Close Encounters 17
Castle had thought they would have time. The days dragged on, but a week had gone by before he'd realized it, and it seemed the world had changed overnight.
Castle woke as if tugged sharply from a previous life, and it took him too long to orient to the night. What day, what week, why was he here?
He reached for a weapon that wasn't there, and then he was wide awake and alert, and he had to consciously relax his body to keep from waking Kate.
His arm was around her waist, palm curled at her abs as if he was the only thing holding her down into sleep. She was so exhausted that her body was completely slack against him, her cheek was pressed into the pillow and she'd turned to practically lie on her stomach.
With his hand trapped under her.
He wouldn't move though; he wouldn't do that to her. But his brain was racing and he felt out of control of things, and he needed to work. A week of spinning his wheels, getting nowhere, and he knew the world outside was creeping in on them, demanding recompense, assigning blame.
Castle stayed as quiet as he could and reached his other arm past her for the remote control, turned the television on. He thumbed down the volume until it was muted, watched the pictures for a moment before they registered.
Breaking news. Footage had been released that showed Kate Beckett being driven away in the FBI underground parking garage, Maine at the wheel.
Below that was the sensational tag: Alleged shooter had an inside man.
The closed captioning popped on and Castle read it with growing dread.
The anchor was reporting that 'confidential sources' confirmed that Kate Beckett, the undercover NYPD officer, had been allegedly liberated from FBI custody with the help of a man now known to be a paid mercenary.
Sources could not confirm her current location.
Shit.
They were running out of time.
Anxiety pinched sharply at Kate as she searched through the clothing in her closet - not her closet, really, but it had been two weeks of living here under their cover identities, and she'd started to adopt the place.
Sasha nosed the back of her bare knee and Kate leaned down and scratched between the dog's ears.
"Kate, you're not dressed?"
She glanced up at Castle. "I'm getting paranoid," she muttered.
"I promise you're not showing. Not to anyone."
"I need looser shirts," she said tightly. "Remember that purple shirt I always used to sleep in? Something like that. It's in fashion now anyway, the tunic top."
"I'll get you some like it," he said, heading into the bedroom and taking her by the elbow. He kissed her cheek and his fingers flared over her skin, moved to brush her waistline. "I promise you, Kate, we've got time."
It didn't feel like it. Still under house arrest, still working ineffectually to clear her of the shooting, still worried that Black was out there. Every day was another day it got harder to hide her pregnancy.
"Dr Dennison is coming tomorrow," he murmured. "You can ask her how it's going. How are the ribs?"
She nodded and put her hands on her hips, subtly measuring her own waist. She couldn't even tell, but she was losing it standing here in front of the skimpy closet. "Ribs are fine. I mean, I hurt with every breath, but not like it was."
"Good, good. Here," Castle said. "This one." He leaned forward and yanked an off-the-shoulder striped top from the hanger, pulling the cream and navy towards her. She bit her bottom lip and took it from him, pressing the shirt to her chest.
Castle kissed her, rubbing his lips over hers until she eased into it, allowing him to gentle her. She'd never felt so damn vulnerable before, knowing now that any stupid move on her part could ruin all of this.
"We have time. Now get dressed and come on out. My mother just arrived and I need you."
Castle came out of the bedroom with Kate at his back and he smiled at his mother; she'd made herself at home in the kitchen - of all places - and was removing the top on the cake she'd made.
"Oh," Kate breathed, moving forward to help. "You really made his birthday cake. Rick, come look at this. It's wonderful."
"I figured now more than ever," Martha said, as if that actually made any sense. Still, Castle came into the kitchen with them and glanced at the cake, surprised when the scent triggered memories.
"You used to - make that for me."
"For your birthday," Martha said, glowing as if it was high praise. And maybe it was. Castle knew he wasn't the easiest to converse with when it came to her. "Strawberry with lemon frosting. Don't ask - you always wanted the two together."
"It smells amazing," Kate said. He glanced at her and saw with a chuckle that she was practically nose-deep in the frosting, her eyes closed.
"Don't fall in," he laughed, touching her waist lightly in case he actually had to rescue her.
She straightened up and beamed at his mother, giving her a hug and that air-kiss thing they did. "You did such a good job. And I'm glad; I haven't had the endurance to even think about making pie. Castle, you mind?"
That she hadn't made him a pie? "Hell, no," he muttered, rolling his eyes at her.
