WORTH WORKING FOR
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MID-JANUARY
"Kate."
The soft whisper of her name pulls her from slumber, and she turns her head to see Rick gazing at her, one hand cupping her neck, his thumb brushing along her jaw. The corner of her mouth lifts. "I fell asleep," she admits, her voice rough from sleep.
He chuckles. "Yeah, before we even left Manhattan. We're here."
She covers her mouth when she yawns, and she lifts her arms, presses her hands against the ceiling in an attempt to stretch. "I slept through the whole drive? I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it. I used the time to mentally plot an entire book." He motions for her to stay put, and he jumps out of the car and rushes to open her door.
Her jaw drops when she takes in the house – well, the mansion. She probably could have assumed that his house in the Hamptons would be large, but she hadn't expected what looks like several thousand square feet of extravagance.
"Castle, this-" She shakes her head and glances at him.
He grins and opens the trunk. "Wait until you see the inside," he teases, lifting out her bag. He shakes his head when she reaches for it, and he finishes emptying the trunk before unlocking the front door.
She ignores his pointed glare when she grabs both her bag and his briefcase, and she follows him in, stands just inside the door as he turns on the lights.
"I had my cleaner come by and air the place out." His voice travels in from another room, and Kate follows, finds him in what looks to be the living room.
"I don't come out here very much in the winter – oh, you're here," he says when he sees her. He turns on a final lamp and walks up to her, nudges her hand with his. "You want a tour?" he offers.
Her gaze drops to his mouth, and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth. "Tomorrow," she says in a low rasp, shaking her head.
Desire unfurls through her; she had to be in court this past week, so he only shadowed her for one day, and they didn't see each other outside of work. She misses him.
She wants him.
She grips the front of his sweatshirt and steps into him, presses her body flush against his. "Show me your bedroom," she husks, pulling his mouth down to hers.
"Over there's the pool and hot tub," Rick says the next morning as he gives her a belated tour of the house. She saw his bedroom and bathroom, and snooped a bit before he woke up this morning, but asked him to show her the rest after a very thorough wake-up call.
After a few moments, she notices that Rick is looking at her with an expectant expression, and she realizes she must have missed something he said. "What? Sorry, I spaced."
He smirks. "I was saying, we'll definitely come after Cosmo is born, when you can go in the hot tub again. But for now, that and the pool are all shut up."
"I see." Kate takes a long sip of her now-lukewarm coffee and shivers. She's wearing thick slippers and a plush robe, but it's the middle of January and she's cold. "Still calling him Cosmo, are you?" she teases, following when he starts to go inside.
He shuts the patio door behind them and grabs her hand on the way by. "Until we decide on a name, yes. But I'll stop if it bothers you," he adds, stepping in front of her, his expression growing serious.
She shakes her head with a smile and squeezes his hand. "It's fine," she assures him. "Still think it's a dog's name, but as long as it doesn't stick around, I don't mind."
"Okay." His eyes twinkle as he squeezes her hand. "So. Breakfast. Any requests?"
She tugs him back to her as he starts to move towards the kitchen, and she wraps her arms around his waist, lifts herself to her toes and brushes her lips against his. "You."
The sun is too bright.
Sweat trickles down her back, her dress uniform almost suffocating on this unseasonably warm day. But she says nothing – nobody else comments either – simply does her job as pallbearer, then takes her place near the podium to wait.
The chief says a few words, then she steps up, unfolds the piece of paper on which she wrote a brief eulogy.
"Roy was my mentor, and I also considered him a friend. He treated everybody with respect, even if he wasn't shown the same."
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a glint of light, but she barely registers it. Sun reflects off tombstones all the time.
"He once told me that for us, there are no victories. There are only the battles, and if we're lucky we find someone to stand by our side."
She looks to her right, where Rick is waiting for his turn-
Wait, Rick? What's he doing here?
His head turns to look out over the crowd, and she can only watch as he turns to her, panic overtaking his face, and rushes towards her.
Everything happens in slow motion: the echo of a loud bang, Rick falling forward, bright red blood spraying from his chest. He slams into her, knocking her to the ground, his eyes gray, lifeless-
Kate jerks awake, the cries of her friends still ringing in her ears, limbs shivering with a cold sweat, cheeks wet with tears.
She looks to the side, notices Rick's familiar silhouette as he lays on his back, fast asleep.
A sigh of relief escapes her lips as she sees his chest rise and fall with his breaths. It was a dream. She's in the Hamptons, and he's very much alive.
Carefully, so she doesn't wake him, she slides out of bed and ducks into the bathroom to splash water on her face. She gives the bed a long consideration, but instead she grabs her robe and goes out to the living room.
They never got around to closing the blinds, she realizes, so she stands at the window, absent-mindedly traces the scar on her chest with her fingers as she looks out to the ocean. The almost-full moon sits high in the night sky, casting its reflection on the water and illuminating the room.
After a minute, she sees Rick in the window, watches as he shuffles up behind her, running a hand through his hair.
He wraps his arms around her from behind and rests his chin on its familiar place on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asks around a yawn.
She covers his arms with hers, holding him tight. "Did I wake you?" she asks quietly, ignoring his question for now, not wanting to break this bubble yet.
"No. Not really," he adds when she lifts her brows. He gives her a small smile. "Kinda, but it's fine. I'd rather be here with you than alone in bed."
She rolls her eyes, but even so, a smile tugs at her lips. When he brushes his mouth against her neck, she sighs and leans back into him. "Had a bad dream," she admits.
His silence is encouraging, and she lifts her hand, tugs the collar of her robe open just enough so she can see her scar. She sees his gaze drop as she traces the circle. "You were there," she explains, her voice trembling with emotion, eyes watering as the nightmare comes back. "You were next to me as I gave the eulogy, and you jumped in front of me. The bullet hit you instead, right before you tackled me, and you...the blood..."
Her voice cracks on the last word, her vision blurring, and before she realizes it, Rick turns her and pulls her into his arms.
"I got you," he murmurs in her ear, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other rubbing her back. He holds her to his bare chest, murmuring sweet, soothing nothings in her ear as she breaks, soaking his skin with her tears.
"I'm okay, Kate," he whispers when she finally steps back. He cups her face with his hands, brushes her tears with his thumbs as he looks at her with his soft gaze.
She nods, swallowing around the lump of emotion in her throat. "I'm sorry," she whispers, "I didn't mean to..." She trails off.
The corner of his mouth quirks. "Cry all over me again? It is becoming a habit," he jokes. He chuckles and tucks her hair behind her ear before his expression turns serious again. "Do you have them often? Nightmares," he clarifies.
"Sometimes." She sighs and tightens her grip around his waist, locks her fingers at the small of his back. "The first few months after it happened, I had them all the time. It's been getting better, but sometimes..." She shakes her head. "I couldn't shake it tonight."
"So you came out here?"
"I didn't want to wake you." As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she knows exactly what Rick is going to say, having had this conversation before.
"Kate-"
"I know," she interrupts, "but I can't come running to you every time I have a nightmare, or panic attack, or anything like that." She ignores the way his brows shoot into his forehead at the mention of panic attacks. "I've learned how to deal with them. And if I need to depend on someone else every time I feel weak or vulnerable, then I'll never be able to stand on my own."
Especially if you leave me.
The fear of losing Rick, of him walking away or worse, still lingers in the back of her mind. She's working through her loss-related trauma, and while she's getting better at accepting his presence and support, she still feels the need to hold herself back, to protect her heart.
"You're not alone," Rick whispers, sliding his hands down her arms until their fingers tangle. "I love how fiercely independent you are, and I don't ever want that to change. But that doesn't mean you have to handle everything alone. You can also come to me, Kate."
She offers him a small smile. "Even if it means waking you up in the middle of the night because I had a bad dream?"
"Especially that."
"Okay," she agrees after a beat. "Thanks, Rick."
"Of course." He turns his head when he yawns, and he looks back at her, his cheeks pink. "That being said, can we go back to bed? I'm a little cold."
Kate glances down, realizing that he didn't put on any clothes, and she giggles.
"Not what a guy wants to hear when someone looks at his junk," he teases, tugging her close.
She rolls her eyes and follows him back to his room. She settles back into his arms, and as she feels his breathing even out with sleep, she lets herself relax, and soon drifts off for her own rest.
The first thought that crosses her mind when she wakes again a few hours later is that she could get used to this: a soft bed, Rick's warm, familiar body behind her, his arm around her waist. It isn't the first time she's had this thought – she has it just about every time they spend the night together – but more and more, she's struck with the feeling that she isn't just getting used to being with Rick.
She's starting to prefer it.
Her body goes rigid with the realization that she's letting him in farther than anyone else, testing her walls like she's never done, not with anyone.
And it terrifies her.
Even with the work she's doing in therapy, the reassurances that Rick has given her, her instinct is still to withdraw, to hide.
Rick's arm tightens around her waist when she starts to slide towards the edge of the bed. "Don't go," he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of her neck.
She squirms, gives his arm a light squeeze. "I'll be right back," she promises.
She steps into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her before she turns on the light. Squinting at the sudden brightness, she splashes water on her face, catches her reflection as she straightens.
She trails her hand down her stomach, turns to examine her profile, the slight bump. She feels the now-familiar fluttering that is her baby moving, and she smiles, presses both hands against it for a moment before returning to the bedroom.
