Chapter 3: Goodnight Moon
Kate walks into the loft, her heart stopping when she hears the wailing cries of her daughter. She drops her bag onto the floor near the entrance, closing her eyes as the door snaps shut. She had been getting text messages from Castle all day: AJ's fever's at 101; I hate how miserable she is. Couldn't even get her to stop crying during Toy Story; I made an appointment for the doctor tomorrow. He had been keeping her apprised of it all but each text gnawed at her throughout the day, made her wish she was home instead of in the car on the way to the morgue, or in interrogation, or looking for leads in places that seemed barren with information.
Castle's voice wafts through the living room, quiet murmurs she can't quite understand. She walks into the kitchen and places the bag of Ava's favorite soup on the counter before tossing her jacket over the arm of the couch and making her way into the bedroom. Castle's lying on top of the mattress, their daughter curled around him under the covers, face red marked and eyes burning with tears. She looks desperate and pale, a tiny little thing who wants nothing more than to be put out of her misery. There's a trash can on the side of the bed and Castle hadn't mentioned that she'd been throwing up in his many text messages but maybe he didn't want her panicking, coming home when he knew she had to work, when -
"Mommy," Ava whimpers, and Kate slides onto the bed beside her daughter. She gives Castle a small smile - sad, wistful - and he gives her one in return, his hand continuing their trek through Ava's hair.
"Hi baby," Kate whispers, pressing her lips to the girl's forehead. Her skin is hot to the touch, and Kate's heart clenches, worry rushing through her veins. It's just the flu, her baby will be fine in a couple of days, but it's an ache that slides into her bones and settles; one that'll remain until the fever has broken and her daughter is back to her normal, energetic self. "You're not feeling well, huh?"
Ava tries to shake her head, but instead cries out - headache possibly - and burrows deeper into Castle's embrace. Her cries are muffled now, lost somewhere against the fabric of her father's shirt and Kate looks up at him; he's worn out, the lines around his eyes pronounced, and she reaches for him, runs her hand down his cheek. He closes his eyes, leans into her embrace. There's a flush to him as well and he's quite possibly getting whatever their daughter has which means that she's next in line and that Castle - when confronted with any sort of illness - is an even bigger crybaby than Ava.
"You feel okay?"
He opens one eye, the smile flitting across his lips. "If I say no will you give me a sponge bath?"
Kate rolls her eyes. "In your dreams, Castle." But she's smiling, because she would if he needed her to; because after almost four years of marriage she's settled so deeply into this life with him that it feels natural and right and everything. "I brought home soup for Ava, but if you need me to-"
"Kate, I'm fine. Tired, but fine." He bends down and presses his lips to Ava's head. Her cries have softened a bit, but she's still sniffling, still shifting to try to get comfortable. "I was gonna let her sleep in here tonight. Mother's still in Europe visiting Alexis and I don't want AJ upstairs alone."
"If you didn't suggest it, I would have." Kate rests her head on the pillow, her face nearly pressed against Ava's hair. Her daughter is sweaty, heat radiating off of her, and she lifts Ava's shirt, her palm over the curve of her spine. "Ave, come on, baby. Let's get you into a bath. It'll make you feel better."
"I hurt, Mommy."
Kate sits up, lifting Ava up into her lap. Surprisingly, her daughter doesn't protest; she comes to her willingly, wrapping her arms tightly around Kate's neck. "I know you do," Kate soothes, brushing a kiss over the crown of her head. "But I need you to do this for me, okay? I'll come sit with you and we'll make it go real fast and then when it's over Daddy and I will let you sleep in our bed."
"Sleep here?"
"Sleep here," Castle affirms. "You have to be a big girl and listen to Mommy first though." He grabs the bottom of her foot until she turns those dark eyes on him, glassy and vulnerable. "I don't like when I'm sick either but this will make you feel a little better."
Kate snorts, letting out a laugh. "Daddy really hates it when he's sick. He cries too."
"No fun bein' hurty, Daddy."
Her husband is glaring at her in that adorable Castle way that he does; not quite serious but wanting his revenge regardless. She lifts an eyebrow at him and smiles, their entire conversation held in looks and gestures and she knows she'll get some sort of retaliation tonight, tomorrow, whenever he feels like it really. But it helps, lightens the mood a bit when they're both worried about Ava, when nothing can be done except waiting and this.
"No fun at all but we'll go see Dr. Parker in the morning."
"For a loddy pop?"
"You can't have it when you're sick but we'll get you one for when you're feeling better. How does that sound?"
She seems to consider this for a moment, exhaling a large breath. "K."
Castle stands, heading toward the bedroom door. "I'll go up and grab her pajamas. Did you wash her robe?"
"If it's not in her closet, it's in the laundry room."
