Disclaimer: Don't own any of it.
A/N: A post-ep to Hunt which ties into some of the recurring motifs in Caskett's relationship this season.
Kate woke in Castle's bed as the sun was still slowly making its ascent, its rays doggedly crossing through clouds and exhaust to warm the New York City skyline. She turned over and allowed herself the luxury of watching Castle for a few moments as daylight seeped through his window blinds, slow and deliberate and inky grey. He was sleeping in that deep, effortless way of his that invariably had her both awed and envious. He had slept all day yesterday as well, cuddled on the couch with Alexis, the two of them recovering while she headed back to the precinct for her shift.
She'd been ready to head home at the end of her workday yesterday, figuring Castle was due for some much-needed time with his redheads, but he had come to the precinct as she was packing up, armed with coffee and cakes for the cops and techs who'd worked on Alexis' kidnapping, and an invitation to a family dinner for her. Of course, she'd accepted. It had been a wonderful meal, warm and spirited and healing. When it was over and the dishes cleared up, Alexis had gone to her room to return the countless phone calls and messages from friends, while Castle had taken her to bed. That, too, had been warm and spirited, though perhaps more healing for him than for her.
Even as relief settled in her bones, she was still reeling from the uncertainty of the last few days, from her utter helplessness. She was not one for sitting on the sidelines, and she knew it would take a few days still for the adrenaline, for the stress, to subside. It would also take a little while to come to terms with this new side of Castle she had discovered, or perhaps rediscovered. He'd always been reckless and lucky, so incredibly lucky. Early on in their partnership, he had been an uncontrollable force-and an annoying one, so damn annoying. But she had learned as she'd gotten to know him that much more than his thoughtless impetuousness, he was driven first and foremost by his dedication to those he loved.
This dedication was what drove him to be his better self, and she had witnessed his growth as well as his stumbling and fumbling along the way. She had seen the lengths he would go for those he cared about, the lengths he'd gone to for her, even. But she didn't know how she felt about this. She hadn't known how she felt about it the first time he'd gone out on a limb and put himself at risk for the sake of love, or the second or the third or the latest. The only conclusion she'd reached was that there was little she wouldn't risk for his sake.
It seemed an incredibly unsatisfying conclusion, though, one lacking resolution. Especially in light of his decision to go to Paris solo.
She cared for him deeply and some days she didn't want to contemplate a life without him, but years as a cop and a detective learning about human psychology from a front-row seat didn't make her a fool. She knew Castle's actions were the result of a life spent mostly alone, fighting his isolation and detractors and his own legacy of loss and betrayal. Hiding his insecurities behind his selfish class-clown act, all the while giving so much and expecting so little in return. And so he'd gone to Paris without telling her either because he'd expected her to stop him from going or because he hadn't even considered that her support was an option worth considering.
Kate sighed. Clearly, they were still figuring this relationship thing out.
Maybe one day they'd reach a place where his first instinct would be to trust her, to expect more of her. A place where he would know that she would never stop him from doing what he needed to do, anymore than he could stop her from the same. Trust was such a difficult thing to build, slow and painstaking and fragile, but maybe they would get there one day, build a relationship strong enough to weather any storm. Maybe they would be able to fuse their lives and their histories into something that was stronger than each of them alone could be. Maybe.
Kate let her eyes linger over his sleeping form for another moment. Or maybe she'd come home one day after working a double shift with the city's grit still coating her skin and a bereaved family's grief still weighing heavy in her heart. And he would just be coming home from a book release party or fundraising event, polished from a night spent in the company of wealth and prestige and fame. And they would look at each other and he would see just how unbridgeable the chasm between them was. Maybe he wouldn't be able to overcome his own insecurities and let her in, and maybe all her attempts to open up to him and trust him would fall short.
She wished she knew the ending to their story. Sometimes, she even wished he was the one writing it.
Any other morning when her thoughts were sucking her down into a morass of worry, she would slip out of bed to either go for a run or take advantage of the gorgeously appointed and well-equipped workout centre in Castle's building. Today, though, she wanted to stay in his home with Alexis and Castle both safe and enjoy their happy ending; a happy ending she hadn't been able to find in her own story. She wanted to soak in her own relief for a little while longer, and save her worry about her and Castle's uncertain future for another day.
She wanted to cook a giant breakfast and remember her mother.
And so Beckett left Castle to his rest and headed to the kitchen, making a mental checklist of what ingredients she needed and where in his cupboards she could find them. It was only as she entered the kitchen that she realized Alexis was sitting at the counter, blankly staring into space.
"Morning, Alexis," she said gently, watching Little Castle with a careful eye. "You're up early."
"Oh, hey." Alexis replied with a slight start. She shrugged, belatedly registering the question. "I guess I've kind of lost sense of time." She went quiet for a moment, studying Beckett while Beckett gave all her attention to the young woman in front of her, projecting the air of openness and kindness she'd perfected through years of dealing with the grief of others and her own.
"It's good to be home," Alexis finally said, though she sounded more troubled than relieved. "It feels ... weird though. Everything is exactly the same here, but I don't feel the same." She looked at Kate intently, as though waiting for an answer that would fix everything that made little sense at the moment.
"It's just…" Alexis continued, "I mean, how can everything be so normal when there are people out there who do what … what they do. Who kidnap people and kill people?" she said, her distress now gaining momentum. "They were filling a vendetta we didn't even know about. It just seems so … unfair. And senseless. I mean, it's such a waste. Shouldn't we be better? We can do so many great things and we choose to hurt each other? To make each other miserable? There should be more purpose to our actions than that. It … it just seems so stupid."
So many good questions, Kate thought, and none that I've been able to answer myself.
"What do I know of man's destiny?" she settled for saying. "I could tell you more about radishes."
Alexis looked at Kate, startled, and then broke into a grin.
"Samuel Beckett," she said, her grin widening for a moment before she again became serious. "Thanks," she said quietly. "For listening to me rant first thing in the morning."
"Anytime, Alexis." Beckett gave Alexis a warm smile. "I mean it." She watched the girl for a moment. "You know, when your father first started shadowing me at the twelfth, he was …" Kate stopped, searching for the correct-and hopefully not too offensive-word.
"Annoying? Maddening?" Alexis offered up with a grin. "Infuriating?"
"Yes," Beckett acknowledged, laughing, "all of the above. He drove me crazy at first, but a few weeks into our rather unorthodox partnership, I realized that he had a knack for solving murders because he approached a case like it was a story."
"Murders make a great deal of sense," Alexis said, nodding. "He said that to me right after you took him in for questioning that night."
"He can make what most people see as a senseless act into a crucial plot point. The natural sequence in story," Kate continued, aware of how intently Alexis was listening to her. "It was what led me to his books, too, after my mother died. He had a way of finding the narrative thread in something I struggled to make sense of."
Alexis watched Kate with wide eyes, digesting this sudden revelation. Beckett hadn't even told Castle that she'd started reading his books so long ago, or why. But she knew one day she would. Maybe one day soon.
"So," Little Castle said, "You're saying I'm not seeing the whole story?"
"I think," Kate said carefully, choosing her words, "that we try and see patterns and construct neat narratives when the world really is a messy place. It's human nature. I found refuge in your father's books because they made more sense to me than the world did. But stories aren't the only way to tame the world. When it comes to my work, I solve cases by looking first at the evidence. Your father looks first at the story. Trees and forests. Regardless of which approach we use though, it's our way of putting some order into a world that doesn't always play by our rules."
Alexis nodded slowly, still digesting, and Kate thought she could offer more.
"But our attempts to make sense of the world," she continued, "and of our experiences, are very different from how we feel, what emotions an experience evokes in us. When I was shot at Montgomery's funeral, I spent one very long summer focusing on my physical healing so I could get back to duty and to finding the shooter. I wanted evidence. I wanted leads. I focused on those tangibles because I couldn't deal with the emotions associated with what had happened. My anger, my fear, my vulnerability. I put that into a tightly sealed box for months before I acknowledged them at all. And then I had to take a long road to recovery."
Alexis had been listening to Kate, eating up the words she was being given, but now her eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Sometimes I feel just fine," she said shakily, just on the verge of releasing what was obviously a lot of pent up stress, "and other times it all just hits me and I don't know what to do. I couldn't really sleep last night because I just felt so … anxious."
Kate stepped around the counter and drew Alexis into a tight hug, holding the girl as she cried, glad she was at least letting some of it out. She wondered if Alexis had discussed any of this with Castle, or with anyone for that matter. Maybe counselling...
"Thanks," Alexis sniffled into Kate's shoulder. "I'm sorry I've gotten your shirt all wet."
Beckett smiled, though Alexis couldn't see. "You can make it up to me by helping me with breakfast."
Alexis pulled back from Kate's embrace, red-rimmed eyes wide with hope. "Your mom's brunch?"
Kate's smile transformed into a grin. "The one and only."
"I love her french toast!" she exclaimed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'll go wash my face," she said, standing up.
"I'll get the ingredients out," Kate said, watching Alexis go before she headed back to the kitchen and began digging around Castle's cupboards.
"Um, Kate?" Alexis' voice carried over the clanging of pots not a moment later.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Kate replied absently, busy rifling around for the skillet.
"Dad suggested I see a counsellor..." she hesitated.
Kate stopped her rummaging and looked over at Alexis, who was now standing uncertainly by the staircase. Her face was still slightly red from crying, her eyes filled with doubt.
"I think maybe he's right?" Alexis said, her voice inflecting with uncertainty.
"It helped me," Kate offered, looking Alexis in the eye.
"Thanks, Kate," Alexis said, smiling with sudden relief. Kate could see the newfound sense of purpose in the young woman.
"Anytime."
Alexis turned on her heel and headed up the stairs, while Kate began assembling the ingredients and implements she could find. She was just about to pour some oil into the hot skillet when Castle stumbled out of his room, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
He came to a halt, looking at her for a moment before looking towards the stairs.
"Alexis was already awake when I got up," Kate said, reading his thoughts easily. "She should be coming down soon to help me with breakfast."
"She couldn't sleep?" he asked, ears immediately pricked with alertness.
Kate found her own gaze drifting towards the stairs Alexis had just climbed up. It was likely that Alexis had a difficult road ahead of her, but she also had an excellent support system in her father and grandmother and in Kate, too.
"She said she was feeling anxious," Kate replied, "and woke early. She's also lost sense of time, with the jetlag and-"
"There were no windows where they were keeping her," he interrupted, his eyes filling with tears. "It was a cage."
"Hey," Kate said. She turned off the burner in favour of giving Castle a hug, running her hands up and down his back. "She's right upstairs. She's safe. Go check on her."
He tightened his hold on Kate. "I couldn't protect her," he said, and this was the conversation Kate had been hoping for, the one he'd been too tired and troubled to speak on yesterday. She tried not to let her relief be too obvious.
"You did," she countered. "You went all the way to Paris to get her back. She knows that no matter what happens, you are always there for her."
He said nothing, so she pulled out the big guns.
"And your father is a super spy who would risk his life to protect you and Alexis."
"That is pretty cool," he let out a muffled chuckle against her shoulder, but then continued more seriously, "I should have done better." He pulled back to look at her. "I'm not letting her leave the house again," he declared.
"That's a great idea," Kate replied. "She could probably take all her courses online, and as a writer your job doesn't really require you to leave home. You two could live like hermits and I'd make grocery runs for you."
He stared at her, a frown worrying his brow. "I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or supportive," he finally said.
