Close Encounters 25: Role of Honor
for those of you who keep asking
and for Jessie - whose obsession with the spies is legendary
The last of the sunlight across her face, the beauty of the white sheets against her golden skin and the day fading - just one sketch he will hold in his mind's eye forever, never able to get exactly right.
He wants to paint her, but he never gets it exactly right.
He wants to draw these lines of her that love him so much, but for all the chroma he can stain to the page, none of the colors quite recreate her intensity.
He wants to immortalize her very breath, but it is all impossible.
She rolls over in bed and drapes herself over him in sleep, and he thinks, today is the day. The interview will go well; I'll get the job; our dreams will come true.
She touches her lips to his throat and hums something sleep-drenched, something about, don't be late, and he murmurs back, no, never, and she slides her knee between his and settles deeper.
It's only six in the morning, but it feels like he has lived a whole week in the warm stretch of her body against him.
Castle pressed the pen into the period of that last sentence, harder than he should, and then had to release it. Let it go.
Back on the regimen meant long hours of waking darkness, the house asleep around him. He got a lot more done, of course, and he was awake if she needed him - but she didn't need him.
She needed sleep. Lots of rest. A full night without being bothered. They had a routine now, and he kept to it because he could see how it healed her, but he missed her body, missed their connection, the healing that gave them too.
It would come in time.
Until then, he kept vomiting words into her journal. Actual stories. An artist who craved paint and palette and his wife. Castle knew it was himself - and not himself - and Kate - and not her either, but it was a poor proxy for all the things he wanted, ached, craved.
He closed the journal and rubbed his hands down his face, put his elbows on his knees and sank into his restlessness.
If he could just-
"What are you doing in here?"
He lifted his head and saw her standing in the doorway to the office, her face framed by the light in sleepy creases. She shuffled inside with a yawn and came to stand between his knees, forcing him to sit up straight, his hands falling to her warm hips.
"You can't sleep?" she asked around a yawn.
"I slept. Done sleeping," he shrugged. He was faintly ashamed that she'd woken alone and had to come in here to find him.
Her arms hooked loosely at his neck; she glanced over at the desk where the journal was still open. "Did you write me another letter?" she murmured. There was something shy in her voice that came out because of her sleepiness. She sank down onto his thigh, pulling her feet up into the chair, leaning against his chest.
He drew his arms around her, a little overwhelmed, unable to speak.
Kate picked up the journal with two fingers, already reading it before he could stop her.
"Kate, it's not-"
"Shh," she murmured, her head bowed over the journal. "Let me read."
"It's not a letter. Just a guy in a story-"
Her hand came up to his mouth, rather haphazard as she did it blindly, silenced him.
He swallowed thickly. It wasn't like the elephants. Wasn't a letter he'd written to her; they were just words. Words that kept coming no matter what he did; they just stuck around, over and over in his head on loop until he got them out.
The exact phrases, sometimes the whole dialogue of these characters, word for word, went around the track of his head, wearing grooves into him.
She turned back a page, two pages, ten. She went back and back farther until she found what had been his beginning, words he'd written in a motel room before they ever made it home, words he'd transcribed here when they'd gotten home.
That very first night.
Kate was quiet as she read. His heart was in agony.
Her fingers stroked the page, skimmed the words, her hair falling forward and obscuring any tell she might have given. He gripped her knee and closed his eyes, tried to make it not matter so very damn much.
And waited.
"Rick," she croaked.
He took a shaky breath and glanced down at her.
She pressed her palm to his cheek, the sleep erased from her eyes, and leaned in to kiss him.
He was too tense to feel it much more than the brush of her lips.
"Rick, this is good - this is - a real story. This is good."
"I-"
"What happens next?"
"What?" he muttered, dizzy.
"What happens next? Does he get the job? Why does he want this office job so badly if he's always done studio work? Is he doing it for her - like, does he think that she wants him to do that, because I don't think she does. I think she loves that he loses track of his days to the process of creating art, I think she-"
"Okay, Kate," he said softly, touching her jaw with his fingertips. He could feel her questions before she even spoke. "She does, but you know how people are. They think they have to be better for the ones they love."
"He doesn't have to be better. He's already so much more," she whispered.
His thumb stroked her bottom lip. She closed the journal and pressed it against her chest, between their bodies, her head coming to rest at his shoulder again. He skimmed his fingers through her hair, surprised at how she shivered in response to him. But she didn't start anything, she just sat with him.
If she had felt better, she'd be trying to get his clothes off right now.
Twisted him up to know that. To see it on her face, how she wanted him and couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't even feel good enough to try.
