A/N: When I asked for ficlet prompts on tumblr, Lou sent me "Castle never brought Jacinda to the crime scene in the Limey" and it REFUSED to be a ficlet. In fact, I have 2 other chapters planned but a lot of life in the way. This stands well on it's own until I'm able to make it to the others though.
Make sure to keep my distance
Say, "I love you," when you're not listening
How long 'til we call this love, love, love?
~Christina Perri, "Distance"
"So, what? You think I should tell him how I feel?"
"Yes! You hunt murderers for a living. You can do this."
Lanie's words are swirling in her head as he pulls up in the Ferrari, screeching the tires in a sudden stop. He's wearing a ridiculous jacket, all shiny with alligator print and he saunters towards her in a way that reminds her of the jackass that he was when they first met.
And Lanie's right, she hasn't seen that guy in a while. So why is he back?
She arches an eyebrow at him as he approaches. "I feel like I just walked into a bad episode of Miami Vice," she says, giving his attire a pointed look.
"Okay, first, there are no bad episodes of Miami Vice. Second, who died?"
"You, from the looks of it. You look like you just got run over by a truck." She's not at all blind to the dark circles around his eyes, the way that he's faking that layer of vibrating excitement that usually comes so naturally.
"Yeah, a truck delivering a shipment of awesome." There it is again, the bravado of the man she met in 2009 making a reappearance. "Nah, I just uh, flew into Vegas for the weekend. Just needed a little change of scenery." He's trying so hard to brush it off, brush her off. A sudden trip to Las Vegas? Who is this man? Not her partner, not her friend.
Not the guy she's completely crazy over.
"And you just decided to keep the party going and ride over in the Ferrari?"
"Yeah, it's good to get it out every once in a while, air it out, feel the wind in my hair." The words are hollow as they leave his mouth, empty excuses that don't fill up what he's not saying.
What isn't he saying?
"Castle." She stops and places a hand on his forearm. His eyes cut sharply down to her hand before rising to her face, his eyes not quite meeting hers, "Is everything okay?"
He smiles, something that he might have thought was a grin but comes off as more a grimace. "Never better."
She gives a disbelieving look to his retreating back.
They're so off it's unnerving. She's thinking about the case while he's thinking about models.
And then Colin Hunt.
She feels for the man, understands his actions. Hell, it's pretty much what she did when Royce was killed.
"If you were in a foreign country and someone you love was killed, what would you do?"
Her head swivels to Castle on instinct, her blood singing with the knowledge that she would do what Hunt has done for his friend and so much more. She's honestly surprised to find him already looking at her but he blinks quickly to break the contact and throws another question out.
It was just a second but it was there again, that connection that burns so bright between them and hope surges in her.
It dies again barely an hour later.
"Do you usually question them solo?" Hunt sounds eager to get in the box with their suspect but Beckett barely knows this man, isn't about to partner with him in an interrogation.
"No, Castle and I usually go in together."
"Actually, you know what? Why don't you guys take this one?" Castle interjects.
She's feels her jaw literally drop as she looks him. "Are you sure?"
He shrugs like it's nothing. "Yeah. Absolutely. Besides, Colin's got a personal interest. I really don't, now do I?"
She's still trying to work out what that means when Hunt's voice cuts through the group.
"Hah, all right. It's settled then." He pats Castle on the back in thanks.
"Yeah, I guess it is," Beckett mutters, mostly to herself.
"In fact, why don't I go grab some lunch for everybody? Just get out of your hair for a little bit." Castle doesn't wait for an affirmative, just spins and heads toward the elevator without a backward glance.
Castle's nowhere to be found when they're done talking to Nicki J and Biggie Slim but there are sandwiches in the break room and a styrofoam box on Beckett's desk, the latter containing a turkey wrap and a side of sweet potato chips from her favorite deli. Ryan tells her that Castle came back while they were in their first interrogation, left the food and headed out again, saying he had an errand to run.
