A/N:. I'm afraid it's a group thank you for all your amazing reviews again - I've been so crazy busy (lame excuses, but true) that I struggled even getting any writing done.
Chapter Nine: You light the road for me.
She won't leave him alone.
It's the dead of night again and she's in two day old clothes now, sleeping curled up like a child on a bench seat outside his mother's ICU room, and she won't leave him alone.
He's not sure what he's supposed to do with that.
Castle leans against the door jam and eyes Kate's sleeping form for the second time in two days, and he finds himself more conflicted about his feelings now than he was the night before.
Then he was just so angry, and he was fearful, and couldn't believe she was trying to mess up his hard-won and very fragile peace, and yet tonight he's uncomfortably grateful she didn't listen to him.
He's been uncomfortably grateful for it all damn day. Where he couldn't get Alexis to leave and go home for the night, Kate managed it with a few hushed words and what looked like gentle pleading.
But when he told her she should leave, that he was okay on his own and he practically walked her backwards out of his mother's ICU room, she just calmly sat herself out here.
And out here she stubbornly remained.
The writer studies the sharp angles of his wife's cheekbones and the crescents of her dark lashes as they fall across her pale cheeks, and this time it's more than just her undeniable beauty that touches him. This time something reawakens in him that he can't seem to control, something he doesn't want to believe is still there. He's terrified, in all honesty right now, and not just about his mother's future. He's terrified that his wife possesses some magic pass to the walls he's built to keep her out and that she's finding a way to slip back inside. It's why he's wanted her to go away from the moment she walked back into his life yesterday, but Kate's stubborn. She always was so stubborn, and she just won't leave him alone.
And then there's the other truth he's dealing with, the unknown nature of the condition his mother is in. He heard the doctor last night. He might not have wanted to absorb the words, but his brain filed all the details away regardless. And the end result of that is that he fully understands that it's his mother's whole personality, her very essence that is hanging in the balance here. A situation every bit as scary as letting Kate remain here even when it seems he can't help but feel relieved in some intangible way that she is. He knows, he just knows that she'll be what keeps this latest catastrophe from swallowing him up. He knows that she'll ask the questions he can't bring himself to ask, that she'll find the silver lining for him when he cannot.
He doesn't want to know this. Doesn't want to admit that it's the truth, because he doesn't want to lean on her or rely on her in any way ever again. These are risks that he's already decided are too large for his damaged heart to take and yet . . .
He sighs wearily; maybe it's just a no-win scenario that's he's stuck in here.
Castle closes his eyes and holds his breath, and in the darkness behind his closed lids he lets the silence of the early morning hour focus him. He feels the familiar heavy drag, the immense weight of all the currents that have seemed so close to drowning him this last year, and then he lets all of this scary new reality pull at him.
And he sees the truth.
He sees and then he accepts that what he wants and what he needs right now appear to be two very different things.
Because while what he wants is for Kate to go, so that he can go back to rebuilding the fragile foundations of his life again, what he needs is for her to be here, for her to make some sense of all this for him.
What he needs is that fierce courage of hers that he remembers, that confident take-charge, take no prisoners way that he fell in love with. He needs 'Kate Beckett' – her soft voice and her grounding touch and that iron will that's just unbending – even when it's no longer a strength and works against her, or him. He's almost craving now the light and the pull of her that makes him stronger, better – that makes him fearless and forces him to be more. She'll force him through this – she just won't allow him to give up.
The writer opens his eyes and looks back at her sleeping form again, and this time the ring shining on her left hand doesn't mock him, so much as remind him that something real, something apart from all they've lost still binds them - even now.
Something else occurs to him then as he unconsciously steps closer to her side, leaving the physical support of the door jam behind him. Yesterday when she surprised him all he saw was that she'd come back right at the moment he could finally let her go. Now he can't help but consider that just maybe Kate's been fighting all along to come back from where she's been this last year. That perhaps she just couldn't see, before now, how her actions made things so much worse for him.
