"Please sit down. I shall ensure that Kate has something with which to occupy herself while you tell me of your thoughts."
Dr Burke returned to his usual room. "Kate, do you have something to do while I listen to Rick?"
"Yeah." She did not specify, but since her phone was in her hand, Dr Burke considered that she would be able to occupy herself adequately.
"I will return afterwards."
"Fine." Detective Beckett was clearly irritated, which, of course, meant that there was an underlying issue.
Dr Burke, prior to returning to speak with Mr Castle, considered how Detective Beckett had behaved towards Mr Castle two days previously, and how he had behaved towards her; and then contrasted that with the very different behaviour exhibited today. Mmm. He was sure that their differences could be resolved.
He suddenly recalled that Detective Beckett had complained that Mr Castle had (correctly, in Dr Burke's view) informed her that she was punishing herself for lying. With that recollection, Dr Burke considered that Mr Castle's commentary might be most enlightening. He returned to the room where he had placed Mr Castle with considerable expectation.
For the first moments, Dr Burke thought that his hopes for this meeting might be dashed. Finally, as Mr Castle seemed entirely incapable of providing a coherent narrative (how did the man write such impressive books? he wondered to himself), Dr Burke intervened.
"Rick, I consider that we will progress more quickly if you simply answer my questions directly, without diversions or obfuscations. When my questions are completed, then you may expand."
Mr Castle sighed, and looked sulky: however, he did not object.
"Now, two days ago you waited for Kate. When you collected her, it appeared that she was happy to lean on you. Is that correct?"
"As much as she ever is."
"But you were worried about her, and concerned about her general welfare?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She'd cut herself and not had it treated till it had gotten infected; she spooked all over the last case, and she's fifteen pounds underweight and not eating properly. Of course I'm worried about her!"
"As am I."
Mr Castle snapped his lips shut, and his expression changed to wary interest.
"Detective Beckett informed me that you thought that her failure to treat her cut arm was a way to punish herself for lying to you."
"Yep. I suspected she'd lied right from the get-go but she wouldn't have admitted it if the infection hadn't lowered her guard. But it's obvious she was."
"Why?"
"Because she was always a bit tense and guarded around me. And then she forced herself through that case which was dumb" –
"We will get to that issue in due time."
"Okay. But anyway, I'm sure she didn't know it but it was just one more way she hasn't taken care of her health from the moment she woke up and ran off to the middle of nowhere without talking to any of us." Mr Castle's mouth turned down. "It's all the same thing. She isn't taking care of herself and it's because she doesn't think she deserves taken care of."
"Mm. I see. You will not be surprised to know that Kate disagrees most strongly with your thesis."
"No. She's being dumb," Mr Castle repeated. "She doesn't want to think logically about any of it at all."
"Is that surprising?" Dr Burke asked calmly. Mr Castle stopped, and thought for a moment.
"Maybe not," he said slowly. "She didn't want to remember anything because it meant remembering dying. So she doesn't want to think about anything that takes her back there." He stopped again. "Oh, crap. No wonder she's so angry with me."
"Mm?" Dr Burke was now content to allow Mr Castle to explain, as long as he did so efficiently.
"Um…well, she came out with a whole load of bullshit about why running off and hiding was a sensible idea because that way she didn't screw anyone else up" –
"Please explain? From the beginning, if you would."
"Um…" Mr Castle looked back into the memory. "So I made her eat lunch – and then she ate plenty of dinner, so that was good" –
"Indeed."
" – and then she said it wasn't that she didn't trust us, she didn't trust herself. She said she left so she could fix herself and trusted that people would be there when she returned."
"And you disagreed."
"Yeah. She's basing it on her dad and an ex. She thinks her dad started to drink because he couldn't deal with her grief about her mom dying, and her ex left her. She's got it all wrong. They let her down, not the other way around. But she thinks she's weak for being shot, and then remembering dying. So now she's doubling down on that piece of crazy by punishing herself for lying and then for having flashbacks."
"And you said so," Dr Burke said neutrally.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Mr Castle coloured, and wriggled uncomfortably. "I lost my temper," he muttered. "I hate it when she's hurt. I apologised," he added. "Not for telling her the truth, but for being so angry about it."
