May 29, 2011 (10w4d)

Pain split through her skull from right behind her eyes, deep into the centre of her brain.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose, hung her head low and focused on each slow breath in and out.

The steady beep, beep, beep that refused to fade into the background became the target of her frustrations as she leant against the side rail of her bed to reach for the monitor.

"Woah, Kate!" Castle rushed toward her. "What are you doing?"

"I just need this thing to shut up for one minute!"

Her voice was shaky; a mix of anger and fear that penetrated deep into Castle's core and made him wonder if he was doing the right thing. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have mentioned the phone call from Roy's mysterious 'friend'. Maybe it was too soon, maybe she was still too fragile, but he saw this as their way out and he couldn't let that opportunity pass.

He reached for her hand, but she pulled away from him.

Kate was angry; he understood. That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"I've got it," he said softly as he silenced the machine.

Just a few minutes, he told himself. A few minutes of silence might be exactly what they both needed.

"Thank you," she muttered reluctantly.

She looked down at her hands in her lap and began to anxiously pick at her nails. She wished that this miracle proposition didn't seem too good to be true, that she could trust in it as easily as Castle seemed to.

She just couldn't ignore the alarm bells in her mind that told her this was a trap.

"What are you thinking?" he asked after a moment's silence.

She looked up to meet his eyes: tired, blue eyes that held so much sadness and so much worry.

Guilt twinged in her chest as memories of the carefree man she met just a few short years ago danced in the back of her mind. In this moment she wished he was still that man: unburdened by the complications of her, life of the party and full of wonder.

As she looked into his eyes she saw, for the first time, just how much he had aged in their few short years together. That was no coincidence.

She sighed. "You don't wanna know, Castle."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know," he tried to assure her, but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

She remained silent, her eyes falling back to her fidgeting hands.

"You can tell me anything, Kate. You know that." He stepped back toward the foot of the bed and sat by her feet, placing his hand over her blanket-covered shin. "Smith's offer is a lot to process. I'm not expecting you to be one hundred percent onboard-"

"How do you know he isn't a part of this?" she interrupted. "How do you know he isn't the one who shot me?"

"I don't," he admitted. "But I feel like that's a risk worth taking."

She shook her head. "That's not your decision to make."

"Why do you think we're having this discussion?" he asked angrily. "I'm not trying to take the choice from you, I'm just... I'm asking you to remember what is at risk."

"I know what's at risk!" she defended herself, angered by the insinuation.

His eyes crossed to the monitor to check her vitals.

"Look at me, Castle," she ordered.

He peeled his eyes from the monitor and focused on her: on the crease in her brow from narrowed eyes, on the laser focus of her eyes on him.

"You come to me, telling me that there is evidence - solid, irrefutable evidence - against the man behind my mother's murder and you expect me to just be okay with walking away?"

He didn't miss a beat as he answered. "Yes."

"It's not that easy."

"It really is," he argued, defiant in his position. "You will die. You're a sitting duck."

She rolled her eyes despite – begrudgingly - agreeing. Soon enough she wouldn't be protected by these hospital walls, and she had no idea what she was going to do then.

"I mean it, Kate. The boys have nothing: not a single lead on who shot you. He is still out there and I'm going to assume, given that you're still alive, he hasn't received whatever pay-out he was getting for this. He wants his money, Kate, that's all this is to him and to get that you have to die. You can't live your life on alert 24/7 and even if you could, your paranoia can't save you from another bullet."

His words were like a wrecking ball to her poorly constructed façade. The gravity of the situation weighed heavy on her, the truth too painful to bear right now. She wanted nothing more than to hide away in her fortress of denial, but he didn't back down.

"Even if this deal is just a way for them to get your guard down... agreeing to this isn't putting you at any more of a disadvantage."

Her eyes fixed to his as silence filled the space between them. She knew that he was right, that taking this deal couldn't disadvantage them in any way but that didn't make it any easier.

As her emotions rushed to the surface, she forced her eyes away and stared at his hand that had crept its way closer to her thigh.

"Kate?" He tried to coax her from her thoughts after a minute's silence.

"Do you remember the night we met?" she responded, still focussed on their only point of contact.

He cocked his head, confused by the apparent shift in conversation. "Of course."

"Do you ever miss that life?" she wondered aloud. "The parties and book tours, none of this... mess."

He sighed, knowing exactly where this was headed: you're better off without me.

He shook his head, ready to disperse any thoughts she had that she may have - in any way - ruined his life.

"That life was miserable, Kate."

She looked at him, surprised by his confession, but she saw nothing but truth in his eyes.

