It feels like days have passed and she's dead on her feet, slightly swaying when she finally sticks her key into the door to Castle's loft. The sweet memory of a time only two years ago floods her, when he opened his home to her when her apartment exploded. Family dinners filled with laughter, banter over breakfast, she, Martha, and Alexis ganging up on Castle. She almost expects to see them all waiting for her around the dining table again, smiles on their faces when they see her come home. Come home. It really felt like a home back then, even though she didn't allow herself to get comfortable, to stay with him, her feelings already way too intense for him, to trust herself for longer.
Oh, how different their lives would've been if she just took a leap and kissed him when she was craving it so much. Or be brave enough to say yes to him when he asked if she wanted to come to the Hamptons with him. She knew why she didn't then. After Ellie Monroe, she was too afraid that she would be nothing more to him than another fling, another notch, knowing that her feelings ran way deeper … So she did the most stupid thing and started something with Demming who felt safe and easy. Losing Castle in the process.
She has no idea how long she stands in the empty and dark loft, void of the warmth that once inhabited it, staring into the darkness as if she could turn back time if she only stared hard enough.
"Richard?" Martha's voice startles her out of her stupor, and she quickly slips out of her coat and the flats, Lanie brought from her apartment and closes the still open door behind her as the light is being switched on.
"No, Martha. It's me. Kate." The elder woman appears on the landing, wrapped in a colorful silk dressing gown, her arms folder over her chest.
"Oh, Katherine, darling, how are you feeling?" She almost floats to her, rests her leathery hand on her cheek, making Kate shiver at the intimacy of the motherly touch.
"Thank you, Martha. Everything fine, no concussion. Castle's not back yet, I supposed?" Martha shakes her head, retrieves her hand but squeezes Kate's shoulder in the process, noticing the bag in her hands with a soft smile.
"He left about half an hour after you. I haven't heard from him since." Kate sighs and tries to shake off her anxiety, not wanting to burden Martha with the worry that has been on her mind since watching Castle earlier and peaked with the latest news. She quickly glances at her father's watch to estimate the hours, but it's a struggle for her drowsy mind, letting out a frustrated breath she gives up.
"Do you remember when that was? It's four in the morning now." Martha wraps her arm around her shoulders, gently guides her to the couch, and sinks into the cushions with her.
"You must be bone-weary, my dear. Working the case, dancing in the club, and then everything that happened afterwards? I'm sure everything is fine, but to answer your question. You all arrived here around one in the morning and you left around two, Richard left at almost exactly two-thirty. It's only been one and a half hours, darling." She suppresses another sigh, ninety minutes, that's not long at all. Why is she still feeling so agitated?
"I know. But getting a cast should be fast, right?" Martha lifts a shoulder, tilting her head, contemplating.
"Assumed that he doesn't need surgery." Right. Surgery. Kate hangs her head, drops it into her hands, and takes a deep breath. "What's going on, Katherine? Is there something I should know?"
"No, Martha, no. Everything is fine, I promise. I'm just … It's been a long day, so much has happened, and I …"
"You are worried about him, apart from that case." Kate blows out the breath she didn't know she was holding and nods. "To be honest, we're all worried about him. It's also one of the reasons, Alexis studies at Stanford now. She couldn't bear his behavior anymore."
"His behavior?" Martha scoffs, shakes her head in disbelief.
"Oh, darling, please, don't tell me you haven't taken a look at page six? He stopped writing, upset Gina so much that she left him, then it started with the women. A new one every week. He broke his contracts, acted like he didn't care about anything, even worse than before he met you. Way worse. I've never seen him like this. Alexis applied for early admission to Stanford, got accepted, and moved to her mother. That's when he lost it completely, got sued, burned all bridges with his … his attitude, his hubris. All we did was fight, so I left shortly after Alexis." She sighs heavily, hangs her head, shakes it slowly.
"What happened, Martha?" The elder woman looks at her softly.
"He lost you, dear." The words make her flinch, her heart jumps in her throat. "He tried to move on after you got involved with the other Detective, started something with Gina again. God knows what he was thinking, they didn't work the first time, so why should it work a second time? Shortly after it ended, he saw the note about you getting engaged to a prestigious doctor and then everything went south from there.
"I'm so sorry, Martha," she whispers, feeling guilty that she started something with Demming because she was too scared of her feelings for him.
"Oh, nonsense, darling. It's not your fault that you fell in love with someone else!" Except she didn't. Martha squeezes her hands.
"I broke off the engagement this morning," she confesses without wanting to, it just slips out, saying more than she was ready to even admit to herself.
"Ah," Martha studies her with a knowing gaze, a soft smile tucking on the corner of her mouth. "Well, then, I guess this is a sign of fate. I hope you too can work it out this time." Her hand pats her cheek softly, affection in her eyes, making Kate's face heat up. "I'm going to bed now, you should find some rest as well. I'm sure that everything is fine and Richard will be here in the morning at the latest." She clasps her elbow, stands up with Kate together, and walks her up the stairs to the guest room, which still looks exactly like two years ago. Martha wishes her a good night and hurries away to her room at the end of the hall, leaving her alone to her thoughts.
Restlessly, she picks up her bag and unpacks it, using the small dresser in the room to store the pile of clothes. It's enough for a week. Blushing, she wonders why Lanie decided to pack her things for a week. Was she trying to avoid going back in if they don't solve the case soon, or was she insinuating something else?
She didn't tell her about the kiss, or rather them making out, with tongue involved and her climbing his body. Oh god, what was she thinking? Her face burns as she flaps on the bad, her sexiest underwear in her hand - that definitely answers her question on Lanie's motive. There would've been other ways to get him out there than to jump him. And why is her whole body tingling and aching with desire at the memory? It was easy to ignore it under the veil of her undercover identity, to play along. But now in the dim light of his guest room, with the immediate danger from Barkley and Dean far away, she can't lie to herself anymore that it was just an adrenaline rush or a high from being Kitten the seductress, not Kate, the broken woman.
Even though Dr. Burke helped her a lot to work through the trauma that her mother's murder caused her when she was ordered by Montgomery to visit him after Royce was murdered and she went rogue, almost shooting his killer. It brought all the grief back, hot and searing. The grief over her mother, over the betrayal and the loss of her training officer, the loss of Castle … He was a recurring theme in their sessions, more than her mother and Royce. Sighing she shakes her head, who is she kidding? Castle's name came up in every session, right from the start, when she talked about cases and how Castle would've done this or said this or what crazy theories he would've voiced just to annoy her. She wasn't even aware of doing it until Burke asked about him.
Josh never stood a chance. He felt safe, it was convenient, and she liked him. But it wasn't enough. Nowhere near enough compared to how she still feels about Castle even after all this time. She lets herself fall back on the bed, closes her eyes, presses her hand on her rapidly beating heart.
Is Martha right? Is this a sign of fate? To reunite them? A soft smile tucks on her lips at the thought. It does feel like fate. Like it did all these years ago at the Tisdale case when she had to interrogate her favorite author of all people. Hm. Even though he was a playboy then as well, he still had this debonair aura around him, was light and funny. Nothing compared to how he is now. Did she really break him?
No, Dr. Burke would tell her that she can't blame herself for his feelings, for how he reacted. But she still mourns what could've been if she'd took a leap then. Maybe this time. No, she promises to herself that she'll be brave this time. Even without the disguise of Kitten. Even as Kate, she'll be brave. Yes, she will be, she whispers to herself as she drifts off to sleep.
She's drenched in sweat when she jerks awake, a taste of disgusting Hudson water in her mouth, not sure what exactly caused her to wake up, if she was having a nightmare she can't remember, or if she heard something.