She's torn; on one hand, he suddenly can't seem to stand being here and she's not sure if that's because of her or...what? But while he got an assortment of food for everyone else, he specifically got her exactly what she would have chosen had she been there. What she has picked countless other times they've gotten lunch together.
She smiles as she picks up a chip and pops it in her mouth, that hope flaring within her again.
Colin slides into Castle's chair behind her desk with a plate of food. "This was nice of him," he comments.
"Yeah. So… that story you told Nicki J about your girlfriend…" she says just to avoid the conversation becoming about Castle.
"Total pants. I just wanted her to think I sympathized and, honestly, after meeting Biggie Slim I do."
She can't disagree with him, but, "Yeah, well, maybe she's hanging on hoping that he'll change."
Colin shakes his head. "Guys like him never do."
She avoided talking about Castle but her subconscious won't get him and his weird behavior out of her mind.
She's trying to come up with a rebuttal when her phone dings. Saved by a text from Lanie.
She looks good. Sophisticated, demure and hopefully convincing enough to blend in with the other party goers.
But she's also aware of how unbelievably hot she is in this dress and she finds herself wishing that she were wearing it for a completely different reason. Wishes she were going to have a different man at her side tonight.
She sighs at her reflection before turning to exit the bathroom. Time to go to work.
The look on Castle's face haunts her the entire time she's at the party. She gets the job done but she can tell that, even without knowing her well, Hunt knows she's off her game.
She drops the card case off at the precinct and heads back out right away, thinks she mumbles something about changing her clothes but she's not really sure.
"They thought they had all the time in the world. But nobody does."
Lanie's words and Castle's longing stare are the driving forces that get her to his front door. The things that allow her to have the courage to knock. The only things that keep her rooted to the spot instead of running.
He answers the door in the same clothes he was wearing earlier, the button down untucked, an extra button undone at the top revealing a strip of skin that she fleetingly wonders would feel like under her lips.
"If you had an update on the case, you could have just called me." He words are flat, devoid of feeling and that makes her angry.
Makes her angry that he's stopped feeling and hasn't told her why. Makes her angry that he thinks she only came over here for the case.
"That's not why I'm here," she says, her words clipped, as she breezes past him into the loft.
"Here to throw your date with Hunt in my face?"
"It wasn't a date!" she exclaims, wincing as her voice bounces around the open space.
He beckons her to follow him and leads her in to the office, softly closing the door behind her. She's not proud of her outburst, wants to start again but then he scoffs.
"Not a date, sure."
"Oh that's rich," she throws out, whirling around to face him. "Especially from the man that bought me a dress to go to the exact type of party that I was at tonight."
He shakes his head, at her or himself or the situation she's not sure. "Look why don't you just get to the point of why you came over so I can go to bed?"
She crosses her arms over her chest, chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. This just isn't how she thought this conversation might go.
"What's going on with you?"
"I'm just tired."
"I don't mean right now. I mean in the last week. Since the bombing case. Since we said to each other that we didn't want to put things off anymore and then you disappear to Vegas for the weekend?"
He shifts on his feet, huffs a breath out of his nose, takes a long inhale and even longer exhale and then he finally, finally, looks her in the eyes. She has no idea how to interpret what he's broadcasting to her. There's devastation and pain, longing and hurt, but still love. She has no idea which one is more dominant than the others. She breaks the contact and swallows thickly, suddenly terrified for what direction this conversation might take.
He still doesn't answer, just rubs a hand down his face and sighs again before crossing to the loveseat and dropping heavily on it. "Sit down, Kate."
"I'm fine."
He looks up at her again, not quite meeting her eyes this time. "Fine, have it your way. Yeah, you're right, since the bombing case. That's only been a week but you've been lying to me for almost a year now."
She stumbles back to perch on the edge of his desk as her knees almost give out on her. He was right, she should have sat down. All of the pieces that she was trying to ignore fall into place. The coffee that appeared on her desk while she was interrogating Bobby. Ryan's confirmation that Castle was there but left suddenly. She hadn't even thought about what she had said to the kid until later. Because outside of therapy, she hadn't admitted to anyone that she remembered the shooting. The fact that she had said it had shocked her so of course it would have shocked Castle.
