instead of a wife.
Her bra was hanging from the knob of the bathroom door, her panties on the counter. Castle had been tempted to put a towel down on the floor and make her lay flat, but she looked to be hanging in there. And he had an idea that she was already frustrated and a little mortified and he didn't want to make her feel worse about herself.
But now that she was clean, or at least a soapy washcloth passed over her skin, he was a little mortified himself. Her hair was just... butchered. Black had hacked at it.
"That bad?" she said, wincing.
"It's just - not a straight line," he sighed back. He reached for her, fingers curling at the back of her neck as he helped her sit up. She stayed though, not even swaying, and he used his other hand to comb through her hair.
"Not a straight line." She turned her head experimentally, and he could tell she felt the wet locks against her neck and shoulders, judging just how crooked it might be.
Pretty crooked. It looked like his father had gotten two hacks at it, the first straight and the second slanted, so that the hair on her right was longer than the left, nearly to the bottom of her shoulder blade.
"Can you trim it?" she asked. Her hand came up, shaky, and she carefully tried to tuck her hair behind her ear. It fell forward again, the left side shorter and curling now because it was drying. "At least make it even, Castle."
He hesitated, eyeing it, but he couldn't possibly let this go. "I can - try."
"I want to video chat with my dad," she murmured. "He can't see this."
"Yeah," he said roughly, nodding. "You're right. I'll - do my best. Can you sit up?"
"I can for this," she said grimly.
Castle sighed and nodded to the stairs set into the side of the tub. "Want to hang out here or-"
"Yeah, but bring me a chair to sit in while you get the scissors?"
"A chair?" Could she possibly? "I've got to run down to the front desk and ask about a pair of scissors, Kate. The ones from the first aid kit aren't going to work."
"I can survive sitting in a chair for the fifteen minutes it takes you."
"Plus cutting your hair?"
"You want to get going? - Or do you want me to waste more energy-"
"Fine, fine," he hastily. "I'm going. Let me get your chair."
Castle eased away from her, not willing to be bullied into that decision if she looked like she might faint, but she stayed determinedly upright when he let her go. So he jumped to his feet and headed into the bedroom, took the desk chair from the little table set against the wall.
He was tempted to wrestle the wingback chair into the bathroom, but he wasn't sure it would fit through the doorway. Plus he couldn't get to her hair if she was in that chair.
This would have to do.
Castle set it up perpendicular to the bathroom sink, thinking she could lean her shoulder against the counter, even put her head down if she felt weak. Then he draped a clean towel over the chair and scooped Kate into his arms, carefully put her in the chair.
"Thanks," she murmured, and her felt her lips brushing his jaw as he stood up straight.
"I'll be right back," he promised.
She nodded.
He glanced at her critically, not sure he liked leaving her naked in the bathroom like this. "You warm enough?"
"Yeah." She patted the chair. "I can wrap the ends of the towel around me, if I need to. It's wide."
He leaned over and grabbed another towel, their last clean one, and he dumped it in her lap. "I'll get more from the front desk."
She wasn't sighing at him, at least there was that. Castle turned around and headed for the door of their suite, tugging the key out of his pocket. It was just the door key, not the master - he didn't want to lock her in, just in case.
When Castle got out into the hallway, he jogged easily down the corridor and headed for the front stairs. It was late in the afternoon, nearly evening, the sun beginning to set. It would be about two or three back home when Kate would get a chance to finally video chat with her father, and that meant James would be awake too - or at the tail end of his nap.
She might not want to see him. She was funny about that kind of thing; he'd say almost superstitious, if he didn't know her better. She just kept things compartmentalized so that she could deal; she needed James at home with her father in that box so that she could handle being separated from him.
Castle knew it. But he selfishly wanted to see his son, see his face, that smile as he chewed on his fist. Or his foot - he'd gotten his foot lately.
The front desk had changed shifts, and the woman at the welcome counter gave him a smile - and he realized he'd been smiling first, thinking about James. She asked him if he needed help and he asked for towels and to borrow a pair of scissors.
It took a little bit of time to find him a pair; apparently there were some in a back office, and she had to send someone down the hall because she couldn't leave the desk. Castle smiled nicely at the woman while they both waited on the teenager to come back. He tried not to look anxious; it wouldn't do to be remembered like that.