"I'll write more for you," he found himself saying. "There's always something that wants out."
"You will?"
"You read it whenever you want," he promised.
"Do you write at night like this? Is that what you do when you're gone?"
"Gone."
"I wake sometimes and you're not there."
"God," he cracked.
Her arm snaked around his neck and clung to him, a touch of a kiss against his ear. "No, stop. Not like that. I just - wake up. I know you get out of bed because you don't want to wake me. Are you writing, Castle?"
"Yeah," he husked. "Sometimes. Or doing work for - the Office. But mostly this."
"Keep doing this," she murmured. "Please. I want to know what happens to them."
"I do too," he got out.
"You're not going in." Castle eased down beside her on the couch, shifted the baby to the cushion between them.
"But I could-"
"No." He gripped James's leg, tugging him back on the cushion. "Besides, it's just a disciplinary hearing with the Director. You don't want to be there."
She snorted at him, turning to pull her knees up into the couch to fence in their son. "Disciplinary hearing all alone? You want to face him without me?"
Castle shrugged, releasing the kid to lay his hand on her knees. "Gotta explain." He studied her face, trying to gauge just how tired she actually was.
In his father's distraction, James wriggled straight to the floor, flopping down and trying to crawl away. Kate moved to grab him, but Castle was faster, leaning forward to scoop the baby into his chest.
"Where you going?" Kate said softly, inching closer to them. She laid her hand on James's back, tugged his shirt down. "You don't want to cuddle with me, baby?"
James grinned, shoved his hand into his mouth. He tilted towards Kate and Castle let him go, judging her strong enough.
Almost. James seemed to collapse her arms when he went, but Kate had hold of him well enough. He'd have to be okay with that.
"So what's the story?" Kate said then.
He startled, thinking she meant the story in her journal he was writing (his mind always seemed to go back to it, to revolve around it, so that the things she said to him he found himself repeating so he'd remember and write down later). But she didn't mean that story.
She was squeezing James's knees to tickle him, and he was squirming, stuttering with laughter as he tried to get away. "Huh, Castle? What can you possibly tell the Director to explain all this?"
He winced. "I don't - know yet," he admitted. He reached out and cupped the boy's skull, provided padding for James's crash into Kate's chin in his writhing giggles.
"Stick as close to the truth as possible," she told him, ducking her head to avoid another squirmy-boy flail. "Easiest to remember. Plus we don't want Mason getting in trouble for this."
"No," he sighed. "Not at all." He gritted his teeth as James wriggled, his laughter breathless. But it had done the trick, and she stopped tickling him, so now the boy was limp and panting in Kate's arms, quieted down to mere wheezing.
Kate hunched over to kiss James's forehead, smacking kisses. James lifted his hands and got her hair, and for a moment, the two of them were locked together.
Castle reached over and untangled the boy's fists, laid his hand over the baby's belly to keep him settled. He didn't like her trying to wrestle James while she was still obviously not okay.
But Logan came tomorrow morning. Logan would figure out what Kate needed, how far compromised her health was now. Jim had been by today to help out, even Mitchell had come to their door to check up on them, and while that had prevented him from getting any real traction on a story that would fly, it also meant that Kate hadn't been able to do too much.
So the meeting with the Director was going to be sticky.
Kate placed a last kiss on James's nose and lifted up. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparking, but she looked out of breath, maybe even woozy. She ought to rest. She shouldn't be-
"Don't look at me like that," she said, pushing hair behind her ears.
She looked ten years younger with her hair like that, short and a little curly. She'd taken a shower this morning but he had helped.
"Mm, that's better," she murmured, smiling at him.
He sighed, lifting his hand from James and reaching up to tug Kate's hair. "Yeah, babe. Every time. You get to me."
She grinned, and something shy went over her face as she ducked her head. She looked like James in that moment, and it was like a kick in his guts.
"So your story tomorrow," she started. "You need to stick as close to the truth as possible. Tell them we were on a black ops mission that went south."
"And what about you?" he said.
"Say it was a gunshot wound. Say I was the woman in Luxembourg Gardens, and I'm recovering, and we're using some off-the-books resources."
Castle narrowed his eyes at her, but it was an idea - and he was clean out of good ones.
They had been home almost a week and she still felt like crap.
But she wanted to hold her son, and give him one of the last bottles they had left, and rock him to sleep tonight, just as she'd done last night. She wanted to live her life, be his mother, and now that James was worn out, she might be able to.
