I am beyond sorry that this chapter took so long- I massively underestimated the stress of moving cross-state/starting college/being a grown up (what is that even?).
For the record, I wouldn't ever abandon a story (that's an issue? Not with me). Hopefully I'll be posting fairly regularly again.
To Emily, for helping me make sense of my imagination.
And every reader that puts up with me.
...
The beep of the alarm and the click of the front door startled Rick awake. He strained to hear the small sigh that emanated from the front door, the almost imperceptible clink of her keys joining his on the foyer table.
He heard the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt sliding home, and he relaxed a fraction.
She was trying so hard to be quiet, but he would recognize the sounds of her from anywhere. Thoughts of 'she's here' and 'she used her key' flew through his mind, and it was all he could do to steady his breathing.
Rick reflexively slammed his eyes shut, trying with all his might to relax the tension that seized his body. Anticipation had his heart in a frenzy, and he was almost certain she could hear it beating against the confines of his chest.
He heard the sound of her shuffling towards him, of shoes on carpet, then socks on carpet, and when she finally reached the edge of the sofa, bare feet on carpet.
There was the rustle of her coat being shrugged to the floor, followed by the faintest whisper of fabric against skin and the dull thud of heavy material meeting the area rug.
Rick was holding his breath, and if she couldn't hear his heart before, certainly she heard it then. The distinctive sound of folding fabric was followed by more footsteps, and the next thing he knew, she was pulling back his comforter and slipping beside him.
The normally spacious couch was significantly smaller with the both of them occupying it, but the way her lithe body melded so easily against his left him itching to pull her closer.
He was all too conscious of her extremely bare shoulders, and the micro-ribbing of the tank top that covered her torso. Her legs entwined with his, and he could feel the contours of her curves, warm and firm as she curled herself around him.
He felt her eyes scrutinizing his face, and he forced himself to breath normally. It was after what felt like hours of this examination that he felt her fingers on his skin, tracing the plane of his forehead, the gentle slope of his nose, the strong line of his jaw.
Her touch was feather light, her fingertips barely more than ghosts over his features, and he didn't realize how close she was until he felt her warm breath wash over his neck.
"Rick," she whispered, her hand falling into his hair, threading through brown strands before reaching to pull the comforter higher over both their shoulders, insulating them. Her hand slipped under the covers, finding his back and rubbing, softly. "Oh, Rick."
She sighed, her chin falling to his shoulder. He was acutely aware of her steady gaze as she continued to study him. She reached under his pillow, her hand finding his easily, fingers weaving together. A smile almost gave him away as he remembered waking up on Jim Beckett's couch to find their hands laced together just like this.
She planted a kiss where her chin rests against his shoulder blade and at last, rests her cheek there, the hand not laced with his still tracing up and down his upper spine.
"This isn't supposed to hurt so much," she murmured against the fabric of his t-shirt.
It was amazing how the faintest of whispers could shatter his heart into so many pieces.
…
She had the presence of mind to wake before him. She forced her eyelids open, squinting at the rising sun, which peeked through the skylight above them. She was still wrapped up around him, their hands laced under the pillow they now shared. There was a small spot of drool where her head lay- she hoped he didn't notice it, but knew he would. Her free hand still rest at the base of his spine. She moved it lazily up his back to check her watch and groaned.
She was not ready to be awake.
Rick stirred, but settled under her touch and the smallest fraction of her weight, and she couldn't help but smile, softly, brushing her fingertips against the back of his neck. She brought those fingers to her mouth, physically stopping herself from planting a kiss where they last lingered.
She reigned herself in and sighed, wiggling from the couch, missing its- his- warmth already.
She adjusted her maroon tank top over herself, pulling it back over the smallest sliver of midsection that had an unfortunate tendency to ride up. Unfortunate, she scoffed at herself. Why'd you wear it, Katie? She asked herself, berating the little voice that tried to downplay her motives.
After fixing her pajamas, shivering only slightly when the cool air hit her bare arms and shoulders, she shuffled towards the kitchen, opening the fridge to take inventory of her options.
She struck gold when she reached the pantry, a wide smile spreading on her face as she mentally accounted for everything she needed.
…
Alexis pushed herself from her bed, socked feet hitting the ground before her eyes even fully opened. She blinked a few times, her hand coming to flatten over her bangs, self-conscious even in her sleep-drunk state. She glanced at her clock- it was just after eight. Even with such restless sleep, she couldn't stay down past quarter after.
She debated cracking a book open and staying in bed for another hour to keep her father's worry at bay, but her rumbling stomach disagreed with her, so she rose and made her way into her bathroom.
