Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Author's Note: A post-ep to 7x8, "Kill Switch," just writing out some thoughts I had after watching—and paying a little tribute to one of my all-time favorite episodes.
How He Knows
"Castle…"
Castle was tugged out of a sound sleep by the sound of his name. "Wassit?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.
He didn't hear anything else and he was just drifting off again when he felt Kate twitch beside him and then a soft sound like a whimper.
And he awoke immediately, automatic, instinctive concern pulling him into full consciousness. His eyes snapped open and he squinted in the darkness of the bedroom to try to see Kate, reaching out a hand to rest on her shoulder. And knew the moment he touched her that she really was in the grip of a nightmare; he could feel the tension in her form. He nudged her shoulder gently. "Kate. Kate, wake up. It's all right. Kate."
She jerked awake with a gasp. "Castle?"
"I'm right here," he answered, curling his hand lightly around the side of her neck in that way that he knew she found comforting.
She turned over, throwing her arm around him, clutching him, and he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him, wrapping one arm around her shoulders as she pillowed her head on his shoulder.
Her breath was still coming too quickly and he could feel the tension lingering in her shoulders, feel it in the way she was holding on to him.
He ran his hand caressingly over her hair. "I'm here, Kate."
He felt her nod against his shoulder and then give a few shuddering breaths as she tried to calm herself.
He waited until her breathing was pretty much back to normal, until he could feel her body relax against his, before he asked quietly, "Do you want to talk about it?"
She didn't always want to talk about her nightmares but sometimes she did. And he loved that, loved that he could comfort her after a nightmare, just as he loved that she was always there now when he woke up from a nightmare. He could only imagine how many nightmares she'd suffered through before when he hadn't been there, when she'd been alone, not just in the months he'd been missing but before they'd become lovers. He hated to think of Kate waking up alone after a nightmare, hated to think of her suffering alone.
She didn't answer immediately and he was beginning to think she wouldn't when she finally said, softly, "It was about the bank."
"The bank," he repeated blankly, confused for a few seconds.
"When you and Martha were—"
"I remember," he interrupted her, not wanting to force her to say the words, held hostage, aloud. That day—he hadn't thought about it in years, had stopped having the occasional nightmare about his mother getting shot by Trapper John. "I didn't—I didn't know you still had nightmares about that." He hadn't really known she had nightmares about it at all but now that he thought about it, he supposed it wasn't surprising.
"I don't, not anymore, but I kept thinking about it today, with what happened to Espo and having to comfort poor Lanie."
Of course, the hostage situation. "Espo's fine. He and Lanie are both fine," he said reassuringly. "And I was right there beside you today."
And realized he might have said something wrong—although he couldn't imagine what—when she gave a small choked sob and then burst out, "I know. I know and it's awful because all day today, that was what I kept thinking, that I was so glad you weren't there, that you were right beside me and not in that subway car too, and I hate myself because it was Espo and…"
"Ssh, Kate," he interrupted her, pressing his lips to her forehead and tightening his arms around her. "It's okay. I was thinking the same thing today, that I was glad it wasn't you, and it doesn't mean we were glad that Espo was the one in danger. You know that, Kate. It's a human, natural thing to think and you did everything you could to get him out of there."
"I know. I just… I felt so guilty to be thinking that when Lanie was crying and talking about how she'd never forgive herself…"
"Why would Lanie blame herself? She had nothing to feel guilty about. Ryan was beating himself up, I know, but Lanie?"
"It's personal, Castle, something she told me about her and Espo and you can't—you really can't joke about this or bring it up with either of them."
"I won't," he promised immediately. "And you don't have to tell me but if you're worrying about it…"
"It's just… the whole situation with Lanie and Espo, it reminded me of me, of us."
"How did it remind you of us, aside from the fact that at the bank, I was the one in trouble and you were outside and today, Espo was in trouble and Lanie was outside watching?"
"It wasn't that, Castle. It was… their relationship. Lanie said… she said Javi said something to her the other day about… about kids, about a next step in their relationship."
"Esposito's thinking about having kids?" Castle repeated a little incredulously. "Javier Esposito who still tends to hold Sarah Grace and look at her like she's an alien, albeit an incredibly cute alien that he would do anything for?"
"Not kids specifically, just the next step, really, since he and Lanie are together and have stopped pretending this is a casual, on again, off again thing between them."
"How does that remind you of us? We were never in a casual relationship and we were certainly never an on again, off again thing. We've always been very much on," he added with just a tinge of humor mingled in with smugness. And thank goodness for it because there was no way he would ever have managed an "off again" stage with Kate, never have been able to pretend that she wasn't everything, never have been able to pretend what he felt for Kate was casual or only a physical thing.
"It's more that Espo seems ready for more and Lanie, well, she panicked a little when he hinted at it and said she wanted to keep things the way they are, not risk changing anything, and then today, she kept on saying she'd never forgive herself if anything happened to Espo thinking that she didn't care about him as much as he cares about her. And Castle, that could have been me, that was me a couple years ago when you were in that bank."
"Oh Kate…" he sighed, understanding now. "You shouldn't…"
She cut him off by kissing him, one of her hands cupping his cheek, one of her slow, deep, lingering kisses, not one of their kisses that were meant to lead to more but just kissing for the sake of kissing, for the closeness of it, for the intimacy of it. She drew back slowly, leaving his mind entirely blank of whatever it was they'd been talking about. God, he loved kissing Kate, adored it. It was his favorite hobby, he decided, even more than making love to Kate, amazingly enough, since making love to Kate was always incredible.
"I love you," she said.
He smiled. "I love you too."
"I love you," she repeated with an odd intensity in her voice. "I love you more than anything, more than anyone. You know that, right, Castle?"
"I know, Kate," he said quickly. "You know I know. You don't have to—"
"I do," she interrupted him. "I know I don't… say it as often as you do and I don't talk about it, about us, about what you mean to me that often and I tease you and give you a hard time but I need to know that you know—"
He stopped her flood of words by touching his finger to her lips. "Kate, I know. You don't—you shouldn't worry about that. Sure, I might say the words more than you do, but Kate, you know that doesn't matter. I'm a writer, I'm used to expressing myself with words, and I talk a lot, too much, even," he joked before he went on more seriously, "But I know you, remember? I know how deeply you feel things and how hard it is to talk about the important stuff but you show me you love me every day. You don't need to say it—although I love to hear it—but I know, anyway." And he did know that Kate loved him; for all his past doubts, for all his past heartache, he no longer had any doubts about Kate's feelings for him or her commitment to their relationship. He loved that certainty, that confidence he felt in her, in them. He felt her love in the way she touched him, in the way she moved with him when they made love, felt it in the way she ran her fingers through his hair or touched his face. He saw it in her eyes when she smiled at him, even when she teased him. It was in the way she reached out for him in her sleep. It was in the way she relaxed around him, in the way she let him see her cry, in the way she let him comfort her after her nightmares.
"I always thought that but it didn't work before, when you—when you found out I lied about remembering my shooting…"
"That was different, Kate, that was before, before us, before we'd ever talked about any of the important stuff, about our relationship. And I was stupid to act the way I did then, you know that, we've talked about this. I was hurt and angry and I let my own doubts and fears get the better of me but Kate, that's all in the past now." He paused and then added, "You dreamed about the bank."
"I kept thinking about it today, listening to Lanie, comforting her, remembering that moment when I heard the explosion, remember thinking that you were gone and you'd never know that I loved you and that I'd never ever get over it—and I wouldn't have."
His heart hurt inside his chest at the remembered anguish in her voice and he hurried on, wanting to cheer her up. "You know what I remember best about that day, Kate?"
"What do you remember?"
He felt himself smiling even now at the memory. "I remember the moment when you found me, all of us, in that vault. What I remember best about that day is the way you smiled at me, Kate, the way you looked at me." His voice softened, became tender, his hand finding hers and lacing their fingers together. "I knew, Kate, at that moment when I saw the way you were smiling at me, I knew that you loved me too." And he really had. He'd let himself doubt it after he'd heard her confession to Bobby after the Boylan Plaza bombing, when he'd been second-guessing everything, doubting everything—but now, now he knew he'd been right that day in the bank when he'd seen that radiant smile. He knew she'd loved him then just as she loved him now.
"I did, Castle, I do. I was so… glad when I saw you again. I'd never been happier to see anyone in my entire life, I don't think."
"You see, Kate, even then, I saw the love in your eyes, in your smile, so don't you think I'd know it now, even without the words? There were times I doubted it before you said the words but honestly, Kate, since the moment you said you'd marry me, I've never doubted that you loved me, not even for a second. And now, now we're married, Kate." He brushed his thumb against his rings on her finger and then brought her hand up to his lips to kiss first the rings and then her palm. Married. To Kate. "Do you really think after all that, that I'd doubt how much you love me?"
Kate tightened her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. "Oh Rick… I just… I had to make sure. I kept thinking, when Lanie was talking today, that it could have been me, had been me. I was so stupid for so long in not letting you know how I felt and I never, never would have gotten over it if anything had happened to you before I'd told you, if I'd had to live with knowing that you hadn't known that I love you too. And I needed to make sure you know that just because I talk about it less doesn't mean that I don't love you just as much, that I feel any less than you—"
It was his turn to cut off her words by kissing her, turning her face up to his with one hand. "It's okay, Kate. I'm fine and we made it this far, haven't we? And whatever happens, you don't have to worry about that; whatever happens, I know that you love me just as I love you."
It was too dark to see but he sensed her soft smile, felt her relax against him. "Okay, Castle," she said softly.
He kissed her again, just because he could (and because he loved kissing Kate) and then let his head fall back onto his pillow, feeling Kate nestle her head on his shoulder in one of her favorite positions—and his too. He let his eyes close. He knew they were both exhausted after the stress of the long day, made longer by their visit to the Old Haunt, even if that part had been fun, a much-needed release from the tension. Images of that evening flickered through his mind and he felt a smile tugging at his lips. "And Kate?"
"Hmm?"
"If the way Lanie and Espo were acting at the Old Haunt tonight is any indication, I don't think you need to worry that Espo's going to be left in any doubts about their relationship for long. They looked pretty cozy."
"I know. They might have looked more like honeymooners than we did." He heard her smile in her voice.
"We're an old married couple now, Beckett," he quipped. "We're going to start finishing each other's sentences and dressing alike any day now."
She laughed. "We've been finishing each other's sentences for years now, Castle, and as for dressing alike, I don't think so."
"Why not?" he asked in mock protest. "We already know you look hot in my shirts."
"I'm not going to start wearing your shirts into the precinct, Castle, so stop imagining it right now."
"Spoilsport."
"I never said I wouldn't wear your shirts when it's just us at home…" She drew out the words, teasing seduction lacing her tone.
He grinned. "I knew I loved you for a reason."
"You love me because I look hot in your shirts?" And he heard her grin in her voice.
He lifted the shoulder she wasn't resting against in a half-shrug, though he knew she wouldn't see it. "Among other reasons," he teased.
She laughed softly and poked him in the side, making him squirm and yelp a little and then grab her hand.
"Hey, stop that!"
She laughed again, a real full-bodied laugh, one of those carefree laughs he so loved to hear, and then settled her head against him again as he trapped the offending hand beneath his on his chest.
She was silent for another few beats while he felt sheer happiness bloom inside his chest. He loved this, loved the way they were together, loved the laughter and the teasing and the passion and the tenderness. The joy in his heart, he thought, with a smile.
And she wondered if he knew that she loved him? Worried about it even now… It amazed him and somehow made all the long months and years of waiting for her, wondering if she would ever love him too worth it—more than worth it. Because she was worth it, being loved by her was worth everything. And her lingering regrets, her lingering guilt, oddly reassured him of just how much she felt. These moments, the way she was with him in their bed, the way she laughed with him, the way she snuggled next to him, the way she slept in his arms with such complete trust—these moments all told him she loved him. So she didn't say the words as often as he did—but she didn't need to. With Kate, actions were so much more important than words and as much as he loved that she gave him the words too, her actions meant so much more and her actions told him she loved him.
He had some concerns. They were both stubborn, both still had some issues with opening themselves up to the other (for Kate, her residual caution, for him, a lifetime of using humor to deflect from serious, uncomfortable conversations that wasn't easy to get over, as much as he trusted Kate), and they each had their own lingering scars over his unexplained disappearance. And he knew that they would fight and make mistakes and even hurt each other through those mistakes, but with all that, he didn't doubt that she loved him, just as he didn't doubt that he loved her. His finger found the rings on her hand—no, he had no doubts about her love.
"Castle?"
"Hmm?"
"This morning, when you said that it felt different, to be going to a crime scene as husband and wife, did it really feel different to you?"
Husband and wife. He felt a burst of giddiness, a no-doubt silly grin curving his lips, and he was momentarily thankful that it was too dark for anyone to see. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Castle.
"A little, yeah," he answered after a moment. "Didn't it for you?"
"It… did," she finally admitted. "But I don't know why. I mean, it wasn't really different, was it? Working the case together today, you still had your crazy theories…"
"And you still insisted on ruining all my good stories with your irritating logic and insistence on actual evidence," he teased.
She huffed a soft laugh. "We worked together when we were dating and when we were engaged and it didn't feel different."
"I'd say it felt better," he commented.
"Better? How?"
"Being your partner at work and your boyfriend and fiancé? It was better because I didn't need to hide how I felt, didn't need to pretend you were only a friend."
"Castle, I'm so sorry…"
He turned his head to brush his lips against her hair, almost regretting his candor, and then added, deliberately, "Plus it was better because all that unexpressed sexual tension between us before? You have to admit it was seriously distracting."
She laughed, as he'd intended. "Are you saying there was no more sexual tension once we got together, because I have to say, that sounds like an admission of boredom."
"Not boredom," he shot back immediately, "never that. But expressed sexual tension is just easier to deal with. Easier to not spend hours fantasizing about kissing your neck when I can tell myself I just need to wait until that night."
"You spent hours fantasizing about kissing my neck, Castle?"
"Believe me, Beckett, there isn't an inch of your body that I haven't spent hours fantasizing about kissing," he said with a leer. She might not have been able to see it in the dark but he knew she could hear it in his voice.
She laughed. "I don't know how you ever managed to help us solve any cases if that's what you spent all your time thinking about."
"I didn't spend all my time fantasizing about you!" he protested, only half-jokingly. "Just some of it. Okay, maybe half of it. Fine, most of it."
"I think I'm very glad I couldn't read your mind."
He grinned. "You afraid that if you knew what I was thinking about, you wouldn't have been able to resist having your wicked way with me in the precinct?"
She choked on a laugh and nudged him with her elbow. "In your dreams, Castle."
"I'm married to you. My dreams come true," he answered simply and entirely seriously.
She laughed softly and then sighed a little. "I don't know how you do that."
He blinked. "Do what?"
"Be so irritating one minute and then so sweet in the next second."
"It's part of my charm," he quipped.
"It really is."
He grinned. "Why, Mrs. Castle, I do believe you just admitted that I'm charming. You really must love me."
He expected a teasing rejoinder, one of her usual quips to depress his pretensions. Instead, she answered, after a moment, entirely seriously, "I really do."
He lost his breath, his amusement fading to be replaced with tenderness. "Kate…"
"It did feel different, didn't it? Going to work on a case and being married?" she asked, returning to her original question.
He suppressed a smile. She had surprised herself by her serious response and now she was a little embarrassed. She was adorable, he found himself thinking. But he could also tell that for some reason, she was concerned about this. Something about the question was bothering her and that was why she was bringing it up again. He knew the way her mind worked, knew that she was no more able to let go of an unanswered question than he was.
"Different, yes," he agreed a little cautiously. "But different doesn't mean bad, Kate."
"I know but it did feel different today and I don't know why and it just… it scares me a little."
He had to laugh, even though he knew it wasn't really a laughing matter. She elbowed him but didn't otherwise react. "Kate, you're the bravest person I've ever met. What's so scary about it feeling different today?"
"It scares me because I love our partnership. I love the way we work together and I don't want that to change, not ever."
"Kate, you know I love working with you and I'll keep coming into the precinct with you as long as Gates lets me. Partners in crime and in life, remember?"
He sensed her smile. "I remember," she said softly.
"When I said it felt different, I didn't mean that our partnership really felt different. When we were working together today, that was still us, like before. It just… it felt different. More… real." He huffed out a rather annoyed breath. He was a writer; he should be able to describe this in words but really, even he wasn't exactly sure what he meant.
"It felt more official," she said quietly.