Is Castle home? She quickly rubs over her tired eyes, taking a look at her father's watch that's still on her wrist. 6:03. She slept for almost two hours. He really should be home by now. Rising from the bed, she angles her weapon from her bag, just to be sure if a noise woke her and it wasn't Castle, and slowly creeps down the stairs. Everything is dark, still looks deserted. She checks his office first, but nothing. Taking a deep breath she steps through the open door to his bedroom, trying to make out his silhouette on the bed, slowly walks over, patting over the kingsize mattress but it's cold and empty as well.
She knows that he's got an ensuite bathroom but there's no light coming from the door, she still takes a look, only to be disappointed again.
He's still not home. He's been gone for three and a half hours. Shouldn't he be home by now, even if he had to be operated on?
She wipes her burning eyes, she is exhausted, can barely form a coherent thought, her head is pounding from the wound, the painkillers have worn off by now. No, probably not. Maybe it's a complicated fracture? After all, he still used the arm for quite a while, maybe that damaged some nerves? But she can't shake off the feeling that something is wrong.
She takes another lap around the second floor of the loft, adrenaline racing through her body, fighting off exhaustion and putting her on high alert as she checks to see if she missed anyone, still confused about what exactly woke her up. But it's still empty. Without giving it much thought, she slides into her coat and flats, tucks her key into the pocket of Martha's loungewear before slipping almost silently into the hallway.
Where to next? What exactly was she thinking? She has no idea where he is. Maybe she should call him to see if he's alright? But her phone is on the ground of the Hudson, and his is either there as well with his laptop or not usable anymore. She remembers that he had to go to find someone to call for help. No, calling him won't work. Damn. Okay.
She'll just walk the secret route, see if she'll find something amiss, maybe go all the way into the parking garage and check. Just to be sure.
With a sigh, she slowly gets under way, trying to make no noise while climbing the stairs that lead to the roof and Castle's luxurious roof terrace that can be accessed through a door at the end of the hallway on the second story of his loft – shit, maybe she should've checked first if the door was still closed? She's almost on the roof, she'll simply climb the fence and check then.
The door to the roof opens with a slight squeal that rings loud in her ears even with the surrounding noises of the never-sleeping city, she knows it's probably just her alarmed state, but she still freezes and waits if something moves before she closes the door and slips out into the night. The city lights are bright enough to allow her to see schemes of the flat roof. The fence is to her left and she carefully climbs over, checks the still locked door, and comes back over again, slowly creeping over the roof to the adjoined building.
The heavy service door opens and closes without a sound and she silently walks down the stairway, holding her breath, flinching at every shadow in the almost pitch-black darkness in the staircase. No one there, no Castle either. Anxiety is creeping up on her, gripping her heart heavily with icy hands, pressing it together, making her dizzy. She thinks about what Espo told Lanie they need a pest controller at work. Lanie translated it as bugs in the precinct, making her heart drop before it ran away with worry for Castle. Montgomery instantly pulled the units on her and his apartments back, telling them officially that there was no reason now to stay there. And replaced them with people he trusted. Espo and Ryan on the Loft and Karpowski and Hastings on her apartment.
She quickly scans the parking garage when she reaches the bottom, and her heart sinks when she can't see her former partner anywhere, praying that everything is alright and it just takes longer to patch him up than she estimated, or rather hoped. She knows she's on the edge with so many things, her body still tingling with the sensation of his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, his behavior, this case, their near-death, the strange feeling she just can't seem to shake.
Lost in thought, she hears the noise almost too late and just manages to slip into a dark corner before someone walks past her, huffing and puffing, bulky and elderly-looking – that's all she can see in the light of the emergency sign over the service door. For a moment, she thinks it's someone who lives in the building and unusually takes the stairs instead of the elevator, but her heartbeat quickens as he approaches the maintenance door to the roof, peaking when he opens it and steps onto the roof.
She doesn't waste any minute, steps up to the figure before the door can close behind him, and presses her gun into his body, unlocking it. The sound echoing in the empty staircase behind him.
"Hands where I can see them," she silently growls. The figure is swaying on his feet, causing her to frown. He doesn't seem like an attacker or maybe it's a bluff to throw her off?
