Ferret Calm, Ferret Bright, Ch. 3-Sequel to Silent Night, Ferret Night and A Business of Ferrets
Title: Ferret Calm, Ferret Bright, Ch. 3
WC: ~1600 this chapter, 4000 total
Rating: T
Summary: "Kevin and Jenny's place is wall-to-wall cheer and slightly tipsy people. Castle tries to see it for what it is: A neat, welcoming space all dressed up for the holidays. Their last hurrah with friends before the baby arrives. He tries to see that, but he's having flashbacks."
A/N: And the last chapter of this.
The epilogue is going to be slightly wonky, and I apologize. It will be posted as last chapter of Material Witness. It links back to a previous chapter of that story, and I'd just rather have it there.
Thanks for reading.
The party rises and falls outside the door. Beyond the warm comfort of four walls, low light, and the two of them. Three of them, he corrects himself.
They sit together, mostly quiet. She plays with the ferret. He does. Kind of. He still can't help but jerk upright when the long body coils and she makes a dash from one of Kate's knees to the other. But it makes her laugh a little-Kate laughs-so he plays it up.
When they do talk it's her. Kate. She talks about the ferret. About Lila and the neurobiology of ferret depression, all of it interspersed with half a dozen shut up elbows to his ribs when he smiles into her hair and swears he's not laughing. He's not.
He's not laughing. It's interesting. She's interesting like this. She talks and he listens. He notices things, and it's like the beginning all over again. A new side of her he gets to know and he's in love with that. With knowing there will always be more of her to discover. It fills him up. Contentment and light and he loves this time of year. He loves it more with her in his life and feels guilty for it.
She doesn't love it. She's trying, but she doesn't. She's on the wrong side of happy drunk and it's more than Christmas. It's more than another January looming, although that's all enough. There's a new sadness in her. Something more raw. He thinks so, but he's trying not to push.
She's going easy on him, and that feels backward. She's trying. Letting him ask dumb questions and smiling when he does. Letting him lead her on and coax the words out of her. Pressing her fingers to his thigh or her shoulders back against his chest so he won't worry when she doesn't answer. So the mute shake of her head doesn't leave him on the outside looking in.
And he doesn't worry. Not really. He wonders. He wishes-he wishes so much for her. But she's not hiding from him and he can make that be enough.
"I miss my mom."
It's sudden when she says it. Out of nowhere and summing everything up all at once. The last few weeks. Last year and this. More that just her on the wrong side of happy drunk. But partly that. Just partly.
"It's worse," she says. She rushes into the silence and he's grateful. So grateful to her for being the one to save them both. From whatever inane thing he was likely to say because he wants to make it better. "It shouldn't be, but it's worse. I'm remembering all these things . . . . all the Christmases when I still had her. It should be a happy thing, and it is. But it feels worse."
The words die away-a long, long string of them for her-and laughter rushes in from the party. Out-of-joint cheer that makes them both ache.
"It's new. You never let yourself." He sets his teeth together hard to keep quiet, but it slips out anyway. Something logical slips out, and he can't stop. "You kept watch. Every year. You never let yourself miss her."
It falls quiet. The room and the whole place. More coincidence than omen, he knows-he tells himself-but still. Still. He curses silently. Opens his mouth to apologize and has nothing to say. Absolutely nothing. He's bad at being her. So bad at this.
"Do I have to?" It's petulant. It's a lip-pushed-out whine, so much more him than her, and he laughs. She laughs, too, and lets him turn his face to her shoulder. She lets him whisper her name and touch irregular kisses to the underside of her jaw. She lets him, but she asks again. Sad this time. The cracked open heart of it. Why she's hiding in the dark, talking to a depressed ferret. "Do I have to?"
"I think so?" It's hesitant. The ferret looks up at him. Narrows her eyes, though how that's possible he's not really sure. He rushes on. Thinks he'd better make this good. "I think things like that . . . they keep. Until we go through them."
She sighs. Shaky and drawn out. He feels the knots of her shoulders. Kisses her dry cheek and tastes the tears for this-for brand new grief, fifteen years in the making-that she won't allow herself. Even with him. Even if she's not hiding from him, she won't allow herself.
Even alone, probably. Probably, though he wonders if he should offer. If he should gather her up and take her home. Wherever that is tonight, if he should tuck her in and stand watch at the door. If she'd let herself then and maybe it wouldn't be worse for long.
