"Let me make you some coffee," he responds to her as he rises from the seat behind his desk. She says nothing as he leaves the room. She follows him into the kitchen. He doesn't offer his affection as he starts the coffeemaker. He waits in silence for the coffee to brew. She leans against the counter of the island, just watching him. She can't help but feel the tension.
"Rick, are you okay?"
He doesn't turn to look at her. His eyes remain fixed on the coffee pot in front of him. "Fine."
"That is what you were wearing yesterday when I saw you last."
"I was working late," he offers, still not willing to meet her glance.
"Why don't you tell me what's eating at you, instead of playing this game?"
"Have a seat," he answers.
She complies with his request. She takes a seat on a bar stool, nearby. She allows moments to pass while the coffee brews. When the coffee is finished he retrieves two mugs from the cabinet. He pours them each a cup. She watches him, closely as he approaches her. He places one of the cups in front of her. He takes a sip from his own cup. She grips the cup, and has a drink. Once she's swallowed she turns to him.
"What is bothering you?"
"I want you to tell me about yesterday."
She furrows her brow, and stares at him in confusion, "There is nothing to tell. I just needed some time alone."
"Time alone? You're sure that's it?" He questions.
"Are you accusing me of something?" She cocks an eyebrow.
"No, I am just curious what you did all day."
"Why do you want to know about yesterday, so badly?"
"I didn't really mean yesterday," he admits.
"For once in your life why don't you just tell me what you really mean?"
He locks eyes with her. He stares at her face for a few moments. He places his hand against her face, cradling her jaw. He wears a pained expression.
She stares at him with hazel eyes. She can see that he's conflicted. She can see that this is one of those rare occasions where he struggles to find the right words. She reaches up, and removes his hand from her face. She holds her hand in his, squeezing it.
"What did you mean?" She queries.
"Six years ago, yesterday," he clarifies.
She doesn't say anything. She breaks eye contact, and looks at the floor. Her heart skips a beat as she tries to come up with a response.
"Kate," he says softly, "I wasn't working on a novel. I was reading an accident report. I..."
She cuts him off, "Where did you get it?"
"Your dad came by last night. He said there was something I needed to know about you, before we got married. He told me that I needed to read what was in the report."
"It wasn't his place," she warns him, as her face begins to grow red.
"Maybe not, but I think we should talk about it."
"I don't want to talk about it. If I wanted to talk about it I would have mentioned it," the vein in her forehead begins to pulsate.
"He said that you don't remember."
"I don't," she slides off the bar stool.
"Where are you going? Can we discuss this?" he takes off, after her.
"I don't want to talk about this. Okay?" she grabs her bag off the couch, and heads for the door.
He plants himself in front of the door. "No, it's not okay. We need to talk about this. You can't runaway every time you don't want to talk about something."
She takes a deep breath, and purses her lips. "There is nothing to talk about. It was six years ago."
"Please," he begs.
"Six years ago I was in a car accident. There is nothing to tell, because I don't remember. I don't remember the circumstances leading up to the accident. I don't remember the accident. All I can remember is waking up in the hospital."
"Kate..." he begins.
Her nostrils flare as she steps towards him, "Dammit Castle, let me go!"
He steps aside, and lets her through the door. He grabs his jacket, and his keys, but not to follow her. He pulls out his phone, and dials her father.
She reaches the sidewalk, and decides not to get into her car. She chooses to walk. She walks for blocks, until she reaches a park. She feels her blood pressure rising as the anger she feels escalates. She takes a seat on the bench, and tries to calm herself before she spirals into a panic attack. She takes several deep breaths, and tries to block it all out.
She lies in a bed, with her eyes closed. She slowly begins to regain consciousness. She doesn't open her eyes, immediately. She listens to the noises around her. She hears beeping nearby. Several feet, or yards away she can hear footsteps, and a telephone ringing. Her head throbs as she tries to figure out where she is. Her heart races, as she realizes she has no idea where she is.
She slowly opens her eyes, and begins to observe the scene around her. She looks to her right, and finds that she's tethered to an IV pole. She can see someone out of the corner of her eye. She tries to turn her head, but she can't. She hears voices, and beeping, and it seems like utter chaos to her.
Her chest aches, and her head throbs. Her throat, and her nose burn. She tries to take a deep breath, but when she inhales she feels a sharp, shooting pain. She feels someone touching her. Suddenly she's lifted from a cold hard surface onto a slightly softer, slightly less cold surface. A woman dressed in blue scrubs, with sandy colored hair that is pulled behind her in a French braid comes into view.
"Can you hear me?" she asks.
Kate suddenly realizes that she can barely hear the woman's voice.
"My name is Teresa, I am a nurse."
"Why am I here?"
"Ma'am you were in a car accident, you're in the hospital. Can you tell me your name?"
"Katherine Beckett."
"Miss Beckett we're going to take good care of you," the nurse vows.
"Kate," she corrects her, wincing in pain as she inhales.
"Kate can you tell me where you hurt?"
"Everywhere," she replies, in a raspy voice.
"We will get you some medication. Kate is there anyone that we can call?"
"My dad's number is in my phone."
"Okay."