When the boy came back, Castle thanked him and the woman, a stack of fresh towels in his hands, and he went back up the front staircase, taking them two at a time in his hurry.
He'd made it to their hall when he realized something was - wrong. Off. He didn't know what, or if it was just that strange perception he got sometimes when his super levels were high, but it was prickling his scalp, making him hurry.
Their door was open. Wide open.
Castle swung inside, already crushing the towels to his chest and drawing his weapon with his free hand, barreling into whoever was standing stock still just inside the room.
Hunt.
"Fuck. What are you-"
And then he realized. The bathroom door was open, Kate asleep in that desk chair, only a towel partially drawn up, falling down where she didn't have the strength to tug it higher. Her bare knees, the full length of one of her long legs, and the round blush of the tops of her breasts were visible.
Castle slammed the bedroom door shut and Hunt, only mildly displaced by being rammed by Castle, turned around with both hands up, already in supplication.
Castle shoved him back, knocked him clear into the wingback chair, and when Hunt moved to rise again, Castle tossed the towels and scissors onto the bed and swung a punch at Hunt.
The Scotland Yard inspector took it, and he stayed down this time, fingers wincing over his jaw where blood dribbled. Castle's wedding ring had cut him.
"Fucking hell," Hunt breathed out, but he didn't stand. He stayed sprawled in the chair.
Good.
Castle picked up the pile of towels and the scissors again, moved back to the bathroom where Kate was still sitting. Awake now, after he'd slammed the door shut.
She gave him a hard look as he closed them up in the bathroom, and he dropped the towels to the counter.
"You didn't have to do that," she said.
"Yes. I did."
The heat in her gaze was blazing, anger and humiliation both, but he'd done what was necessary to defend both their honors. He wouldn't take it back.
"He wasn't looking," she hissed. "What is there to look at?"
"Plenty," he growled, anger still glittering in him like broken glass. "You still want me to cut your hair or what?"
She huffed at him, and the towel dropped from her breasts. She splayed her hands out as if in challenge, and then she pushed against her knees to keep herself up. "Yes. Straight as you can."
He took the scissors and the comb from the counter, and he moved behind her to start evening out the hack job his father had done.
It was a day for fixing things, making them as right as he possibly could.
Kate studied her hair in the mirror, turned her head to one side and then the other. Whatever else had gone on with Castle and Hunt - she'd heard a punch, some cursing - the man had left midway during her haircut. They had both heard the door open and close again, but Castle hadn't looked at her, and she hadn't mentioned it.
Her hair wasn't that bad. Short, yes, but not shorter than it had been in the past. It would brush her shoulders when it was straight, and now that it had half-dried, it was a soft shag around her head, curling at her neck and ears.
It wasn't that bad. She had easy hair, thick and well-bodied, and she'd never had trouble with it. She could pull off a hundred hairstyles and it wouldn't ever be that bad. One time with a much shorter cut, she'd let it grow out and her hair had looked rather mullet-ish. Even that hadn't been so bad. Mostly.
"I'm sorry," he sighed, still on his knees behind her.
Kate turned and reached back for him, fingers tugging on his bicep, trying to get him to his feet. "Don't be sorry. I kind of like it," she said softly, smiling at him. She didn't want that punch-out with Hunt to wedge between them. "If you like it?"
He frowned. "Do you really like it?" He reached out and slipped his fingers through the curled pieces around her ear. "It used to be so long. James - sorry-"
"No. What?"
"He likes to hang on to your hair, I know, and now-"
She laughed, pressing her hand to her mouth, surprised. "Castle, that drives me crazy."
He blinked. "It does?"
"Absolutely. But... you liked it."
His jaw dropped.
"I thought you did anyway," she hedged, biting her bottom lip. She really didn't feel confident enough for a conversation like this, the kind where she ended up exposing the vulnerable underbelly of her love for him. She didn't want to do that right now. "It doesn't matter-"
"I did," he said roughly, clearing his throat. He was staring at her. "I love it long. I don't even know why, except how it feels against my fingers, my chest, I'm sorry. I - if I'd known it was just for me, I'd never have-"
"It wasn't just for you," she muttered. But maybe it was. "It was just - easy to let it grow out and I like... you." God, that was lame.
But his face split into a wide grin. "Yeah? You like me."
If he made her blush, she would kill him. Kate slapped ineffectually at his chest and he caught her hand, still grinning.
