Disclaimer: The only part of Castle that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.
She's been home for five days. She's trying hard to reform: to eat right, to sleep, to read, to get out of the apartment, to push Castle from her mind. She's getting there. Tiny steps when what she wants is giant strides, but she doesn't have it in her. Not yet. She used to. She will again. She will. It's the last goal that's the toughest, the Castle one. The no Castle one.
Lanie had ferried her here from the hospital, and since then she has stopped by every morning on her way to work, and every evening after her shift, even if it's midnight.
It's about 8:00 and welcomingly cool for a mid-August evening when Kate hears the familiar tap-tap-tap–two short, one long and opens the door for her friend. "Hi, Lane."
"Hi, Kate," she says, dropping her bag on the floor. "What did you eat today?"
"Wow, not wasting any time getting to the point, are you?"
"Nope." Lanie walks directly to the refrigerator and begins to catalogue the contents as if they were crime-scene evidence. "Hmm. Looks like a third of the cantaloupe is gone, and one chicken drumstick." She pushes a few containers around, and picks up others. "You had some egg salad. And some spinach. Good. But whoa!" She sticks her head out of the fridge, gripping a tightly sealed box and looking peeved. "You haven't touched these buttermilk biscuits. They're my mamma's recipe and I don't bake these for just anybody. In fact I've never made them for anyone except myself, and now you."
"I know, I know. I know they're delicious, but they're so rich."
"That's the point. Trying to put some weight on you, remember? I'm gonna warm up two of them." She takes them out and puts them in the microwave. "They have a pretty short shelf life. They're no good if they're stale. You have honey, don't you?"
"Uh, yeah." She wrinkles her nose. "It might be kind of old, though."
"What a surprise. Probably been here since you moved in, however long ago that was. You were probably still walking a beat. Lucky for us honey never goes bad. Could you get it, please? The biscuits are calling its name." She puts her hand to her hear. " 'Honey! Honey! We love ya'!"
While Lanie rounds up plates, knives, and a dish of butter, Kate starts rummaging through a drawer full of take-out menus and other detritus of her culinary-deficient life.
"Your honey isn't in a cabinet?"
"No. I know I have some. It was from a breakfast thing I ordered once." More rummaging. "Aha. Here it is." She holds up four tiny peel-top plastic boxes, and waves them triumphantly.
Lanie, who is as adept an eye-roller as Kate, makes a face. "You've had supper, right? So this is dessert. What did you have for supper?"
"A couple of baby carrots. And a bowl of black bean soup."
"You'd better not be lying."
"I'm not. Check the recycling bin for the can if you don't believe me."
"Girl, I'm not the police."
"Damn straight you're not. I am."
Later, when they're sitting on the sofa drinking small glasses of wine, Lanie looks critically at the plain white plate that holds part of a biscuit and some buttery crumbs. She sighs. "Well, you ate half of it. I guess that's progress."
"It is, Lanie. It is. I promise." She swallows hard, even though there's nothing in her mouth. "I'm really trying."
"You are. It's really good. The progress. I don't mean to be hard on you, you know that. Right?"
Kate nods, but won't look her in the eye. Can't look her in the eye, or Lanie will see that her own eyes have tears in them. She wills herself not to cry. She's worked too hard since she got home. She will not cry.
"Kate?"
"Mmm."
"Did you go outside today?"
Oh, here's something to be proud of. She straightens up and smiles. "Yeah, I did. I walked to the river and sat on a bench and watched a dog walker let all the pooches–there were seven of them, all sizes–play in the water that was splashing from a fountain. It was adorable and hilarious. For some reason it reminded me of that scene in Sound of Music where all seven of the von Trapp kids fall out of a little boat in the lake in front of their house. They're soaking wet and laughing and screaming and sliding around and their father is so pissed off." She's laughing now as she plays the movie in her head.
"I've never seen it," Lanie says off-handedly, helping herself to the rest of Kate's biscuit.
"Are you kidding? I loved it. It always made me want to have a bunch of brothers and sisters. How did you get through childhood without it? It's on TV about twenty times every Christmas. You really haven't seen it? That's practically unAmerican."
Lanie sniffs. "I thought Sound of Music took place in Austria and had Nazis. Doesn't sound very American to me."
That earns a snort from Kate. "Exactly what Castle would say." Shit. That is exactly the kind of thing Castle would say. He loves to be literal, just to drive her crazy. Now it just breaks her heart. She turns her head to the window, and squeezes her eyes shut.
Dammit, Lanie thinks. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Kate's about to shut down. She has to turn this around. Maybe this is the time? She really shouldn't wait any longer, and it could salvage the evening. "That reminds me," she says brightly, as if she hadn't noticed the depressing shift in mood. "I was going to tell you this as soon as I got here, but I got derailed by the biscuits." She waits for Kate to say something, and finally she does. It's not much, but it's something.
"What?"
"Guess who I saw today?"
"I dunno. The ghost of Christmas past?"