He still can't excuse those actions, or what they've done not just to him but to his daughter, and his mother. Nor can he forget how that absolute silence between them felt like she was blaming him for Jack's death. That her absence was her seeking to punish him (much like when she flung Alexis continually in his face), no he can't excuse, but maybe he can truly accept now that it was all just grief - grief that buried her so deeply that it literally stole her away from him.
Until now. His heart whispers to his brain softly. Whispers he's not ready to hear.
Castle swallows heavily and let's his gaze rest on her sleeping face again and something inside, something that's been wound tight with fear eases slightly. He recalls his conversation with the grieving father 'Pete' from the day before, and how he'd told Pete that he didn't resent Kate for her actions, that he still ached for her.
It was true yesterday when he said it, wasn't it?
He's spent the moments since she surprised him believing other wise but maybe that's the just the anger talking? And maybe the anger is just an emotional smokescreen.
It was true.
And that leaves him here – a little dazed and a lot confused and realizing that what happened after Jack's death aside, Kate is strong under pressure and great in a crisis, and that there is no-one he's ever been more grateful to have at his side. Though he still can't comprehend anything more than that with her – her partnership in this, her support, maybe even her friendship, these are things that he can accept.
And that makes what's coming, whatever it is – easier.
With that thought in his mind the writer makes his way back inside his mother's ICU room and sits back down in the uncomfortable plastic chair that he'd been occupying. He reaches out and once more takes possession of his mother's slender hand, seeking the reassuring thump of the steady pulse at the base of her wrist. Her skin is warm but feels suddenly so fragile and paper thin, and as he studies the veins and the faint age spots it hits him as it never has before now that his mother is getting older. And that makes him wonder how her age is going to factor into her recovery from this.
God, he just prays that she can recover from this. She has to recover from this.
Tears prick his eyes but he won't yield to them, instead forcing himself to look at her face; at the slackness on her left side that is incredibly jarring. It alters her, it makes her look like someone other than his mother and his fingers tighten around hers unconsciously. Her head is swathed in gauze but he knows from her surgeon that they had to shave her hair away in order to operate and it kills him knowing how much his very image conscious mother is going to hate that. She's going to hate all of this. The hospital, the injury – he can't think of much worse than what she's going to be facing, but what terrifies him the most is the possibility that she'll be so altered he won't recognize her flamboyant personality in anything she can still do.
She might wake up and not be able to understand what's being said to her. She might not be able to talk, or read, or communicate at all. He can't imagine it. Despite all his skill with words and stories, character, motivation – he just can't imagine his mother any way other than how she's always been.
He can't bear the thought of there being such a change.
For all she drives him crazy sometimes she's still been the rock of his existence. She's been the constant, the source of love. It's only now as he sees her lying there, looking like his mother - but not, that he finally feels just how the loss of a mother can be so devastating.
Because whatever she's going to be dealing with, however different she might be – he'll deal with anything, anything – just as long she's still here, because there's no way he's ready to let his mother go.
So he keeps his eyes on her face, making himself come to peace with it, until his lids finally grow so heavy he can't keep them open a moment longer and his eyes fall closed. Castle slips into dreams of his childhood where his mother is young and strong and whole again, so very beautiful, lively, vivacious – and the entirety of his world.
Kate wakes to her phone vibrating in her pocket and the caller ID 'John Brady'. She picks up immediately, squashing a wave of guilt as she does so because she hasn't spoken to the Chief in over a year – but that doesn't matter right now.
"John. Hi," she says.
The unassuming Chief of the Hamptons' Police starts rambling,
"Kate, I'm just . . . I'm just calling to check on Rick's mother, and of course to let you know that I won't stop, I won't stop until I find out who did this to her. Um, and I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Kate, I'm so sorry that this happened, I mean this stuff never happens here, you know this stuff never happens here and I just-"
"John-" Kate breaks into the torrent of words that are tripping over themselves as they come out his mouth. "This isn't your fault and I know that you're going to do everything necessary to find the person responsible for hurting Martha. And if you need any assistance I can offer you the best of the 12th's Homicide division. You just say the word Chief and we'll jump in and assist you – as unofficially as you like."