Shocked him right out of her life.
Shameful tears threaten to well up but she pushes them down, grips the edge of the desk hard enough to blanch the color from her knuckles. The look he gave her a minute ago makes sense now; he's completely lost.
"I really didn't remember the first day I woke up." She says it quietly but trusts he's listening. "Didn't remember anything past the sound of the shot. Told the doctor that, had a psych eval, was diagnosed with dissociative amnesia. They weren't concerned because it was so specific to the event and didn't apply to any other memories. They said it might come back in therapy but that maybe I was better off forgetting the pain I endured." She pauses to glance up at him, finds him leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his face towards the floor but an ear turned in her direction. Even now, he's still oriented towards her. "The next day, it all came back to me while I was sleeping, how the bullet felt piercing my chest , you tackling me, how hard it was breathe, how my lungs burned with the effort-" She stops short to suck in a breath as the memory crashes over her, tries desperately to keep it from consuming her again.
Castle stands up and seems uncertain for a moment before he crosses the room to stand in front of her, still at a respectable distance. His eyes are flooded with concern when she looks up at him.
"Kate, if this is too hard-"
"No," she grits out. "You need to know. You deserve to know." Her determination brings him another step closer to her. Then another. She takes a chance and reaches a hand out, almost sobs in relief when she feels his fingers slide against hers. "I woke up crying. Scared the poor nurse on duty. I told her it was just a dream and she left me alone but I knew, I knew it was more than that. It seemed easier to let everyone think I didn't remember because that way I wouldn't have to talk about it."
"You skipped a part," he says softly. She looks up at him confused. "You said you remembered it was hard to breathe but then you woke up. You skipped a part."
"I didn't say I woke up after that part." She smiles, just a small tug of her lips as she remembers the part that hasn't been hell to relive. "I remembered you. I remembered your eyes, how the blue of them was deeper than the blue of the sky. I remembered how scared you looked" – his hand tightens around hers – "but then suddenly so determined. And then you talked to me."
"Do you, uh, do you remember the words?"
She pushes up from the desk to stand before him, her heels and his socked feet putting them exactly at eye level. She takes another step toward him, closing the distance between them. She threads their fingers together and raises her other hand to caress his cheek.
"Yes," she breathes, the weight of the admission floating away and leaving her dizzy.
She expects him to smile, expects him to kiss her, is hoping he'll finally kiss her but instead he removes her hand from his face, disentangles their fingers and takes a step back.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She takes her own step away from him, blown back from the hurt radiating off of him in waves.
Evasion will do her no good right now; he deserves every bit of truth she can give. "That's what my therapist has been helping me figure out."
Silence reigns for a minute before he softly murmurs, "I didn't know."
"No one does. I did my time to get back to work but it wasn't enough. I didn't only want to get back to work, I wanted to be more, I wanted to be worthy of more." She swallows against the tightening of her throat. She didn't think she'd be telling him this this fast. But now she knows that it's the best thing she could offer him. "I wanted to be worthy of you." Her voice cracks at the end, her emotions getting the better of her. She closes her eyes to try to stop the tears that are threatening again but one slips from between her eyelids.
She hears his feet shuffling on the carpet, senses him in front of her once more but her eyes remain closed, too afraid of what she might see in his face this time. She steals herself for the worst, prepares for him to ask her to leave. His hands close loosely around her forearms, but instead of pulling her away, his hands move up, his palms sliding against her skin, over her biceps, across her shoulders, his fingers sweeping against her neck eliciting a small shiver before his hands cup her jaw. She still doesn't dare open her eyes, tries to tamp down the hope that's flaring in her belly.
"Kate," he intones softly.
She takes a deep breath and wills her eyelids to rise, finds his face close to hers, the familiar blue of his eyes filling her vision and she doesn't see the things she had feared in them. Doesn't see anger, doesn't see hurt. The hope spreads wide from her center, tingling through her extremities, makes her light headed.