Martha gave him a little tsk of disapproval - for the language, like he was five again - and she busied her hands around the rim of the cake stand. "Well, I'm glad it's welcome. I'm - so honored to be here."
Kate was giving him intense looks, nudging looks, and he knew it was the perfect time to speak. Only he couldn't come up with the words.
"Martha," Kate said into his silence. "Would you like a glass of wine?"
"Oh, yes," she answered, a little too relieved.
Castle moved to get it but Kate waved him off, obviously intending for him to take the opportunity to start this conversation. "Ah, Mother... thank you for coming." He paused, mouth open, not sure what came next.
"Where is everyone else, darling?" Martha said then, glancing around at the empty place. "You are allowed guests, aren't you? Even witih all this hoopla?"
Hoopla being... his wife's house arrest?
"We're allowed guests. It's a controlled list, but you are most definitely on it," Kate answered for him. "We wanted you here earlier than the others, though. Right, Castle?"
He pressed his hands to the countertop and took in a deep breath. It was more disturbing than he'd realized, telling his mother about the baby, and it wasn't just because he was feeling trapped, caged, and paranoid.
His mother was - this was his mother. She'd made him a strawberry cake with lemon frosting, and all of the sudden he was remembering that he had sat in her lap to blow out the candles, and there'd been all these theatre people around him in various stages of make-up and costuming, and his mother had patted his back with both hands and then cupped his cheeks and kissed him.
"We're having a baby," he blurted out.
Kate stared at him, lifted her hand to her mouth in what he first mistook for horror.
But she was laughing at him.
Martha gasped, shock and joy in the intake of her breath, and then she squealed and came around the counter to throw her arms around him. She squeezed tightly, forcing a grunt out of him, and then she did it - she cupped his cheeks and kissed him.
"Oh, my son..." She spun around and went for Beckett next, handling her with more care, a hand at her neck and kissing both cheeks as she exclaimed over them both. "Congratulations, oh, this is wonderful. What a joy - beautiful, wonderful, amazing news - oh, how far along are you - it has to be so early, you are as thin as a stick-"
Kate was laughing and hugging her back, even with ribs that must be getting brutalized in all of his mother's squeezing, and Martha kept petting her hand or her cheek or touching her stomach as she effervesced.
He felt like he'd run through a gauntlet only to get skewered right at the end. Martha turned back to him then, clasping his hand with one of hers, gripping Kate's with the other, and she brought their hands together against her bosom, glowing at both of them.
"What wonderful news on your birthday," she beamed. "I can't wait to tell everyone I know that my son is having a baby."
Kate winced.
Castle gave her a brittle smile. Now he had to explain to her that she couldn't tell a single soul.
This was a really bad idea.
Since Martha always looked that regal and joyous, it really didn't strike anyone as strange, which Kate was glad for - if only for Castle's sake. Her ribs still hurt when she moved too fast, but she had either her father or Castle or Ryan right at her side all night long, eager to help.
Castle had done the cooking, of course, which had been the plan all along, and she was grateful Martha had offered to make the birthday cake, since Kate wasn't really able to do a lot of moving around in the kitchen. Not right now. Bending over was brutal.
Her father came up to her at the kitchen island with his glass of water, raised it in cheers. Most of their guests had arrived and were clustered in the living room, though Castle kept giving her looks over his shoulder, always checking on where she was.
"He's worried about you," Jim said easily, coming up at her side. "I suppose you told Martha?"
"How'd you know?" Kate laughed. She turned her cheek to receive her father's light kiss, and he drew his arm around her shoulders for a soft hug. "She's really happy about it."
"Not that she's not usually - ah..."
"Dramatic?"
"She has a flair," Jim acknowledged. "But this seems more."
"We had to," she said. It still worried at her even now. "I know it's early, but there's so much going on. Still..."
"Don't think about it," was her father's advice. "The bruised ribs, this whole mess of a arrest - those are already difficult enough. Don't add the stress of unfounded worry."
"Unfounded?" she said, rising her eyebrow at him. What did he know of-
"Katie," he chided. "Everything's fine. That's what the doctor said. And while, yes, things happen, you can't keep plunging into that kind of doubt and fear. It's not healthy for either of you. And him too." He lifted his glass and pointed across the living room at Castle.
And she knew he was right. "I just don't - want to lose it. We've been trying and things keep getting in the way and this is the worst timing, Dad-"
"Yes, well," he chuckled, "I remember your mother saying the same."
