Author Note:
This story is a co-write, which myself and a friend had been working on sporadically since the season 6 finale aired, but which was temporarily abandoned last year. Some of you may recognize parts of this chapter, as it has been previously posted - but we decided it needed a quick grammar fix, and then when our ideas developed, decided that parts of it needed completely reworking.
This is rated M for sexual situations, so if it's not your cup of tea then hit the back button now. Thank you to KT for the stunning cover art.
We hope you enjoy reading, and endeavour to have a new chapter posted over the coming week. Constructive criticism is welcomed :)
-Leigh and KB
Disclaimer: We own no rights to Castle or its characters. Everything which you recognise is the intellectual property of Andrew W. Marlowe. We're just playing in his playground so please don't sue ;)
Life After You
Let go of my hand, so I can feel again
Nothing's gonna hurt as much, as that final touch
- Lady Antebellum
1. This is our goodbye
She glances around her almost empty apartment and sighs. The walls are stripped bare of all the artwork, most of her possessions are boxed up ready for shipping and she's almost finished packing away the contents of her bookshelves. Her eyes land on a large wrapped painting leaning against the wall, and she's unable to recall the exact moment when this place transitioned from being someone else's to becoming her own. She picks up 'Storm Fall,' from one of the remaining piles, and opens it to the dedication page, where she's long since committed the personalised inscription to memory. 'Not that you're a fan.' He'd had that twinkle in his eye when he presented it to her and at the time she'd wondered if she really was that transparent. He'd already demonstrated quite the aptitude for reading people, not to mention that it seemed like even the boys knew there was more to her love of his books than she was willing to admit. She used to be better at hiding things than that.
She abandons the packing in favour of searching through the rest of the unboxed books until her fingers close around a hardback edition of 'In a Hail of Bullets.' The book is worn with age, and she is always mindful of this when she opens it. 'Johanna Beckett's library' is printed in faded ink, accompanied by his elegant scrawl. Her fingers trace his penmanship almost reverently and it strikes her then that she never told him. They've gone from co-workers, to friends, to partners and to lovers and in five years she's never mentioned it. They've joked about saving each other's lives, with Castle going so far as to keep score, and she still never let on that he saved her life way before he even knew her. They quickly fell into this pattern of dancing around the serious conversation, but this was never supposed to be one of the things between them that went left unsaid.
She replaces the book on top of one of the piles, and stops again to mentally catalogue what still needs to be done before she signs away the end of her lease. The kitchen is more or less boxed up, with the exception of a couple of bowls and a mug. There are a stack of boxes by the bedroom door, which she's putting into storage for now; the things she doesn't need to take with her but that she can't quite seem to let go of. Many of the bigger items have already been shipped and the rest of her things are due to be collected just before she leaves.
She takes a sip of wine and it warms her insides, momentarily replacing the apprehension she's been trying to ignore for the past couple of days. Because she's made the right decision, and she'll feel fine about it once her possessions are filling up the empty loft waiting for her 250 miles away in Washington D.C. There's one more thing she needs to do though, something that she's done everywhere she's ever lived, in order to give herself closure.
She picks up her purse off the counter, and her fingers wrap around the Victorinox pocket knife Castle had gifted her years ago, and makes a mental note to put it away in her suitcase, because she really doesn't want it confiscated by airport security. As a joke, he had bought her the girliest version he could find. It was pretty much the same standard Swiss army knife, but it lacked its deep red outer shell. Instead, this one had a smooth white finish, with little red cherries dotted onto it. She'd given him grief about it at the time, proclaiming she deserved as manly a knife as the next guy, but she had secretly loved the gesture. And she'd been thoroughly amused when, a week later, she found the pink tool kit in the trunk of her cruiser. He probably knows anyway, but regardless, this is yet another thing she's never taken the time to tell him.
She walks up to the steps in her kitchen, spends a minute debating the right spot and drops to ground level, beginning to painstakingly leave her mark on the place she's called home for the past three years. It may have just been an apartment building to the naked eye, but for her it has been so much more. It was a safe space for her, the place where she'd picked up the pieces from her shooting, uncovered the identity of her mother's murderer and learned to live with the things she couldn't change. She'd rebuilt her entire life from the ashes here, she'd found love, and now she has experienced loss too. It is only fitting that she leaves behind some kind of acknowledgment of that. Her hair falls across her face, hindering her work but eventually she stops carving and straightens up. Her fingers skim the indentations, brushing away any residue and leaving behind her initials etched into the distressed wood.
