Lifeboats

based on the fan video trailer, Lifeboats, by OhChizzz

"Daddy?"

He glances up from his laptop, the tidal wave of words from his fingertips halted momentarily in the wake of his daughter's voice. "Yeah Pumpkin?"

He watches her chew on her bottom lip, reaches up to catch that persistent niggling itch that he's had across the back of his shoulder all morning. His fingernails scrape across the rope of his muscle and up into his hair, skin like grit under his hands.

Alexis looks up at him, her eyes swollen with hope. It still startles him sometimes, the endlessly enchanting blue. Knocks the breath right out of his chest. "Daddy, we have a rotation to take Henry the hamster home at the weekends and because I'm C for Castle I get to have him next weekend if you say it's okay and you will say it's okay right Daddy? Because I really really want to take him home."

"Are you sure you can be responsible and remember to feed him?" He folds his arms, turns his chair with a foot braced against the floor. Just a little, enough to face his kid.

She clasps her hands in front of her, her bones thin reeds that nudge underneath her skin, elbows and wrists swollen-looking. She's got her hair in a braid, tossed over her shoulder and like gossamer of fire all the way to her waist. He needs to take her to get it cut at some point. The golden light of the morning seems woven into her braid, if she shook her head it might pool at her feet.

"Yes. Oh yes Daddy, I know I can."

Castle can't help but grin at his little girl, such passion in her tiny frame. He shrugs and she squeals, comes flying towards him so fast his chair rocks backwards. Her arms are tight around his neck, her face buried against him as she shrieks. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you."

"Whoa, hey, Pumpkin." He gets his hands around her waist, a part of him still totally floored by the way he dwarfs her, and he lifts, sets her on her feet. "This is a big responsibility, okay. You have a whole life depending on you."

"Yeah, but I'm sensible. And if you can look after me then I think I can do it." She laughs at him, that teasing smirk that shouldn't be so adorable but so totally is.

He really does have a great kid.

"Alright then. I look forward to meeting our houseguest." Alexis laughs again, presses a sloppy kiss on his cheek before she goes.

He watches her a moment, slices of her body visible through his bookshelf wall. And yes, thank you, he knows he mostly lets her walk all over him. He does. But he can't give her a mom.

So she can have the damn hamster.

He turns back to his laptop, caught up again in the world of Derrick Storm. He woke in the night to skin clammy and too thick, burning with it, and he couldn't find sleep again. So he wrote, nonsense painted with the ink of two am and the shards of fever in his brain.

It's worrying him, actually. It's not the first time he's been wrenched from sleep by his blood boiling over, spilling up out of him to pool in his sheets. His mother can see the lines of exhaustion stitched around his eyes, keeps asking him to see someone.

He's fine. He's fine, his mother is fine, Alexis is fine. Everything's fine.

Except that damn itch crawling underneath his skin, tiptoeing across the rope of his neck.

Rick is stretched out on the couch when his kid gets home, his laptop forgotten on the floor and his eyes closed. He hears her come in, the soft thump of her bag hitting the floor, a half-smothered squeak as she almost unbalances toeing off her shoes, and then she flops down over the back of the couch, landing heavy on his stomach.

All the air pushes up out of him and he huffs, catches his girl around the shoulders to hoist her up against him, kiss the top of her head. "Hey there Pumpkin. Good day?"

"Yeah. We finished up the book and we get to write our own different ending for it next week and that's so cool, right Dad?"

Rick grins at her, tugs on the end of her braid. It always makes her blink, and she scowls like she's ashamed of her own reflexes. So damn cute, his sweet girl. "Yeah, that's pretty cool."

Alexis grins at him, sits up on his thigh with her legs over his lap, toes brushing the coffee table. "Did you and Derrick have a good day?"

"I'm having a good day. Derrick got shot."

"Again? Oh Daddy."

"Hey now, it's not my fault. Like I said, he does what he wants. I just tell everyone else about it." He runs his fingers up his daughter's sides, laughs when she squirms to get away. She's mature and sensible and smart but really, so very ticklish.

She shrieks, flops down back against him and blows a violent raspberry against his neck, her little hands clawing at his sides in an effort to tickle him back.

He writhes underneath her, sucks in a gasp at the sharp press of her knee into his ribs. Alexis stills, breathless on top of him with her eyes closed, and then the so-soft skin between her brows furrows, her eyes coming open to look at him. "Daddy, what's that egg thing?"

"What egg thing?"

"On your neck."

He is too tired for this.

He-

Damn it, he spent all of yesterday at the hospital while his kid was at school, being poked and prodded and probed so the doctors could answer his daughter's question. They don't know what the egg thing is either.

Yet.