Kate went still, and from across the room, she saw Castle disengage from Mitchell and come for her, concern etched into his features. She waved him off, taking a breath, and her father sighed.
"Didn't mean to blindside you," he said. "Katie. It's wonderful - she'd have been so happy for you."
"Kate, are you okay?" Castle said, coming into the kitchen and hovering.
She cleared her throat and pushed him away from her, shaking her head. "It's my - mom." Kate gave him a crooked smile and his shoulders eased, his eyes growing tender.
"Your mom," he repeated softly. He gave Jim a quick look and then he wrapped his arms around her, his lips sliding across her cheekbone. "She'd have been right here."
"Yeah," Kate said, felt the water in her voice. "Enough, that's enough. Let me go. I'm fine."
She wasn't, and he knew that, but he let her go.
"It's your birthday. Come on," she said. She gripped his arm and moved him back towards the living room, her other hand catching her father's sleeve and tugging him along as well.
She could see it on Castle's face, what her doubt and grief did to him, and she was determined to be better.
Like her father had said - don't go looking for trouble. They had now, and she was going to celebrate her husband's birthday and look forward to November - and another birthday, this time not her own.
Beckett stood in the doorway and watched the two men pack. Swiftly, without sentiment, they pulled minimal clothes and essentials into one black duffle, Esposito barely looking at her while Castle kept passing her to touch her arm in reassurance.
She wasn't reassured.
A week ago when they'd talked about this, about packing a go-bag, she'd thought it was kind of amusing that most expectant parents packed a different kind of bag but not them; they were preparing fake passports and ready cash.
It wasn't amusing now.
She was six weeks pregnant and she'd been charged with conspiracy. Maine had been hidden away from even the Director of the CIA by the FBI's investigative team, and no matter what kind of prying McCord did, they couldn't get even a location.
Castle was pissed, of course, that the FBI had a tighter ship than they did.
She'd seen Dr Dennison last week and everything was fine, her ribs healing; Dr Boyd was coming to New York to pay her a visit as well. She'd been keeping in regular contact with Boyd and Logan and Threkeld, and they were putting their heads together, bouncing ideas off one another about the baby, about Castle, about his malformed red blood cells and the lipoproteins and mitochondria formation. She seemed to be physically okay - doing great, actually - and even her darkest fears about the regimen had been allayed. And now this.
Conspiracy to commit murder. A murder charge was just down the road, and they all knew it.
Esposito placed the documents package wrapped in silver duct tape into the black duffle bag, the very last item, and Castle zipped it up. Javier took the straps and slung it over his shoulder, gave her a terse nod as he left their bedroom.
Castle seemed to know she was affected. He reached out and grabbed her by the elbows, dragged her into him. He didn't offer platitudes this time, didn't try to make her feel better.
He was planting a bag filled with fake passports and an anonymous life for them; he had made plans for them to leave everything behind.
It was that bad.
He cupped the side of her face and still he said nothing.
She'd been charged with conspiracy to commit the murder of a US elected official. There really wasn't anything to say to that.
Castle hunched over, elbows on his knees, and surveyed the little room. He was in the security station next door to their apartment, Reynolds and Ryan both looking to him for the next move, but he had nothing.
Esposito was out hunting down a former Special Forces friend, trying to hit the guy up for intel, but they were grasping at straws.
"I'm not always sure of McCord," Reynolds said finally. "I know you don't want to hear it. I know no one wants to say it, but she's AG. She's not Secret Service - and she's not us. If anyone should be able to get a location on Maine, it would be her; but she hasn't."
"She knows we just need him for information," Ryan said in McCord's defense. "She knows we're not looking to railroad this investigation."
"Does she?" Castle scraped out. "I don't know that's even true, Ry. If it comes down to it, I will - make no mistake - I will railroad this investigation. I will do whatever it takes to keep Kate out of jail."
"She's not going to jail," Reynolds said. He was so quiet, so calm, so in control of it. Of course, it wasn't his pregnant wife they were talking about. "She won't go to jail, Rick."
Castle rubbed the bridge of his nose and at least - at least they had a plan. He and Esposito were the only two who knew the full details, how they'd leave the country if it came to that.
Kate was seriously not thrilled with him, but if they had to - they would. He still didn't know yet what to do about her father. Jim Beckett didn't deserve to be separated from his grandchild, his only family, and Castle didn't want to have to do it.
To Kate either.
"Boyd is here," Ryan said then.