She brushed tangles from her hair, pulling it into a low ponytail. She observed herself in the mirror a moment, taking note of the dark circles under her eyes. Her glance fell to the concealer sitting on the edge of the sink. She was running out, she'd have to go get more.
Her gaze traveled back up to meet her reflection, and after a moment, decided she could skip this morning. Her father wouldn't be up for another hour at least, so she'd go, get some breakfast, and then bother with the makeup.
After one last glace, ensuring her bangs were in place over the scar that echoed her hairline, she slipped on a white button up and knotted the sides closed over her camisole, tip-toeing down the stairs and into the kitchen.
She was greeted first by the smell of breakfast. She almost turned on her heal right then, completely unprepared to face her father, but the sound of humming stopped her in her tracks.
Humming.
Female humming.
Pretty humming.
Curiosity won over, and she found herself in the kitchen, where Kate Beckett, in a tank top and sweatpants, was cooking breakfast. Cooking breakfast and humming.
"Kate?" The detective's name tumbled out of her mouth unbidden, causing the woman in question to whip around suddenly, spatula still in hand.
"Alexis," Kate recovered quickly from her slack-jawed surprise, smiling warmly. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Alexis let the last syllable hang, slipping into one of the barstools. A million questions raced to the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back, instead asking the only one that really mattered.
"What's for breakfast?"
The detective grinned, reaching to the opposite counter to grab a large red plate. On the plate, a huge waffle wore two blueberry eyes and a strawberry jam smile.
"A berry pancake?" Alexis couldn't keep the goofy smile out of her voice.
"A berry smiley face pancake," Kate corrected, her smile widening at the teenager's glee. Alexis caught her gaze, shyly.
"How'd you know strawberry jam is my favorite?"
"Your dad loves orange marmalade, and it was the only other logical reason to have strawberry in the fridge," Kate shrugged.
"Thank you, Kate," Alexis said, her hand falling to cover the detective's on the counter. The older woman glanced down at their hands, pinpointing exactly when the conversation stopped being about just breakfast. She smiled, tearing her eyes away to meet the redhead's, her thumb brushing the back of her palm.
"I'm sorry I left." Kate's bottom lip worried under her teeth.
"It's okay," Alexis promised, shrugging her shoulders as she met the detective's jade green eyes, finding her appearing apprehensive.
"It's not." And now they weren't just talking about last night, either. "You deserve better than that, and I know berry pancakes isn't going to fix everything, but-"
"You're here now. All that matters." Alexis smiled, sincerity in the soft squeeze of the brunette's hand. "Besides, they're berry smiley face pancakes."
Kate couldn't keep the relieved smile off her face. "Eat," she slid the plate closer to Alexis, who grinned, utensils at the ready. "So," she began, once the girl had gotten a few bites in. "Those weren't there yesterday." She pointed her finger under the girls eyes.
Alexis looked at her for a moment, her pale blue eyes just as piercing as her fathers, before, swallowing the bite of waffle in her mouth. "Neither were those," she angled her fork towards the dark circles Kate wore.
"Touché," and with that, the conversation dropped and the newfound tension faded in the midst of forks scrapping against the bottom of plates.
…
Rick woke to a spacious couch. Recollections of the early morning flooded back along with his consciousness, and he was disappointed to find Kate's spot had gone cold. He wanted to wake before her, hold her a little longer, talk to her, even.
He'd stayed awake long after her breathing evened and she'd drifted off to her dreams, his mind working at a whirr only the night allowed.
It was dangerous territory, thinking so hard while she was so close. While he could still feel the weight of her head against his shoulder blade, the warmth of her body, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
But he'd started and there was no stopping the train of thoughts that ground its way uninvited through his sleepy mind.
She hurt, he realized. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that she wasn't okay, but it was such a jarring revelation. It killed him that it took the loss of his daughter to bring them here.
To bring them to cuddling and touching and I love you's.
To bring them closer.
With every step forward they took, he was plagued with a new wave of guilt. He couldn't see past the pinnacle of it all- of them. He wanted to go back and re-write the climax.
But he couldn't.
Last night, he promised himself that if he couldn't fix the climax- move it, change it, erase it all together- he would perfect the falling action.
And right now, he was hurting both of them.
This was why Richard Castle didn't write tragedies.
…
"Dad," Alexis greeted as a very sleepy looking Rick stumbled into the kitchen. Kate smirked, hoping it would cover her trepidation.