"How could you ever think you'd be unworthy of anyone? Let alone me?" he whispers. There's a stress in the words, a disbelief that she knows he means. He called her extraordinary (and absolutely meant it) when he barely knew her.
He's always had more faith in her than she's had in herself.
"I'm a mess, Castle."
"Everyone is. Doesn't make us unworthy."
Affection floods her system for this amazing man and his perfect words. It's times like this when she doesn't know how she's resisted for so long.
"I'm so sorry, Castle." She winds her arms around him, clasps her hands together at his lower back. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." The last is said on barely a whisper as tears clog her throat.
"Shhhhh, Kate, it's okay. Oh, please don't cry, love. Please."
And then his lips are pressing against hers and she stops breathing.
He pulls back, just far enough to break contact. "Shhhh," he says again but he needn't bother, she's silent as a stone and just as mobile. Her tears and shame are forgotten, replaced with a burning need to show him how sorry she is, to let him know that just because she didn't tell him that she heard him, it doesn't meant that she doesn't feel the same way.
She pushes forward to capture his mouth with hers, relishes at the delicious moan that shivers through her chest. His hands move from her face, one cradling the nape of her neck, the other claiming her waist and she flattens her hands against his back, pulls herself flush against him. He presses his thumb to the hinge of her jaw and angles her head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her willing mouth. He groans softly when her fingers creep under his shirt to press into the skin of his back, the whorls of her fingertips mapping the ridges and valleys of his spine.
She wants to lose herself in him, taste every inch of his skin, feel his broad hands on every inch of hers, whisper hopes and promises between the sheets of his bed but as his hand finds the zipper in the back of her dress, the rational side of her mind kicks in and she pushes him regretfully away.
"Wait, Castle," she says gently, sadness weaving through the words. His face falls, confusion and disappointment pulling his eyebrows together. She lifts a hand up to press her thumb into his twisted skin, encourages him to relax. "I still have a case. We still have a case."
He smiles, slow and lazy in a way that shoots heat right between her legs. "Yeah, but," he begins, snagging her hand and reeling her in against him to lay claim to her mouth once more.
"You make a good point," she pants as he make his way across her cheek, down her neck. "But, ooooh," she stutters as his teeth sink into her neck. She fists her hands in his hair and pulls him away from her. His eyes flash up to hers, dark with arousal and she swallows, wills herself to continue. "The case, I need to check in." Her hands relax in his hair and he closes his eyes for a moment, seems more contained when he opens them again.
Oh. She mentally files that one away for later.
She has eight text messages and four missed calls, all from the boys. Ryan texted to let her know that the prints on the case weren't a match ("Dammit!") and then a few more times politely inquiring as to her whereabouts, his one phone message was to let her know that they might have a lead on that number Naomi left in the locker.
All of Esposito's correspondence is "Where you at?" and "What the hell, Beckett?" His voicemails get progressively angrier until at the end of the last one he stops and quickly mutters, "Just let us know you're alright."
Heh, oops. She calls back Ryan, figures he'll get to the point quicker and let her blow off questions more easily.
"Hey, you okay?" he answers breathlessly.
"Yeah, just…" she glances up at Castle checking his own phone across the room, the corners of her mouth lifting of their own volition, "dealing with something. So, you guys have something?"
"Yeah, it's easier to explain in person. You on your way?"
It's at that moment that she realizes she's still in the dress. "Um, I will be. Gotta make a quick stop."
"'K. Hey, Espo wants-" He's cut off by the sound of rustling and some terse, unintelligible words.
Castle gravitates towards her, taking her unoccupied hand in one of his own and raising it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on each of her fingertips. He holds her eyes as he does so, the connection heavy between them. Her breath quickens, her knees quiver-
"Girl, where are you?" Esposito's voice suddenly comes through the forgotten phone in her hand and they both jump at the sound.
"I'll be there soon," she huffs exasperatedly. Castle folds her hand between both of his as if he's trying to hide the temptation from himself.
