Author's Notes: This is a post-ep fic for "Linchpin."
What I'd give to take you home
What I'd give to make you coffee
Find out how you like your eggs
Wrapped around you in the mornin'
A tangled lace of arms and legs
What I'd give to let you love me
"What I'd Give" – Sugarland
Kate Beckett has a secret.
There are many things she doesn't like. Freezers and bombs. Bank robbers and hungry tigers. Liars and thieves. Murderers and CIA agents.
But there are also plenty of things she does like. Motorcyles and muscle cars. Yoga and martial arts. Golden retrievers and books. Coffee and the word "always."
And country music.
She loves lyrics and the stories they tell that wrap around her heart, breathing life and meaning into her soul. She loves melodies and the way they dance around her, weaving magic into the air. She loves strumming on her guitar and singing softly, simply because she wants to be a part of that magic, wants to create something beautiful.
She loves the way a song can make her think, can make her laugh, make her cry.
And she loves how all the songs make sense.
That's why country music has a special place in her heart. She doesn't think anyone would expect it; that she, the tough-as-nails, bullet surviving homicide detective would like something as "rustic" as country music. But she does, because it's not whiny crooners singing about their dogs dying or their pick-up trucks or goin' fishin'.
It's about love.
And that's something she's coming to accept— the love in her life. That her heart isn't empty, isn't cold. It's filling up, brimming with hope and joy and devotion.
Her mother is gone and that's something she's never going to recover from. But that's okay. She doesn't want to recover from something like that; she doesn't want to forget her mother. She wants to honor her. But that doesn't mean she has to shut off her heart and close up shop, a do-not-disturb sign warning all signs of life away.
She doesn't want that anymore. She wants to live.
She wants to love.
"You know, Beckett, you're being awfully nice to me," Castle says as he reaches out with his left hand from the passenger seat and fiddles with the dial on the radio. "You never let me pick the music."
"Yeah, well, good boys get rewarded." She lifts an eyebrow at him, lips pursed to hide a smile.
He chuckles lightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I didn't do anything to deserve this, though. I wasn't good. You just feel bad for me."
He tips his head to the side and makes a face – lips quirked, eyebrows raised – daring her to deny it.
She doesn't.
"Well, it's not every day that one of your muses dies—" The rest of the words drown in her throat, and she flickers her gaze over to see the stricken look on his face. She clenches her teeth, berating herself for saying something so idiotic. "Castle—"
"This might make me a horrible person," he says quietly, his voice low with guilt and truth. "But I'm glad it was her and not you."
"Right back atcha, Castle," she says, injecting humor into her words. "I thought you were a goner there for a second."
She doesn't hide her smile this time; she uses it to reach down and drag him out of the darkness she'd shoved him into.
His answering smile eases the pressure in her chest.
"I know you did! That scream you let out… Nooooo…" he mimics, waving his hands in the air with a look of fake terror on his face. "You would so miss me if I was gone."
She snorts and ignores the quick twist of panic in her guts at the thought. "I don't know about that, Castle. The peace and quiet might actually trump you."
His jaw drops in mock horror. "Pfft! And lose all the wonderful and intelligent insight I provide on our murder cases? Ha!" He leans forward again, begins messing with the radio that they'd let go static-y to make room for banter. "Gates would be begging you to revive me from the grave just to get your numbers back up—"
"Stop!" Kate reaches out her hand, stilling his on the dial.
"Ahh, what? Stop what?" he asks, startled by her sudden ferocity in such a light situation.
"I like this song," she murmurs, leaning back in her seat, her hand falling away from his.
He laughs then and presses a hand over his chest. "Well, jeez, Beckett, that's all you had to say. You nearly gave me a heart attack."
She feels her cheeks heat up and she tries not to squirm, hopes he can't tell. But when he tilts his head to the side and looks at her, eyebrows drawn together and lips curved at the corners, she knows she's busted.
"Is that a country song?"
"I guess…"
"You like country music!" The shock and utter joy on his face at discovering something new about her almost makes her relax.
Almost.
"So? I like all kinds of music."
"I just never would have pegged you for a country fan." He settles back in his seat, as if he's ready for story time, ready to sit back and soak her up. The sparkle in his eyes relaxes her fully, because she knows he's just teasing—not making fun of her.
"Is there something wrong with being a country music fan, Castle?" She raises a brow, her forehead crinkling, and sends an annoyed look his way, but his glee can't be contained.