"The night we met... I was at my absolute lowest. I had no purpose, no inspiration."

He looked down, focussing on the same patch of cotton blanket that had Kate so transfixed just moments ago as he thought back to a time in his life he had hoped to never revisit.

"Forgive me. The writer in me is showing, but-" He took a deep breath. "It was like I was lost at sea and you were this beacon of light. A tall, beautiful lighthouse. This - the precinct, the boys, Nikki... everything that I have gained because I met you - is dry land. Sure, there's a whole new set of challenges to face but I'm not drowning anymore, Kate."

She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. He had never told her, or even so much as let on that he had been in such a bad place back then. She had always assumed that their partnership had pulled him away from a place of happiness, of safety and simplicity.

"But if I lose you-" His voice cracked and tears flooded his eyes.

She blinked back her own tears, leant forward and placed her hand over his. She was still hesitant, uncertain that she had the strength it would take to walk away. But one thing she did know was that her choices weren't solely hers anymore; they hadn't been for months now. Every decision she made, in one way or another, affected Castle, too. Slowly, the individual paths of their lives had merged into one; a shared journey.

"Okay."

"O-okay?"

She took a shaky breath in and nodded slightly.

It wouldn't be easy, but she could do this for him. For them, their future, their child.

"I'm done," she clarified. "I'll leave my mom's case alone."

His shoulders slumped as all tension left his body in a heavy sigh. He lurched to his feet and took a purposeful step closer to cup her face with both hands.

He pressed his lips to hers for just one short moment before resting his forehead against hers.

"Thank you," he whispered earnestly, an acknowledgement of what she was giving up for their future.

But they both knew that for all she was giving up, she was gaining more tenfold.


The envelope in her hands seemed so... wrong.

This was it. The contents of this envelope held the power to change everything, but from the outside it looked insignificant, no different to any other trivial piece of mail. Maybe she had expected it to be bigger, or heavier, she wasn't quite sure.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Castle asked from the far side of the room.

As soon as the nurse had brought the results in, he had begun to slowly back himself against the wall, as if he needed its sturdiness to keep himself upright.

The newfound distance between them was unsettling - ominous. She wished he was right by her side, close enough that she could feel his presence even with her eyes closed, but she would never deny him the space that he sought, the space he obviously needed in that moment.

They had spent the day together - just the two of them - dreaming of the future, of all the things they could do once they were out of here, once she had recovered.

Now those dreams seemed so fragile.

"I'm sure," she said shakily as she ran her fingertip along the edge of the envelope.

Despite wanting nothing more than to tuck it away and ignore its existence, she knew that she had to do this sooner rather than later.

"I'm right here if you need me," he promised.

She forced her eyes from the white rectangle in her hands to meet his crystal blue gaze. His obvious nerves were oddly comforting; a reminder that she wasn't alone in this.

He forced a smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

His stomach was in knots - a tangled mess from doing cartwheel after cartwheel - but when she smiled and visibly relaxed, reassured by his words, he swallowed down the fear that had been slowly creeping up his throat.

He could see the tremble in her hands as her finger slid under the seal of the envelope, tearing it open, and as she pulled the results from within he swore he felt his heart stop beating.

His eyes remained glued to her face, watching her eyes as they drifted across the words on the page; but her face stayed unchanged, unreadable.

Left to right, left to right; they drifted again and again as she absorbed the information until suddenly they stopped.

Her face was blank, the room was still, the silence was deafening.

He closed his eyes as everything that was missing from this moment sunk in. There was no celebration; a heaviness settled in his stomach. But until she said the words, he would hold onto hope.

For them.

He opened his eyes, focussed on Kate as she pinched her bottom lip with her fingertips, her eyes still glued to the paper.

She shook her head ever so slightly. If he hadn't been watching so attentively he wouldn't have seen it. Her brow furrowed as she read the document again. Her eyes drifted - left to right, left to right - as she read and reread the page.

Once more, they stopped, glistening as emotion pooled.

He tried to tell himself that they were tears of joy, that she was overwhelmed by the happiness she felt after confirming what they had hoped for all along. But the rapidly increased pace of the beep, beep, beep had betrayed her unreadable mask.

Optimism didn't come that easily when the truth was so blatantly obvious. And as her first tears fell, he couldn't deny it any longer.

Kate's child was not his.

She closed her eyes. He could see the effort she was putting into keeping each breath steady, but she was losing control. Each new breath was shorter, less effective, and the rapidly changing numbers on her monitor reflected her internal battle. She was panicking, scared and confused.

Her mouth opened wide as she sucked in a desperate, stuttered breath and she began to cry.

"Kate-" His voice cracked as he struggled to keep his own disappointment at bay.

This wasn't how it was meant to be; he had worked too hard to get them to this point for it to all come crumbling down now.

He stepped across the room, took the papers from her grasp and placed them aside without so much as a sideward glance.

"I'm so sorry, Castle," she sobbed.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin.

"It's okay," he whispered into her hair, ignoring that little voice in his head that was screaming otherwise.

He closed his eyes - filled to the brim with his own tears that he refused to let spill - and echoed a soothing shhhh in between reassurances.

"It's going to be okay. We'll figure this out."

Her cries persisted, growing louder and more painful with each jerked heave of her shoulders.

"We're okay, Kate," he said, as much for his own reassurance as it was for hers.

Before long, the mournful sounds were joined by medical alarms.

He pulled away, to call for a nurse, but she gripped his shirt.

"It hurts," she said between sobs. "Too much."

She clutched at her chest as she gasped for more air.

As nurses rushed into the room he stumbled backward to find his place against the wall again, but even the solid press of plasterboard against his shoulders couldn't muster even an illusion of security. His world was spinning - violently - and it was taking everything he had in him just to stay upright.

He blinked to clear his blurred vision. Tears dropped to his cheeks.

"Excuse me," he mumbled to no one in particular before slowly making his way toward the door.

One foot in front of the other, that's all he could focus on. His hand dragged along the wall to steady himself.

He had hoped that being on the outside - that not seeing Kate so upset or hearing her distress - would help alleviate some of the weight on his chest, but it didn't. He feared that, for a while at least, nothing would.

The images he had clung to of he and Kate and this tiny baby that had his eyes, or his nose, or his curious nature – something, anything that would forge that unbreakable bond of family – were slipping away.

He really had allowed himself to believe that this could all work out in their favour, that the result of this test would do nothing but cement his belief that they were destined to be a family. Instead, it had left him wondering exactly how he might fit into theirs.

He took a few steps forward, leant his forehead against the wall opposite her room and closed his eyes.

Breathe in; deep. Breathe out; slow.

This wasn't over, not by a long shot. But boy did it just get complicated.

"Rick?"

Jim's voice sliced through the haze and pulled Castle from his trance.

He straightened his posture - forced to trust himself for balance, not the wall - and turned to face Jim, wiping the moisture that sat below his eyes.

"What's going on?"

And just like that, his last thread of control broke. He looked back into the room where two nurses worked on settling Kate.

"Can you-?" he started to ask, but was unsure of his actual question.

Can you fix this?

Can you handle it?

Can you turn back time and make this all go away?

"I-I'm sorry," he said, his breath heavy. "I have to go."

Before Jim could say a word, Castle pushed himself to move as quickly as he could. One foot in front of the other, again and again until he was free of these enclosing walls, free of this suffocating space.

He didn't know where he would go, he just had to get out.


He leant back in the armchair by his desk and finished the last swig of his whiskey.

"I thought you said that the results didn't matter?"

His mother hadn't been the person he wanted to see upon his arrival back home, but she would do. In all honesty, a familiar face and a reassuring smile was all he had wanted and she seemed more than willing to provide that for him... at first.

"They don't," he insisted.

The crystal glass clinked against the desk as he set it aside.

"Then why are you here and not with Katherine?"

His eyes met hers, narrowed by his frustration, but his expression softened as he pondered her question.

Why was he here?

"Because-" He tried to think of a valid reason, a reason other than I'm running, but he came up short.

With a sigh, he scrubbed his hand over his face. It was time to face the truth: he was running. Running from the truth, desperate to return to their little bubble of denial.

It felt safe in the bubble.

"What if it matters to her?"

He shrugged, an attempt to hide the fact that there was nothing more than a dangerously fine thread keeping him together at this point. He was scared.

Martha sighed and leant in closer to her son.

"She loves you, Richard," she reminded him. "A fool can see that."

He wasn't denying that, though. They had come so far, fought so hard to be where they were right now.

"I know what having a baby with someone does, though." He looked down at his hands as he toyed with a loose thread in his pants. "Look at Meredith-"

"Does Katherine need to worry about you running off with Meredith?" Martha asked, cutting him off.

"Well, no-"

"Because it is different," she clarified, proud that she seemed to be proving some point he hadn't quite caught on to yet. "You love Meredith because she is the mother of your child. You are not in love with Meredith. It will be the same for Katherine, I am sure."

He narrowed his eyes again. "You do realise it took me the better part of a decade, an affair and Meredith moving across the country for me to realise I wasn't in love with her, right?"

"Ah, yes." Martha patted her son's knee and offered a small smile. "It is a good thing Katherine is a great deal smarter than you were, isn't it?"

He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. His mother never was one to mince her words.

"Touché."

They settled into the silence comfortably, both internally processing the day's discoveries and what that meant moving forward.

He knew that his mother had had her doubts from the very beginning and he wanted to make it clear, make sure she knew without a doubt, that this hadn't changed the way he felt.

After a moment's silent reflection, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small box.

He held it out between them and she took it without a word. When she opened it to reveal a beautiful - modestly elegant, round cut diamond - engagement ring, she gasped.

"Oh, Richard- it's beautiful."

"I'm not going to ask her," he informed her, almost regretfully.

She looked away from the diamond and into his eyes, her expression equal parts curiosity and doubt.

"I mean... I was going to ask. I will ask, but now isn't the right time."

"If now isn't the right time, why did you buy the ring?"

"I don't want to lose her," he admitted. "I'm scared, but that's not a good enough reason."

The slight nod of his mother's head told him that he was right.

She closed the ring box and held it between them, waiting for him to take it from her.

"I was hoping you could hold onto it for me," he said. "Just for a little while. I mean, I know now isn't the right time but that doesn't mean I won't freak out again and ask her. I know this is what I want, but I need to let the dust settle first. I don't ever want her to doubt why I asked."

"I don't think she ever would," Martha assured him as she rose to her feet. She gently touched her palm to the side of his face and smiled. "But I will keep this somewhere safe until you are ready."


The corridors were eerily silent as he made his way to her room; there was nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

It was late, he had been gone much longer than he had originally intended, and he hadn't heard from anyone.

Was she being respectful? Giving him space to process?

Or was she mad? Disappointed that he had left, unsure if she wanted him to return at all.

He wouldn't blame her if she was. He had promised that he would be there through all of this. By her side until the very end.

But he hadn't handled the heat. He had let her down.

He opened the door, just a crack, and peeked in. Kate lay on her side, facing away from the door. He pushed it wider and stepped through.

The rhythmic beep, beep, beep felt like home.

He noted Jim's presence and the man acknowledge him with a slight nod, but Castle's focus didn't leave Kate for any longer than those few seconds. As he moved closer to her, he realised she was sleeping soundly. He wondered if they had given her something to calm her, or perhaps she had simply exhausted herself. Either way, he regretted deeply that he hadn't been there for her.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming back," Jim stated, his voiced hushed but undoubtedly venomous.

Castle forced his focus away from Kate and watched as her father rose from his seat and moved closer, his eyes boring into Castle.

The man's doubt was like salt in a fresh wound, but it was far from unwarranted.

"Is she okay?"

"She spoke to Josh."

The name had Castle's stomach doing summersaults. "Already?"

"She didn't see the point in putting it off, I guess."

Castle hung his head, shame flooding through his veins.

"I should have been here," he mumbled, pitifully.

"Yeah, you should have been," Jim agreed angrily.

It was obvious to both men that this day had caused a crack in the foundation of their relationship; but that was a bridge that Castle would mend in due time. For now, his only focus was Kate and making sure she knew that from this point on, he would be there for her: unconditionally.

He was in this one hundred percent.

Jim sighed and placed his hand on Castle's shoulder.

"But... you're here now."

"I did mean everything I said," Castle explained. "I... I thought I was ready for the worst and - so it turns out - I wasn't. But I'm not going anywhere. I love your daughter and I do believe that we will make this work."

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "I'll leave you in peace, then."

He gathered his belongings and walked toward the door.

"For the record," he said, stopping in the doorway and turning back to face Castle. "She's been waiting for you. She never doubted that you were coming back."

Castle looked down at Kate, a smile creeping across his face.

He had been worried about the strength of what they had built - too worried, apparently - and the knowledge that she hadn't doubted it, hadn't doubted him, was exactly the reassurance that he needed.

As the door closed, Castle lowered the side rail of the bed, careful not to make too much noise or jostle the bed too much, and climbed onto the bed. He laid down and draped his arm over her waist, curling his body so that it fit perfectly against hers.

His emotions were still raw; the hurt more intense than he ever could have imagined it would be. Nothing could have prepared him for this level of heartache; but here, with her in his arms, he was filled with an unequivocal sense of hope that everything would be okay.

He closed his eyes and allowed her scent and her warmth to lull him to sleep.

The last thing he felt as the haziness of sleep infiltrated his mind was her fingers lacing through his and the gentle, reassuring squeeze of her hand as she whispered: "I love you."