Castle lifted his head and glanced at the monitor, saw Dr Boyd being waved through security. He knew he should go and meet the man, since it was partly about him as well, but he was just... restless. He wanted to move, but they were both trapped in her house arrest and the walls were closing in and he couldn't get anyone in charge to fucking listen to him when it came to his wife.
Conspiracy to commit murder? Right.
Except he knew - he knew deep down - that they had. He and Beckett had planned it, what they would be forced to do, how they'd lock themselves in a room for however long it took to hash out the perfect assassination plot and then they'd come out and implement it without looking back.
They'd never gotten to that point because the case against Bracken had shaped up so nicely, but it was still there. Still that moment where they had both agreed it would happen, and so his guilt churned under the surface of every news item, every accusation, every charge leveled against her.
Seven weeks pregnant and it was spinning slowly out of his control.
"Castle. Boyd is in the elevator," Ryan reminded him.
So Castle got up to escort Boyd to their apartment.
The place was wearing thin.
Cover identities were meant to be used for long stretches of time; they were designed to withstand stress and testing and inquiries by foreign governments.
But they weren't meant for pregnancies and house arrest and the media spotlight.
Boyd shook Castle's hand and moved in to embrace him. "You're looking good, Richard. Tense, but that's to be expected."
Tense was an understatement, he knew.
"She's in here," Castle answered, pushing open the door.
Kate stood from the couch, looking absolutely no different from when he'd left six hours ago. It was always such a relief when she was still here, that the baby was still hidden, that they had somehow bought a little more time.
"Oh, good. This is good. Kate, you look healthy," Body said to her.
She met them at the back of the couch and kissed Boyd's cheek, smiling when he gave her that grandfatherly pat on the back. Castle guided them all to the couch and he sat down with his wife, felt her perch on the edge of the cushion with attention.
If he was restless, she was about to come out of her skin.
"Bad news or good news?" she asked bluntly.
Boyd chuckled and opened up the bag he'd brought with him, pulled out a plastic medicine bottle and shook it. Pills rattled. "Supplements. We've tailored them to your physiology, but more importantly, with his DNA in mind."
Castle sat forward. "My DNA in mind - what does that mean?" he rasped.
Kate leaned forward and took the bottle from Boyd's outstretched hand, closed her fingers around it and brought it against her like a talisman. "We've been talking."
"Richard, your DNA is essentially changed," Boyd said eagerly. "But to what degree, is it chromosomal, will your offspring inherit those changes-"
"Wait. Wait. Hold on. Kate?" He pierced her with a look and she met his eyes, squeezed his knee. Holy fuck. What had they done?
"It's okay, Castle. We've just been working out a prenatal plan. Just like I did with Mary - Dr Dennison. You've been trying to set me free, you've been out there, and I've been in here working on a project of my own."
"That's not - it's not the regimen though," he said roughly, searching her face for the truth. "That's not - we're not doing that to him."
"No, no," she hastily assured him, leaning in to lightly kiss his cheek. "Never. I promise you."
"Think of it as prenatal vitamins," Boyd said cheerfully. "Extra kick to keep the cell replication steady, to maintain healthy mitochondria and red blood cells."
"Healthy?" he asked. He didn't like the sound of this at all. "What is your definition of healthy?"
Kate bit her bottom lip and took his hand. "If we get the amnio done at 15 weeks, we'll know more. But that's a long time to wait without giving the wolf a little help."
"A little help," he echoed. If they got the amnio? He'd been sure they would. What had changed?
He wondered, stupidly, if this had been what it'd felt like for her when he and Esposito had barged into their bedroom and packed them a go-bag, when he'd told her that it didn't matter what she said, they'd run if they had to, they'd run if someone tried to arrest her and put her in jail.
She'd just packed a bag in front of him, basically, and told him their kid might have abnormal DNA and what if-
"Wait," he rasped, snatching the pills from her hand. "What about you? Dr Boyd, what does this do to Kate?"
"I'm fine," she insisted, trying to pry his fingers from around the bottle.
"She's fine," Boyd answered. "Dr Dennison is keeping a good eye on her. We're doing studies on mice too. The plan is solid. Just like if she was in trouble for Rh factor or preeclampsia - she's being monitored and we are all doing what we can to keep it going smoothly."
Castle released the bottle, but his guts were still churning. He hadn't even thought about it like that before, about what his fucked-up genetics might be doing to Kate, and his palms were damp with the suggestion.