He leaned down and planted a kiss into his daughter's hair, his hands falling to her shoulders. "Good morning, Pumpkin."
"Morning, Dad," her hand came up to her father's forearm in greeting, smiling warmly. He reached over her, stealing a blueberry and popping it into his mouth while she was distracted. "Hey!"
He skipped behind the counter, deftly avoiding her swatting hands, smiling jovially. He eyed Kate's dish, swiping some jam that had ended up on the edge of the plate with his finger before sticking the digit in his mouth.
"Not orange marmalade?" He pouted a little, and Kate couldn't keep the amusement off her face, slapping his chest half-heartedly.
"That's because this is mine and orange marmalade is gross. Yours is over there," she pointed with her elbow to the cutting board to the back-right of her.
He reached over to get it, apparently determined not to move his feet, and ended up grabbing her waist to keep his balance while he stretched. His fingers, still damp from his mouth, were hot against her skin, her cursed maroon tank leaving a small sliver exposed.
Damned tank top.
She shoved his hand away, more to stop the flush rising to her cheeks than anything, and he stumbled a little before regaining his footing. "Your hands are sticky," she said by way of explanation, tugging down her top.
Thankfully, he was too busy digging into his waffles to notice the pink tinge crawling up her neck.
"So Pumpkin," he started, his mouth still full. "Plans today?"
Alexis shrugged nonchalantly, never taking her eyes off her plate. "Might go to the library for a bit. I need to go shopping for a few things."
"You've got that test tomorrow, right?" She'd insisted on going back to school after her mandatory week of rest, much to his dismay. He'd have liked to spend more time with her.
"Theory of Knowledge. I don't think it will be too hard but the professor gave us some recommended reading that I'm gonna squeeze in."
"Sounds good. You called for the car?" Alexis only nodded.
It was their compromise- she got to go pretty much anywhere she wanted, but she took the town car everywhere, no exceptions.
She didn't like him for it, but it beat the alternative of staying home all the time, so she accepted. It didn't stop him from worrying, but he couldn't deny her anything, let alone make her feel imprisoned.
"You know I can grab stuff for you from the store. I have to go get some groceries, anyways," Rick offered, casually, picking the berries from his own plate now.
"No, it's okay. It's on the way, and it's…you know. Girly stuff."
"Oh." He looked as if he might push the matter, but he bit his tongue, instead smiling. "Okay. I'm just going to hang out and write some today."
It was Alexis' turn to smile. "That sounds nice, Dad." When her plate was cleared, she smiled, putting the plate in the sink before politely excusing herself. "Thank you for the breakfast, Kate."
"Anytime, Alexis," Kate smiled as warmth filled her heart.
She watched, curiously, as Rick leaned over her once more, double checking that Alexis was up the stairs and out of earshot. This time, when his hand fell reflexively to her shoulder, she didn't shrug it off, instead welcoming his warmth. When he decided his daughter was in her room, he turned back to Kate.
"Did you see the circles under her eyes?" It wasn't what she was hoping to hear, but she was careful to keep the fall in her heart and off her face.
"She's just dealing, Rick," she turned so she was facing him, her hand rubbing his arm as it held his weight against the counter behind her. Her touch fell to his ribs, where she moved her hand up and down, soothingly.
"It's not even that. I just hate that she hides it from me. We don't hide things from each other, Kate." The palm that rest on her shoulder moved to her neck, his large hand easily encompassing her jaw line, the gentle pad of his thumb brushing her cheek.
"She'll come around. She's hurting but-" she sighed, heavily. "You aren't going to want to hear this."
"Tell me," he whispered, his eyes drifting closed. He knew what she was going to say- he'd heard it a hundred times. Told himself a hundred times. Maybe hearing it from her would make it easier.
"Alexis will come to you when she's ready. When you're both ready."
It didn't make it easier.
"I'm ready."
"No, you're not," this caused his eyes to open with the sole purpose of meeting hers. "You are just as unprepared to hear the story as she is to tell it. Rick," her free hand rose, her fingers covering his mouth as he opened it to respond. "Knowing helps, but…but you need to find answers for yourself first. Heal yourself before you even try to take on her burdens, too."
"Isn't that my job?" he murmured, this time into her hair.
"Your job is to love her, Rick." A long moment passed before he drew back, meeting her eyes once more nodding, slowly. Understanding. Accepting. Perhaps both.
"Speaking of," he began, the hand cupping her face trailing up to push stray strands of hair from her forehead. "I think we need to talk."
...
We are more often frightened than hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from reality.
Lucius Annaeus Seneca