94. 94: Tuesday

94

Captain Gates is drawing her aside, her fingers like a vice around Kate's upper arm.

She knows what she has to do.

Alexis's hand squeezes once in Kate's but she lets go easily enough, turns to her grandmother as Gates leads them outside the waiting room.

She's not surprised to find Ryan and Esposito standing shoulder to shoulder just outside the doors. She barely registers them, hardly sees their expressions.

What she does notice is the gleam of her badge in Esposito's hand, her gun carefully held in Ryan's.

She turns her head to Captain Gates, but the woman beats her out.

"You officially were off probation three days ago," the woman says. "Esposito is back at the 12th. He was on desk duty until-"

Until Castle was shot.

Ryan clears his throat. "Are you coming-"

"No." Kate swallows the thickness in her chest and clenches her fists to avoid reaching out for them - the badge, the gun - using them to hold her up.

"That's it?" Gates says, and her voice is like steel. "Just no?"

"No. But-"

Esposito and Ryan both tense, bodies coiled and waiting on her word.

"When he wakes up," Kate says quietly. "Not until he wakes up."

Captain Gates drops her hand from Kate's arm, gives her a slow look. "It won't be this case."

"Yes it will," Kate says back, meeting her eyes straight on. "It will be this case."

"We'll talk."

Her fingers slide through his hair. She has fifteen minutes and she wishes, so badly, he would wake up for her. He came to when Alexis was in the room - just for a moment - and then Alexis came crying into Kate's arms because it wasn't right - it wasn't him.

Kate knows the feeling.

She wishes he would wake up for her. Just once. She needs him, she needs again that moment she got yesterday. The blue of his eyes on hers. Just that. His eyes on hers. Not even the curl of his fingers, not even his smile, just his eyes on hers - even though the lack of awareness in them is chilling.

But she can't bring herself to talk to him like his mother and Alexis are doing, not while he sleeps. He's not in a coma; he's just drugged. She won't talk to him like it's worse than it is.

He's fine. He'll be fine.

He'll come off the ventilator later today and breathe on his own and he will be fine.

If he was in his own bed at home, she wouldn't wake him up there either, would she? She wouldn't talk at him in the quiet, grey light of his bedroom and risk the grumpy, whiny baby he is when she wakes him earlier than he likes. It's not natural, Beckett. So she won't do it.

It's just a vacation. A little vacation. He gets to sleep in on his vacation.

As soon as he's off the vent, then she'll ask him to wake. She knows he has it in him. He's strong, healthy - he's Castle - and she is in love with him, and he can't do that to her, he just can't.

She strokes his hair, again and again, again and again, and then leans in to brush her lips over the deep lines around his mouth.

With her face pressed so close, she can't help but whisper, "I love you."

His eyes don't open by the miracle of her words; his chest continues to inhale and exhale in time to the ventilator.

His lashes are so beautiful against the pale line of his cheek, and he is breaking her heart.

So long as it's him, so long as he's the one doing the breaking, she can take it.

She'll take it.

Kate stares down at the coffee in her hands, lifts her head only when the doors open.

It's the mid-shift nurse, her hand at the stethoscope around her neck to keep it in place. "It's four, and you can-"

Kate jumps to her feet, coffee abandoned on the chair.

"-see him now."

Alexis is right at her side and Kate pauses, arrests her natural instinct to just go to him, steps back so that Alexis can take the first fifteen minutes.

"No," Alexis murmurs. "You go ahead. I - I hate seeing him like - he just-" Alexis shrugs, bites her lip. "I don't think I take it right now."

Kate rakes her eyes over the young woman, gauging her need, and then decides Alexis could use a break. "Why don't you call your grandmother and you guys can switch? You need to sleep."

Your father would never forgive me if-

"Maybe. Maybe I will," Alexis sighs out. "Call if-"

"Of course."

Alexis presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and then slumps into Kate. She embraces his daughter immediately, squeezing promise into those thin shoulders.

"Martha has sleeping pills," Kate says quietly. "Take one. You need to sleep."

"And you-?"

"I will." She won't. She's used to this. She knows how long her body is good for without adequate rest, and as a detective, she's perfected the art of snatching at sleep here and there. This is something she's good at.

"Okay," Alexis sighs, her forehead against Kate's shoulder for a moment before moving away.

Kate follows the nurse back into the ICU ward.

She's there for not even thirty seconds when his hand spasms violently in hers. Kate gets up from the hard, metal chair and stands at his side, her other hand coming up to his forehead.

Only to be met with the storm-grey of his eyes, panicked and intent on hers.

"Castle," she gasps, tears streaking down her cheeks.

His hand crushes her fingers, his throat works, and his eyes rove her face.

"Hey, hey there," she murmurs, swiping at the tears with her knuckles. She strokes her fingers at his temple, along the ridge of his eyebrow, trying to soothe him.

His body jerks in the bed, his eyes blink rapidly and then his hand untangles from hers and reaches up, grabbing for the tube down his throat.

She snatches his hand back and presses the nurse call button. "Hey, no, no. Don't do that. You're okay. You're on the vent, Castle. You have to let it do all the work. Just relax."

But he can't seem to hear her, or the feeling of the tube down his throat has overridden his senses, because he's starting to make terrible noises in his chest, the desperation growing in his eyes.

She clutches his hand in hers and presses it against his side, leaning over him, feathering her fingers along his forehead, his cheek, his nose. "Castle, stop. Stop fighting the machine. You need to-"

"Looks like he's awake," comes the nurse's voice right over Kate's shoulder. She glances back and the woman is checking his chart. "Let me get the doctor on rounds - he can take him off the vent, see how Mr. Castle does breathing on his own."