"You ready to sleep, sweetheart?" She stroked her fingers around his face, watched as he battled against the lure of closed eyelids. "It's okay, you can go. We'll be here when you wake, promise."
Castle sighed at her as he handed her the bottle, but he settled down to sit beside the rocker. She relaxed, glad he was acquiescing in this. She would comb her fingers through his hair if she thought she could hang on to James with one hand. But she didn't think she could.
Kate rubbed James's lips with the bottle and he opened his mouth around it, taking it eagerly. His hands came up and grabbed the bottle, fingers flicking over the plastic, making her job easier. She could hold him now with both hands, the bottle tucked in against her chest, and it seemed to work.
"Good, huh?" she murmured. She watched him suck on the bottle, his lashes so long, framing those silver-grey eyes. His gaze was resolutely on her, as if watching to make sure she wouldn't leave. "Still here. Not going anywhere. Besides, Daddy wouldn't let me anyway."
Castle laughed, shifted a little closer to them so he could wrap his arm around her leg. "True. Very true, little wolf. So drink up. You should've been in bed an hour ago."
As if in response, James kicked his foot out and caught Castle in the shoulder. Rick lifted his hand and grabbed his bare toes, wriggling, turning his head to kiss the little sole.
James giggled, his eyes locking on hers as if to share.
"Daddy's got you. That's what happens when you kick him."
James grinned around the bottle, lifted a hand off of it to wave up at her. The bottle dipped and Kate couldn't grab it fast enough to catch it; it bounced on James's belly and rolled off.
Castle grabbed it. He glanced up at her and then shook his head. "All right. We're done. Kate."
"No."
"Kate, I'm not kidding with you. Give him to me."
She set her jaw but Castle was already popping the bottle back into James's mouth and taking him from her. "Castle-"
"He's fine. He's tired and the bottle is halfway gone."
She gritted her teeth and gripped the arms of the rocker, but Castle was looking at her like he would mutiny if she pushed it.
He had been through hell for her these last few days; she couldn't do that to him now. Even if she had missed the last week's worth of bedtimes, she knew she had to take it easy so that she was still here for the rest of them.
Castle took a heaving breath and seemed to stand down. He nodded, his arms around James, and that deep satisfaction on his face was a kick in the guts.
She folded her hands in her lap and stayed where she was, not reaching for either of them even though she wanted to. She ached to reach for him. James had barely noticed that he'd switched parents; he was sucking on his bottle and draining it fast.
Castle was looking straight at her, not at the baby, and she tried to show him she was fine. She was going to be fine, and she knew it was going to take time, and she was willing to do that for him.
She could do that.
"Put him to bed," she said softly.
He had the bottle in one hand, mostly empty, and she could see from here that James was asleep. Little legs were slack, mouth open, lashes on his cheeks. Castle was watching her as if he wasn't sure what she would do next.
"Put him to bed, Rick. And then me."
He let out a long breath and stepped into the rocking chair, dipped his knees to lean over her and kiss her cheek. "Thank you."
She caught his elbow, shifted to lay her hand on James's belly. The baby stirred and Kate leaned in to say good night.
She brushed her lips at his temple and let Castle go.
She was learning. She could do this - recovery. She could be good.
Castle startled awake, blinking in the darkness, sweat collecting at the small of his back. He was overheated by her body pressed against his - and a nightmare - but he sucked in a breath and drew his arm up around her shoulders, brought her closer. Lips to the top of her head. Slowing his heart rate.
Then he heard the baby.
He heard the baby, but he couldn't move. He had to take a second, even with James pitiful over the monitor, but he just had to hold her, had to reassure himself she wasn't collapsing beneath a park bench in Paris. The moonlight came in through the window, licking her cheeks and the wave of her hair, the light spilling down her collarbones and pooling between them. He let a breath ease out of his lungs and turned his head to the monitor.
The red spiked on a cry and Castle started to move.
He untangled his legs from Kate's, eased her back to the pillow. She was so worn out that she didn't wake, even when he dipped the mattress leaving the bed. He twisted the dial down on the monitor, and scraped a hand through his hair. He took a last look at Kate and then moved through the door and down the hall.
James had pulled himself up to stand, hands clinging around the bars. His down-turned lips twisted when he saw Castle, the cry cut off.
"Hey, there." He dusted his hand across the top of James's head, ducked to kiss the boy's cheeks. Not crying, just sad. "What's the matter, Wolf?"
James lifted his arms for his daddy and Castle gave up, hoisted the kid out of the crib. He tucked him close to his body and palmed the back of his head, swaying a little in the room.
"Dadada," James sighed.
"Yeah, I got you. Gotta be quiet, let Mommy get her sleep."
"Mom-ma."
"Hey, look at that. When did you learn how to say Mammy's name?"
"Muh-muh?"
Castle laughed. "Almost, baby. Very close. Mommy. Or you can start with Mama. I bet she'd like that a lot."
James had lost interest, burying his face in Castle's t-shirt and fisting the material, letting out a little pitiful noise.
"Hey, now, no need for that. I'm not leaving you alone. Mommy would kill me."
He sank down to the rocker and used his feet to push off, gliding back and forth, stroking James's back. The baby laid his cheek on Castle's shoulder and gave a long and trembling sigh, seemed to sink right back down towards sleep.
"You're so tired," he murmured. "I know you are. What woke you up, James? Did you have bad dreams too?"
He laid his hand on the baby's back, settling him, and it didn't take long for James to fall right back to sleep again. But Castle didn't move. The rocking was doing wonders to soothe him as well, the warmth of the baby against his chest and the soft noises he made while he slept.
Castle stroked the soft hair that curled a little at the boy's neck, brushed his lips over James's forehead.
The baby was asleep, but Castle was awake. He wouldn't be getting back to sleep tonight.
Logan actually hugged her.
She was too startled to hug back, and his embrace was strong enough that it rocked her off her feet. It sent her falling into Logan and he apologized even as he gripped her elbows and eased her down.
"No, I'm fine-" she started, but she was already being put in the armchair.
"I need to draw blood anyway," Logan said, shaking his head. "Sit."
"And from James," she added, glancing towards the baby. "Just in case. Make sure he's okay."
James was pulling up on the couch, his gaze steady on Logan, a teething ring in his mouth that he was drooling all over.
Logan laughed. "He looks like he knows exactly what I'm here for. Don't worry, Echo. Not here for that."
James grunted and dropped the teething ring; he took two lurching steps towards her and fell on his face. But he didn't seem to care. James crawled towards the chair and got to her legs, pulled himself up again.
"Mum-ma, Mum-ma," he chanted.
"Hey there, wolf. Want to climb up?" She offered him a hand even as Logan settled in front of them on the coffee table. He was already opening up his bag, digging through it. He pulled on latex-free gloves and moved for the equipment.
James fisted the hem of her shirt and she gripped his other arm, helped pull him up into the chair with her. James gave her a wide grin, looking pretty pleased with himself, and he squirmed down next to her, patting her leg.
She and Logan both laughed. James craned his neck and peered up at her, looking put out at her amusement. Kate cupped his cheeks and kissed him. "Laughing at you only a little, wolf. Sorry."
"Logan, thanks for coming," Castle said from the doorway. He came in from the kitchen and leaned over the back of the chair, taking Logan's hand in a firm shake.
"Like I wouldn't have," Logan muttered. "Besides, I figured the less that Echo has to be in a lab, the better. Right, kid?" He released Castle's hand and reached into his bag for the bloodwork kit.
James let out a screech.
Kate's heart tripped, and she shifted, gathering James up into her lap. "It's okay, baby. It doesn't hurt."
James stuck his fingers in his mouth, chewing on them, but he buried his head against her, huddling pitifully.
"Castle," she said quietly.
Her husband leaned over the back of the chair and took James - or tried to. James clutched at her, got her hair and her t-shirt, and Castle had to hover there until she could free herself of his fingers.
"Hey, wolf. I know you're trying to protect your mama, but she's okay. It doesn't hurt Mommy."
James leaned back, trying to get to her, and Kate lifted her hand, caught his hand and kissed it. Castle kept close enough so that James wouldn't be far, and Logan came towards her with the needle.
"Mum-muh," James whimpered.
"Castle, maybe take him out-"
"No," Castle interrupted. "He should see that it's fine. This is going to be a regular thing with us, Kate. Maybe it's startled him and made him cry. But it doesn't actually hurt you. Let him see that."
She frowned, Logan still hesitating before her.
"Fix your face, Kate. Show him you're not being hurt." Castle nodded towards Logan. "Go ahead."
Fix her face. Well, James was reacting to Logan's presence and the needle, but he also picked up on their tension as well. It wasn't about a needle, wasn't about getting blood drawn, but about everything behind it: her health, the regimen, what they'd been through. Only how could James possibly distinguish the difference? He couldn't. He just knew that Logan had drawn his blood too.
She fixed her face.
"James, it's okay," she told him, tugging on the little hand in hers. "Promise, baby. Logan's our friend."
"All right, Kate. Ready?"