"You let your hair grow out because you like to make me happy."
"You're insufferable."
"You're adorable," he shot back, and the absolute reverence in his voice made her feel good again.
"Hmm," she said, thinking it over.
"I like your hair short too," he said quickly. "I mean, I don't like why, but it's a lot curlier when it air-dries. I guess cause less weight, but I like it. Makes you look - sexy."
She lifted an eyebrow. Sexy. Sitting wrapped in starched white hotel towels with a catheter bag taped to her leg and her wrist bones sharp again?
"Like when we're in bed," he said slowly, grinning at her again. "And everything is - you know - messy and hot. Like that."
"Oh?"
Castle did it again, his fingers running through her hair, scratching lightly at her neck. "Yeah. Definitely. It's good. Good, Kate."
"Good," she agreed. "How about you find me some clothes so I can call my dad?"
"Yeah," he nodded quickly. He got to his feet easily, a hand on her shoulder in comfort - for her or him, she didn't know - but he turned and headed into the bedroom for her clothes.
She kind of wished he had carried her to bed; she was exhausted.
At least the bathroom counter was right here. She might have to put her head down for a second.
Castle had come right back to the bathroom only to find her asleep with her head pillowed on her arms on top of the counter. When he'd drawn her into his arms to carry her, she hadn't even woken up. He had known better, he really had, but he'd forgotten; he'd let her make him forget.
So he'd carried her back to the bed and arranged everything, saw to the catheter bag, checked the closed IV port to be sure. She'd been without IV saline all day, but Logan had been insistent on waiting for more until tonight.
With Kate asleep and barely making a dent in the pillows, now Castle didn't know if that was right. Maybe she needed nutrients, maybe she needed another round of chelation with a different chelating agent, maybe he should have checked her blood before now.
When she was awake and talking to him and smiling, he could forget. But practically unconscious with her sleep and her eyes in dark shadows and her body nothing more than a line, his confidence was shaken.
Hunt was out of the room again. Probably to ice his jaw, though Castle hoped he'd gone by the back stairs, since he was supposed to be their male nurse.
Hunt better be out a good long while, if he knew what was good for him.
Castle pulled the covers up over her and smoothed them down at her shoulder. She was on her side, had shifted there before he'd seen her move, and her shirt had ridden up, the thin cotton twisted up under her arms, exposing her back.
Holy shit. She had three thick lines of bruises up and down her spine.
Castle sank down to his knees, staring at her back. When had that happened? From carrying her? From-
Damn it. The steps against the bathtub. She'd been lying there for nearly an hour, the jutting steps pressing into those exact spots.
Castle growled to himself and jerked to his feet, strode purposefully for the connecting door.
Enough. He'd had enough.
Time to rouse his father and get a new plan. She had to be better than this. Had to.
Kate never got to call her father.
Castle had gotten it into his head that something was wrong - she'd just been tired, still was tired - and he'd roused Black from the other room and dragged him into the fray. They'd done bloodwork and her levels were unstable, her potassium dangerously low.
Blood pH, that was what they were saying now. And another round of chelation, this time with a different agent. She didn't understand anymore, how taking minerals out of her body was supposed to help resupply potassium, which was a mineral in the first place.
Black was hunting through the city's pharmacies looking for a way to concoct just what he needed but she and Castle were debating the merits of this 'treatment' at a time like this. In desperation, Castle had sent Hunt out for a new phone and now they used it to conference call Logan and the medical team, Castle wanting Kate to talk directly to them about how she felt.
Logan had gotten word from Carrie, and their friend had been worried - worried enough to demand in on their phone call - and now Kate was listening as meekly as she could while Carrie read her the riot act. She was supposed to eat bananas and potatoes.
"When your potassium levels get this low, Kate, it makes it hard for the body to hold on to it."
"I don't understand," she murmured. Castle was listening in on his own cell phone, conference call, and the shiny gold iphone in her hand was brand new. "Carrie, I don't understand why-"
"Black says more chelation," Castle said tightly. "Is that right?"
"You said he'd done dialysis?" Carrie asked.
"Yeah. A kind of - yes. Sort of."
"I don't know. Dialysis often causes hypokalemia - low potassium. It's normally regulated in the kidneys, though, and what he's doing doesn't sound like kidney dialysis. So I can't say for sure."