But Alexis already has her party dress on, her hair pinned half-back. Her grandmother must have done that for her, it's way neater than her usual attempts at fancy styles. "Daddy, are we gonna go?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. Sorry. Do you think you could help me choose a tie?"

She beams, bounces down onto his bed with her legs crossed and holds her hands out for his collection. He passes them all to her, sits in the easy chair opposite.

"Hmm. Your shirt is white, Daddy. So you should wear a tie that's purple." She grins, holds out a patterned tie in two shades of purple. He wants to call it damask, but maybe not.

He takes it, holds it against his sleeve to check the match. "I don't know, Pumpkin. It seems a little much."

"Didn't Mom get you that tie on your birthday?"

"Oh. Yeah. I think she did." He shrugs, passes the thing back to his daughter. "You know what? I do have a pretty fat neck, huh? Maybe I shouldn't wear a tie at all."

Alexis beams, all of the ties she'd had cradled in her lap like precious gems carelessly dropped onto the floor. "Oh yes. That's perfect. You said it was a casual event and that's why I get to go. So no tie."

"No tie." Rick undoes the top two buttons of the shirt, toes on his shoes. "Are you sure you still want to come?"

"It's a party, Daddy. Don't you want to go? I thought you like them."

He shrugs, finds words spilling out despite himself. Probably too much for a nine year old to understand, but she's a good kid. Smart. "These parties, they've become so predictable." He pulls a ridiculous face, pretends to be one of the vapid women he knows make his kid uncomfortable. "I'm your biggest fan, where do you get your ideas?"

Alexis giggles, both hands pressed to her mouth like she thinks she shouldn't but she can't quite help herself. "Just once, I'd like someone to come up to me and say something new."

"I can say new things, Daddy. Why is a raven like a writing desk?" She puffs up her chest, grins at him expectantly.

He shakes his head, takes her hand to tug her up from the bed. She has her shoes on already, her coat, and she hands him his jacket, her hand leaving his for just long enough to shrug it on. "That's not new, Pumpkin. When was that book written?"

"Uhmm, eighteen sixty five?" She grins up at him, tugs on his arm to get him moving towards the door. "But no one has an answer yet so it totally counts."

"Okay. Sure. It counts."

His publisher rounds on him as soon as the elevator doors open, meeting his eyes over the top of his daughter's head.

"Richard. You took your sweet time getting here."

He steps out, a hand at Alexis' back to keep her close. "I'm sorry. I just lost track of time a little."

"What's the kid doing here?" The woman barely even glances at Alexis, her ridiculous heels putting her almost at his eye level and a good two feet taller than his daughter.

Rick runs a hand over Alexis' hair, allows himself a moment to cup the back of her head and bite his tongue. "Pumpkin, I can see Gram just over there. Why don't you go and say hello?"

He watches her move across the rooftop towards the bar, some of the guests stopping to smile at her and some turning their backs. He's still not convinced her being here is a good idea, but she begged him and he really hates leaving her with a sitter.

She reaches her grandmother safely, his mother opening her arms in a hug that does something to ease the tightness in his lungs so he can turn back to his publisher. "Gina, she's my daughter. She has every right to be here."

"I assume this means you're not going to stay late, then?" She scowls at him, her body just a little too near to his to be platonic. She's a shark, and he still can't quite work out whether she hates him or wants in his bed.

Maybe a little of both.

"I'll make the speech, stick around to chat for a while. Make sure everyone sees my face. And then I'll leave. Don't worry, no one will even notice."

Gina huffs, shakes her head so her curls brush her shoulders, the city lights soaking into the platinum blonde and casting it a shade of orange that turns his stomach.

Too much like Meredith. It's been six years, but he's still sore over it. Still sometimes opens the door to the loft half-expecting her to be straddling a director on their couch.

"And I can't change your mind?"

"No. Now if you'll excuse me, my mother beckons."

He leaves Gina to greet the flood of people pouring out of the elevator, goes to meet his mother at the bar. She's got her head bent to talk to Alexis, one hand at his daughter's back and the other cradling her wine glass.

Rick comes to Alexis' other side, kisses the top of her head and leans over to kiss his mother as well, tasting makeup at her cheek. "What are you two up to?"

"I was telling Gram about Henry."

His mother shoots him a look over the top of his kid's head, her mouth stitched closed. The ugly slash of her lipstick looks unnatural in the pale light from above the bar and he shifts, waits for his mother to give him some sort of clue.

"She was. And about your egg thing, Richard-"

"Not right now. We'll talk, Mother. I promise. Just not right now."

Please God not here. Not with everyone watching.

Alexis squeals when she sees her grandmother, goes flying down the center aisle towards the stage. Her hair streams out behind her, skirt catching about her knees. She's got tights on and they slipped down with her wriggling around in the car; he can almost see the join between the two legs hang below her hemline.