A knock at the door startles her and even if he didn't knock in a certain way, she'd know it was him. He's the only person in the world who would chance her still being awake at just after 1am. Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, she gets up from the floor and goes to slide the bolt across.
For the longest time neither of them speak, but then they've said it all already and she doesn't know what there is left to say. "Hey Castle." She feels strangely exposed - barefoot and in just an old oversized NYPD t-shirt - especially to say he's seen her wearing dramatically less and knows every inch of her body easily as well as she does.
"Hey yourself." He hovers awkwardly in her doorway and for a minute it is as though he doesn't quite know where to look. "You gonna invite me in, or would you prefer us to talk out here?" She manages a weak smile at that and steps aside, unable to remember the last time she had to invite him in. She leans against the door, watching him look around and she's transported back to a time some three years previously when he had an unhealthier than natural interest in perusing her apartment. "So this is really it? You're really going." His eyes scan the bare room, landing on the pile of half boxed books, and lingering on Storm Fall sat on the counter.
"This is really it," she repeats, like she can't believe it herself. "I'd offer you a drink but-" her face twists up into yet another failed attempt at a smile and she gestures helplessly towards the kitchen.
"I didn't come here for a drink." The intensity of his gaze almost startles her and she can't quite get a read on the emotion on his face.
Kate swallows hard, trying to put on her best poker face. "What are you doing here Castle?" She hates how vulnerable she sounds, because this isn't her, or at least it wasn't. Until he came along and hadn't just upset the apple cart but turned the entire thing on its head and made juice with the contents. "We agreed we weren't going to do this."
"I had to," he mutters, and it pains her to hear the way the desperation finally invades his words. "I couldn't let you leave without doing this one last time." He breaches her personal space, hands bracketing her hips and the internal conflict is written clearly on her face as his eyes silently will her not to push him away.
They shouldn't do this, because she's leaving tomorrow, they're not even together anymore. and in her experience nothing good has ever come from ex-sex. She closes her eyes and forces herself to remember all the reasons why this is for the best, because he's driving her to distraction - stood so close she can almost taste him - and she's afraid he'll make her forget. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone and she's overcome with an overwhelming desire to press her lips to the tanned skin on display there. God, she wants him and to hell with the consequences. "I need this too."
Her admission gives Castle the encouragement he needs and somewhere between his lips descending on hers, and his thigh sliding between her legs she stops thinking altogether. Her back hits the wooden door with a thud and a groan, but the pain barely registers. He presses a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses against her clavicle before his mouth ghosts across the column of her throat. Her eyes flutter shut at the sensation and she's not quite able to prevent a few tears from slipping beneath her closed eyelids when his mouth hovers above the life-affirming scar between her breasts, only the thin barrier that is her tank top, between them.
Kate's body goes rigid under the gentleness of his touch and she almost can't breathe as she's reminded of everything they've been through together. "I'm sorry Castle, for what it's worth." Her breathing is already uneven and the words fall urgently from her lips in a silent plea for him to understand and to selfishly assuage herself of some of the guilt she feels for leaving. "I'm so sorry."
A strangled half sob escapes her throat and she tries to bury her face in his shoulder but Castle is clearly anticipating the move and deflects it. He moves back up to her mouth and painstakingly drags her lip between his teeth, swallowing any further attempts to apologize. She sees right through his ploy but she lets it go, responding to the kiss in kind. Because this is neither of their faults; they're just not the same two people who entered into the relationship a year ago. She doesn't want to not take this opportunity and end up resenting him for it, but equally she loves him too much to let him compromise everything that's important to him, to follow her to a whole new state.
Castle touches one hand to her face, his thumb swiping at the trail of moisture on her cheeks. He presses his leg further into the juncture of her thighs, and the repetitive pressure there, works to distract her. The tears are no longer falling so he drags his mouth away from hers, and Kate lets out a frustrated groan which he ignores. His lips begin caress her delicate collarbone, teeth sinking into it and leaving what is sure to be an impressive hickey. Her breath catches in her throat causing them both to feel the vibrations, his head descending lower still. She closes her eyes involuntarily when his mouth latches onto her right nipple, the cotton of her tank top only serving to increase her sensitivity.
His thigh nudges insistently against her core and she swears under her breath, hips rocking against him involuntarily in response to the movement. He's always been an attentive lover, but tonight he pays closer attention to her than ever; to the way her body involuntarily reacts to him, to the noises she makes, the moans she tries and fails to suppress and the rapid change in her breathing as he brings her closer to the edge. "Castle, please!"