"What about - what about like - immune response? Like when I caught a cold. What happens if Kate catches a cold? Or..." He didn't even know what to ask. He'd hated his father's experimenting so much that he'd closed his ears to the details. He had no idea.
But Beckett knew.
"It's fine," she told him, rubbing his arm. "Castle, look at me. I'm not lying to you about this. I wouldn't - after everything - I wouldn't keep it from you."
Boyd was nodding. "There's a good chance that the pregnancy is completely normal. That those changes to your DNA weren't chromosomal at all - it would take a lot to alter things on that level."
"Like forty years of regimen?" he said bitterly. "We're not doing that to this kid. To Kate. I don't care what - no. We're not doing it."
Kate squeezed his arm for his attention, and he lifted his eyes to look at her. She was so fierce, so strong in this; she always had been when it came to him, to the regimen, to getting her way.
"Castle. I'm not injecting myself with the regimen. It makes us mere mortals crazy, remember? And the little wolf - he's not a five year old boy, he's not a man with a lifetime's conditioning. Besides the ethics of it, it's just not practical. All this is - all we're doing here - is giving me a little more protein and vitamins, some herbal supplements to promote health. Mine and his both."
He wrapped his hand around hers and held on for dear life.
He believed her - he wanted to believer her - but he knew how she could be, knew what it was like for her, and it just... it was an acidic taste in his mouth.
The timing of this was just so very wrong.
Boyd was standing up to leave, shaking their hands and heading for the door. Castle was on autopilot, just moving where he was supposed to move, closing the door after Boyd, seeing nothing.
"Hey," Kate said softly.
He turned and she was coming for him, wrapping her arms around him. He dragged his hands up her back and couldn't control how tight he had to grip her.
"It's okay. I held off explaining because I didn't want to scare you," she murmured. "Not until we had a better idea of what's going on."
"I thought the amnio was just - just routine," he choked. "I didn't know it was to check if he's - like me."
"No, I know. I'm sorry. It's not exactly routine. There's some risk, but it's minimal, and I think it's better to know. Don't you?"
"Yeah," he agreed roughly. "No, we need to know."
"And this is not the regimen. It's not even the stabilizers, Rick. After the amnio, we'll know if those are maybe necessary-"
"No, I - no, Kate." He'd - no. Not going to happen. They were not doing the regimen.
"It's the injections that do the real damage," she said quietly. "The serum. We've been talking to Boyd for weeks now. Haven't you been listening?"
"Yes. No. I kind of - it makes me so angry," he muttered.
"I know," she whispered. Her fingers were soft at the back of his neck and she pulled him apart from her to look at him. He met her eyes and he knew his disconsolate face wasn't making her happy. She cupped his cheeks and brought him down so she could kiss his forehead. He stupidly felt better.
"You're already a great mom," he sighed, hugging her tighter.
She laughed, a choked sound, and he realized neither of them had said that word yet. Hadn't quite gone there like that.
"A mom," she murmured. "That's - so strange. Do you feel like a dad?"
"No," he admitted, cupping the back of her head and angling her for a kiss. She sighed into him, still not happy with his unhappiness he knew, but it was just going to take time to come to grips with it.
How everything was tainted by the regimen.
"It's okay," she hummed against him. "We're okay. Wolf and me, we're a team."
"Can I be on your team?"
She laughed. "Oh, you sound pitiful. Of course. You already are. You're our team captain."
"I like that," he grinned back, kissing her again. She arched into him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, brought their bodies together. He hummed. "Like that even more."
She was chuckling into his kiss, a little breathless sound as his fingers tugged at her shirt, and then she was pushing him back towards their bedroom.
"Away from prying eyes," she murmured.
Right. The cameras and security were because she was under house arrest for murder and conspiracy. She was seven weeks pregnant and under house arrest.
"No, no," she said. "Don't. Don't go there. Stay with me."
He tried; he really did. He wanted to be happy.
But he couldn't find them a way out.
Why did it piss her off so much that her husband got to leave?
It wasn't like it was his fault she was stuck in here. This damn apartment. She hated it. Hated the vaulted ceilings and the wide front windows with their gorgeous view she had to stay on this side of, hated the handsome furniture and the gas logs in the fireplace that called to her to sleep curled up in front of it, hated the cooling fridge for the wine she couldn't drink, hated the expansive kitchen and all the wonderful food Castle cooked for her because they couldn't go out.
She wanted out.
