Happy Castle FanFicMonday! We're now halfway through!
Trigger warning for pregnancy complications.
A low rumble sounded as she sat slumped at her desk. Without looking, she knew it was for her. Yet more charts to review regarding the trial she was prepping for this week. The rumble slowed as the young officer pushing the cart hesitated, unsure if he should bother her or not.
"If those are for Detective Beckett, then put them in the Conference Room, please," she directed, eyes still closed.
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." The rumble resumed, thunder-like in both sound and feel as her chair softly vibrated in the wake of the heavy cart. A storm was coming. She could feel the tension in the air; could smell the ozone that permeated the precinct. The energy was inexorably ratcheting up, building to a point in which nothing and no one could contain it any longer. The only question now was who would be caught in the blast?
The urge to duck and cover made her long for the only place she really felt safe: her father's cabin, deep in the woods. Alone. But, she'd tried that tactic once and it had backfired spectacularly on her. This time she would face the storm—stand tall and unafraid in its fury. She'd worked for weeks with Dr. Burke to get to this point, only to find a deep desire to decamp in the face of danger.
She'd accepted that defying her demons would be difficult. The situation with Castle made it all worse, of course. If she could have stood with him by her side, as she'd envisioned him in her life just before the shooting, she thought it might have been…well, not easy. None of it was easy. But, with his support, perhaps less taxing than it all seemed to be when talking about it with Dr. Burke.
Even then, knowing that she'd somehow lost her chance with Castle and the heartache that this knowledge brought her, she felt it was feasible to achieve her goal alone. After all, she'd been alone most of her adult life. Not that she'd accomplished much, but at least it was a familiar situation.
In Dr. Burke's office, the possibility of triumphing over her own self-destructive patterns was tangible. She would channel her anxieties into behaviors that were positive. She would be more open, more accepting of help. Become closer with her friends and the little family she had left.
And deep within herself, in a place so secret that she was barely aware of it, she hoped and dreamed that maybe, just maybe, he might take notice. See the Kate that had been buried so far below the surface for so many years that she wasn't even sure if she was alive anymore. A Kate that wasn't broken and bowed by all the losses in her life. He'd like that Kate—everyone would. Perhaps it would be enough. Bring back the possibility of them once more.
But the safety of Dr. Burke's little nest was an illusion that hadn't held up to the harsh glare of the real world. The mental preparation for the flight of a fledgling was a far cry from all that was actually entailed, and she'd foundered not only from the mental anguish of his continued icy treatment of her, but also due to a physical mutiny by her own body.
She'd not been anticipating the unceasing anxiety and anguish that his words had invoked within her. Fun. Uncomplicated. No matter what version of Kate that she and her therapist unearthed, those two descriptors would never, ever apply. If that was what he really wanted, well, she might as well give up now. The very prospect made her stomach roil. She couldn't eat; didn't sleep. A bottomless well of fatigue threatened to drown her in its depths. She'd fluttered to the ground instead of soaring in the sky, and she was running out of energy to keep jumping into the air, flapping furiously, only to fail again.
She sighed, trying to summon the motivation to get up and start looking through the boxes. She was ill-prepared for the trial, which would be starting soon—barring yet another delay. Before she found the strength to move, another rumble of thunder sounded near her ear. Warmer than the sound made from an overburdened cart, but still deep and dangerous.
"Coffee?"
Her heart leapt at the sound of his voice. His aura seemed to recharge her, and she hoped she didn't look too eager or hopelessly pathetic when she was pulled out of her drooping decay into a proper upright posture by his presence alone.
He sat on the edge of her desk, two coffees in hand. His face was unreadable, but he was here. They didn't even have a case—she'd not expected to see him at all. Had hoped, of course, but had thought it unreasonable.
Most of their partnership she'd encouraged him to spend the inevitable down-time away from the precinct. He wasn't learning anything by watching them do paperwork, and his childish behavior when bored could be counterproductive.