"Did you say anything else?"
Mr Castle squirmed. "Um…told her she didn't get the cut treated because she was scared we'd think less of her and Gates would bench her and she was scared of her whole life," he blurted.
"I see. It is hardly surprising that you are not on the best of terms at the moment. I am astonished that she has allowed you to come here."
Mr Castle growled. Dr Burke was unmoved. "I shall leave you now. I trust you have something with which to occupy yourself?" He stopped. "It might be helpful if you provided me with your contact details."
"Yeah." Mr Castle handed over a card, then extracted a notebook and pen, and appeared to lose all contact with reality thereby. He was scribbling before Dr Burke had risen from his chair.
Before he returned to talk to Detective Beckett, Dr Burke took a short pause to consider what he had learned. Mr Castle's conclusions, inelegantly expressed, were not obviously wrong, though they lacked subtlety and finesse. However, telling Detective Beckett that he, Dr Burke, might agree with Mr Castle on some points would ensure that this session would achieve nothing. He decided upon his strategy, and re-entered the room, where Detective Beckett was staring into space, her phone beside her.
"Kate," he said, when she did not appear to notice him. She startled. "I have heard Rick's theory. Before I come to any conclusions, I would like to discuss it with you, free from the emotions which he brought to it. Dispassionate analysis will enable us to understand whether there is any validity behind it." He laid a slight stress on any, which conveyed to Detective Beckett some doubt in his mind: a small subterfuge to minimise the possibility of her anger overflowing.
"Okay."
"We shall begin with a return to the discussion which we had in our last session. You told me that Rick said that you lied because you do not wish to remember dying – a perfectly reasonable position for you to take – and then that you remove yourself from the situation because you consider that if you are not perfect, your team will not trust you."
"Yeah."
"He has since said that you do not rely on others because first your father and then an ex-boyfriend let you down; and then that you consider that you might appear weak because you had been shot. He has then compounded that statement by informing you, with force, that you believe yourself weak because you do not wish to remember dying and that you are punishing yourself both for lying to him and because the previous case has resulted in you experiencing flashbacks to your shooting. Is that a reasonable summary?"
"Yeah." Detective Beckett's fingers had knotted together in her lap.
"You disagree with his points."
"Yeah." The flat monotone and Detective Beckett's refusal to meet Dr Burke's eyes did not incline him to optimism.
"Let us start at the beginning, then, and untangle each in turn." Dr Burke steepled his fingers, and sat back in his chair. "The first point is, I consider, the simplest. Did you, in fact, lie to Rick not because you could not deal with his declaration of love for you, but because it was entangled with your memory of being shot and dying?"
Profound silence filled the room. Dr Burke reminded himself that, following the previous session, he had ensured that this session would have an extended duration, and congratulated himself on his foresight.
"It's not that simple," Detective Beckett said, and stared at the floor.
"Please explain?" Dr Burke requested mildly, concealing his confusion.
"Yes, I lied. Yes, I can't deal with remembering dying. But it wasn't just that. Castle kept – not pushing, but he was always there. There was this…weight of expectation. He knew what I was saying before I was shot but he didn't seem to realise that I needed time to find out…" she stopped.
"Mm?"
"Time to find out if I would ever recover. I needed space. I needed to know if I'd ever be a cop again." Her hands twisted. "He was always there and how could I sort out what was going on without any room to do it? I couldn't think with him there because everything was buried in how much I couldn't do or say. I couldn't tell him I loved him because I didn't know if I'd ever get out of that bed, or be fit, or be able to" –
"Able to reciprocate physically?"
Detective Beckett blushed, and nodded. "I might never have been more than an invalid," she despaired. "And then I did get better, but…I'd already lied and I didn't know how to tell him and so…I just left it." She wrung her hands again. "I thought when it was all fixed I'd be able to…but it's not fixed and I didn't and he guessed and now everything's wrong and it's my fault again. I told him I left so I didn't mess things up and he said I was crazy," she added bitterly, "but see, I was right. If I'd left before he had a chance to talk to me, it would have worked out fine."
