Chapter three

Some days, these past eight months felt like some surreal nightmare.

The kind of nightmare where you know you're asleep, you know that nothing around you is real and, yet, you can't pull yourself out of that dreamscape.

The kind of nightmare where your brain is screaming to do one thing but your body does the total opposite.

The kind of nightmare where your daughter was rotting away in a prison cell, framed for the murder of someone she was only trying to help, and no one had any idea of how they could help her.

Jim had hit rock bottom before, after the loss of his wife. He felt like life couldn't possibly get any worse. But Katie had guided him through some of his hardest days. She saved him, showed him that he could find purpose and happiness again. He had put in the hard work, fought his demons and - thanks to his daughter's refusal to give up on him - he'd rebuilt his life.

He hadn't had a drink in over 13 years.

He wished he could say that he had a valid reason for being in a rundown bar on the other side of town, wished he could say the drink in his hand belonged to someone else. He wished he could say he wasn't a weak man but, right now, he felt anything but strong.

"Is everything okay?" the young bartender asked, eyeing Jim suspiciously as he wiped down the next table. "Is there something wrong with your drink?"

Jim looked at the man, then hung his head low. He recognised the young man's expression - an equal mix of judgement and concern - and a wave of shame washed over him. He never thought he'd be here again: the token alcoholic, sitting in the darkened corner, about to break his sobriety.

"It's fine," Jim answered, despite the fact that he was yet to take a single sip. Although, he was certain that was why the young man had asked; because he had been staring into the amber liquor for almost twenty minutes now.

He hadn't planned on being here for this long but, the moment he felt the cool glass in his hand, he froze.

She'd be so disappointed, a voice in his head taunted.

Who she was, he wasn't quite sure. Johanna, Katie... hell, she may have even been Martha or Alexis. Somehow, those two had become so unfathomably important to him. It hurt his soul knowing that they were counting on him and, well, he was here.

He lifted the glass but stopped before the rim touched his lips. With a heavy sigh, his hand dropped back to the table. A splash of his drink sloshed over the edge of the glass, coating his knuckles and soaking his cuff. He wiped the back of his hand on his jacket sleeve as he slipped out of the booth and stormed out of the bar, leaving the drink on the table.

The air was like a wall of ice compared to the warmth inside, but he embraced the biting chill of the wind against his skin as he began to walk - to where, he wasn't quite sure. He just needed to go... away. He wasn't sure how long he had been walking when his phone began to ring.

"Jim Beckett," he answered without so much as a cursory glance at the caller ID.

"Hi, Jim!" the young, chipper voice greeted him.

He closed his eyes and could see the girl as clear as day: her bright blue eyes and that gentle, polite smile he had never seen her without. Even on that wretched day - five years ago, when Katie had been shot - every time their eyes met, the girl would offer him the softest, most comforting smile she could muster.

"I'm sorry I missed your call before," Alexis began to explain. "I put Theo down for a nap and, well, I guess I was more tired than I thought."

Theo had been having a little trouble with his day and night recognition, sleeping for most of the day and - unfortunately for Alexis, who had volunteered herself for the 'midnight shifts' - staying awake for longer periods of time throughout the night. He and Martha had both assured her that it was perfectly normal. That, while some babies only take a matter of weeks to fall into some sort of regular sleep regime, many take much longer. Martha had a wonderful knack of reassuring her granddaughter by entertaining them all with stories of her own early parenthood misadventures; even Jim had been more than happy to share a tale or two of his first stumbles with Katie.

It was easier then; back when his greatest failure had been accidentally turning his back just long enough for his months old daughter to roll off the bed, or the time he'd left a spicey devilled egg within reach and Katie had shoved the whole thing in her mouth before he'd even seen her tiny hands grab for it.

"I think you're doing a pretty good job at this parenting thing," he had told Alexis just days ago. Because that's what she was: a new parent.

And he had meant it, with every fibre of his being. Alexis hadn't balked when taking on responsibility of her sibling. She knuckled down, did the research, bought the nursery furniture and sat through hours of parenting classes. She spent months preparing herself in every way she could and she never complained, not even once. She'd had a very brief moment of panic when she had received the call from the hospital informing her that Kate was in labour but, even then, she managed to pull herself together within just a few minutes. And, since then, she had been a shining example of strength and persistence and resilience.

