Mourning Sickness
"He was nice. Really sucks that he died"
"Yeah, it does"
"He'll be okay though. My mom says that when you die it's like going to a great reunion and you get to hang out with everyone you really love. It's lonely though, being left behind. I felt lonely when my mom died… Are you lonely?"
"Yeah"
-Mason Warner and Violet Turner "Mourning Sickness", Private Practice.
Kate slowly wakes up the next morning. The first thing she notices is the glare of the morning sun that pierces through the curtains and falls on her eyes. She blinks a few times, adjusting to the light and stretches her arms in front of her. She then glances at the red digits of the alarm clock that read 9:47 am.
Shit! It's late! She immediately bolts upright to a sitting position, which ends up being a horrible idea. She has to lie back down to try to stop the room from spinning around her.
Late for what? This few moments of relative bliss turn into darkness when the weight she carried on her shoulders the day before is back burdening her soul.
There's no rush. There's nowhere to she has to be, nowhere she has to go… And that's the worst thing that can happen to her right now.
But before she can dwell on how she's going to busy herself for the rest of the day, she has to leap from the bed to try to make it to the toilet before throwing up the remains of whatever it is she managed to get into her stomach last night.
Once she's done with that, she pads over to the kitchen, where she automatically makes her way to the coffee maker. When she reaches it, she remembers that coffee might not be the best idea at the moment… And she can't even settle on tea, given that she doesn't have any.
She sighs in frustration and runs her hand over her face. No caffeine… Just what she needed.
Kate ends up gulping down a glass of water before walking to the living room.
She stands there for a few minutes, staring at the sunbathed form of the books that lay on shelves attached to the wall. Her attention is only on the lower level, where the words that took her out of the rabbit hole she was getting herself into 15 years ago stand.
She walks towards them and takes the red and black paperback from its place and looks at the cover with a half-smile before opening it on the dedication page.
To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12th.
This book is what started it all. This book is what gave her everything she never knew she wanted.
She absent-mindedly runs her finger over the scribbled signature.
Rick Castle.
She closes her eyes and images of the last 6 years flash by in her mind. The good, the bad, the fun, the sad… And suddenly she longs for the safety she felt when he held her in his arms, for the happiness that took hold of her every time she saw the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the way she hang on his every word when he promised her always…
A pang of loneliness and hopelessness engulfs her when a thought crosses her mind. That won't happen again. It'll stay forever a memory. Forever in the past.
She closes the book and puts it back in its place.
When Kate's stomach starts protesting about the fact that she hasn't eaten yet, she pads back to the kitchen.
Breakfast consists on the only thing she believes her body can take: dry toast and orange juice. Not that she had that many options in her empty cabinets anyway.
When she hears the phone buzzing behind her again, she's mildly surprised. She thought that Lanie was going to tell everyone that she needed some time… Guess she was wrong.
Finally, curiosity ends up getting the best of her and when she's done with breakfast, she looks at the cell. There were a couple calls from Martha, Alexis, her dad, Javi, Kevin… No surprise there… But something actually catches her eye. She's got two calls from Gina Cowell.
Before Kate can think too much about it, she dials the publicist's phone number.
"Gina Cowell"
"Hi, um, it's Kate Beckett"
"Oh, hi Kate" Gina's business-like tone turns into sympathy and Kate winces. "I'm-"
Before she has a chance to say how sorry she is for her loss, she cuts the other woman off. "Yeah, did you want to talk to me?"
Hearing the brunette's biting tone, the publicist quits with the pleasantries. "Very well" she starts, and Kate's grateful for the icy approach. "I called to talk to you about Rick's affairs here at Black Pawn. Have you already talked to his lawyer?"
There's a moment of silence as Kate recovers from the bucket of cold water that she just received. She hadn't thought about all of this.
She knows he has – had – a will. Man, she'll never get used to that. He had told her he'd made one in a one of their near-death experiences. How is it that they survived bombs, a bullet to the heart, kidnappings, crazy gunmen and even a mother-freaking tiger no less, but he dies in an accident?
There also has to be a funeral and- she's going to have to bury him. She's going to have to bury her husband.
"Kate?"
She's jerked from her thoughts by Gina's voice. "I… I haven't. Listen, Can you take care of all the PR stuff? You can release a statement or whatever it is you do, and the funeral is off limits for the fans" the last thing she needs is to have to take care of his business too.
"Of course. And when will you meet the lawyer? Because if you don't mind, I'd like to be there to know what's gonna happen with his royalties"
"Yeah, sure. I'll let you know when we'll meet him"
"Alright. Thank you" and without anything else the line goes dead.
Kate stares at the phone for a while before dialing his lawyer's number.
He tells her that he can meet her as soon as today and she tells him that she'll call him back. When she hangs up, she moves to her bedroom in a daze, her head swirling with all the logistics.
It looks like she's going to have to face Martha and Alexis sooner than she wanted to.
Once in her bedroom, she goes for the wardrobe where she takes some clothes to change into. She then looks at herself in the mirror for a long time, before her gaze falls on a photograph that's on her bedside table.
A lump forms in her throat at its sight. It's a picture of her standing in front of Castle, safe surrounded by his strong arms. They both look happy and serene, as if nothing could ever take what they have away.
The image Kate sees in the mirror doesn't show even a hint of happiness or serenity. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and lose strands pathetically frame her pale strained face and her eyes are red and puffy.