"Hurry," Kate grunts. "He's not happy about it." Under her, Castle jerks again, the growl of pain or confusion issuing from his chest.

"If he keeps moving, I'll have to put him in soft restraints-"

"He won't move," Kate insists. "He won't. He's fine." She glances back down to Castle, frames his face with her palm, tries to will him to relax. "You won't, will you, Rick? You're fine. You're okay. It's okay."

His eyes zone in on hers; his gaze is unbreakable. He is pleading with her for something she can't understand, something she doesn't know how to give.

But wishes with all her heart she did.

"Anything, Castle. Anything. Just breathe."

She has to wait.

She has to wait for the doctor to remove the tube down his throat, carefully, then check his vitals, make sure that everything looks good, that he's taking breaths on his own.

She has to wait for the nurse to explain that Castle will stay in ICU for the night, then be moved to a room on the post-op floor in the morning, if his breathing remains stable. That they will get regular visiting hours then.

And then, finally, finally, Kate is left alone with him, and it doesn't matter that he can't speak, that his vocal cords will be paralyzed for the next couple hours because of the tube, none of that matters because his eyes are open and blue and aware, and he sees her.

He sees her.

In fact, he's staring.

"Hey," she breathes, a smile coming to life, blooming on her lips.

She steps closer to take his hand, the hand she had to let go of when the doctor was examining him, and he squeezes back, his fingers so strong, so unlike the lifeless, swollen digits from the day before.

Of course he's still pale and tired, his hair flopping across his forehead, but he is-

Alive. Awake.

Kate bites on her lip, feels the oppressive push of tears in her throat. Castle sees through her, he always does, and he struggles to sit up, get closer, wincing as he rests his weight on his elbow.

"Castle, I don't think you should-"

He grunts, gives her a fierce look, and she swallows her objections, leaning in to help instead. She puts an arm around his uninjured shoulder, her other hand gentle at his armpit; in this position his mouth is at her cheek, his warm breath against her skin, and it's just-

exactly what she needed.

She wraps both arms around his chest, just a moment, just a minute of holding him, breathing him in, the scent of the man she loves hidden underneath the hospital smell, intact at the crook of his neck.

It's not comfortable - she's still hunched over and her torso is twisted to fit against his - but she needs it too badly to care. Needs him.

Rick.

She presses her lips to his neck, fervent, feels the responding caress of his fingers in her hair, a little stiff but gentle, so tender. Oh God, and she came so close to losing him, could have lost him to a goddamn bullet fired by a goddamn sniper-

The anger helps, drains her of the fear, allows her to ignore her trembling mess of a heart.

She lets go, slowly, her hand on his shoulder as she arranges the pillow at his back, finds another one abandoned on the nearest chair. He rests into them with a sigh, his eyes fluttering shut, and her chest contracts-

Expands again when he looks at her, questions on his face.

She doesn't know where to start.

But he glances down at the bed before she gets a chance to gather her thoughts, his hand wrapping around the plastic handrail at his side, pulling it down after a few unsuccessful jerks. Then he invites her to sit down with his whole face, eyes, nose, mouth crinkled at her, his throat working even though nothing comes out, and although she's probably not supposed to, she's not about to say no to him.

So she perches on the bed next to his thigh, warmed by the contact, by the way his fingers close over hers.

He makes everything easier.

"Alexis and Martha are on their way," she tells him, figuring that's probably where he'd want her to start. "I just sent Alexis home; she needed the sleep. But they'll be here in about fifteen minutes."

She pauses, a little breathless, surprised at all the words that suddenly want out, all the things she wants to share with him now that he's awake.

"Alexis - she's strong. Helped me keep it together," she adds with a quick smile, her voice tight.

Pride and love paint his weary face, and she's struck by the light in his eyes, how very, very beautiful he is. Hers. Her Castle.

His index finger is tracing loops and swirls over her wrist, flirting with the edge of her bone; it sends tingling warmth along her nerves, gives her a point of focus.

"I was wearing flats," she hears herself say, like it's someone else's voice. "That's why-"

But she can't finish. She has to find his eyes, the familiar, brilliant blue, and force a long breath into her lungs. "God, Castle, the angle, if I'd been wearing heels...You'd be dead," she whispers, her whole body shuddering at the horror of that thought.

And then the words are tumbling out, the words she promised herself she wouldn't say, raw and eager in her throat. "I'm sorry," she says, holding his hand tight, seeking his forgiveness even though she knows- "I'm so sorry, Rick. I thought it was over, I thought I was - if I had known I was putting you-'

But he's shaking his head fiercely, a groan in his chest, and he's lifting a hand to her mouth to silence her; the soft press of his fingertips cuts off the flow of her apology. His hand moves to her neck, curling there, and he pulls her down to him until their lips are touching.

His mouth is dry, chapped from the lack of water, the artificial air from the vent. Kate brushes her tongue to it, kisses him slowly, lightly, purposefully, until his lips are as warm and soft as she remembers them.

He's alive; he's awake. Everything will be fine.

Everything will be fine.

"You scared me, Castle," she admits in a murmur, their foreheads touching, her hand cradling his jaw. He lets out a sigh, but she doesn't want his apology - no more than he wanted hers.

So she kisses him again, making sure not to leave him breathless, just light strokes of her mouth to reassure him, herself, dispel the paralyzing fear that she's been living with.

There are more things that need to be said. Maddox is still lurking out there, gunning for her; the boys want her on the case, and Gates wants her at the precinct.

But Kate is not going to spoil their moment, not going to tarnish the relief of their shared breath.