A sequel to Homeward

Chapter One

8:27 p.m.

His practice ended at 8.

Striding cautiously over the pavement slickened with ice and snow, she was tempted to hurry in spite of it, the image of Matthew's disappointment spurring her on.

When she finally pulled open the heavy door, her pace quickened, filling the hallway with the swift clack clack of her heels.

Her son and the coach's daughter were shooting baskets at the same hoop, trying to score or knock the other's shot away, both if they were lucky.

"Matthew!"

He beamed when she called him, ran to drop the basketball onto the rack and sprinted half the court to her.

"You don't look tired enough." She teased him when he collided with her, her heart lifting at the sight of his easy smile. "Maybe Coach Mills should have you run a few more laps, huh?"

"No!" Matthew laughed, tightening his arms around her waist and turning her in a half-circle towards the door.

Coach Mills slung a backpack over one shoulder and quickly shuffled the equipment into the gym's storage closet.

Kate gave him a feeting, apologetic smile for the time, but seeing he was busy corralling his own kid, just as eager to get out of there as she was, Kate hustled Matthew out of the gym.

The school where he practiced was only a few blocks from the station on Houston Street and from there, it was a short ride and another slight walk, but the wind chill tonight made the journey seem to stretch out longer.

On the subway, Matthew found a secluded seat in of one of the sparsely populated cars and Kate settled next to him.

"Practice was good?"

Her son nodded brightly.

She tucked him under her arm and leaned her head back against the wall. At the 12th, they were swamped with more cases than they had detectives to solve them, but here, with Matthew, she finally caught her breath and tried to push the cases out of her mind. "And what did you do in school today?"

Her eyes drift shut for a moment, lulled by the slight motion of the train.

"Mr. LeGrand gave us a project." Matthew's voice wavered.

"Oh yeah?" She lifted her head and tried to catch his gaze, but he studied the seat in front of him, making her stomach twist into knots. "Buddy, what's wrong?"

"It's a family tree." He murmured.

"Oh."

Matthew's lips twitched. "Mr. LeGrand gave us time to start on it. Well, not the tree, but a sheet for all the names and stuff for the tree." He rambled. "But I couldn't - couldn't remember their names."

She straightened in her seat, the words on the tip of her tongue that they could get that information. They knew his parents' names and they could find anything else he wanted to know -

But Matthew's expression fell and she finally heard what he was saying.

"Do you ever forget your mom?" His voice was soft, his eyes finally seeking out hers. Seeking answers.

"Buddy…" A vice constricted around her heart.

"Because I think I'm forgetting my mom and dad." He whispered. "I try and I try to picture 'em, but it doesn't work. It's like -" He let out a desperate huff, suddenly glassy-eyed. "It's like…"

He didn't have the words for it. Kate pushed the hair off his forehead, cradled his cheek in her gloved hand.

"It's like the image is there, but it's fuzzy. Not quite clear." She murmured.

"Yeah." The tension eased in his expression. "I can't remember."

"I'm sorry." It was all she could think to say, but it didn't suffice. She pulled him in, her brave kiddo with the tenderest heart. "The answer is yes." She kissed the crown of his head, hoped it was enough for him to know that this terrible thing that happened to him had also happened to her. "Sometimes Poppy will bring up something from my childhood and I realize I've forgotten all about it. Or I'll think of my mom and the details aren't as sharp. Like the sound of her voice." Matthew tucked himself closer to her and she sighed over the top of his head. A lot of her childhood memories with her mom had slipped away or faded when she wasn't paying attention. It wasn't until they were prompted - like Matthew's assignment had done to him - that she realized there was nothing there, no image springing quickly to mind. Just something faded and hazy, almost gone.

But Kate had more years with her mom than Matthew had with his. She had photos, videos, journals. Matthew had one folder of scant information and only so many memories that his young mind could retain.

It wasn't fair and she was powerless to stop it. Powerless to give him more.

"Know what I wish?" He said after a moment of comfortable silence. Of the few scattered people around them, most had headphones on, leaving Matthew and Kate virtually alone in their conversation. "I wish we had a camera in our minds and we could watch our favorite memories over and over again like a movie. And then we couldn't forget."

Oh, Matthew.