Five weeks of living here. Which made her eight weeks pregnant. And okay, so she was still completely flat and there wasn't even a sign of it, but she was expecting it at any moment. Like her stomach would pop out or she'd start waking up to vomit or suddenly have to pee all the time and everyone would know.
So long as no one knew. So long as it was still a secret, she felt like they had a chance.
The pills made her feel great though. She had a ton of energy; she was keeping up with Castle as they all pored over internal audit reports of their department, running rings around Esposito and Ryan. Seriously. It was - Castle was giving her these calculating looks, but it wasn't the regimen really. It was just being healthy, which said a lot for her normal state.
Still, she was seriously pissed when Castle got to leave.
Kate hadn't regressed to talking to her own stomach - she was deadset on that not happening, since the baby would hear her voice through natural, every day conversation anyway - but she didn't mind talking to the dog.
"Right, puppy? He's such a mean man, leaving us all alone, nothing to do," she whined, rubbing the dog's fur. She'd been up two hours before Castle and working on the reports, highlighters and pen in hand, when Castle had finally gotten out of the shower, dressed to go out.
Sasha whined and ducked her hands, ran away from her.
She was being annoying.
This would have to stop.
Five weeks of house arrest, eight weeks pregnant, and annoying her own dog.
"Sorry," she muttered and flopped back against the couch cushions, scattering piles of paper. She was tempted to turn on the news, but she knew she'd wind up wanting to throw things - like one of those expensive bottles of scotch in the study - or smash things - like that nice bottle of white in the cooling fridge. And really, she could handle this.
She thought maybe the pills Boyd had given her actually did have stabilizers in them, because she was feeling it like a hit of caffeine and she wasn't even allowed caffeine.
Coffee. Damn, she missed coffee. Really badly. And wine after a long day. And sunshine on her bare skin even though it was raining again and miserable outside.
"Sasha?" she called.
The dog didn't come.
Kate growled and shoved the piles of paperwork off of her, stomped to the kitchen to make herself some tea. Decaf but at least it wasn't bland; Castle had gotten it shipped from that little market in Rome they'd discovered during her rehab after Russia.
She loved him for thinking of it; it was sweet of him. He wasn't a bad guy; he just got to leave.
She started the water to boil - she had the time - and went back to grab the internal audits once more. She had the concentration for it, but she also had the patience that Castle often lacked. She could sit for hours in front of these reports and find connections where it took Castle too long to actually get a handle on it.
So it was back to the reports.
"Sasha?" she called, flipping the page with her highlighter in hand.
This time the dog came, loping towards her with her tongue hanging out like a grin. Kate leaned over and rubbed her fur, ignoring the constant twinge in her ribs, and then she stood up to face the reports.
The mattress had just gotten too lumpy, too hot (five weeks, four days under house arrest and she was absolutely sick of this bed), when her phone vibrated and pierced the three a.m. darkness. She came up out of a doze and climbed inelegantly over her husband - somehow they had switched sides last night when they'd... livened things up.
"I'll get it," Kate croaked, snatching up her phone before Castle could even reach for it.
Okay, she was stir crazy, yes. And her ribs were killing her again, so she probably shouldn't have told him please harder but in the moment, it had been so very nice.
"This is Beckett," she answered, not recognizing the phone number on the display.
Castle groaned something into his pillow and turned slowly onto his back, snaking an arm around her waist. She shivered in the draft as the covers shifted, burrowed down into his side in the hopes of keeping her weight off her hip.
"Hello?" she said again when there was no answer. "Is-"
"Katherine?"
Oh, shit. His mother. "Martha? Are you okay?"
"Am I okay? I - darling, I'm in a fit worried about you. What on earth is going on? The news reports have gotten just so awful, Katherine. So very awful."
She dropped her forehead into Castle's shoulder. "I'm so sorry we haven't called you since I was charged." Martha had sounded - not quite sober - and it was three in the morning. "We should have explained." They had said absolutely nothing to Martha about Bracken, but maybe they should have.
"I tried Richard's phone - or the last number I had, but all these numbers, darling. You understand. I can't memorize all these different numbers, every few months a different one."
Kate lifted her head to glare at her husband, pinching his bare nipple. He yelped and clapped his hand over hers, his eyes blazing in the darkness.
"You didn't give your mother the direct line?" she hissed. "You're sabotaging her."
"I can't trust her with that," he muttered, rubbing his palm over his chest. "Ow. That really hurt, Kate."