Kate's fingers have found purchase in the material of his shirt, to the point where it must be almost painful, and if it was accidental before she's now shamelessly using his thigh to get herself off, hips gyrating harder. She bites back a scream, the friction doing all kinds of wonderful things for her and oh sweet Jesus! The friction against her clit borders on painful but she's thinking with the wrong body part, and the words to slow him down get lost in her haste to have him exactly where she wants him.
The remaining hand which supported her hip slides between their bodies, clenches around a fistful of her shirt and drags it upwards, leaving more of her open to his exploration. Castle wastes no time in sliding his hand down the front of her saturated boy shorts and cupping her sex, being rewarded for his endeavour with a throaty moan. His face is buried in the curve of her neck, but he expertly trails his fingers through her slick wetness, bringing them up to tease her clit, his featherlight touch not quite enough to do anything more than frustrate her. "Castle -" She's unable to do anymore than growl his name. The rest of the words die on her lips, when in one effortless slide, he's inside her. She should be embarrassed at how much she needs this, but with the pads of his fingers manipulating her like this, she decides she can't find it in her to care. This isn't going to take long at all.
Between them, they establish a punishing rhythm, her hips working in counterpoint to his hand, and it is a matter of minutes before she loses the capacity to keep herself upright. Kate's hand desperately slides down to join him between her legs and she slides the pad of her thumb across her clit in a rough circular motion, in time with his thrusts. He scissors his fingers inside her, teeth sinking into her shoulder. She comes quick and hard, his name a scream on her lips, body wedged between him and the door.
Kate is in no state to make a comparison but Castle is unable to ignore the parallels between tonight and the first time he did this with her, against the front door of his loft. "Where did you go?" Her voice is breathier than normal, breaking into his musings, once she's come back to herself enough to be able to form a coherent thought. She lifts her head from his shoulder to look at him, testing her ability to move.
"I was just thinking." He doesn't elaborate and selfishly, she's glad, because the faint strains of regret laces his words and it hurts to hear.
"Think later," she murmurs insistently, her lips brushing against the stubble on his jaw and finally capturing his lips. She tugs his shirt from his pants, hands trembling in her haste to divest him of it and he lifts her tank top cleanly over her head. She reaches for his belt dragging leather from metal and together they drag off both his boxers and his pants, his dick springing proudly upright against the planes of his stomach. Her hands travel over his well defined torso, and he shivers beneath her touch, when she pinches his nipple. Her mouth alternating between pressing hot kisses against anywhere she can reach, changing it up and letting her teeth scrape against his Adam's apple. Her hands move seemingly of their own volition and she grips him in her fist, the friction from her palm making him struggle to keep still. He hisses when she brushes her thumb over his weeping head, smearing his pre-cum down his length. "Fuck, Beckett."
"We're getting there," she promises him, voice low and her mouth hot against his ear. She bites down on the lobe, bringing her tongue out to soothe the sudden sting. He's gripping her hips so tightly she won't be surprised if she's bruised later, but she doesn't care. Her hand is moving faster and he swallows thickly, trying to concentrate on anything else but the sensations she's creating when she twists her wrist a fraction.
He flexes his fingers, his hands beginning to roam her sides, dipping into the curves and contours and making her squirm when they dip into the hollow beneath her ribcage. His fingers lightly trace over the scar and she stiffens momentarily before relaxing at his affirmation that she's beautiful. He moves to her breasts, teasing the nipples and squeezing. She copies him, cupping his balls, his weight hot and heavy against her hand and he grits his teeth, this is torture and he can't take it anymore. "Kate," he says, thickly, shying away from her touch. She's maneouvered them so that now his back now against the door and the cold metal doorknob against his skin is a complete contrast to how hot he feels all over. It sends a shiver straight down his spine. "God.." he tries again, his voice is low, but his warning gets caught in his throat.
She understands. Kate moves his hands to wrap around her thighs and he lifts her with ease angling her body towards him. He can feel the tension in her calves, and he knows this is too is going to be a much quicker affair than usual. She pulls him closer still, if that's possible and they both moan when their hips come into contact, Castle deliberately letting his cock tease her entrance before sliding into her in one fluid motion. His thrusts are shallow and he slides almost the entire way out of her, and pushes back in deeper than before.
His tongue mimics the motion, plunging into the wet cavern of her mouth and she's kissing him back hungrily, attempting to get impossibly closer. She's already starting to clench around him, and when he increases the pace to reflect that, her hips cant up towards him. Castle curses loudly against her mouth, one hand still with a death grip on her hip. His moans are joined by hers, when she feels him throb inside her. "Is that doing it for you?" She pulls her head back an inch and breathes the words out against his skin, deliberately jerking her hips against him.