"I do not believe so." Dr Burke was astonished that Detective Beckett had actually talked, but it seemed that being at odds with Mr Castle had, finally, triggered a desire to engage properly with the therapeutic process. "I believe that leaving earlier would not only have hindered your recovery but would have made it far more difficult to mend matters with Mr Castle. It is quite clear" – Dr Burke had no hesitation in his statement – "that Mr Castle still desires to have a relationship with you. Indeed, whatever the rights or wrongs of his argument and his anger, it is perfectly obvious that it springs from a deep desire to take care of you, grounded in strong feelings. Love, if you will," he added. Detective Beckett simply looked miserable.
"I couldn't deal with anything," she said. "If it had been one or the other…but not together."
Dr Burke unpicked that to mean that she'd lied for both reasons: remembering being shot and Mr Castle's declaration at the same time.
"I see. So in this respect, Rick is more wrong than right. You did not only lie to try to forget dying."
Detective Beckett nodded, shame creeping through her face and posture.
"But Rick already knows you lied, and though his reasoning is not correct, he has also not abandoned you."
She shook her head. "No…"
"Indeed, he is trying – albeit with some digressions into unhelpfully emotive behaviour – to care for you. I consider that we may take considerable optimism from his actions."
"You do?" she whispered, and stared at her twisting hands.
"I do," Dr Burke said confidently. Detective Beckett sniffed, then snuffled, then blew her nose. Dr Burke concluded that she had not been certain of Mr Castle's feelings, or forgiveness.
"You have come to an important realisation about your reasons for lying. Now, how do you think that you might use this knowledge?"
Detective Beckett's mouth twisted unhappily. "I guess…since he knows anyway…I could tell him why."
"That would clear away at least one source of conflict. Now, you may decide to do so now, or we may deal with the next of Rick's comments."
Dr Burke hoped, without any expectation, that Detective Beckett would agree to talk to Mr Castle immediately, or at any rate before dealing the next issue. She took some time to consider the options, which was pleasing.
"Um…" she said, "uh…now."
"I shall go, and, with your permission, explain to Rick a small amount so that we may deal with this expeditiously."
"Okay." Detective Beckett sounded defeated.
Dr Burke found Mr Castle scribbling, though without any apparent pleasure. He coughed, and Mr Castle looked up. "Hey," he said unenthusiastically.
"Kate has discussed with me your theory that she lied to you because she could not bear to remember dying. She has" – Dr Burke overrode Mr Castle's attempts to ask whether he had been right – "come to some conclusions, and she wishes to talk to you about them."
"She what?" Mr Castle ejaculated. "She wants to talk?"
"You are surprised by this?"
"Absolutely fucking flabbergasted! She never talks."
Dr Burke sympathised. Detective Beckett had not distinguished herself by the quantity of her conversation with him either. He frowned at the profanity, however.
"Sorry," Mr Castle said. "But Beckett wants to talk?"
"Yes. However, we will only be discussing one aspect of your comments. Please do not try to talk about any other aspect: it will not serve and it may harm."
"Okay," Mr Castle begrudged, after a nasty little pause.
"Rick." Mr Castle's head came up sharply at the tone. "If you wish Kate to heal or even progress, you must be guided by me. Do not go off 'on a frolic of your own', as the legal profession has it. You have already done so, and you are extremely lucky that Kate has not utterly refused to stay or speak with you. This is an extraordinarily delicate situation, and this is the first sign that Kate is taking steps to resolve it. I tell you this so that you may understand that any mis-step will have grave consequences, and will almost certainly ensure that Kate will reject your approaches."
"I see," Mr Castle said, rather more reasonably.
"So you will limit your understandable desire to seek answers to the single point at issue?"
"Yes. Okay."
"Kate, I have explained to Rick."
Dr Burke observed, without great surprise, that Detective Beckett had moved to the window, and was gazing out. She did not turn around when they entered, which was also unsurprising, but mildly disappointing. When she began to speak, her voice was chill and empty.