She doesn't mention that she hasn't even informed her partners yet, she doesn't have to. Espo and Ryan are crazy about her mother-in-law; they'll be chomping at the bit to be all over this.
Kate can hear the Chief breathing easier on the other end of the line already. One murder case not-withstanding, the Chief is right, this stuff never happens in the Hamptons – it's of the reasons the police presence there is so damn small.
"Thanks," John replies, the gratitude heavy in his voice. He sounds exhausted as he continues, "Kate, your house is a mess and I've got a dead body waiting on the coroner and it just, well I'm in over my head actually. I'd be really grateful for some assistance, from your colleagues – not from you, Kate you just be there for your family. Be there for Rick and I promise you I can coordinate the rest."
For a fleeting moment his words bite into her like an accusation – 'you just be there for your family' and she wants to snap at him that she's trying and she's sorry about the past, but then she realizes that isn't what he's getting at, he just doesn't want her to focus on such a deeply personal crime. Knows she couldn't possibly be objective about it. She hasn't seen the man since before Jack died and since he's assuming that she's with Rick and Martha, well it seems pretty cut and dried that Castle didn't share with their friend the details of their estrangement.
"I'll have Detectives Ryan and Esposito call you later today John, off the record of course and if you can fill them in on what you know – they'll give you some pointers on what avenues of investigation you might want to pursue."
The Chief's voice is warm and more relaxed when he replies,
"I remember them. Thanks, Kate. But tell me, please, how is Rick's mother doing? The scene was pretty awful when we were called there and I called the air ambulance – is she going to be alright?"
Kate sighs heavily into the phone, "It's too soon to say. She's alive and she's stable but she's suffered a very serious stroke because of the bullet fracturing her skull. Until she wakes up they can't tell us for sure what damage has been done or how well she can recover from it."
"Oh God, Kate – that's, that's so terrible. How's Rick coping?"
Kate swallows the lump as her vision swims with recent images of her husband's grief-stricken face. "He's pretty devastated right now; the last year has just been . . . "she trails off then, unable to complete the sentence.
The Chief's voice is equally shaky, "Yeah, I know. I heard about your son . . . and now this. It's so much and I know sorry is a really useless word right now, so just let the big guy know he can depend on me okay – I'm not too proud to ask for help since I need it and I'm more determined that you can imagine to see this through. I will find the people responsible for this."
Kate thanks him quickly before her voice deserts her, and she hangs up.
The brunette detective drags a hand through hair that is starting to feel decidedly unwashed, before she looks down at clothes that are now two days old. She needs to shower and she needs to change and yet she's terrified that if she leaves him now she won't be allowed to return. That he'll revert to shutting her out again.
Kate shakes her head, she can't leave him, she won't. She'll just have to have someone bring her a change of clothes here for now, and then she'll figure something out.
Wherever he goes – she goes now. That's just the way it is.
The cop pushes to her feet and enters Martha's room again relieved when she discovers Castle sleeping awkwardly in the chair. He wouldn't succumb last night, when she finally did – so Kate treads lightly as she makes her way once more to his side.
He's still holding his mother's hand though, a sight that earns just the faintest smile because his large strong hand dwarfs the reed-like slenderness of his mother's slight fingers. A smile that fades as the visual also serves to remind Kate of Martha's unknown state.
With no more than a soft rustle of clothing Kate moves to the free side of the bed and gently picks up Martha's other hand. She cradles it to her chest as she sits gently in the vacant chair there , almost dropping it like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't when his voice breaks over her.
"Thank you," he says quietly, and the gentleness in the tone pulls her eyes immediately to his face.
"For what?" she asks, genuinely not knowing even as she's trying feverishly to read the soft expression on his face. The hard look that colored their interaction the previous night is nowhere to be found, but neither is the raw want – the unraveling need that he displayed when they first got here.
"For staying, Kate."
He holds her gaze easily and that alone almost moves her to tears, because although his eyes are still guarded, at least she finally sees her husband in there.