She squeezed him a little tighter.

It might be better this way. Certain memories were worth not reliving. Like the night her mom was murdered. The day she was shot. The fire that almost took their lives. Those memories plagued her enough even now.

She drew steep breath. Well, that was where her mind went, not her sweet son's. No, Matthew longed for the good things, for any precious piece of his birth parents. Despite everything he'd been through, his heart was still innocent, still bent towards the light, and that impressed Kate more than anything else about her son. Made her proud and humbled to be his mom.

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" She finally agreed with a heavy sigh. Yes, it would be nice to relive the highlights of her life - treasured moments with her mom and falling in love with Castle, meeting her son and then her daughter. All beautiful. All worth experiencing over and over again.

"Hey," She eased him back from her embrace just a little until those warm brown eyes found hers again. "The details might not always be clear. You might forget their names or the color of their hair, but you remember how it felt to be with them, don't you? You remember how much they loved you?"

He only nodded, his expression open and untroubled and tugging at her heart. Yes, of course he knew that he was loved, not by one family, but by two.

"Dad and I will help you with the project." Brushing the hair off his forehead again, she offered him a weak smile. "It won't be difficult."

"Actually…" He chewed on his lip. "Can I - can I do our family?"

"Yes." She blinked. "Yeah. Of course. If that's what you want."

"Ok." He relaxed into her. "Yeah. That's what I want."

"Alright." she murmured. "When is your project due?"

Her question earned her a tense shrug that she felt rather than saw.

"We can check once we're home." She reassured, tickling the exposed skin of his neck just above his coat until he laughed and squirmed away from her, sliding down the bench.

"Oh, before Grandparents night!" He said suddenly. "All the family trees are going on the wall outside our classroom for Grandparents night. Mr. LeGrand said so. Gram and Poppy still coming?"

"They wouldn't miss it." She promised easily, though her mind struggled to recall the exact date. Hmm. She should send them each a reminder soon, just in case.

Matthew grinned. "Don't tell them about my project. I want to show them that night."

"You got it." She studied him for moment, not able to shrug off the heavy feelings as easily as he did. "You're sure you don't want to do your birth family for this?"

"I'm sure." His gaze was free of doubt now. "That way I can put Alexis on my family tree."

And Maeve, Kate wanted to add when Matthew didn't, but she dropped it. Little boys and fussy babies couldn't be expected to bond as swiftly as Matthew and Alexis had.

"Alexis would love to see your project, Bub. We'll have to remember to show her next time she visits."

He beamed at this idea and then slid back to his spot at her side. "I miss her." He sighed.

"I do, too."

His head rested heavy against her arm.

"I miss my first mom and dad sometimes, but you're really my mom, you know?"

Her heart skittered at his words.

She had been his mom for almost three years now and he'd never phrased it quite like that. Really my mom.

This was where her common experience with Matthew ended, where she couldn't know first-hand what it was like to gain and love another parent after losing one. There was an ache in her soul, a yearning that was never quite satisfied, and it would always be there, she knew. Dulled by the passing of time and sometimes overshadowed by the joy in her life now, but always there, always wishing for Johanna.

Matthew didn't have that lingering sorrow anymore, couldn't hang onto it just as he couldn't hang on to the memories of his birth parents.

"And Dad, too." Matthew added softly, brown eyes gauging her reaction. "He's my real dad."

Warmth spread through her chest as she moved to tuck him under her arm again and kissed his hair.

He still amazed her everyday. Heart wide-open despite the hurt, staking his claim in the family he would remember.

"I love you, my son." She would always claim him right back.

They wandered home together, Matthew's shoulder tucked against her hip while the wind whipped around them. Stepping inside their three-story townhouse brought instant relief from it, but the cold still lingered down to the bone.

"Can I make a hot chocolate?"

"Sure." She shed her coat reluctantly and shivered. "One for me, too, please."

Maeve's howling reached her ears from the floor above.

She pulled off her boots with a sigh and took to the stairs.

In the nursery, Castle rocked three-month-old Maeve, a desperate strain in his voice as he pleaded with the baby. Maeve squirmed against his chest, an angry little creature that wouldn't be soothed. When she got this worked up, her scream reached a frequency that felt like it could rattle their brains loose.