"Hey, you know where Castle is? He's not answering either. With the two of you, if I didn't know better..."
Castle grins widely like a little boy getting away with something and it's so adorable that she has to stifle a giggle. (A giggle. Oh god, what this man does to her.) "Nope, no idea where he is but I'll give him a call. Might take me an extra minute to swing by and get him but I'll be there as soon as I can." At least that works out as a convenient excuse.
"Just hurry. Stop making us do all the work."
"For once," she mutters. Espo makes an offended sound but she adds "See you soon!" and hangs up before he can say anything.
When she turns her eyes up to Castle, he's giving her a hesitant look.
"What?"
"Kate, I'm not sure I should come with you."
Her heart drops. "Why not?"
"Because now that I know what you taste like here," he swipes a finger over her collarbone, "and what you sound like when I suck here," he swirls that finger around her pulse point and she can't help the whimper that escapes, "I don't think I can concentrate." He winds an arm around her waist as he finishes, drawing her against him. "At least not on the case."
His mouth descends on hers, a hot, claiming assault. Her hands grip his biceps in an attempt to survive the onslaught to her senses, the arousal that is threatening to consume her.
He detaches suddenly, leaves her wanting and aching, her neck arching to reach his mouth again but he pulls just out of her reach. "I think I've made my point," he pants.
He has – oh, he has - but, "Castle, I miss my partner." She whispers it like it's a secret, the soft plead in her voice causing him to cradle her against the wall of his chest.
"I miss you, too," he whispers into her hair, a shared confession between them.
He was right, he should have stayed home.
Changing her clothes took longer than it should have because he was so insistent that he wanted to help but she knew that would be a horrible idea. She compromised by letting him unzip the dress, his fingers brushing the skin of her back maddeningly as he did so. She whirled around to glare at him but he just grinned at her and quirked an eyebrow. She slammed the door in his face before she dropped the dress and launched herself at him.
When they finally step off the elevator at the precinct, the boys fill her on the diplomatic pouch and the waybills and Uganda, everything painting a clear picture as to what their victim was on to. Beckett should feel bad that she left them to do the heavy lifting but she can't be upset about how much lighter she feels, how happy she is to have Castle at her side once more.
Hunt's already volunteered to check out the pouch that's at JFK and the hurt that flickers over Castle's face isn't lost on her. He's usually the one that would take on things like that, usually the first to point out that he isn't NYPD. When Hunt leaves for the airport, Castle heads into the break room to make some coffees and she hesitates for a minute before following.
He's definitely pouting at the espresso machine, his head bowed towards the pitcher as he steams the milk but she can tell that his attention is elsewhere. She props a hip on the counter, crosses her arms under her breasts, and waits.
He turns off the steam and glances over at her before he starts layering the milk over the espresso. "What?" His wounded pride drips from the single word.
"It's better that he's going, you know." She thought it would help but he completely deflates.
"I could do it." It's an unrestrained whine, punctuated with the pitcher slapped against the counter. Drops of liquid fly out and and splatter on his hand and he hisses, sucks at milk on his skin. She turns on the faucet and reaches over to wrap her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand under the water, runs her fingers gently over his hand to wash away the milk. She grabs a handful of paper towels and turns off the water, cradles his hand in one of hers as she dries it off.
"I know you could," she murmurs. "But think about it: what if he gets caught? And what if that was you?" She turns his hand over, gently touches one of the spots of red on his skin. "Does it hurt?" He shakes his head. "Where would you rather be tonight? A jail cell?" She lifts his hand to kiss an inflamed spot on his knuckles before turning it over. "Or my bed?" She whispers the last against the sensitive skin of his wrist before opening her mouth and gently scraping her teeth against him. She lifts her eyes to his face but his are transfixed on his lips over her skin, his pupils dilated, and a shaky breath rattles its way out of his throat. It makes her bold, knowing what she does to him and her tongue darts out, the tip drawing random patterns on his wrist.