"Can't," the figure croaks, before adding slurred, overly concentrated on every word, and slightly amused, "Pleazz don' tell me you wai'd all sis time jus'o shoo' me now?" Castle. She huffs a laugh, drops her weapon in relief, leaning her head against his back, breathing him in. His smell. He's okay. He's here. He's alive. "What are you doing here, Kate? Out here, I mean. You can keep cuddling, it's fine with me. But I'd rather continue inside and lie down." She has to listen closely to understand and translate what he says – is he drunk? – but it doesn't spare her from blushing.
"Okay, let's go inside." She clasps his uninjured arm, not missing his wince and the air sucked in between his teeth, and steadies him while he leans heavily on her, and she can smell alcohol. Anger surges up within her. She was worried about him and he decided to knock back some drinks?! But the tensed state in his body, the grunts, and whines that still slip through his gritted teeth at every move let her fury fizzle out. He's in pain and it reminds her that he's injured because he tried to protect her from the impact of the accident. She would've flown through the car, probably injured herself severely if it wasn't for him. It softens her and she grips him harder, trying to lessen his movements while they shuffle down the stairs. He's sweaty and out of air when they finally reach the door of his loft. Just now, in the light of the hallway, she sees that he's wearing stage makeup, and she has to look twice to really see him underneath it.
She quickly fumbles the key from her pocket, slides it into the lock, and helps him to the couch, holding onto him as he lowers himself slowly. His face grimaced in pain.
"What's going on? Why are you in so much pain, Castle? Did something happen?" She knows she fuzzes over him while she hurries around, grabbing a glass of water and something to cool his arm from the freezer.
"Right pocket, painkiller, good stuff," he tries to grin, but it's only a grimace contorted with pain. Her finger slips into his pocket, angles the small package with painkillers, popping one out, looking at him expectingly certain that one won't be enough, ready to pop out as many as he needs, but he shakes his head slightly. With a sigh, she props the pill between his lips, lifts the glass to his mouth, and lets him sip slowly until he draws back, leans in the cushions, and closes his eyes.
"What happened, Castle?" She whispers, cautiously sitting down next to him.
"Surg'ry. Insiss'd on only local anessetic." He mumbles, barely audible.
"Castle … Why? You should've taken general anesthetic. It must've been hell to–" His hand lands on her knees, stopping her.
"Nee'ed 'o talk 'o you. Nu info'ma'shun." He opens his eyes again to look at her in the dim, ambient light as he recounts all that he learned about some New Americans cleaning the country and preparing a terror attack with a bomb built with liquid explosives, causing her heart to beat heavily in her throat, cutting her off the air. "Wors' part, 'ey have people ev'ywher'. Gov'nmen'. Polizzz."
She swallows her heart down again, clears her throat before she starts speaking quietly. "They found bugs in the precinct. We're not sure if we're still safe here. The info that we're alive haven't been discussed at the precinct. Montgomery just ordered units to sit at my apartment and your loft but when he learned about the bugs, he drew them back officially and replaced them with Espo and Ryan on the loft and Karpowski and L.T. on my apartment." Unconsciously she lifts her hand, brushes her finger over the thick layers of makeup on his cheeks. She can see now how hasty they have been applied, wouldn't convince someone upfront, but it's enough to disguise his identity, especially in the dark.
"It was a good idea to disguise you. I think we're safe. No one knows that we're here. No one even knows that we're still alive. We just need to be especially careful now and solve the case fast." Her fingers are still wandering over his face, inching closer and closer to his mouth, dancing over its corner. His eyes widen, hazy from the pain or alcohol or the pills he just took, she's not sure, her worry still lingering underneath, lying like a weight on her chest. She wants to know and she doesn't want to know at the same time.
"How's your arm?" she asks instead, chickening out again. Castle grunts, fighting to keep his eyes open.
"Floa'in'." Dipping her head, she chuckles while her index finger becomes braver, touching his lip.