"You were wrong," she began, her toneless words so quiet as to be only just audible. Dr Burke put a finger to his lips as Castle's mouth began to open. "It wasn't just that I couldn't forget dying." She paused, and dragged air into her lungs. "I didn't know if I'd ever make it out of the hospital. Didn't know if I'd ever be healthy, or be able to pass the physical to get back to being a cop. Didn't know if I'd ever be well enough to" – she hitched – "have sex. I don't know even now if the damage was too bad to carry a baby." She gulped. Castle winced. "I don't know if I want a baby, but I wanted the choice." She gulped again. Her voice returned to tonelessness. "And you were always there. I had no space to think about any of it. I needed space, and time." She stopped. "I couldn't tell you I heard you because I didn't know if I'd ever recover. I wasn't going to – I won't – be a clinging vine."
She fell silent, and stared out of the window. As Castle opened his mouth, Dr Burke motioned him to silence again.
"And then, when I knew I'd be a cop again, after I passed the physical, and requalified, and passed psych…after I was back – I couldn't tell you I lied because I still wasn't fixed properly. But you found out anyway, so what does it matter now?"
Her shoulders slumped.
Castle opened his mouth, thought better of it, stood and took the three long strides to reach Beckett, turn her into him, and hold her close; tucking her head into his shoulder and caressing while she shuddered. "It's okay, love," he murmured. "I get it. I'm sorry. It's okay. Don't cry. I've got you. We can fix this. We can fix it all."
Dr Burke quietly approved. After a moment or two, he coughed. "We may end the session here," he suggested. "I consider that a good night's sleep is indicated before any further work is done." He met Mr Castle's eyes over Detective Beckett's head. "You may make a further appointment for tomorrow or the following day, but no later." His eyes twinkled. "Take care of her, Rick."
Castle steered Beckett, now shivering, out of Dr Burke's offices after she'd made her appointment for the next day, and inducted her into the car. Her eyes were empty of expression, shimmering damply until her lashes fell, a matter of seconds after her seatbelt clicked shut. Castle didn't mind at all. He had a lot to think about, but not when he was concentrating on the busy Manhattan streets.
Despite his thoughts nibbling at his neurons all the way back to the loft, Castle kept them at bay until he'd parked in his building's garage, woken Beckett, guided her to the loft, and helped her upstairs, where she collapsed into bed.
Castle went downstairs, and considered everything he'd learned. He still thought that Beckett had been wrong to lie to him, but now he understood her concerns. He merely wished that she could have told him about them much earlier. He wouldn't have cared if she couldn't be a cop, or even if she'd had major injuries, as long as she was his. Still, she wasn't injured, and she was a cop, and they could get through this together.
He looked at his watch, and found that it was lunchtime. He found an assortment of cold meats and cheeses, some salad and plenty of bread and butter, put it all out, and went to ensure Beckett had taken her meds and bring her down to eat.
When he tapped, waited a second, and then entered, he found Beckett asleep on top of the covers, face pallid, but fewer pain lines creasing her forehead. He sat gently on the edge of the bed, and stroked down her cheek.
"Wake up, Beckett," he murmured. "It's lunchtime."
She didn't wake up, merely murmured in her sleep and curled into the pillows. Castle tried again, with slightly more force, and when that failed too, took her shoulders and lifted her into him. He couldn't help cuddling her. Beckett, barely awake, snuggled in.
"Wake up," he repeated. "Antibiotics and then food."
Beckett nuzzled into his neck. "Not morning," she muzzed. "Sleep."
"Food," Castle said firmly, and, at some risk to his spine, picked her up to carry her downstairs.
He made it two steps before Beckett woke up. "What are you doing?" she squawked.
"You wouldn't wake up, so I'm taking you down for lunch. You can sleep-eat. Like sleepwalking only it's a meal."
"I'm awake."
"But I like having you in my arms." Castle widened his eyes and batted his lashes. "You wouldn't want to deprive me of the opportunity to enjoy myself, would you?"
"I can walk."
"You can, but should you? Those knees need to heal."
"I was fine this morning. I can walk."
Castle pouted.
"Please put me down."
He did, still pouting theatrically.
"Did you mention lunch?"
"Yep. C'mon. You must be hungry – and you must want coffee."
She did.