"Nope. Castle."
Kate almost gives herself whiplash as she turns back. "What? Where?"
"Jumping Java."
"Really?"
"Really." Another lie, may God forgive her.
"But that's where." She lets her sentence trail off.
Lanie nods, doing her best to convey both understanding and encouragement. "Where he gets your coffee. I know. I saw him through the window when I was walking by and couldn't believe it. He looked about as bad as you, only the flip side."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exhausted, unhappy, and apparently the direct recipient of all the weight that you've lost this summer."
"Really? I'm amazed Gina didn't muzzle him."
"Maybe she did. Maybe that's why they broke up."
Near-whiplash is replaced by an all-but-displaced jaw that drops precipitously. "They broke up? How do you know?"
"I asked him."
"Stupid me, of course you did."
"Well, what choice did I have? Man looks awful. His hair wasn't even groomed. Castle, of all people. Anyway, I went in there, got a coffee, and sat down next to him at this little table where he was slouched like he'd lost his last friend."
"And what, said, 'Hi, Castle, did you break up with Gina'?"
"Nooooo. I asked how he was and what the hell was he doing in Manhattan on a gorgeous summer day when he could be lounging around in the Hamptons, unlike those of us who really work for a living."
"And what did he say?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? Castle? No likely. The man's a motormouth."
"Yeah, well, I hadda bring in the big guns. I told him he looked like crap and even that didn't work, so I just asked him. 'What's going on with you? And don't give me a shrug like Beckett does'."
"Shit, you mentioned me?"
"You're the biggest gun of all, honey."
She flushes. Doesn't know what to say, even to Lanie. "Not any more."
"I think you're wrong. Just listen a minute. The minute I said your name he was all fertootst."
"Fertootst?"
"Discombobulated."
Finally, a smile. "I know what fertootst means, Lanie. I just never expected you to speak Yiddish. You been hanging out with Perlmutter behind my back?"
"Nope. Guy I'm seeing. You know, Seth. Jewish, remember?"
"I do. So, Castle was fertootst? Really? Because of me?"
"You've made him fertootst since day one. And a lot of other things. You going to keep interrupting or let me get to the big thing?"
"Go to the big thing."
Lanie notices that the color has stayed in her cheeks, and it's a hopeful sign.
"He finally said, 'How's Beckett?' and I said, 'I'll answer your question after you answer mine. What's up? You look like someone who's fallen into the swamp.' Naturally he asked me what swamp and I said the worst one, Self-Pity. And that that usually means one of two things: trouble with love or trouble with money. And since it's hard to believe that he's short of cash, it must be love. That's when I asked him, 'Things not good with Gina?' He put his nose in his coffee and finally said, 'We broke up.' "
"That's it? You didn't ask him anything else?"
Unlike the Lanie Parish eye-roll, the glare does not equal that of Kate, but it's pretty damn ferocious, and she knows it. "You seriously think I'd stop there?"
Kate grimaces, her lips a tight line.
"Didn't take long for him to spill his guts like I'd sliced him open on my table."
"Lovely image."
"Shut up." Another glare. "He told me they were fighting so much they barely made it through Memorial Day weekend and she came back to the city. He's been out there alone all summer, moping around and eating himself into a stupor. Not his words, but true. Kate, I know lovesick when I see it, and right now I see it in two people I know: you and Castle. That man is so in love with you if you weren't my best friend I'd find it nauseating. Now, you might have fooled Doctor Field with your story about stress from your mother's case, but that's a more-or-less constant stressor for you. No, the biggest stress is your life without Castle."
The color has gone. Kate is gray and shaken. "Did you tell him that? Jesus, please tell me you didn't."
"Of course I didn't. That's up to you. I didn't tell him anything about your diagnosis because I can't and I wouldn't." Hey, God? she asks wordlessly. That's true. I didn't tell him what her diagnosis is. "But I did say that he should call you, that I thought you'd really like hearing from him." OK, God, I know I'm getting in deeper here, since I didn't say that either. I'll go to church every day for a month, I swear. Just help me get these two together.
"Does he know I'm not at the precinct? Vacation?"
"Probably. He's still friends with Javi and Ryan and Montgomery. Might have organized a poker game or something. Found out that way." Oh, man, what had she done? She showily looks at her watch. "Oh, it's late. I have an early shift tomorrow. Gotta run. I'll come by in the morning, okay? Even though it'll be seven? Bring you real coffee. If you're asleep I'll leave it on the counter and you can nuke it when you get up." She takes the two wine glasses in one hand and Kate's plate in the other and deposits them in the kitchen sink. "Gotta run, honey," she says, hugging Kate hard before she all dashes from the apartment.
As soon as she's outside, she calls Castle and fills him in a bit. "Sorry, she blindsided me with that question about your knowing if she's on vacation."
"So you mentioned the boys?"
"Yeah."
"Do they know she's been in the hospital?"
"No. That's her business. If she wants them to know, she'll tell 'em." There's such a long silence that she thinks the call has dropped. "Castle?"