It was only now that she had lost him that she spent his time away wondering what he was doing. Imagining the grim possibilities. Torturing herself with images of him and Jacinda having a grand time, unfettered with the likes of the complicated and the un-fun.
Yet, here he was—right in front of her, not a blonde in sight. She couldn't help the huge grin that unfurled, as warmth raced through her body. He was here, and he'd brought her coffee. It was as though they were back to a time before he'd shown up with a flight attendant in a Ferrari.
He'd come back to her.
She reached for the coffee, suddenly impatient to taste the ambrosia that he'd brought. Was it a peace offering? An apology? Whatever it was, he'd brought it just for her. It was a start, and she was eager to show that she wanted his gift of coffee. That she wanted him. At the least a chance to talk, figure it all out.
"Hey, Castle. What are you doing here?" She cringed a bit at the inanity, and hoped she didn't sound accusatory. She was just so glad he was here, with her.
"I just haven't seen you in a few days, thought I'd drop by, see how you're doing." It had been 76 hours, if one were keeping track. She decided he probably hadn't. He gave her a polite smile, and while it wasn't much, it still launched a kaleidoscope of butterflies through her abdomen.
"Thank you, that's so sweet. Um, I'm great, actually." Now that you're here. "The trial prep is going really well, I've been getting home at a decent hour, and..." She lurched to a stop, giving him another big smile. "It's great to see you." So, so great.
"It's great to see you, too." His face and tone remained that of a polite stranger, and she felt her smile slipping just a bit. "Hey, listen. Do you know anything about this gang cop named Slaughter?"
Her heart dropped like a stone and she was grateful she was still seated as a wave of dizziness passed through her.
"The severed heads homicide? That's why you're here?" She heard the hurt in her voice and hoped he didn't notice. The cold mask that dropped over his face gave nothing away. Icy stings of worry and anxiety replaced the warmth she'd first felt on hearing his voice.
"Well, no. I mean, just since you're busy prepping for the trial, I just thought I'd look into this Slaughter guy, get a sense of who he is for the background research…the…the…" He trailed off as she swayed in her seat. The aroma from the coffee he'd brought her sent another wave of nausea tearing through and she had to fight to keep herself from vomiting on his Italian loafers. "Unless that's a problem."
She stood, too sick to consider running, tempting as it was. "No. Not a problem." She was proud she spoke without a quaver. She took a few trembling strides towards the bathroom, still not certain she'd make it there before losing control.
"Great. So…where would I find him?" His voice carried with her, trying to trip her feet and shoving away her semblance of dignity. She stopped, clenched her fists and took a deep breath through her nose before turning partway to face him again. He was still leaning nonchalantly against her desk, no hint of the devastation he'd wreaked evident in his eyes.
"Wherever the body is?" It was an obvious starting point, and had the added benefit of getting him out of the precinct all together. She pivoted away from him, maintaining her balance this time, and resumed her battle to make it to the bathroom.
Somehow, through some miracle, she not only made it to the women's room, but into a stall, before the storm broke. The bolt struck her, knocking her to her knees and violently expelling any bit of hope she'd had on seeing him, along with the tiny amount of fluid in her stomach. Retching until all she had left was dry-heaving, she sank into a ball on the floor in front of the toilet.
Standing tall in the storm had only made her a lightning rod. Her dreams incinerated, she had no idea how to try and pull herself back together…or if she even wanted to.
The sharp, shrill sound of Donna Summer belting out "Hot Stuff" broke the silence of the apartment. She was sitting on the floor next to her bed, staring into the dusky light that barely penetrated the small window of the room. She knew who was calling without even needing to look—Castle had changed the ringtone on her phone months ago.
The reminder of how intertwined their lives had been…before…threatened tears all over again, but if she didn't answer there would be more calls until she did. She'd tried that yesterday, until giving up when the phone rang for the sixth time in a row.
"I'm fine, Lanie."
"Does that mean 'I'm fine, Lanie' as in you're actually improving or that you just want me to think you're better so I'll stop checking on you?"
"The nausea's better, I swear. And I'm not puking anymore. I'm sure it was just a bug, that's all."