"Thank you, by the way. For saving my life."
"Di'n do mush," he mumbles half asleep, his speech even slurrier than before. It's enough to risk it, to lean forward and press her lips on his, half hoping that he'll forget it later, half fearing it. Lazily he kisses her back, sighs softly in her mouth, setting her whole body on fire with this simple sound. His uninjured arm warps around her back, pulling her closer with surprising force, pressing her against him, while he deepens the kiss, causing her heart to breakdance in her chest, robbing her of any air, making her dizzy – in the most amazing way. "Come 'o bed," he murmurs on her lips, slowly parting to catch some air, his eyes are open, a veiled summer sky looking intensely at her.
"Castle–" She's not going to sleep with him. Not like that, not now, not … not before they have talked.
"S'ee–p." She can see how much it costs him to speak as clearly as possible, fighting to keep his eyes open, making her smile. "Need s'eep. You 'oo. Bee' liv'n off coff–coffee–caffeine fo' dayzzz."
"Okay, let's sleep. Come on, I'll help you up." She has to lift him up and almost carry him to the bedroom, his legs barely cooperating. She's not sure what he was trying to say. He couldn't know that she barely slept in the past days, could he? Otherwise – he knows her better than anybody. And her unhealthy habits haven't changed in the past 664 days. He slips from her arms, falls on the bed, luckily on his uninjured side, and stays like this, his breath shallow, labored. She quickly unties his shoes, unzips his pants with burning cheeks, and pulls them off, making sure to avert her eyes, before she cautiously nestles him out of his padded jacket, not missing the groan he elicits on every bigger movement. He might've said that he's floating – if she understood him correctly – but how much came from the painkillers? How much was he exaggerating to ease her mind? When he groans in his sleep, the painkiller either didn't take effect as much as it should or the dosage was too low to ease his pain completely. She sighs, then she carefully maneuvers on his back and carefully over to the left side, holding his body with her knee so he won't fall on his broken arm, but she needs to ease the jacket off of him, and stops dead in her tracks when she sees the dark bruising on his back. His T-shirt is ridden up in her attempts to undress him, revealing huge dark-purple spots on his upper back, explaining the extensive pain he was in if he broke a few ribs. But when? The impact from the Hudson? She remembers them flying up and then crashing down. Did he crash against the bar first? And then down? Her fingers anxiously ghost over the bruising, barely touching his skin. "Castle …"
"'s okay," he murmurs soothingly, startling her badly. "Arm," he croaks then, making her flood with hot guilt.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Castle." She completely forgot that she was trying to keep off the weight of his broken arm. She quickly pulls the jacket further away, before carefully lowering him on his back again, pulling it off his right arm and tossing it on the ground. His face is contorted in pain, his eyes squeezed shut, but he grips her hand and squeezes it.
"'s okay," he repeats, "Shosho doc sheck'd me." Shosho doc?
"Do you have any broken ribs?" She bites her bottom lip, worried about him.
"Sree." Sree? Three? He has three broken ribs on his side and she laid him on his back?
"You should be in a hospital, Castle."
"Al'e'dy dead", he opens his eyes, to let her see the mischief dancing there. Idiot. But he still makes her laugh. "Kiss be'er?" He wiggles with his eyebrows, his face still tense with pain, but trying for a smile.
"You wish," she whispers while she leans forward and softly presses her mouth to his, carefully keeping any weight off him. "Shall I roll you on the side? Prop you up with some cushions?"
"Uh-uh," he breathes, already slipping into sleep again. "Come s'ee-p." Okay, she'll come but before that, she quickly goes to Espo and Ryan and brings them up to speed, already hurrying up the stairs to use the roof terrace this time and avoid the squeaking door.
Twenty minutes later, she crawls into bed next to him, freshly showered in her own sleeping shirt, and as if he senses her, his head rolls to the right to face her, his right hand coming to find hers and their fingers intertwine. With a soft sigh, she closes her eyes and falls asleep instantly.