There's no way she's the same person in the picture. She never will be that person again.
Before she leaves, she grabs her coat from the closet and something catches her eye. She grabs for it and her heart skips a beat.
It's Castle's coat.
She slowly takes the fabric to her nose and is instantly overwhelmed by his scent that still lingers in the garment. Without thinking it twice, she puts it on and holds it tight against her body.
This is the closest she'll be from him ever again.
As Kate drags her feet to the all too familiar building a chill runs through her spine. What used to be a kind, welcoming sight has turned into a dreadful and cold façade. Reaching the door of the apartment, despite of the thick clothing, she has to dig her hands into the coat pockets to search for warmth.
She glares at the number on the door for a while, not knowing what to expect from the people who are inside. She left, and she's certain that she's going to get grief about that, but after all, she deserves nothing less.
Finally she musters enough strength to knock.
What the hell am I doing here? She thinks a little too late.
When Martha recognizes the last person she expected to see at her doorstep she's taken aback as a whirlwind of emotion hits her. Her first feeling is rage.
When she'd found the room empty she felt worried but it quickly turned into anger. How can she leave them like that? Her son had told her all about Kate's running, but they all thought that was over when they got together. Why can she not trust them?
Though taking in her daughter-in-law's ragged and troubled appearance, wearing a black coat that's several sizes too big that makes look her so very small and vulnerable, all that chagrin seems like a distant memory and Martha's suddenly flooded with relief. She's there and that's all that matters right now.
Martha finally opens the door and stares at the brunette, waiting for her to speak.
Kate can immediately see the hurt in the other woman's eyes and she really can't blame her, but she also sees that she's not doing much better than she is. Guess nobody can be doing much better than that.
"Hi" she starts simply. "Can I… Can I come in? I- I won't be staying long, I just need to talk to you and Alexis"
"You won't stay long?"
Kate nods reassuringly, but she can't help being hurt at the lack of feeling in the redhead's words, even when she was the one to leave in the first place.
"Then you can't come in"
The brunette is thrown off by the concrete statement and her posture straightens, becoming defensive. "I'm sorry?"
"Katherine…" Martha's gaze softens. "We- we need you here, and I'm sure you need us too. I know you think you need to go through this alone, but this time you don't have to"
Kate sighs, her gaze dropping to the ground and her form becoming small again. "Can we… Can we just talk?" she says quietly.
Martha lets the door fly open and is silently followed into the kitchen by the younger woman. "Want something to drink?"
She shakes her head and sits on one of the stools, watching Martha fix herself a drink. Kate has to restrain herself from looking at her watch, but she knows it's too early to be drinking, though she really can't judge her. To be honest, she'd probably be downing a glass of scotch right now if it wasn't for…
She can't even finish that though, because she knows that if she does, she'll become a mess again.
As she observes the older woman at the other side of the counter she also notices the red eyes and the deep pain that won't heal but after years of trying to accept what can't be accepted. Much like Kate's own.
"Gina called" Kate finally says, before her mind has the chance to continue with the psychoanalysis.
Martha nods, facing Kate and taking the glass to her lips.
"She, um… Asked me about the will and the funeral and I'd really like to deal with that as soon as possible, if… If that's alright with you"
I'd really like… she snickers pathetically at herself. What she'd like is for her husband not to be dead.
"Yeah…" Martha is about to say that she'll call him, but stops herself when she remembers that that's not her job anymore. "Do you have the information?"
"I do, I called him. He can be here as soon as today if that's what we want" she pauses and turns to look around the loft. "Where's Alexis?" she turns back to meet Martha's now-permanently-anguished look, remembering that she hasn't seen the young woman since before it happened.
"Upstairs"
"How's she holding up?" she asks, already knowing the answer.
"As well as any of us, I guess. Poor girl's a mess"
Kate rests her head oh her hands, her elbows propped on the counter. "I cannot believe this is happening" she sighs in frustration, the reality of the situation still hard to grasp.
"Tell me about it" Martha adds sadly, taking another sip from her drink.
"What are you doing here?"
Kate turns abruptly to look at Alexis, who's coming down the stairs.
She's still wearing her PJs and she looks just how Kate expected to see her, except there's something else in her eyes. Beyond sorrow, there's hatred.
"You decided you weren't a part of this family when you left. What are you doing back here?"
The young woman's tone is dripping with grief and loathing and Kate's hurt, but she just gets up, unflinching, waiting to take whatever it is she has to give.
"Alexis" Martha chides her granddaughter, walking towards her, but Kate holds her hand up, stopping her.
"It's okay" she says to the older woman before looking back at Alexis.
Alexis runs down the stairs towards Kate, her breathing quick and her glare deadly.
"This is all your fault! All of it!"
Kate's posture shifts ever so slightly, but takes a breath to calm herself. She remembers when she was in Alexis' shoes. All she needed was someone to blame, someone to yell at, and if she happens to be that someone for the young redhead, she'll take it. She completely understands the feeling. She also needs someone to blame.
"You know, he was going to see you. If you would've been here none of this would've happened"
"Alexis! That's enough!" Martha intervenes, but it's too late. The cold, harsh truth is already making Kate's heart race in her chest as realization falls on her like a ton of bricks.
It's all her fault. Why hadn't she seen it sooner?
Now she knows the only person responsible for all of this. Now she has someone to blame: Herself.
AN: Thank you to all who have taken the time to review, who follow/favorite! I really appreciate it.