"You've always done it for me." Kate's eyes become glassy and she looks like she's about to speak, but is prevented from doing so by the press of his fingers against her lips. Their words give way to gasps then anyway, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin contact echoing through the almost empty apartment. A particularly deep thrust, combined with the additional pressure of two thick fingers meticulously working her bundle of nerves is all it takes to send her spiralling into oblivion.
She's never been a particularly vocal lover and always had a hard time letting herself go, but with him it has always seemed to come naturally. In complete contrast to her first orgasm though, Kate is quiet and Castle rather unusually, follows her lead, his seed spilling into her and - minus another strangled 'oh fuck, Kate' being forced from his throat - letting his actions speak for themselves. He rests heavily against the door, her weight gradually forcing them to slide down towards the floor.
They are silent for a long time and while it started out comfortably enough, that atmosphere is rapidly beginning to deteriorate the longer they go without speaking. Neither of them want to be the first to break the spell, and both are unwilling to let their harsh reality set back in. Castle's entire demeanor has changed and Kate can feel an unasked question lingering in the air, the proverbial elephant in the room. "What aren't you saying?" she asks and his eyes widen slightly. "What? You were not asking very loudly."
They both smile at the memory. "Do you regret us?" he says eventually.
"God no!" Kate's eyes widen, and she gets the feeling that he's been holding this line of conversation back ever since she told him, that if she hadn't just pushed him he would never have asked. She rises up onto her knees and uses both hands to cup his cheeks. "There are a lot of things I regret about my life, and so many things I wish I'd done differently. When I met you I was more broken than anyone realized, but you saw that and you - you put me back together. So no Castle - of all the things I regret, you could never be one of them." The tears come again and they roll down her cheeks unchecked, but it doesn't matter because she thinks he's crying too now. "Rick I -"
"Don't Kate-" he chokes on the words, covering her lips with his fingers. "Please don't tell me that you love me, don't say anything, because otherwise I'm gonna do something we'll both regret."
"What?" She drags his hand away.
"I'll ask you to stay." They're barely inches apart and his breath is hot on her face; his lips crash against hers in an attempt to swallow her sobs because it worked before, but she's not letting him. Not this time.
"What if I'm making a mistake?" She doesn't realize she's speaking until he pulls away to look at her. She avoids his gaze, but they both know it's only the thought of her departure which forces her to voice her very real fears. "What if I can't do this?"
"Kate, you know I think you're extraordinary. You're tenacious, remarkable and probably the most resilient person I've ever met, which is why I know you're going to be just fine. You can do anything, but don't ask me if this is a mistake, because you know I can't answer that."
"You overestimate me." Her words are flat. Kate climbs off of his lap feeling the void from the sudden lack of contact and holds out a hand to pull him to his feet.
"You underestimate yourself," he counters and when she still doesn't meet his eyes, he tilts her head towards him. "Who you are isn't going to change just because I'm not by your side, so you're going to get on that plane tomorrow, you're going to go to DC and you are going to be great."
How does he always manage to do this? To hit the nail on the head, even when she's not saying what she really means, although, she supposes sardonically that he's had a lot of practice over the last five years. Her eyes fill with fresh tears and even if there was anything she could say in response to that, she can't speak as she collects up their clothing from where it ended up scattered across the floor.
By the time Kate looks up again she's managed to get her emotions in check but still says nothing as she takes her t-shirt from his outstretched hands, exchanging it with his. They dress in silence, consciously aware they're both watching each other without appearing to do so. It brings a ghost of a smile to her lips seeing the suggestive raise of his eyebrows when she picks up her ruined panties, and the corners of his mouth turn upwards at the customary eye roll she gives him in response. Some things never change.
"Well, I guess this is it." Castle's smile fades. This is almost deja-vu for them, except that was her line once and she wishes she could reply to it with 'it doesn't have to be' but she can't, because they both know this time that it does. She made that decision for them.
"You should go," is what she says instead; her eyes are overly bright but her voice is steady. "It's getting late and it's gonna be a long day tomorrow."
"Will you at least allow me to drive you to the airport?"
"No, Cas- we agreed, I can't leave if you're still standing there watching me go."
She'd expected him to put up more of a fight, or at least protested a little and she certainly hadn't expected him to listen to her, but she supposes there has to be a first time for everything. As she stands there in the departure lounge, Kate realizes they never actually said goodbye. Talking has never been her M.O. but she thinks it's the first time she's ever seen him completely at a loss for what to say. For the first time, she thinks she might be glad he didn't say anything, because there are no words that wouldn't have sounded inadequate.