She hoists Ava a little higher and gets off the bed carefully. The floor is cool to the touch and she suddenly remembers what it was like to be sick as a kid, too cold to step out of bed, too sick to do anything but pretend like it was all going to be okay. Her mother would stay with her, the ceiling filled with glow in the dark stars, and she wishes Johanna was here now, wishes someone would tell her what to do in order to make her daughter feel better.
Kate flips on the switch in the bathroom, illuminating the large space in golden light. Her daughter mewls against her neck, lets out a sob. "No."
It takes her a minute to realize that it's too bright and she places Ava onto the counter gently. There are candles on the shelf – the ones she uses for her baths, for late nights when she needs to relax – and lights a couple of them, flipping the switch so the room fills with darkness again. She walks to the tub, the flames guiding her as she turns on the nozzles. The water is more tepid than her daughter likes, but she doesn't want to assault her with the heat, not when her fever hasn't yet broken.
"Ready, baby?" But when she turns her daughter is on the verge of breaking, lip trembling, tears streaking her pale skin. "Ave."
She lets out a cry until she can't stop, until the air is caught in her lungs and Kate feels the panic rising in her, the inability to help and she could really use her mother now, advice on how to handle this and no - she just has to breathe. When she was younger and sick her mom would sit with her. She'd let her cry or let her pretend like she was okay. She'd bring her soup and run a bath like this and – right.
She can do this.
"What if I get in the bath with you, hm?" Kate clears the hair away from Ava's forehead, rubs her fingers over the tears. "Do you wanna sit with me?"
"My tummy." The words are muffled in her gasps, lost in the depth of her cries. "Hurts, Mommy."
"I know, sweetheart."
She undresses Ava quickly, tossing the clothes into a pile on the floor and then hers follow. She lifts the girl from the counter, lowering them into the tub, and leans back against the porcelain. It's a little cooler than she likes but she can already feel the way Ava settles against her, the quieting breaths of the tears that seem to have stopped. She's curled up in her lap, her head in the crook of Kate's elbow. She rubs her hand over Ava's stomach to soothe her, the tiny hand settling over hers and she loves this girl more than anything in the world, more than she ever even thought imaginable.
"Feel good?"
She sees Ava nod as the door to the bathroom opens. Light from the bedroom filters in and surprise flits across Castle's face when he notices her in the tub. It's still too dark, but she sees that look in his eyes, the one that always surprises her even though it shouldn't by now. The same look that he gave her when she was dying in that cemetery what feels like another lifetime ago; the one that burned with tears when she nearly lost him for good because she was too stubborn to see what was right in front of her; it was there on their wedding day, the moment she told him she was pregnant, hours and days and weeks and months after she had given birth to their daughter. It's the look he fills novels about her with, whispers in late night declarations, convinces her with the simplest of touches.
"I got in with her," Kate states, obviously.
"I'm jealous."
She laughs, and it's light, just what she needed. "Keep us company?"
"Nowhere else I'd rather be." Castle sits on the edge of the tub, rolls his pants up so he can sink his feet into the water. "AJ, how about a bedtime story?"
She lifts her head from Kate's arm, the bottoms of her hair dark and wet. "Moon."
Castle gasps. "You're choosing Moon over one of my stories?"
She gives him a small smile, maybe the first in days. "Moon, Daddy."
"Okay, okay, Goodnight Moon it is." Castle clears his throat, the words flowing from memorization, from numerous reads of this book curled up in their girl's rocking chair or their bed, or hours spent on the couch. "In the great green room there was a telephone and a red balloon and the picture of the cow jumping over the moon. And there were three little bears sitting on chairs and -"
"How many kittens, Ave?" Kate asks softly, brushing Ava's hair back with her fingers.
She holds up two fingers and Castle grins, continuing. "Two little kittens and a pair of mittens."
She grabs the washcloth on the edge of the tub, dipping it into the water as she rubs it softly over Ava's skin. Castle's voice, the story he's telling, is melodic, soothing. She always teases him that Ava is without a doubt his, but it's in moments like this - her daughter finally calming because of his words, the way she reaches out for Castle's ankle like she needs to stay anchored, her eyes so intently focused on him - that she sees herself in Ava; not in looks but how they react to him, how sometimes he's their everything.
"Goodnight comb and goodnight brush. Goodnight nobody, goodnight mush."
The cloth stills in her hand and she reaches for him, hand wrapped around his calf. In the semi darkness his eyes meet hers and she smiles. "I love you," she mouths.
Ava is nearly a dead weight in her arms, finally having drifted off. Her breathing is heavier than usual, but she's calm and okay. They can make it through this illness, just like all the other things - both big and small – that they have in the past. He bends down, brushing his lips over Ava's forehead, and then he's breathing his response into Kate's mouth with the softest of whispers. I love you. Still jealous.
She smiles, her arms banded around their daughter, closing her eyes as she listens to him.
"Goodnight stars, goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere."