Shared Obsession Chapter 47
"You're very lucky, Mr. Castle," the doctor explains. "The bullet went right through, so we don't have to dig it out. It took out some skin and a little muscle, but it didn't do much damage except for nicking an artery. That's why you bled so much. It wasn't enough to require a transfusion, but you may feel a little woozy for a while, so I'd advise taking it easy. And we'll give you a brace to put on your arm, so you don't damage it again while it heals. I'll prescribe a few days of pain pills, too. If you still need something after that, over-the-counter should do the trick. As soon as the paperwork goes through, I can discharge you, but you should have someone keep an eye on you for at least the first 24 hours. Do you have someone at home?"
"My daughter and my mother – when she's around."
"Castle, Alexis is only 15. I can stay," Kate suggests.
"Alexis is going to be upset – at both of us," Castle points out. "You've never seen her when she gets up a real head of steam, and believe me, you don't want to."
"Castle, I remember being 15, and I got up a pretty good head of steam myself. I can handle it from Alexis. And I got a text from the lab while you were being sewn up. The Berkley consultant identified the pollen. It's from sagebrush, and it could have come from anywhere in the Southwest with desert. That's going to cover print shops in a lot of territory. We can check them out together while I'm with you. And I can't officially go back to work until the department deems that my taking down of Baylor was a good shoot."
"The department shouldn't have much doubt about that. But all right," Castle agrees. "It may be a while until I'm up to full speed at the keyboard. And I want to find out who printed that Bible ASAP. So I'd appreciate the help. But don't underestimate the wrath of a redheaded fireball. Two redheaded fireballs, if you count my mother."
"How about Meredith?" Kate asks.
"I doubt that she'll be upset about anything except my refusal to help her purchase property she can't afford on her own – even with alimony she already gets from me. And as to what she thinks, frankly, Detective Beckett, at the moment, I don't give a damn."
From his favorite chair in the loft, Castle looks longingly across the great room at his bottle of 50-year-old scotch. The instructions on his pills clearly say to avoid alcohol, and he will. But right now, he'd appreciate the familiar burn of the liquid sliding down his throat. Beckett, of course, has other ideas, and skills he had no idea she possesses. She cooked up a large pot of aromatic soup and reminded him that he has to stay hydrated. He checks the time displayed on the screen of the laptop laying across his thighs. Five o'clock. Alexis should be coming home any moment.
Kate had asked Castle what he was going to tell his daughter and offered that they could come up with a story that didn't involve a bullet. But Castle's never lied to Alexis, except about Santa and the Easter Bunny. And even as a five-year-old, she'd learned to tell that he was lying about those icons of childhood joy. She's every bit as perceptive now. So there's no point in telling her anything but the truth. She'd figure it out anyway, and Castle would face an even bigger backlash than for just being straight with her.
Alexis bounds through the door. "Dad! I got a perfect score on my calculus makeup. And Mr. Brown said that if I do as well for the rest of the year, I can take the exam for full college credit and …." She catches sight of the bandage and brace on her father's arm and spies Kate in the kitchen. "What happened?"
"My arm had an unfortunate collision with a bullet," Castle responds, trying to soften his explanation as much as possible.
"Oh, God, Dad, you were shot!" Alexis wheels angrily toward Beckett. "You let this happen! You're supposed to protect and serve people, not get them killed."
"It wasn't Beckett's fault, Pumpkin," Castle insists. "We didn't have a choice. There was a civilian life at stake."
"Don't Pumpkin me, Dad. You're a civilian. What if you were the one who got killed?" Tears bursting from her eyes, Alexis runs up the stairs to her room. Kate starts to go after her.
Castle raises his good arm. "Don't! Right now, anything you or I say to her won't penetrate the rage – or the fear. And having you invade her private space will only make it worse. I'll talk to her in a while after she has a chance to cool down a little. But this is something we're just going to have to work through."
"So what can I do?" Kate asks.
"Go back to helping me check out any connections Bracken might have with printers of Bibles with sagebrush pollen in their bindings. At least that's one thing we can do without drama – unless you count my happy dance if we find one."
"Castle, that's something I'd love to see."
Between shock, blood loss, and frustration, Castle is fighting to keep his eyes open until he loses the battle. Kate gazes down at him. In sleep, he looks almost like a little boy. An errant lock of hair completely escaped his efforts to restrain it and lies on his forehead. Unable to resist the impulse, she gently brushes it back. He stirs, eyes suddenly wide. "Beckett! Diana! Baylor!"
Kate takes his hand. "It's fine, Castle. Baylor's chained to a bed in the prison ward at Belleview. He's not going to hurt anyone anymore."
"What about Alexis?"
"She came down a little while ago. She checked that you were still breathing, glared at me, got a bottle of water from the fridge, and went back upstairs. And your mother came home not too long ago. She said her show is dark tonight, something about rebuilding a damaged set."
"Right. I knew about that. One of the actors went into a drug frenzy and destroyed some of the flats. He checked himself into rehab, and his understudy will replace him. But the paint probably isn't dry on the replacement scenery yet. So what did you tell Mother?"
"I told her what happened – and that you saved both our lives and probably Diana's too."
"Possibly an exaggeration. Your backup showed up about two minutes after you shot Baylor."
"Baylor could have easily killed all of us in a lot less than two minutes. He had extra magazines on him. You are the hero of this story, Castle."
"A wounded hero, a trope if ever there was one. I must have used it in my stories at least ten times over the years, and don't get me started on TV and movies."
Characters that brush off their traumas in novels, TV, and movies aren't real. You are, Castle. We're both here because of that. When Alexis lets go of some of her anger, she'll realize that and be proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself."
Slowly, Beckett bends forward to brush Castle's lips with her own. She pulls back for a moment before his hand at the nape of her neck urges her in. Their kiss deepens. And for a moment, Castle can forget his pain.