Because parenting is never what anyone expects it to be, no matter how much preparation you do.

He understood why Katie had been so hesitant at first, why she still felt so guilty. So quickly, Alexis's life had become about which formula is best and what diapers won't irritate Theo's skin. She had given up her job, her social life, her freedom and her restful nights. She had given up her youth.

It was a testament to her character, a testament to the strength of this family. And Jim couldn't have been more proud of how they were all pulling together in this time of need. If he had just half the strength this girl had... well, he probably wouldn't have stepped foot inside of a bar this afternoon.

"If you ever need a night off-" he began to offer.

As expected, Alexis cut him off before he could even finish his offer. "I'm alright, I promise. Gram had a class but she is back now so I was going to go out and get us some Chinese food for dinner."

"Ask him if he would like to join us for dinner!" he heard Martha call out melodically in the background.

"Would you care to join us, Jim?" Alexis repeated, sweetly. "I'm sure Theo would love to spend some time with Pop before he goes to bed."

Another wave of shame washed over him. Shame, and guilt. It wasn't a feeling he was unfamiliar with, unfortunately.

He had been here before, battling the internal war when addiction tries to justify letting down those you love, those who need you. But he'd let Katie down before, he wouldn't let history repeat itself.

"Yeah," he said quietly, a little unsure. "I'd love that."

From the moment Jim had stepped across the threshold, Martha's instincts had been all but screaming at her - something was wrong.

She had dusted the light feathering of snow from his shoulders and stripped him of his jacket before ushering him toward the fireplace, ordering him to 'defrost' while she and Alexis set the table for dinner. She tried to tell herself that the man was simply having a bad day - she had sure as hell had her fair share of them lately - but when she caught the unmistakable sweet, smoky scent off his jacket, she knew she had to step in.

Martha let it slide during dinner, finding herself distracted when Jim informed them of Katherine's request: that they take Theodore with them tomorrow afternoon when they go to visit Richard. She had, apparently, had the idea that they could all surprise him. It was wonderful, really, that Katherine had wanted to do something like that for Richard. Especially given the radio silence they'd all received from her in the weeks after Theo's birth. Two weeks ago, Jim had finally managed to secure visitation with his daughter and, since then, she had made an effort to call at least one of them every other night to check in. Still, the conversations were always brief; strained and tainted by deep seated melancholia. None of them knew what to say, what to do. Nothing would make this better.

After dinner, Alexis took Theodore to get ready for bed. Martha - never one to beat around the bush - seized the opportunity.

"So, how is she?" she asked, grabbing a wet plate from the drying rack and lazily wiping a towel over it. "Really."

Jim rinsed the suds off of another plate, then stacked it in the rack. "She's fine."

"And you?"

His silence was enough of an answer. Jim was a stoic man: he never showed his true emotions and Martha sure didn't expect him to actually open up to her. Yet, she couldn't help but feel the slight sting of rejection each time he tried to distance himself. Were they not a family? Was now not a time when they were supposed to be able to lean on one another?

She detested the thought of Jim trying to process everything, to make it through this darkness, all alone.

Just when she thought for sure that the man was going to close himself off more, he spoke.

"She's not okay," he said quietly; almost as if he didn't want to hear himself say the words aloud. As if saying them would somehow make them more truthful. He placed his hands on the edge of the sink in front of him, curled his fingers around it until his knuckles turned white. "Something is going on, I just know it, but she- she's too stubborn, too proud. She won't talk to me."

"I wonder where she gets that from," Martha retorted without thought.

Jim turned his head to look at her, his face slack with shock at the bluntness of her statement.

She should have kept her mouth shut, should have kept her remarks to herself. But just as she began mentally reprimanding herself, Jim huffed out a breath of air in what sounded an awful lot like laughter.

"Yeah, I guess it's in her DNA," he agreed.

Martha let out a breath and smiled at the man.

"If I know Katherine," she began. "And, I like to think that I do. She will pull through this. Whatever is going on, she will come out the other side. She just needs to know that we're here for her. She needs to know that we are coping and not, perhaps, falling back on poor coping mechanisms."

Jim's wide-eyed, look of guilt was all the proof she needed that her instincts were - as usual - spot on.

