8 May, 2011 (7w4d)
His fingers tangled through her hair, pulling her to him with just the right amount of force. His tongue danced with hers, choreographed to perfection. Hands slid down her body, under her shirt, grazed her ribs.
"Josh..." her voice was lost as he pressed his lips to hers again. She was weak, pathetically weak.
She didn't want this, and yet she just couldn't stop. Couldn't walk away from him.
"I'm sorry, I can't do this," she pleaded, trying to pull away from his grasp.
His touch, his taste, his scent - everything she used to call home - was growing unfamiliar. Warm lips turned cold, gentle hands started to bruise and break her delicate skin. His eyes were as dark as coal - pained and filled with hatred.
"I'm not some toy that you can keep up on a shelf, only playing with me when your life is falling apart."
"I never meant to hurt you," she explained.
He laughed. "Is that what you tell Castle, too?"
She had no response, no defence.
"You don't love us. You don't care about us. If you did, you wouldn't be doing this."
She choked on her grief, tears spilling uncontrollably from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she wept.
"No, you're not." The voice came from behind her.
"Castle..."
"You're not sorry. You keep doing this, keep using us, keep putting your own selfish needs before what's right for us." His voice was void of all emotion. Cold, lifeless.
She had destroyed him.
"Did you tell him about the baby?" Castle asked.
She froze, fear filling her entirely.
"Baby?" Josh's voice broke. Silence fell over them, deafeningly loud. She should have told him when she had the chance. He shouldn't be finding out like this.
Laughter broke through the silence. Contemptuous, taunting laughter.
"You're going to be a mother? You?"
His laughter bellowed, vibrating through her.
"You're not fit to be a mother," he stated.
"That poor kid, right?" Castle added.
She woke drenched in sweat, heart racing manically. Her sheets tangled around her legs from her constant tossing and turning. She kicked, trying to free herself, but she only became more entwined with the bedding.
She couldn't breathe. It felt like there wasn't enough air in the room, each breath only half as effective as it needed to be. She focused on the orange peel texture of the ceiling, counting the divots as she slowed her breathing.
One hundred and thirty-eight. One hundred and thirty-eight divots counted before her internal storm retreated. Her lungs filled with air; her legs slipped effortlessly from their material trap. Everything just... eased. Everything but the pain in her heart and the heavy weight of guilt in her stomach.
She sat upright, pulling her knees to her chest. The room was already filling with the vibrant gold glow of morning sun. She pulled her phone from the nightstand, checking the time. 05:43am - the first full night of sleep she'd had in weeks, and it was interrupted by a stupid nightmare.
She groaned, rubbing her eyes to try and rid herself of the last traces of slumber. She had to pull herself together, had to sort her life out before it completely turned to rubble. She had to stop making stupid mistakes, one after the other, as if she were immune to the consequences. As if those around her were immune to the consequences.
She moved her attention back to her phone, tapped her fingers on its edges, hesitantly. In all honesty, she didn't even know where to start.
She opened her text messages, scrolled through the last few work-related text threads until she found the name she wanted. She opened the thread and began to type.
Hey, can we talk later? Please?
She pressed send and tossed the phone onto the bed beside her, expecting that - at this time of morning - she wouldn't get an answer anytime soon. She was surprised when her message tone chimed almost instantly.
She picked the phone up again, checking the screen.
Good morning.
She brought the phone closer, brow furrowed as she examined it. Another message appeared.
Hey, how crazy was that!
She smiled, realising that they had sent each other a text at the same time. It was nice to know that he was thinking of her, too.
She crossed her legs, straightened her posture, hit the call now icon beside his name. Phone pressed to her ear, the ringing that echoed through the speaker ignited the flutter of a million butterfly wings deep within her.
"If you wanted to hear my sultry morning voice, Beckett, all you had to do was ask," he said, answering the call.
She smiled, resisted the urge to laugh. "I'll keep that in mind for next time, Castle."
"Maybe next time you won't have to call."
He didn't finish that thought, but they both knew what he meant. Maybe next time you'll be here, waking up next to me. The thought reeked of hopefulness, of optimism, but she wouldn't deny that it was tempting.