"She hasn't been able to get in touch with us," she growled back. And I'm pregnant, and somehow it made a difference. "Martha? Are you still there?"
"Yes, yes, I'm not going anywhere. Too drunk for that."
Kate chuffed, shaking her head and slipping out of bed. She reached for a t-shirt and managed to finagle it over her head as she talked. "I'm so sorry. It's been a crazy couple of weeks, Martha. I can't - your line isn't secure, and I can't give you a whole lot of information, but yes, I've been charged with conspiracy and murder."
"Oh, darling."
"I'm so sorry," she said again, the t-shirt dropping to hang just above her knees. Shit, one of Castle's. Oh well. "We should have thought to explain. If you come over, we'll go through it with you."
"Katherine, there's just - the matter of these audio tapes they have. They are just... horrific."
Kate stumbled at the door. Castle was burying himself into the warmth at her side of the bed, oblivious, but Kate felt responsible for this. And this was her child's grandmother - there was more at stake here than Castle's feigned dislike.
He loved his mother; he just didn't know how to relate to her. Or forgive her for giving him up.
"Those recordings are - first - out of context," she said quietly, slipping out of the room. She thought she heard Castle call her name, but she kept going for the living room, turned on the lamp beside the couch. "And also from a time in my life when I was doing it all on my own."
"Oh."
Martha might understand something about that. "I was working on finding who shot my mother, and it was - intense. I needed help, and I got it - your son. Rick kept my head above water. More than I can say, really."
"Oh, that's... and now? Everything is okay now?"
"We're working on it," she said warmly. She didn't know why she barely batted an eye at answering Martha's questions when the idea of that painfully private part of her life being put on display made her want to scream. Maybe because Martha had her own demons, Martha had failed her family too. Martha understood.
Castle came down the hallway then, concern etched into his features. He must have heard her telling his mother about the recordings. He sank down onto the couch beside her, his arm wrapped around her drawn up knee.
"Oh, Katherine. I just realized. This is the man. He's the one. And you had to..."
"He is the man," she admitted.
"Oh, Richard must be beside himself. Oh, darling."
"We're working on that too. Would you like to visit us so we can explain?"
"I shall do that," Martha stated firmly. "Today after the headache fades, I will descend upon you both. Can I bring you anything? Or is that not allowed? It felt like the cake was an exception."
"It's not exactly allowed," she smiled. "They'll search you - so be prepared."
"Katherine, darling, I will gird my loins." Martha gave a delicious laugh but it was strained, and then the call suddenly ended. Kate glanced at her phone to be sure, but Martha was really gone.
"I don't get her," Castle sighed.
She leaned her head against his shoulder and titled her knees into his lap. "She's your mother."
"Yeah, I know - we should have called her earlier."
"We?"
"Ah, I mean - I should have." He chuckled and brought his hand down her calf to wrap around her ankle. "Since we told her about the wolf."
She winced. "Oh, she sounded so - so hurt, Rick." And not sober. It was a step back.
Castle didn't say anything to that and she didn't want to tell him about Martha's lack of sobriety.
"I wish she could be trusted," he said then, his voice low. "If I thought it wouldn't come out at the worst possible times, I'd tell her things. I'm afraid telling her about the wolf was a really bad idea."
"Who does she know? And who even knows about her? Really, Rick, it's not like anyone from the office even knows she exists. We never talk about her. They all know my father. But your mother?"
"The difference being your father would die rather than expose his grandchild."
"You don't know that Martha's not the same," she murmured. The idea of her father being taken, held by some group to ferret out his secrets made her want to vomit. Her stomach rolled and she pressed her knees together, trapping his arm between her thighs.
"Okay," he said slowly. "You're right. I don't know. I guess it has to start somewhere."
Kate held her breath, stunned. But it had to be affecting him as well, the dimension that the little wolf added to every relationship, every encounter. It made things different already.
Castle sighed suddenly and rubbed a hand down his face. "Forgot to tell you. Carrie is here tomorrow to take Sasha out for a while. She's going crazy."
"The dog?" Kate muttered. "The dog is going crazy?"
"Yeah, well, the dog gets to leave. And you punish me for leaving when I get home, so I'll just stay put tomorrow."
Kate grunted and knocked her forehead into his jaw, softly, stretching out a little over him. He shifted back into the couch and she found herself reclining against his chest.
"If I fall asleep, wake me," she muttered.
"No," he said quietly. "Just sleep."