He thinks about offering. He thinks about how to even go about it. He's wondering when she goes on. No sign of tears at all now.
"She'd be happy. She'd like all this." She gestures at the door. At Burl Ives and the ebb and flow of laughter. She peers down into her own lap. "Maybe not this."
The ferret chatters. A short, indignant staccato. Other than the bell, it's the first sound she's made all night, he realizes. She's a better Kate than he is.
"Not easy." Castle reaches out and taps the bell. "You don't make it easy, you."
"I know," she says. He stiffens. His mouth falls open and words rush up. Panicked denial that she stops with her lips. With a rough, aching kiss and fingers tangled tight in his hair. "I know. I know you didn't mean me, Castle. But I don't make it easy. I know that."
"Kate."
He struggles up taller. Closer to her and tries to get both arms around her. It rocks them both back hard against the bed. There's an avalanche. The precarious piles of coats shudders and slides. It belches mittens and berets. Heavy coats and long scarves 'till they're both buried.
She loses Lila in the thick of it. The evil little thing sniffs chaos on the wind and she's in her element. She coils and vaults Kate's thigh. She dives into the tunnel of a sleeve and comes out somewhere else entirely.
They're a flurry of knocking heads and clumsy knees. They chase and sprawl after her, always landing a second too late. They curse and laugh go red with exertion. He hears the bell. Sees the lightning flash of red velvet and pushes off with his feet. He belly surfs to the door. It just misses his face as it flies open. He twists at the last second comes to rest on his back at Jenny's feet.
She looks down at them. Surveys the room with astonished, wide-open eyes and hands on hips. "Guys?"
"Jenny!' he gasps. "Ferret. The door."
Lila materializes then. At that exact moment she appears at Jenny's feet, looking up. Placid, expectant, and innocent as can be.
"Lila!" She bends at the waist. Tries to anyway, then remembers the bump. She straightens awkwardly. "What are you doing out?"
Castle rolls to his side and pushes himself to his feet. He scoops up the ferret without thinking. He juggles her into Jenny's waiting palms and steps back, surreptitiously wiping his hands on his pants.
Kate's on her knees. Still on her knees with her forehead to the floor. She's shaking and there's a terrible moment. She's shaking and he's horrified until the laughter bubbles up. Until she drags in a breath and wipes her eyes and it starts all over again. Laughter from down deep.
Jenny looks from her to him, bewildered. He shrugs. Opens his mouth and closes it again.
Kate struggles up behind him. She's clumsy, grabbing at his jacket tails, his hips and his belt loops, apologizing. Laughing. "I'm sorry. Jenny, I'm so sorry. I took her out. She seemed . . . depressed."
"Oh, Kate!" Jenny gushes.
The two of them are off and running. Jenny read the same article. The two of them bend their heads over Lila and nod seriously. Jenny thanks her. Tells her about finding homes for all the kits and how Lila seemed fine at first.
Castle hangs back. He's not laughing. It's weird enough to border on bizarre, but he leaves them to it and starts picking up coats. Starts trying to match glove to scarf to jacket and gives up. He makes a pile. Sorts by color and lets the low hum of conversation wash over him.
"Yeah?"
He hears it. Not his name, but the way she's turning to him. The smile over her shoulder, shy and a little anxious.
"Yeah," he says. "Of course."
He doesn't know what he's agreeing to but it doesn't matter. Anything. Anything for her.
"You're sure you have to go?" Jenny looks set on wheedling.
He steps up. Picks up the cue smoothly and sees Kate's shoulders slip down a notch or two. "We do. I . . . kind of put everything off to the last minute. I had to beg, but Beckett said she'd help with the wrapping."
"You can owe me." Her smile turns a little evil. He feels the scales tip back for her-for them both and for this time of year. He feels her tip back to the right side of happy and breathes easier.
"Well . . . if you have to," Jenny says with mock stern-ness. "But don't think you're off the hook."
"The hook?" he asks nervously as Jenny juggles Lila up to her shoulder and moves toward him, determination in her eye.
"Yeah, Castle." Kate holds out a hand and upgrades her smile to flat out wicked. Some part of him goes uh oh at that, but grabs her fingers. She tugs him hard to her side and shoves him at Jenny. "You've gotta rub the belly for luck."
A/N: The epilogue will be up tomorrow, 12/24 as the last chapter of Material Witness.