"Why are you awake so early?" she asked, changing the subject.
He didn't seem to mind. "Mother is on a juice cleanse. I'll be waking to the melodic sounds of a blender every morning at 5am for the next two weeks. Lucky me."
She leaned back into her pillows, placed a hand over her stomach as the waves she had been waiting on began to roll through.
"Will you be cleansing with her again?" she asked, trying to ignore the onset of nausea. She closed her eyes, placed her forearm across her face and took slow, deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
"Uh, no. I learned my lesson last time."
She smiled at the memory of Castle trying to stomach the thick, murky, moss-green liquid with poise. He ended up gagging, choking and spitting most of his mouthful across the kitchen counter and onto his mother.
"Me and juice cleanses do not mix."
"At least you gave it a try," she added.
The nausea wasn't subsiding, her breathing techniques only seemed to antagonise the waves. She sat upright once more, readying herself for the inevitable dash to the bathroom.
"Castle, I'm going to have to go," she said between measured breaths.
"You wanted to talk about something..." he reminded her. She could hear the hesitation in his voice, still trying not to push her too much.
"I do. I just-" She stopped, swallowed down the rise of bile in her throat. A deep breath: in through the nose, out through the mouth. "I can't talk right now, sorry. This afternoon. I promise."
She couldn't wait for his response, didn't have time. She ended the call, tossed the phone to the side and pushed herself from bed as quickly as possible.
She sprinted the already worn-out path from her bed to the toilet, dropping to her knees on the cold, hard tiles. Her abdominal muscles already ached from the irregular bursts of straining and tightening over the past few days so it didn't take long for the tears to form in her eyes.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, inhaled deeply. The air burned her damaged oesophagus, prickled at the sides of her throat. She swallowed the painful, dry lump, but it didn't disappear.
Sunday brunch was a luxury they indulged in as often as possible. With their work schedules - weekends, late nights and early mornings being a regular part of their roster - it usually only happened once every few months. More often than not it was just Kate and Lanie, but occasionally they could convince the boys to tag along. Ryan was an easy sell - Jenny loved being included as a part of the precinct family - and once he was in, Esposito would soon follow.
Today it was just the two of them. A much-needed girls' day. They sat on Lanie's couch, each curled up in a corner sipping orange juice and picking at a tray of fresh fruit.
"You're looking better today," Lanie commented. Her friend's run-down appearance - the lack of colour in her face, the bags under her eyes - was starting to concern her. It was nice to see her with more energy and a touch of pink in her cheeks.
"I'm feeling better. A little nauseous earlier this morning, but I actually slept last night so that's helped."
"Didn't get much sleep out in LA with Writer Boy?" Lanie asked suggestively, raising her brows to highlight her amusement.
Kate shot her a warning glare. She couldn't get into that right now, how desperately she had wanted him... needed him. And how royally she had messed it all up since then.
"Wasted opportunity," Lanie added with a shrug.
"I was there to solve a murder, Lanie," she reminded her friend. "Besides, I have a lot of mess to clean up before I can go down that road."
"You still haven't told Josh?"
Kate shook her head. It looked like she was getting into it, whether she wanted to or not. "I saw him yesterday," she divulged.
Lanie sat up, shuffled slightly toward the edge of the couch, intrigued.
"I was going to tell him." The apologetic tone of Kate's voice was enough to tell Lanie that something had gone awry.
"What happened?" she sighed. Her friend was spiralling, so dangerously close to the cliff's edge.
"He told me he forgave me."
"And then..." she urged for more. Forgiveness was good. Forgiveness should have made telling him easier. She knew there was more to this story.
"And then he kissed me."
And there it was. The more that she knew was coming. The added complication, because nothing could ever just be straightforward.
"So, you stopped him and told him that you were trying to work things out with Castle," she said, knowing that this was more than likely not the case.
Kate didn't say a word.
"Right?" Lanie urged.
Her friend's eyes darted to the floor, avoiding her.
"Kate!" She was exasperated. It never ceased to amaze her how someone who always seemed so in control of things managed to let everything spiral so spectacularly out of control.