"Logan? You still there?" Castle went by the bed in his furious pacing, and Kate reached out, grabbed the corner of his back pocket. He jerked to a halt, though she didn't have that kind of strength.
"I'm here," Logan said over the line. "And Carrie's guess is as good as ours. Kidney dialysis affects potassium levels. It does. But we don't know what it is he's doing. Chelation affects minerals levels, and potassium is a mineral, yes. But we just don't know that what he's doing is the same."
"Increase in insulin would stop you from losing potassium," Carrie cut in. "If you're going to do it, if you can't trust him."
"We'd have to tell him," Kate mumbled. "In case it's - something bad. If injecting insulin contraindicates with the therapy he's doing. Or at least confront him with the fact that we know it takes out potassium."
"That might shake something lose," Logan said, but he didn't sound convinced of either direction.
"I don't like this," Castle growled. He was standing still beside the bed and staring down at her, darkness moving over the surface of his eyes like a shadow. She could see it, see what it was doing to him, but she could do nothing to stop it. Nothing to relieve it either.
She was so tired. It wasn't right, how so very tired she was.
He sank down onto the bed next to her and caught her hand, squeezed.
"I think if he says - if he says this will work, Castle, what can you do?" Logan said weakly. "I don't know what option you have. Her blood levels are just all wrong. They don't make any sense. Low blood pressure and low potassium should go hand in hand with dehydration, but she's not dehydrated. That makes no sense."
"Not a bit," Carrie agreed. "And maybe you need a lower potassium level for whatever it is he's doing to you. Maybe that's a requirement - the only way it works. Maybe it has something to do with the PK pump and how much water your cells take on. I just don't know."
"And he won't explain," Kate sighed. "I think we're just going to need some blind faith-"
"I really don't like this," Castle muttered. His hand was so tight around hers. She wriggled her fingers to make him loosen up but he couldn't seem to do that.
"We'll have to tell him what we know, what our concerns are," she said into the phone. To him. To him because he couldn't go on blind faith when it came to John Black. She knew that, she just didn't see a way around it. "We'll just have a conversation before he injects anything else into me."
Castle's eyes were intense on hers; she shrugged one shoulder, propped on her side in a half-reclining position. Her head was still swimming even after all that sleep and now her back was bruised and sensitive.
He sighed. "Logan?"
"She's right."
"Carrie?"
"It's a really bad position to be in, I know. But-"
"Damn it," Castle breathed. His eyes closed, and suddenly he was moving, sliding under the sheets with her and wrapping an arm around her neck, pulling himself closer to her, closer, until her chin bumped his forehead and the phone was awkward. "Damn it all."
"I'm sorry," Logan said.
"Text us his explanation," Carrie said. Her voice was the faintest on the phone, probably due to the conference call. Last to be added, worst quality. "Whatever he says, maybe we can at least confirm or deny that much."
"Don't count on it," Logan muttered. "This is science so far beyond what we thought we knew. The mitochondrial aspect alone is giving us fits. I'm sorry, shit; you don't need to hear that right now."
Castle hung up. Kate reached out and took the phone from him, darkened the screen. "Guys, we'll let you go. We will text you. Just to keep you updated. In the meantime, see what you can get. Thank you."
"Yeah." That was Logan, and a good-bye and good luck from Carrie, and then she ended the call as well. Castle had his eyes closed, she could just see, and he was curled like a parenthesis to her own, his knees knocking into hers. His big body took up so much of the bed, he was crowding her, he was her whole horizon.
She pushed the phones under the pillows at her ear and hooked her arm around his. "Hey. Castle. Hey."
"I'm sorry," he croaked.
"Don't be sorry," she murmured. "Please, stop. I'm not leaving you. I'm not dying. I'm not."
"I just-"
"I know. I so completely know. You and I - we have been through this, haven't we?"
"I'm sorry about Tunisia," he whispered. His eyes flared open, so blue now, all shadow gone. Just aching blue. "I'm sorry I didn't understand about the regimen and me practically dying and all of it. I'm sorry I pushed you out there."
"We got James," she said, trying to smile for him.
"We did," he said gravely. So dark now. Not happy.
She didn't ask, couldn't possibly ask. She didn't want him to regret that - his dream for them - she didn't know what she'd do if he regretted their son.
She just couldn't die. That's all there was to it.
She just couldn't.