He flexes his fingers until they caress her cheek and she presses her lips to his skin once more before resting her cheek in his palm. Her eyes flutter closed and she allows herself a moment to just bask in the feel of him touching her before she remembers where they are and regretfully lowers his hand from her face. She gives him an apologetic smile that he mirrors, and he squeezes her fingers between his before dropping her hand and turning back to the espresso machine.
She gives herself a second, inhales deeply and slowly lets the breath out and then swipes the finished coffee off the counter before turning to leave.
"That one's Ryan's."
"He can have the next one."
She throws a smirk over her shoulder as she leaves to see an eye-crinkling smile on his face.
When all the damning evidence piles up on Biggie Slim, Castle cedes his place in the interrogation to allow Hunt the chance to get a confession from his friend's killer. He's so genuine when he tells the detective inspector that he should be in there that Beckett isn't hurt that he won't be with her; in fact, his generosity just makes her love him more.
The thought flies through her head without restraint but it doesn't give her any fear, not like it would have a year ago. Not like it did almost a year ago. It's exactly what she's been working towards, allowing herself to be more open, allowing love in her life so that it can flow right back out. And while she wasn't doing that work in therapy for him specifically, she was certainly hoping that Castle that would be the recipient. She smiles as the men exchange a handshake, knows that she looks gooey and love struck but just can't care to rein it in.
Hunt excuses himself and Castle turns to her, freezing when he sees the way she's looking at him. The look in his eyes reminds her of when she found him in the bank vault; she's sure that the relief she felt at that discovery caused all her filters to fail, the overwhelming joy at finding him alive and safe radiating out of her pores. Unlike that day, Castle doesn't hold back and allows the shock to melt away, leaving glowing adoration in its wake.
She ducks her head from the weight of the moment but her smile never wavers and as he slides into his chair beside her desk, she can see that his doesn't either.
Hunt reverently removes the photo of Naomi from the board and hands it over to Beckett while conveying how proud he is of his late partner's daughter. He's a nice guy, definitely someone she could see herself being friends with if he lived anywhere close. As it is, she's glad she could be his liaison to the department and help him find some closure.
"Well, Detective Beckett, it's been a true pleasure."
"The pleasure was all mine, Detective Inspector Hunt."
"Please. Colin."
"Kate."
He hesitates a moment. "You know, I have a few hours before my flight, Kate. Could I persuade you to let me buy you a drink?"
Oh. She turns to where Castle is making a call to Alexis in the hallway, knows that he's lying to her about working late and to not expect him home. She doesn't even feel bad that he's being deceptive; it only took a quick, whispered conversation to know that they were on the same page as far as telling anyone. Because what is there to tell at this point? They deserve a chance to figure it out between them before anyone else is let in.
Colin's looking at her knowingly when she turns back to him.
"I'm sorry, I have plans."
He nods in understanding. "You know, Esposito and Ryan were insistent that you two weren't…" He trails off with a wince, his tense body language indicating that he thinks he's stepped over a line.
"They weren't wrong," she admits quietly. "We've, uh, figured some things out in the last couple of days." She's not at all sure why she's telling him this, except, doesn't he deserve some upfront honesty after all the duplicitous lowlifes he's dealt with lately?
"Well, congratulations." He offers his hand for a goodbye shake.
"Thank you," she replies with a soft chuckle, firmly grasping his hand for a moment.
"It was nice meeting you," he says, settling his bag on his shoulder.
"Same. Have a safe trip home."
He nods in thanks and heads for the elevator.
"Alright, pumpkin. I love you, good night," Castle's finishing up his call as he comes up behind her. "Where's Scotland Yard off to?"
"Back to London. Everything good?" she asks, pointedly looking at his phone.
"Yeah, Alexis has a lot of homework so I think she's glad I'll be out of her hair. Ready to go?"
Her lips curve up he speaks, his barely constrained excitement too adorable to be ignored. "Yeah, let's go."
Into the unknown, into the future. Together.
I'd love to know what you think.
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