the gasp and stutter of a heart 6/?
Title: the gasp and stutter of a heart 6/?
Author: dave7
Rating: M
Characters/Pairings: Richard Castle/Kate Beckett
Fandom: Castle
Spoilers: Season Three.
Summary: A kiss to her forehead and then she pulls away, offers him a watery smile, and his chest contracts. His to love or not, he already might.
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the gasp and stutter of a heart 6/?
- -
Rick makes a quick phone call - to his mother rather than his daughter - and arranges for them to be gone, her and Alexis both, before he’ll get back to the loft and then they’re in the back of a taxi, he and Kate, on the way to the nearest hospital.
They speed through the city and he tries to shift his focus to the people they pass in the streets, living their lives, oblivious, and he’s very carefully not thinking.
Not about the woman sitting next to him. Not about the women he’s sending away.
And especially not about the idea that he could have already lived through the last time he’ll see his daughter. He thinks he’s doing an admirable job until they pass a young girl, red hair and he swears she’s wearing the same backpack Alexis had when she was five, and then he’s wondering what the last thing he told her was.
God, but he can’t remember.
Something about school, he thinks, or homework, maybe? And it’s not how he wants his child to remember him, but if he rings now she’ll know something is wrong, she’ll refuse to leave, and he needs her gone.
He needs her safe.
Her, at least.
“You okay, Castle?”
No. Not even close.
Kate’s right hand is clutching his, their fingers laced, and when his eyes flick back in her direction, he finds her left hand still curled around her abdomen.
And yeah, he feels like an idiot when he thinks about how long it’s taken him to realise because she wouldn’t ask him to take her to the hospital, would she?
No, not his Kate, not when there are lives at stake.
Not for herself, anyway.
And how has he not noticed? When half his waking time is spent focusing on her, how could he not have realised?
“How long have you known?”
“What?”
He motions towards her abdomen and she’s not showing, not really, except that she is. It’s small but with her hand pressing he can make out a bump and, really, he should have noticed before. “That you’re pregnant. How long have you known?”
Her face twists, the last of her resolve crumbling until all that’s left is fear and guilt and a terrible kind of agony that he can feel an echo of in his chest.
Rick expects her to pull away but no, instead, her fingers tighten around his until it’s almost painful.
He hears her, “Not long,” and then he doesn’t hear much else because not long could be a few days. Or it could be a week. It could be exactly as long as she’s been avoiding him, and that’s not a good sign, is it?
No.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she admits and he nods his head, offers her a weak smile, because tell him what, exactly?
That she was pregnant? That she’s carrying another man’s child? That she can’t do this with him? Doesn’t want to?
“It’s okay,” he says. A lie, and he expects her to accept it, but she shakes head.
Her eyes close against her pain, shield him from it, and, “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
He pulls her into his arms, lets her hide her face against his chest, because no, neither did he.
He doesn’t know anything about radiation and pregnant women except that it’s not good and maybe it won’t matter, maybe they’re all doomed anyway, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not to her, he knows, and not to him.
“You’re going to be fine. Both of you.” It’s another lie but this time it’s one they both need because she wants this baby, he can tell, and yeah, he wants it for her too.
They’re only a few weeks into this thing, barely a month, and they’ve skipped all the steps, done it all backwards, and no, it can’t be his. Even if there was a chance, if he thought there was a chance, but no. Not with the way she’s been pushing him away, not with the way she’s been avoiding him.
Josh’s then. Josh’s child.
And Rick would love her anyway, her and her child, his to love or not. He just doesn’t know that she’d give him the chance.
A kiss to her forehead and then she pulls away, offers him a watery smile, and his chest contracts. His to love or not, he already might.
He lifts their joined hands, cradles hers between his own, his two to her one, and hopes with her, prays for her, even as his mind starts to spin without his permission.
He doesn’t want to do it, doesn’t want to think it, but she’s been pushing him away, hasn’t she? And so one by one, one scene at a time, he’s writing himself out of her life, creating a future for Kate and the child she carries, one that doesn’t include him in it.
A sign outside the window catches his eye, they’re nearly there, and what hurts the most is that he’s wishing for it. Hoping she’ll have the chance to live that life, even if she won’t include him in it.
“Do you want me to call Josh?” Rick asks, though he wants to do anything but that.
“What?” She’s suddenly tense beside him. “No. No, last I heard he’s in Haiti.”
Rick tries to swallow it but the question spills forth heedless. “Does he know?”
“It’s not-” She pauses. Tries again. “He’s not-”
Rick lets her hand go, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into him. The press of her nose against his throat, the emotion it stirs, is so achingly painful that he has to swallow past a lump.
“I haven’t told anyone yet,” she says. A confession against his collar. And then, “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner.”
“How far along are you?”
“Thirteen weeks,” she says, and he can feel the way she bites her lip. Thirteen weeks, as if it should mean something to him.
It doesn’t.
Until it does.
Because thirteen weeks? That was when? Right about the time they were investigating Tyson, wasn’t it? Right about the time they first slept together. Except that no. No. Because she doesn’t mean-
Him. You. Yours.
-And he’s not. Not thinking she does.
The cab slows, turns into the drive.
“We’re almost there,” he says and she nods against the side of his neck.
Softly, “I wanted to tell you first.”
And Rick doesn’t ask why, but she tells him anyway and his heart expands, even as it contracts - his heart, his whole world - and it’s as painful as it is not when she says, “It’s yours.”