"I'm not here to judge," she assured him, watching as his eyes darted around the loft - probably to make sure Alexis wouldn't overhear them. "But, I can't just stand by and watch-"

"I've been, uh, feeling the pressure lately," he admitted. "It's like a weight against my chest and-" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Her voice. When she called me she just- she sounded so... defeated. So broken." He opened his eyes again, looked into Martha's. "And there's nothing I can do."

Martha swallowed the lump forming in her throat, her heart plummeted to her stomach. She knew the feeling all too well; the hopelessness of it all. That was probably the worst part (for her, at least). Having to sit by and watch this all play out, knowing that there was nothing they could do to fix this. As a parent, that's one thing you always feel compelled to do for your child: make it better. Whether it was scaring away the monsters under the bed or fixing a scraped knee with nothing more than a band-aid and a kiss. This, however...

"I didn't drink," Jim assured her, and her chest filled with pride. "I came close, though. Too close."

She reached over, placed her hand over Jim's and offered the man a warm smile.

"You stopped yourself," she reminded him.

It was more than he was able to do eighteen years ago.

Jim nodded slowly as he processed Martha's words. Then, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at her.

"I couldn't let you all down."

Rick couldn't believe his eyes as he walked into the visitor's cage.

He had known that his mother was coming to visit him today. He had hoped that Alexis would be able to join her, too. What he hadn't expected was to walk into the visitor's cage to see Martha, Alexis and Jim sitting at one of the tables, waiting for him.

And Theo.

He could cry. He wanted to sing and dance and jump for joy... and cry. The tears were already welling, blurring his vision by the time he reached the table.

He grabbed his daughter's hand, pulled her in for a hug. He held her, in silence (and possibly just a little too tightly), for a full minute before he finally released her, allowed her a little space to breathe again.

Then, his eyes drifted over to the perfect little angel, sleeping so peacefully in Jim's arms.

"Katie asked if we could make the trip out here today," Jim explained quietly.

Rick lowered himself into the seat across from Jim. "Have you taken him to visit her?" he asked, unable to tear his eyes away from Theo.

"Not yet," the older man informed him. "She's not ready."

Finally, Rick looked at his father-in-law, studied his face. "What do you mean she's not ready?" His eyes darted to his mother's. "She's okay, right?"

"She's fine," Martha assured him. "Just... dealing with things."

"Katie has-" Jim paused thoughtfully, as if trying to carefully choose his wording. "concerns that she is trying to overcome."

Rick nodded, his eyes falling back to his sleepy little boy. He knew all about Kate's concerns - some completely irrational, some entirely valid - and he would never want to push her before she was ready. But just being this close to Theo... man, she was missing out on something amazing.

"I'm surprised you haven't ripped him from my hands yet," Jim said with a slight chuckle.

Rick smiled and shook his head. "He looks so comfortable, so peaceful. I don't want to disturb him."

But Jim stood and slowly moved closer to Rick.

"I don't think he'll mind," his father-in-law assured him.

Rick's heart began to thump a strong - if not somewhat irregular - beat as Jim transferred the child into Rick' arms. Theo squirmed just the tiniest bit, stretching out in his father's arms before curling up again, nuzzling into the warmth of Rick's body and drifting off to sleep once more.

Rick hung his head, closed his eyes and breathed in that tiny baby scent. He listened to the short, sharp huffs of air that came from his sleeping son. He tried to memorise these things: the sounds; the smells; the weight of the child cradled in his arms.

They would be the things to get him through the long days. And, behind closed eyes, he tried to conjure images, to build a scene from the little details he kept stored in his mind. Little Theo - their Little Bear - in his arms. His light weight just enough to anchor Castle to the soft, pillowy sofa at the loft. And Kate - her sweet, cherry scent wafting as she sat beside them - leaning her head on his shoulder. They'd happily sit together, wasting hours on end just watching their son sleep the day away. He could hear the crackle of the fireplace in the background, see the flicker of warm light dance across the room. In his mind, everything would be perfect. He could get lost there, in this perfect world his mind created.

"We'll bring him to visit every week," Alexis said, pulling Rick back to reality.

It was only when he opened his eyes to look at his daughter, only to be met by a watery blur, that he realised he had been crying. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled.

He wanted to speak, to thank them all, but he couldn't trust his voice.

So, he just sat and observed the precious bundle in his arms.