Through some quirk of fate, Gates had walked into the bathroom about fifteen minutes after she'd become sick two days prior. Apparently, her very-recognizable boots had been seen beneath the door of the stall. Given that she'd been lying on the floor at the time, it hadn't taken a rocket scientist to figure out something was wrong.
She'd been sent home, and for once she'd not protested. There was no case to bury herself in, and she had no desire to sit around and watch as Castle chased after his newest interest. Slaughter was the kind of cop she hated: one who cut corners, was sloppy and could care less about the victims. All he cared about was finding someone to throw in jail, guilty or not.
So, when she'd been given orders to stay home until she was better, she'd obeyed. Lanie had seemed a bit suspicious of her desire to be at home, but after visiting her the first night and finding her looking 'like one of my corpses,' she'd contented herself with calling. Every day.
Grimacing, she pressed a hand into her right side, trying and failing to stifle a grunt of pain.
"Kate? What's wrong?"
Breathless, Kate shook her head.
"Kate? What's going on? Why are you panting?"
The knife-like pain that had been intermittently accosting her for the last few hours faded, letting her regroup.
"It's nothing, Lanie."
"It sure didn't sound like nothing from this end. Now, tell me what's going on before I decide to march right over there and make you tell me."
Sighing, she rolled her eyes at her friend's brass. However, she knew better than to ignore her. Lanie expected an answer, and was more than capable of carrying out her threat if she wasn't satisfied with the response.
"I promise that the nausea is better. But, just today, I've had a few pains on my right side. I think I must have strained a muscle or something when I was puking so hard."
"Hmm. On your right side? Could it be your appendix?"
"Not unless I had two. I had mine out when I was seven."
"Does it hurt all the time, or just once in a while?"
"Just occasionally, Lanie, I swear. It's not that big of a deal. I'm definitely better, I promise."
There was a short silence on the other end of the line, then a snort. "Alright, Kate Beckett. But if you feel any worse, I want you to call me. Or your doctor. And don't think I'm not gonna check on you later, cause I will."
"I'm fine. I really am."
"Uh huh. Still gonna call."
"Whatever, suit yourself. But make it before nine; I might go to bed early."
Hanging up with Lanie, Kate glanced at the clock. It was just past five in the evening. Her appetite still hadn't recovered, but she decided some tea might be nice. She'd not been able to drink coffee since he'd brought her the cup at the precinct. Just thinking about it made her green, though due to his abandonment, not the coffee itself.
Stiffly standing up from the floor, she couldn't help but groan. She'd been sitting there for far too long, lost in her regrets and recriminations. Deciding to veer into the bathroom first, she clutched her right side as a violent twinge of pain shot through her. Perhaps it was time to take some Tylenol, now that her stomach had calmed down.
Lost in thoughts circling back around to Castle and his new partner, she didn't notice the blood until she stood up from the toilet. She'd been late this month, though her cycle was variable at times and the stress of the past week…weeks, really…had taken its toll.
Grumbling, she'd bent down to retrieve a tampon from the cabinet when she was overcome with a wave of dizziness. The whole room spun, as she collapsed onto the floor. Reaching for her phone, she cursed when her pockets were all empty. She must have left it in the bedroom.
Trying to sit up brought on such dizziness that she gave up the idea and clung to the floor. 'I'll call Lanie as soon as this passes. Time for a doctor.' What seemed like hours crawled by, but just as the dizziness seemed to be lightening a bit, the pain returned.
However, this was no twinge. She curled tighter and tighter into herself, unable to find a position that helped. Tears streamed down her face as she moaned out loud. Hoping a neighbor might hear, she tried shouting for help, but the croak that jumped out of her throat wouldn't have summoned anyone from her living room, let alone a neighbor's place.
The knife-like pain was unrelenting, and just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, a burst of agony beyond any she'd ever felt exploded like a supernova. The bright white pain surged through her, her only thought of relief as she succumbed to the black hole that pulled her in behind it.
Comments and/or pitchforks welcome.