He stood once he saw Kate. "Please." He begged, already shifting Maeve into her arms. "Please just take her. I can't - I need a break."

She'd grown used to this trade-off at Castle's frustrated insistence.

Maeve keened in her arms, unaffected by the switch from Dad to Mom and Castle was already at the door, ready to escape, but he turned. "Matthew?"

"In the kitchen."

He nodded and slipped out of the room.

"Just you and me, baby girl."

Kate adjusted Maeve on her shoulder and paced about the small bedroom, but her daughter's cries remained fervent and immutable. The pediatrician assured them Maeve was fine, just dealing with a bout of colic - as if there was something so normal about the way their daughter screamed like she was in pain for hours on end.

But the second and even third opinion had said the same thing. Maeve would be alright, could stop crying relentless as early as three months of age. Well, Maeve was three months and they were still holding their breaths.

Maeve's skin was flushed, her body tense and restless. Kate wandered over to the sound machine on the dresser, but the white noise did nothing to calm the baby tonight.

"You're alright, Maeve. Everything's fine." She murmured over Maeve's desperate sounds. The familiar wave of defeat swept in, consuming her.

She understood Matthew, relished her time with him, but a few minutes with Maeve was already too much.

"Mom?" Matthew stood in the doorway with a mug. "I have hot cocoa for you."

"Thank you, baby." She held Maeve to her with one arm and reached for the mug.

"Can we do a movie night?" He carried on, somehow ignoring Maeve. She envied that skill of his.

"Not tonight, bud. It's already late since you had practice..." and surely, she wouldn't be able to get Maeve to sleep anytime soon.

He deflated at her words. "Fine." He muttered, his gaze swinging accusingly to Maeve before he moped out the door.

Oh did she and Castle have their work cut out for them with Matthew and Maeve, but she didn't even know where to begin.

Not tonight.

Her heart was still recovering from the trip home with Matthew.

She set the cocoa down on the baby's dresser. "Should we see if a bath makes you feel better?"

Maeve wormed around, her little hands pushing ineffectually against Kate as she continued her fit.

"Ok." Kate sighed, smoothing a hand over Maeve's damp hair, giving in to the guessing game. "Bath it is."

When Matthew crawled into their bed that night, she had only just put the baby down, hadn't had the luxury yet of falling asleep herself. For a brief moment, her sleep-deprived brain conjured up the notion that Matthew and Maeve had somehow schemed this, taking turns in stealing her sanity.

Matthew sneaked under the covers without a word, at a stage in his youth where it was mortifying to admit a nightmare had scared him, but still wanted the comfort of Mom and Dad's bed just the same.

She slid an arm around him when he carefully scooted close to her. "I'm awake."

"Oh." He whispered.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No." Matthew tucked his head right under her chin, hid from her gaze even in the dark. "Where's Dad?"

"In his office."

Writing when he should be sleeping.

"He has a -" Matthew cut himself off with a yawn. "A deadline?"

She smiled into his hair. Definitely a writer's son. "Yeah, it's coming up."

He shifted around until he was comfortable and let out a sleepy sigh. "I think I -" His voice was a timid whisper. "I changed my mind, I think."

"Hm?" She grunted, too tired to keep up.

"I can do my birth family for my family tree?"

"Baby," She rubbed a hand over the tense muscles of his back. "Whatever you want."

He heaved a sigh and fell quiet. The wear of the day- the whole week, really - caught up with her in the stillness of the late hour, but she fought sleep's tempting pull. Had to stay awake while her little guy was so torn up over something his classmates weren't giving a second thought. "Want me to write on your back?" She murmured.

"Yeah." He flattened himself on his stomach next to her. She smoothed out the fabric of his pajama shirt over his back, gave herself a flat plane to trace on. Slowly, she spelled out a letter with one finger, waited for him to call it out.

"I."

Kate commenced tracing letters on his back.

"L. O." When he spoke again, she heard the lightness in his voice and felt her own anxiety crumble away just a little. "Mo-om. You always spell 'I love you'..."

"Always do." She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Something else now?"

"Something else." He agreed.

Her fingertip traced letters, words, phrases into his back until his tension drained and sleep crowded in.

Thoughts?

More chapters to come.