"I'm a horrible person," Kate cried, hiding her face in her hands.
Lanie rolled her eyes; she wouldn't give in to Kate's insecurities just yet, she needed to know more. "What happened next?"
"Well, eventually my brain started working again and I pulled away. I told him I needed time."
"Time? For what?"
Kate just shrugged. A lame, weak attempt of a shrug at that. "I don't know."
Lanie couldn't hide her frustration, not that she had tried. "You're juggling two guys. And for what reason?"
Because I'm pregnant and one of them is the father. That seemed like a perfectly logical reason to Kate.
"I'm not juggling two guys. I don't have either guy," she argued.
"You're just keeping them in limbo. It's not right, Kate."
She knew it wasn't right. Her subconscious had screamed its wrongness in the early hours of the morning, taunting her with menacing depictions of how this would end.
"You told me, in your own words, completely unprompted, that you didn't think you ever loved Josh," Lanie continued. "So why are you kissing him?"
"I didn't mean for that to happen," Kate pleaded her case, but the jury wasn't buying it.
"Yeah, you keep saying that."
"He kissed me first," she insisted.
"He is missing a very vital bit of information here, Kate. You can't put the blame on him."
The truth hit like a bomb, shattered her defences and knocked her off balance. She buried her face in her hands again. "I know. I know, you're right."
"So, what are you gonna do about it?" Lanie asked.
Kate hung her head back against the couch, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath. She had no idea what she was going to do about it...
"Any suggestions?"
"I would like to take the opportunity to remind you that I love you and I support you. You know that." She placed her hand on Kate's knee, a comforting gesture. "I just think you need to seriously think about what you want. Pretend this baby doesn't exist, just for a moment. Who do you want?"
"I can't just pretend the baby doesn't exist. Because it does. And I can't do this alone, Lanie."
Alone... something everyone feared on some level.
Lanie eased the firmness of her voice. "I thought you said Castle was in, no matter what."
"He says he is."
"But...?" Her voice trailed off, allowing Kate the opportunity to speak up with her reasons behind not trusting Castle's word, but she didn't. "Has he given you any reason to doubt his intentions?"
"I'm the only one thinking logically here. He's not going to want to raise another man's baby."
Lanie laughed. She didn't mean to, didn't intend to fuel the fire in her friend, but it slipped through. "Girl, I'm sorry but you are far from thinking logically."
"I'm being practical," Kate defended.
"By keeping Josh on standby, just in case?"
Kate's head rolled along the back of the couch, pressing her cheek to her shoulder. "Don't say it like that, that sounds horrible."
"I'm sorry, Kate," Lanie said, trying to be as gentle as possible. "It is horrible."
Kate pulled herself upright, shuffling in toward her friend. "It's not like that though. There was something there. When I saw him, it was-"
"Familiar?" Lanie interrupted. "That's all it is. So much is changing right now and you're clinging to what you know. That doesn't mean that's what's right."
Lanie's words only echoed Kate's innermost thoughts. She could try to justify her actions, reason to herself that she was going through the motions of dealing with things, but she knew it wasn't true. She was scared, and acting out. She was keeping her options open by dangling hope in front of two men who deserved so much more than this. So much more than the half-truths and indecisiveness she was offering.
"You got your fingers on that self-destruct button again," Lanie said, bringing Kate from her thoughts. "Have you talked to your doctor about your history?"
She didn't have to say the words, Kate knew what she meant: the years-long battle with depression after her mother died.
"I haven't had any issues in years."
"You haven't needed medication in years," she corrected. "You are a mess of issues, girl. I say that with love. But, just because you've been managing doesn't mean you're cured. You have a crazy amount of hormones rushing through your body, you're going through a very stressful and confusing time. I just think you should be having these conversations with someone."
"I'm having them with you." Kate forced a smile.
"Someone who can actually help you."
The smile faded as quickly as it appeared. "You think I'm slipping?"
"I want you to be ready, just in case you do."
"I'm ready," she assured. "I know the signs. I'm fine."
"The signs like unnecessarily risky behaviour? Withdrawing?"
"How am I withdrawing?"