He stilled. More official. Official. Yes, that was it. "Yes, exactly. It felt official." He laughed—because, really, there was nothing else to do in the sudden giddiness he felt. "We're partners, Kate! Partners, for real, in everything."
He sensed her soft smile, felt it as she turned her head to kiss his shoulder. "Always."
He smiled, feeling the warmth in his chest that he always felt whenever she said that word—their word—to him.
Partners in crime and in life. And it was official now. And that made a difference somehow, made it feel different.
He'd spent years working beside Kate, spending nearly every day in the precinct with her. And they'd both agreed that he was her partner—he still remembered, would never forget, the way he'd felt when she'd first accepted that he was her partner, the way he'd always felt when she called him her partner. But as much as he sometimes forgot it, he wasn't a cop and their partnership had always been unofficial, something privately acknowledged between them, between their team, but not on paper.
Now, though, it was official. He still wasn't a cop but their partnership was official, real now, acknowledged by the world. He had the right, the privilege, the duty even, to stand with her, to have her back, always, for the rest of their lives. Because they were married and that was what marriage meant, that you no longer needed to face anything in life alone.
Words, snippets from their past, echoed in his mind.
I wish that I had someone who would be there for me and I could be there for him and we could just dive into it together…
For us, there are no victories, only the battle. And the best that you can hope for is to find a place to make your stand. And if you're very lucky, you find someone willing to stand with you…
"I'm so lucky, Castle," she murmured and somehow, it didn't occur to him to feel surprised that she appeared to have followed his train of thought, echoing his thoughts.
He smiled, even through the rush of emotion he felt. Because she didn't say things like that often and he of all people knew just how much she'd suffered, how much she'd endured in her life. And yet, somehow, she could say she was lucky—and mean it—because of him, because of them. He tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her hair. "We're both lucky."
He'd always believed that he was lucky. For all the bad things in his life, he had avoided major tragedies. He might not have had a father or the most stable of family lives at first but he'd always had his mother. His first marriages to both Meredith and Gina might have been rather epic disasters for different reasons but out of all that, he'd still had Alexis and he knew just how much he'd lucked out with her. He'd been lucky with his career, the popularity of his books, the money he'd made from them, the fact that the ideas, the characters, hadn't stopped flooding his brain. And then when he had run into writer's block, real writer's block worse than anything he'd ever felt before, when he'd been stuck in a rut, he had met Kate. His inspiration, in his writing and in his life. Probably the biggest, best stroke of luck in his entire life. And now Kate loved him, was his wife. Yes, he knew he was lucky, the luckiest man in the world.
He heard Kate yawn a little. "Sleep, Kate. It was a long day." A long, stressful day in spite of the happy ending. A long day and he knew nightmares tended to take a lot out of her too.
"Mm."
She let out a soft, sighing breath and it was another few minutes before he heard the sound of her breathing even out, felt the way her body relaxed, settled more firmly against him, her hand on his chest becoming lax.
He knew how she slept now, her sleep patterns. He passed one hand very lightly, caressingly down her hair, kept up the repetitive motions in the way he knew soothed her, helped her fall asleep. He kept it up until he felt her fingers twitch slightly, a soft sigh slipping from her lips.
"Love you," she mumbled, the words blurred and almost unrecognizable except to him. And he smiled a little. Because that, too, was how he knew she loved him, in the way she mumbled the words sometimes when she was on the verge of sleep. He knew it wasn't conscious but these sleepy mumbles meant all the more to him for that. It was, although he hadn't mentioned it to her, the way she'd first said the words to him. It had been some months after they'd first become lovers and he'd been nearly half-asleep himself at the time, exhausted, sated, and happy as he curled around Kate's body in his bed and he had heard the vague mumble from her lips just as he fell asleep. The mumbled words had woken him up, jerked him back to full consciousness in the rush of elation he felt.
He relaxed further against the mattress, letting the last bits of tension drain from him, the sound of her soft, steady breathing lulling him into sleep.
And the knowledge that Kate was his wife now, that she loved him, followed him into his dreams, made him smile.
~The End~
A/N 2: Happy Thanksgiving to those in America. On this Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for "Time of Our Lives" and that Castle and Beckett are finally married… And, of course, I'm thankful for everyone who reads and reviews my fics.