- -
TBC…
Author: dave7
Rating: M
Characters/Pairings: Richard Castle/Kate Beckett
Fandom: Castle
Spoilers: Season Three.
Summary: A kiss to her forehead and then she pulls away, offers him a watery smile, and his chest contracts. His to love or not, he already might.
- -
the gasp and stutter of a heart 6/?
- -
Rick makes a quick phone call - to his mother rather than his daughter - and arranges for them to be gone, her and Alexis both, before he’ll get back to the loft and then they’re in the back of a taxi, he and Kate, on the way to the nearest hospital.
They speed through the city and he tries to shift his focus to the people they pass in the streets, living their lives, oblivious, and he’s very carefully not thinking.
Not about the woman sitting next to him. Not about the women he’s sending away.
And especially not about the idea that he could have already lived through the last time he’ll see his daughter. He thinks he’s doing an admirable job until they pass a young girl, red hair and he swears she’s wearing the same backpack Alexis had when she was five, and then he’s wondering what the last thing he told her was.
God, but he can’t remember.
Something about school, he thinks, or homework, maybe? And it’s not how he wants his child to remember him, but if he rings now she’ll know something is wrong, she’ll refuse to leave, and he needs her gone.
He needs her safe.
Her, at least.
“You okay, Castle?”
No. Not even close.
Kate’s right hand is clutching his, their fingers laced, and when his eyes flick back in her direction, he finds her left hand still curled around her abdomen.
And yeah, he feels like an idiot when he thinks about how long it’s taken him to realise because she wouldn’t ask him to take her to the hospital, would she?
No, not his Kate, not when there are lives at stake.
Not for herself, anyway.
And how has he not noticed? When half his waking time is spent focusing on her, how could he not have realised?
“How long have you known?”
“What?”
He motions towards her abdomen and she’s not showing, not really, except that she is. It’s small but with her hand pressing he can make out a bump and, really, he should have noticed before. “That you’re pregnant. How long have you known?”
Her face twists, the last of her resolve crumbling until all that’s left is fear and guilt and a terrible kind of agony that he can feel an echo of in his chest.
Rick expects her to pull away but no, instead, her fingers tighten around his until it’s almost painful.
He hears her, “Not long,” and then he doesn’t hear much else because not long could be a few days. Or it could be a week. It could be exactly as long as she’s been avoiding him, and that’s not a good sign, is it?
No.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she admits and he nods his head, offers her a weak smile, because tell him what, exactly?
That she was pregnant? That she’s carrying another man’s child? That she can’t do this with him? Doesn’t want to?
“It’s okay,” he says. A lie, and he expects her to accept it, but she shakes head.
Her eyes close against her pain, shield him from it, and, “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
He pulls her into his arms, lets her hide her face against his chest, because no, neither did he.
He doesn’t know anything about radiation and pregnant women except that it’s not good and maybe it won’t matter, maybe they’re all doomed anyway, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not to her, he knows, and not to him.
“You’re going to be fine. Both of you.” It’s another lie but this time it’s one they both need because she wants this baby, he can tell, and yeah, he wants it for her too.
They’re only a few weeks into this thing, barely a month, and they’ve skipped all the steps, done it all backwards, and no, it can’t be his. Even if there was a chance, if he thought there was a chance, but no. Not with the way she’s been pushing him away, not with the way she’s been avoiding him.
Josh’s then. Josh’s child.
And Rick would love her anyway, her and her child, his to love or not. He just doesn’t know that she’d give him the chance.
A kiss to her forehead and then she pulls away, offers him a watery smile, and his chest contracts. His to love or not, he already might.
He lifts their joined hands, cradles hers between his own, his two to her one, and hopes with her, prays for her, even as his mind starts to spin without his permission.
He doesn’t want to do it, doesn’t want to think it, but she’s been pushing him away, hasn’t she? And so one by one, one scene at a time, he’s writing himself out of her life, creating a future for Kate and the child she carries, one that doesn’t include him in it.
A sign outside the window catches his eye, they’re nearly there, and what hurts the most is that he’s wishing for it. Hoping she’ll have the chance to live that life, even if she won’t include him in it.
“Do you want me to call Josh?” Rick asks, though he wants to do anything but that.
“What?” She’s suddenly tense beside him. “No. No, last I heard he’s in Haiti.”
Rick tries to swallow it but the question spills forth heedless. “Does he know?”
“It’s not-” She pauses. Tries again. “He’s not-”
Rick lets her hand go, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into him. The press of her nose against his throat, the emotion it stirs, is so achingly painful that he has to swallow past a lump.
“I haven’t told anyone yet,” she says. A confession against his collar. And then, “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner.”
“How far along are you?”
“Thirteen weeks,” she says, and he can feel the way she bites her lip. Thirteen weeks, as if it should mean something to him.
It doesn’t.
Until it does.
Because thirteen weeks? That was when? Right about the time they were investigating Tyson, wasn’t it? Right about the time they first slept together. Except that no. No. Because she doesn’t mean-
Him. You. Yours.
-And he’s not. Not thinking she does.
The cab slows, turns into the drive.
“We’re almost there,” he says and she nods against the side of his neck.
Softly, “I wanted to tell you first.”
And Rick doesn’t ask why, but she tells him anyway and his heart expands, even as it contracts - his heart, his whole world - and it’s as painful as it is not when she says, “It’s yours.”
- -
TBC…