"Maybe a little bit of both," she replied with a smile. "But if you two lived like hermits," she said, smoothing her hands over his t-shirt-clad chest, "neither of you would ever feel another snowfall in New York, or the rain wetting your skin, or taste hot, freshly roasted nuts in Central Park. You'll never get to cross skydiving off your bucket list, or attend Alexis' graduation ceremony or walk her down the aisle..." she trailed off as she felt his body loosen, the tight bands of tension dissipating.
Castle cocked his head to the side, eyes crinkling with warmth. "You're good at talking me off ledges," he told her. And then his warm smile turned mischievous. "And telling me I'm being unreasonable."
"Many, many years of practice," she teased.
He laughed in response, before leaning in to kiss her. She could taste his amusement. And his gratefulness.
"Thank you," he whispered against her lips.
She pulled back to look him in the eye. "Partners," she said emphatically.
"Never again without you," he said, and she understood it to be a promise.
"Alright," Alexis' voice drifted from the stairs. "I'm ready, Kate." She stopped at the foot of the stairs and grinned at both Kate and her father.
Castle turned, and his face lit up at seeing his daughter. "Alexis," he said happily, and in three strides he was pulling his daughter into a giant bear hug. "How are you, pumpkin?"
"Okay," Alexis said, settling comfortably in her father's arms. She stole a glance at Beckett. "Talking to Kate helped." Castle barely had the time to throw Kate a very surprised but no less grateful look, when Alexis continued. "I think maybe you were right. I should talk to a counsellor."
"I am so proud of you," Rick said, visibly overcome with emotion. He pulled her back into a hug. "You are remarkable," he said to his daughter, but his eyes were fixed on Kate.
Beckett responded with a grin before turning her attention back to preparing breakfast. "Do you have any potatoes in the house, Castle?" she asked, turning the burner back on and cracking eggs in a bowl. "And butter? This day calls for hash browns."
"I'll get it," Alexis offered. She gave her dad a kiss on the cheek and then joined Kate in the kitchen. "So butter was the secret ingredient," she said to Beckett, handing over the required ingredient before retrieving a few potatoes. "No wonder the potatoes tasted so good. Did you make the scrambled eggs with butter, too?"
"Actually, my mom used bacon grease," Kate confided, handing the uncooked bacon and a frying pan to Alexis. "It's not very healthy."
"That's nothing by this household's standards. Dad once tried to make scrambled eggs with ice cream," Alexis said as she began preparing the bacon.
"They weren't half-bad," Castle defended from the sink, where he had busied himself with washing and peeling the potatoes Alexis had brought out.
"You used cotton candy ice cream, Dad," Alexis said.
"Ew," Kate said, throwing Rick a horrified look.
"To makes the eggs pink!" he protested. "Because you were in your princess phase and would only eat pink food. I had to be creative!"
Kate tried to bite back her laughter, but the sight of Alexis blushing brightly was just too funny.
"I was four," Alexis said in her own defence, but she was still blushing, which only made Kate laugh harder.
"We had a lot of beet- and red-cabbage-based foods for those two weeks," Castle informed Beckett.
"What's your excuse for the smorelette, then?" Kate asked.
Rick gaped at her. "You said you liked that!"
"I was being supportive," she said, throwing a conspiratorial wink at Alexis. Little Castle grinned in response.
"Where should I put these," Castle asked, pointing to the washed, peeled and grated potatoes.
"Right in this skillet," Kate replied. He did as asked, and took the opportunity to drop a kiss on Alexis' head before moving to the coffee machine.
As Kate cooked the hash browns and made French Toast, occasionally giving Alexis tips on how to make her mom's scrambled eggs and occasionally watching Castle as he first made coffee and then set the table, her words to Alexis came back to her: trees and forests. Kate found herself smiling at her own unintended insight.
Maybe she and Castle had figured out more than she'd given them credit for. Maybe, just maybe, they were already on their way to being stronger together than apart.