"Ready." She smiled up at James and bared her own arm, giving her vein over to Logan. Most bloodwork could be done with a finger prick, but not the battery of tests they did for the regimen. The needle went in smoothly, and Kate lifted her head to Castle with a little grin. "He's much better at this than you."
Castle grunted and poor James looked back and forth between them, confused. Her husband held the boy loosely, and she rubbed her thumb over James's fingers.
"Hear that, Castle? I'm better at it than you." Logan gave Kate a scandalous look. "Just don't tell my wife."
Kate laughed and winked back. "No promises, Logan." James grunted from Castle's arms, apparently frustrated by being kept away from her. She glanced up at him and then back to Logan. "Honestly, you do realize we've never met your wife? Or the boys."
Logan pulled a face; she wasn't sure what that meant, but she glanced back at Castle and figured it out.
"Rick," she admonished. "Did you tell him not to bring his family?"
"I told him to keep them safe," Castle muttered. "And knowing us isn't exactly safe."
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes fell to her son, her little boy who was growing up with needles and bloodwork, science experiments and labs - but no friends other than his dog. Because it wasn't safe to know them.
"I'll bring the family," Logan said then. "Because I don't believe that's true."
She opened her mouth. "Threkeld-"
"I know you guys take care of your own. And it wasn't like I took a job with the CIA thinking it was going to be safe."
"Does your wife know?" she asked.
Logan filled the first vial and moved to put in the second. She should've been squeezing a ball or something, but Threkeld always said he liked it better if it came slowly. If the blood had begun to thicken. He thought, for the regimen's purposes, it was a better sample.
And it didn't leave her quite so woozy afterwards.
"Logan. Does she?" Castle asked. "No, James. Let Mommy finish."
She glanced up and smiled at her son, leaned her head into his still-clutching hand.
"Yeah, she knows," Logan sighed. "I told her a few months ago. That there was a project, a CIA project, and I was on it."
"God," Castle croaked.
"Not like that. Not Echo. I told her biological warfare, that's all. A lab in the city to explain why we had to move. She understands there have to be secrets."
"Bring them over," Kate said. James needed friends. He needed a life. They couldn't be these people. Who were they hiding from? The Collective, certainly, and Black in some cases as well, but it had been Kate herself who had told Castle they couldn't be these people, hiding, afraid, not living their lives. "Bring them over and we'll have dinner. We can say we work with you, that you've been our medical support team."
Castle didn't say anything, and Logan at least gave her the respect of maintaining eye contact, not looking to Castle for permission.
Her husband sighed. "Logan. The official story is that Kate was shot. CIA story too - so that means we'll have to go through a lot of those motions. Physical therapy, three months' leave-"
"Three months," she hissed, glaring up at him.
But it was her son that responded: James lifted both eyebrows, mouth opening in that 'o' of surprise.
Her indignation crumbled in the face of - well, that face. She laughed and shook her head, sighing at them all.
"Fine. Shit. Three months. Guess I should tell my father we won't need his daycare services."
"I'll let you guys talk about that," Logan started. He pressed the band-aid over her elbow. "Meanwhile, I'll get the bloodwork going. You still want to-" He nodded to James.
Kate winced, reality crashing back down on her. Whatever that 'mitochondrial byproduct' had done to her, they had to be sure about James. "Yeah. Sorry, little wolf. You too."
Castle adjusted his hold on James and Logan stood up with the sterile finger lancet. Gloved hands drew closer and the baby twisted in his father's grip, glancing up at Castle as if to say, what're you doing?
"It's okay," Castle said. He was so calm that it translated to James as well, who stopped squirming under his father's heavy hand at his stomach. He spoke soft words in his son's ear. "Good job, James. I'm proud of you. Stay just like that."
Logan took James's foot in his hand and lifted the bare sole towards him. It took only a second, and James gave a startled little cry, but there were no tears, no tears, just a downturned mouth and wounded eyes. Like his feelings had been hurt.
Logan stepped back with the sample and Kate lifted her hands to James, reaching for him. But Castle was turning the boy around and cuddling him, his wide hand at the back of James's skull and his mouth against James's ear.
His voice was so low it was only a hum, but Kate's heart eased and she dropped her hands, watched her son being comforted by his daddy. It was okay. They were fine.
She turned her eyes to Logan who was busily packing away their blood for transport. "Logan. Our house is one of the safest places in the city - other than the lab itself and maybe the Office. Castle keeps them all that way. So bring your family. We'll have dinner. I want my son to meet both of yours."
Logan flushed red and looked up at her. "All right. We will."