In the few minutes she was gone, Rick fell back asleep, and she smiles as she slides back under the covers and curls up into his side.
By the time she wakes again, the sun is bright through the window, the sheets next to her are cold, and the smell of coffee fills the air. She sits up when she hears familiar footsteps approach, and grins when Rick appears with a mug in each hand.
"You didn't sleep well," he says in lieu of greeting, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek. "Another nightmare?"
She takes the mug he offers and lifts it to her lips, hums when she feels the caffeine start to hit her system. She's finally adjusted to her decreased caffeine intake, but God, those first few sips are a welcome jolt to her system.
"Thanks. No, your son was very active," she tells him, poking a finger into his thigh when he settles against the headboard next to her.
He grins and grabs her hand, nips at her palm before tangling their fingers together in his lap. "So, he's only my son when he misbehaves?" he teases.
"Mm-hmm." She gasps and tenses when the baby does what feels like a backflip in her uterus, presses her free hand to her belly.
"What's wrong?"
She shakes her head and tugs at Rick's hand, preventing him from jumping out of bed. "He moved and took me by surprise, that's all."
Rick shifts to face her. "May I?" he asks, his free hand hovering over her belly. When she nods, he places his palm to her skin, and his face lights up when there's movement. "Is that-"
"Yeah."
"Wow," he breathes, his gaze locked on her stomach. He chases the movement with his hand, pressing slightly harder to feel it, and he looks up at Kate, meets her gaze with watery eyes. "That's so cool," he whispers, emotion making his voice rough.
She covers his hand with hers. "What are you thinking?" she asks, watching as a tear rolls down his cheek. His throat bobs with a swallow, and she presses her other hand to his cheek, wipes the tear from his skin as he so often does with her. "Are you okay?"
He nods, leaning into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut. "Yeah," he rasps. "Sorry, I just-" He clears his throat and opens his eyes. "I'm really damn happy."
Her own eyes watering, she chokes out a laugh and leans forward to rest her forehead against his. "Me too."
She should be embarrassed, really, at how many times she's caught herself watching Rick. But she can't help it; he was one of the first people on the dance floor after Kevin and Jenny had their dance, and while Kate had joined him and their friends initially, she'd tired after a few songs and retreated to her table. She'll go back out in a few minutes, but she's enjoying this now, the opportunity to sit back and watch her friends let loose, their usual worries evaporating into the hip hop-filled air.
Despite the pure, unbridled joy on Rick's face, every time he catches her eye, his brows furrow as if to ask if she's okay.
She gives him a slight nod when he does it now - she is okay, just really freaking tired, thanks to her pregnancy and a libido-fueled late night - and takes the opportunity to stare when he turns away. Her body warms as his hips move to the beat, and her fingers twitch with the urge to dig into those hips as they do things that she should definitely not be thinking about at a Catholic wedding.
She takes a long drink of water, then clears her throat, stands, and joins her friends.
A slow song starts just when she reaches the floor, and although she rolls her eyes when Rick smirks, she takes his outstretched hand and lets him pull her into his arms.
"You good?" he murmurs, ducking his head to murmur in her ear.
She nods, her cheek brushing his. "Yeah. You?"
He chuckles. "Oh yeah."
He slides his arm around her waist and tugs her close, and she sighs and leans her cheek on his shoulder, feels him relax. He'd been nervous about attending the wedding, admitting to her earlier in the week that even though he works with Ryan and Esposito almost as much as he works with her, he still feels like he hasn't known Kevin long enough, or well enough, to earn a last-minute invitation.
She'd assured him that it wasn't the case, that even though it's only been about a month since she introduced them, Ryan and Esposito already consider him a friend.
"Huh," Rick says after a minute.
Kate lifts her head and sees him looking at something over her shoulder. She glances back, notices Lanie and Espo on the edge of the dance floor, arms around each other, also swaying to the music. She smirks and turns back to Rick. "About time they made up," she quips.
"Made up?" Rick echoes. "I didn't realize they were a thing."
"Oh, they've been off and on for like a year," she explains. "You weren't around the other day; Ryan mentioned to Espo that Lanie was bringing a date, and he about had an aneurysm in the middle of the bullpen. He turned around and brought someone to try and make Lanie jealous."
"Did it work?"
"Considering Lanie brought her very gay friend," Kate explains, tilting her head towards the table where Lanie and Espo's dates are currently sitting, "and Javi brought his cousin, and the two of them are now dancing, I'd say so."
Rick chuckles and brushes his lips across her forehead. "Glad you and I aren't that dramatic."
She rolls her eyes and rests her cheek on his shoulder, brushes her lips against his neck as she tightens her arms around his waist.