Martha laughs, reaches down to swing the girl up onto the stage and envelop her in a hug. Rick watches, heart in his mouth, as his mother's colleagues crowd round his daughter, asking her all about school and 'where did you get such a pretty dress, kiddo?'

It's always been this way. Right from the moment she was born, his baby captured the attention of everyone around her, those startling eyes so wise and knowing when they focused on his face. And now here she is.

His beautiful girl.

Rick clears his throat, makes his way to the stage and his mother. He holds his hands up for her to lift him onto the stage and she laughs, head thrown back to project her mirth to the ever-present spectral audience.

He goes for the stairs, finds himself coming up and into a spotlight, his mother meeting him there. She kisses both of his cheeks and then brings her hands up to frame his face; forces him to look at her. "Now Richard. You're sure you don't want me to go with you?"

He sighs just a little, steps back from her. "Yes, Mother, I'm sure. Everything will be fine. Just take care of my kid."

"Don't I always?" She laughs, waves her hands through the air. He falters, watches dust motes lit from within by the limelight and wheeling in front of him, carefully not answering her.

His mother brushes right past it, won't acknowledge the times she's messed up, the times he's come home to find her and a gaggle of her friends intoxicated, his daughter sitting at the top of the stairs, chin on her knees and feet bare. Not so often now, not for a long time, but it still makes him uneasy.

And yeah, he knows he's made mistakes himself, but he has never, ever stopped putting his little girl first. His eyes shutter closed and he has to turn away a little, collect himself. It's crushing, sometimes. Knowing he can't ever give her the perfect family, stability and normality and a mother's love.

And then Alexis is coming for him. He kneels down to meet her eyes, wraps his arms around her and runs a hand over her braid, tries to smooth out some of the flyaways. "You be good for Gram, okay."

"Okay Daddy. See you later." She has such a beautiful smile, her mouth in a gentle curve that shows all her teeth, her eyes sparkling.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, breathes in the rich strawberry scent of her hair. "Yeah, see you soon Pumpkin."

Rick starts to move away, finds himself jerking back towards her. She's got her hand hooked into his pocket, gossamer threads of hope spooling out of her to catch him up and keep him there. "Daddy? I love you."

"Oh, Alexis. Sweetheart, I love you too. So much." He lifts her, cradles her warmth against his body and shifts back and forth, the way he did when she was a newborn. His hand cups her head, the soft heat against his palm soothing something that pulses in his chest, sharp and aching.

She buries her face against his neck a moment and then he kneels down again, sets her on her feet. "You have fun with Gram, okay? I'll see you at dinner time."

The doctor's office is not threatening.

Seriously, he needs to get a grip. The building is not going to swallow him, the nurses are not staring. Ridiculous, totally.

And yet he's sweating right through his suit, his palms clammy with it. He holds his breath in the elevator, finds himself forging rituals that make no sense but he knows will keep him safe. If he can just keep his breath locked up safe in his lungs until he reaches the ninth floor he'll be okay.

The nurse smiles at him and he manages to stretch his mouth into a half curve in response, grit out something that might be hello. Now that he doesn't have to be strong for his kid the hollow spaces in between his bones are growing wider, his body cracking open.

He brings a hand up to press two fingers to the lump in his neck like a touchstone, will it back inside. It has to be nothing. There isn't another option.

"Mr Castle?" He glances up, sees that same nurse watching him. There's too much tenderness on her face, a saccharine sort of pity that turns his stomach, has his fingers curling up to press against his palms. "Dr Kelekian will see you now."

Rick gets up, has to lock his knees for a moment to keep standing before he can take a step. It's a battle but he makes it, palm flat against the door of the doctor's office as he takes a fortifying breath. Rip off the bandaid, right?

He shoves the door open, maybe a little too forcefully if the startled snap of Kelekian's gaze upwards is any indication, but whatever. The man recovers quickly, gets up to shake Rick's hand. A hot line of shame snakes its way down his spine at his still-clammy palms, how they give him away before he's even had a chance to school his features.

"Mr Castle, please have a seat."

The chair is too soft, pre-emptively trying to comfort him. He wants to keep believing that everything's fine. He has to, because he will not fall apart in front of this man.

"We have the results of your biopsy back. I'm afraid it's not good news." Doctor Kelekian swallows, glances briefly at Rick and then back to the file in front of him, his eyes too dark. Somehow so sinister behind the wire frame glasses, the shock of grey hair casting him as a villain.

"There's no easy way to say this."

Rick swallows, curls his hands underneath the seat of the chair to hold on, tether himself. And he knows, he does, before the words are even out.

"You have cancer."

Come and say hello!

Twitter: seilleanmor

Tumblr: katiehoughton