"Have you talked to anyone about the baby? Other than me, I mean? I'm sure Maddy would love to talk babies with you."
She looked at Lanie, confused. Why would she talk to Maddy about it? What was there to say? "No."
"I'm not trying to tell you how to handle this. I just feel like you're not handling it."
"I am." She stood, the need for movement became too much. She tried to hide the anxious twitch in her legs, pacing the space in front of the couch.
"You're not." Lanie stood her ground. "You're acting like everything is fine, like nothing has changed. It's like you don't even want to acknowledge that you're pregnant."
"I've acknowledged it. I've told-"
"Me and Castle?" Lanie rose from the couch, trying to rejoin Kate's level. "You only told me because you had an emotional breakdown and you only told Castle because he was about to walk away."
Kate clenched her jaw, ground her teeth. "I get it. You can call off the attack dogs now."
But Lanie persisted. "Have you told your dad, yet? You know he's going to be excited to be a grandfather. What about Montgomery? Should you even be working still? It doesn't seem safe."
"It's fine," Kate snapped. "I know my limitations."
"Okay. Where exactly does flying across the country to chase after a ruthless killer without backup fall within your limitations?"
Unnecessarily risky behaviour...
"I had back up."
"Castle?" Lanie couldn't believe her friend was this stubborn. "Why do you think he was there, Kate? He was trying to stop you from doing something stupid."
"He was trying to stop me from doing something stupid?" The idea was laughable.
"Yeah, let that sink in."
She took a deep breath, irritated.
Damn...
"Just... consider talking to someone," Lanie pleaded.
Kate swallowed her pride. "Okay."
She had spent almost twenty minutes trying to get comfortable. All she wanted was to watch a movie, but her nausea had returned with a vengeance.
Being vertical just wasn't going to work for her, not with gravity pulling on the pit of guilt and shame in her stomach. Horizontal came with its own problems, though. Laying on her stomach only intensified the nausea, laying on her side gave her a dizzying feeling of being off balance and laying on her back highlighted the age of her couch, a broken spring in the base digging through the cushions. But, at least she didn't want to throw up. So, she chose discomfort over nausea.
She had given up on the movie at this point, resting her forearm across shut eyes to block out some of the daylight.
A knock on her door felt like the straw on the camel's back. She groaned, considered ignoring it, but eventually pulled herself up.
She looked through the peephole in the door, eyeing an awkward looking teen boy holding a paper bag. She opened the door.
"Hi, can I help you?" she questioned.
"Just delivering your order." The boy smiled, holding up the paper bag.
"I didn't order anything," she informed him.
He looked confused, checked the number on her door and then the little piece of paper that was attached to the bag.
"This is the right address," he said, still reading whatever was scrawled on the paper. "Oh, it's a gift. For... Kate?" He looked back up to her and smiled, holding out the bag once more.
She took it from him, hesitantly.
"Have a great evening, ma'am."
"Thank you," she said as he walked away.
She shut the door and walked to the kitchen, setting the bag down on the bench. She tugged the paper until it came off the paper bag, bringing it closer to read.
Kate,
As much as I hate to endorse juice cleanses, this juice has pulled me through many regretful mornings after partying a little too hard. I practically owned shares in the company in my twenties. It tastes awful, but I swear it helps.
She smiled, placed the note down and pulled the bottle from the bag. TOC: the original cleanse, ginger and cinnamon.
She pulled a glass from her cabinet, cracked the seal of the bottle and poured out a small amount - just a mouthful or two, not wanting to risk too much and causing another upheaval of her stomach contents. She brought the cup to her face, smelling it. Regret instantly filled her, her stomach clenching as she gagged.
It was the thought that counts, right?
She went to discard the contents of the glass in the sink, when she remembered Maurice's advice: my sister swears by cinnamon.
Slowly, she brought the glass back up, sipping cautiously. Castle was right to forewarn her, it tasted disgusting. She swallowed, waiting for the gag, waiting for the abdominal clench, but it never came. She took a breath, tested another small sip. Again, her stomach did not react.
She put the cap back on the bottle and placed it in the fridge, somewhere handy for when she needed it.
Once again, Castle came through for her.