She may not have known Rick for very long, and can count on one hand the number of times she's seen him angry or upset. But when he opens his door later that week, phone pressed to his ear and fire in his eyes, Kate can tell that he's more than just upset.
He's pissed.
"I don't care, Gina," he snaps into the phone, moving back into the kitchen. "It's one thing to write about me. But they crossed the line when they brought her into it."
Kate shuts the door behind her and kicks off her shoes, hangs her coat in the closet before following him. She motions to herself and the simmering pot of what looks like marinara sauce, mimes stirring, and grabs the spoon when he nods.
She has no idea what Rick is talking about, but her gaze flicks to a folded up page of the newspaper on the counter, and she does a double-take when she realizes that she's looking at a picture of them.
She picks up the paper, setting the spoon aside as she unfolds it and reads.
"Sorry about that, I-"
She looks up when Rick stops, his eyes on the paper in her hand.
She's seen herself in the paper before - the occasional blurb in the crime section, usually related to a big case, and she knows there was a report about her shooting that she refuses to read - but never anything personal, especially not on Page Six.
The picture is of them leaving the wedding reception, their fingers laced together, her free hand on her stomach, looking very much like a happy couple expecting a child. The caption takes a different view, however, with the phrases "Playboy gone too far" and "honey-trapped" standing out.
"Gina's going to demand that they print a retraction," Rick says, stepping forward and taking the paper from her hand. "I'm used to being on Page Six, but there was no reason for them to post this, not with that kind of accusation. It's pure speculation, and probably borderline slander."
"They're saying I honey-trapped you, Rick," she points out, leaning her hip against the counter as he takes over stirring the sauce.
"And anyone who matters to us knows that isn't true."
"Not at work." She sighs and runs a hand down her face. "Look, anyone I work with regularly knows me, knows the reputation I've built. But if I were up for a promotion, being considered for Captain or more, and this came up? It could speak to my integrity. If I was willing to get pregnant to bag a guy-" She motions to her belly. "What would I do to solve a case?"
"I know."
"No, Rick, you don't. God, it's hard enough being a woman in a field so dominated by men. I have to overachieve just to get the bare minimum. I have been very lucky in my career; I haven't had to face the sexism, blatant or otherwise, that others do. But it's still there. I'm not saying everyone will read this bullshit and put me on a list, but it sure doesn't help."
Rick's gaze softens throughout her rant, and he reaches out, cups her elbow with his hand. "You're right, I don't know. It isn't an excuse, but I'm used to Page Six commenting on my romantic dalliances and reputation. A reputation that they basically created, but still," he adds, his thumb tracing circles on her sleeve. He slides his hand down her arm and tangles their fingers together. "I've never discouraged the angle, since it's always helped my career, and I don't give a shit what people think about me. But that changes now."
Kate pauses, the question on the tip of her tongue, but unsure if she wants to ask it. She's followed his career more than his personal life, but she does know what the tabloids have claimed; playboy, bachelor, and womanizer are all references she's seen.
She knows there's some element of truth - his charm drew her in immediately - but she also knows how entertainment media tends to exaggerate. So…
"How accurate are they?" she blurts before she can stop herself. Her face warms, and she shits her gaze over his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes.
"Are you asking for my number?" he teases, grabbing her hand when she smacks his chest. He presses a quick kiss to the inside of her wrist and lets go. "They've never been completely wrong," he admits. "There's always an element of truth, and then they build a story around it. I haven't always made the best relationship choices, so being a charming, chronically single, relatively good-looking guy with two divorces under my belt gives them a solid foundation to build on."
He shrugs. "It's always been good for book sales - women come to signings with the hope that I'll notice them and take them home. But that's mostly fabrication, especially the last few years, after Gina and I split. Still, it never crossed my mind how it could affect a potential partner. I'm sorry that you've been roped in."
He laces his fingers at the small of her back and leans against the counter, holding her to him. "Gina's ruthless; she'll have them not only retracting their accusation, but posting a whole statement extolling your virtues."
She rolls her eyes at his presumably hyperbolic statement, but she doesn't move away from him, instead loops her arms around his neck.
While she definitely doesn't love how cavalier Page Six is about their current situation - she can't bring herself to call it a relationship - she finds herself more bothered by the picture they've painted of him over the years. He may not have discouraged it, but that doesn't make it fair.
"For what it's worth," she says, her fingers playing with the soft hair at his nape, "I think I've known from our first night that you're more than a womanizing playboy. Even though I didn't realize that you were, well, you," she adds, remembering that she didn't realize who he was until a few weeks later.
He offers her a small smile and brushes his lips across hers. "Thanks. Anything else I can do?"
"Dish up dinner, if it's ready?" she suggests. "I'm starving."
He laughs. "Consider it done."