"Hold on, I'm thinking."
She can hear him breathing, and she's holding her breath. She hates this balancing act she's gotten herself into. Don't tell Castle this, do tell him that. Tell Kate that, but not this.
"I'll go see them tomorrow," Castle says.
"What, go to the precinct?"
"Yeah, tell them I had to come in for a book thing, thought I'd drop in for old times' sake. It's the easiest way to get them to tell me that Beckett's not there."
"They gonna buy that?"
"Don't know why not. Just because I'm not following her any more doesn't mean I can't say hi to old friends. Bring them all lunch."
"You'd better get a haircut."
"What? Why?"
"Your hair usually looks like an Editor's Pick in GQ, but it's all raggedy. And no product. First time I've seen that happen."
"Geez, thanks. I don't think Ryan and Espo will notice my tonsorial neglect."
"Tonsorial neglect? Seriously. Sometimes I don't know what Kate sees in you. Just get a freaking haircut. Believe me, Ryan will notice if you don't and it'll raise a red flag. Kate didn't have mascara on one day and he was so worried he called me at the morgue."
"Fine, fine, fine. I'll be all kinds of nonchalant when I ask where Beckett is."
"Atta boy. I'm leaving everything up to you now. Don't screw it up. Bye." She pockets her phone and shakes her head. "These two. I need a drink."
Late the next morning, having made an emergency request for a hair appointment, he's appraising himself in the mirror. His hair is perfect now, and he'd had a shave. Ryan won't suspect a thing. Next stop: Burgrz-n-Bunz, which, appalling name aside, has the best cheeseburgers he's ever tasted.
At noon he steps out of the elevator, his nerves frayed, and sees Ryan and Esposito shooting rubber bands and calls out to them. "Hard at work, I see. I leave here and in two months all discipline is shot to hell." Both men get to their feet, but it's Ryan who envelops him in a hug.
"Hey, Castle. Great to see you, man. Nice surprise."
"Thought you were through with us, bro," Espo adds.
"Nah, I never said that. Just not working here any more. I had to be in town for a couple of days and thought I'd drop by and replenish my supply of precinct atmosphere. I'm still writing Nikki Heat, you know, and she feeds on the recycled air in here." He looks around casually. "Speaking of which, where's Beckett?" He hoists a shopping bag chest-high. "I brought lunch for all of us."
"Vacation," the guys say in tandem.
"Vacation? She never takes a vacation. Oh, wait." He narrows his eyes. "Did she go somewhere with Demming? The Jersey shore?" He pretends not to notice the looks that Espo and Ryan exchange.
Ryan scratches the back of his neck, which is a sure tell that he's uncomfortable. "Uh. No. Uh, they're not dating anymore. Demming's been going out with Begley."
"Begley? The one with the big–. The one with freckles? In the evidence room?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. So, where'd she go? Beckett, I mean. I still can't believe she actually took a vacation."
"Neither could we," Espo says, but stops at that. "But things change."
"Hey, Castle," Ryan says too eagerly, "I'm starving. You really got lunch in there?"
"I really do." Ultimately, it's a nice time, and they chat almost as if nothing has happened, although everything has. And it feels worse than odd to be sitting in the break room without Beckett anywhere. There's not even the slightest hint of her pear-and-freesia hand cream; she must have been gone for a while.
"How long's Beckett been gone?"
" 'bout two weeks," Espo says around the crispy loop of a curly fry.
"Two weeks? Wow. She must be coming back when, Monday?"
"Don't think so,"Ryan says tentatively. "Cap said three weeks. Right, Jav?"
"Yeah. I think."
They don't know. They're a little protective of her, but they don't know. He doesn't need to keep after them; he's spent two years working with them, and he's certain that they're not hiding anything. They polish off lunch and small talk, and he leaves with a plan of action firmly set. Lanie might be pissed, probably think he's too hasty, but he's sure. Lanie might as well have fused that pink note to his cerebellum, tattooed it into his skin, injected it his blood stream: Beckett loves him, and he's not waiting.
Still, he can't be completely incautious. With great difficulty, he gets through the afternoon. He has to wait until it's dark enough that people–specifically one person, specifically Kate–begin to turn on their lights. At 7:45–just before the florist closes, though he'd called his order in hours earlier–he picks up a bouquet of anemones, most of them purple, but a few red and blue for contrast. Half an hour later, not long after sunset, he's standing outside her door. Is he crazy?
He knocks.
Nothing.
He knocks again, a little louder.
"Lanie," he hears from the other side of the door, as the tumbler on the lock falls. "How come you're not using your laughably unsecret secret knock?"
The door opens. She's so thin yet so beautiful that she steals his breath away, and he struggles to find his voice. "Hey," he says, hoping that he doesn't sound as shaky as he feels. "I saw your light on. Figured you were home."
TBC
A/N Thank you for everything. And Texas readers who checked in, I'm glad that you're safe.