Castle reaches out and brushes a hand over her forearm. "If it makes you feel any better, Beckett, Alexis used to love watching Blue's Clues. So I bought her a CD. When I digitized all of my music, Blue's Clues went right in with the rest. And if a song comes on shuffle on my playlist, I don't turn it off."
She turns to stare at him with wide eyes before she laughs, the sound echoing delight throughout the car. "Seriously, Castle? You just admitted that?"
He squirms, pouting at her. "That's not fair, Beckett. I didn't make fun of you."
She smiles warmly, taking her turn to reach out and pat his thigh. "You're right, I'm sorry. Besides, I'm pretty sure if we checked out Ryan's and Espo's playlists we'd find some pretty interesting stuff."
Castle chuckles and then his eyes light up, round and wide as saucers. "Ooh, I bet it would be interesting to see what Gates has on her iPod."
"Let's face it, Castle, it's probably the most boring playlist in the entire universe."
He grins, pleased with her. "You're probably right." He settles back in his seat, cocking his head slightly as he listens to the music, to the song she made him stop on. "So… this song, huh?"
She nods. "Yep."
"Who is this?"
"I don't kn—" She frowns and swallows the lie, wondering at it. He isn't making fun of her, so why is she trying to hide?
No more hiding. Not after the lies of a certain CIA agent. She wants to give him more than that, more than Sophia ever could.
"It's Sugarland."
"And you like them?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
She glances over at him, surprised at his question, but there's nothing but genuine curiosity on his face; his need to know her, to understand her.
More fodder for Nikki Heat, maybe.
But she knows that's not true, knows they're about more than that now. They have been for awhile.
Open your heart, Kate.
Give.
"I like their sound. Their songs can be fun, but there's also something very real about a lot of their music. That's why I like country in general. I didn't always like it, but now..." She shrugs. "It's about life. It's about… love."
She can feel the weight of his gaze on her as he studies her from across the car. She tries to focus on something else, tries not to squirm, to blush, to embarrass herself further.
"So is Blue's Clues."
She laughs, long and hard, her heart lifting with the happiness he brings into her life. His pleased, answering grin is all she needs.
"Oh, Castle, what would I do without you?"
They slide into opposite sides of a dark corner booth at the Old Haunt, shrugging out of their jackets and settling in. They've already stopped at the bar, ordered their drinks, chatted with the bartender for a moment, before making their escape to privacy.
Kate feels a little guilty for not inviting the boys, but after the week they've had and everything they've been through – Castle's been through – she figures he might want to talk. Knows he probably will. And there's something that she should probably say to him. If she can find the courage.
Maybe the beer will help. She smiles at the waitress who's stopped to drop off their drinks before curling her fingers around the cold bottle. She watches as Castle takes a long sip of his beer, noticing the way his lips wrap around the glass, the way his throat moves.
She bites her lip, glances away. Glances back when he releases his beer with an audible pop and a loud, "Ahhhhhh."
"Good?"
"Very."
"What's up with the beer tonight, Castle? Normally you drink scotch."
He shrugs his shoulder, leans back against the wooden seat. "With the way I'm feeling right now, scotch just might get me in trouble. Better to be on the safe side."
She tips her head back in acknowledgement and then takes her first sip of beer. The cool liquid refreshes her throat, clears out some of the grit from the day. Washes away the fear, the worry, the concern, the lies.
"So, you think Sophia lied about a lot of things, huh?" he asks, as if he'd been following her train of thought, reading her mind. His words are light, but his eyes betray him. She can see the unanswered questions there, the curiosity, the hope, the fear.
"Are you going to talk to your mother about it?" Kate asks, leaning forward in the booth. He already knows what she thinks of Sophia's lies.
Castle sighs heavily as he peels at the label on his bottle. "I don't know. I want to. But all my life she's said she doesn't know who he is. That it was a moment… and then it passed. And then, there I was."
"That's all she's ever told you?"
"Basically. They met up after one of her plays. He'd been at the show, said he was intrigued by her, so he waited for her afterwards. He caught up with her outside the theater, asked her out for a drink. He was charming and generous—with the drinks—so she went along with the game he was playing. Something about keeping it mysterious, not telling her what his name was. Not asking what hers was. She said she loved him, in that moment, so she went with it. You know how my mother is. One thing led to another… and the next morning when she woke up, he was gone. And she had no way of contacting him."
Kate reaches across the table, lays her palm over his hand. He turns his hand in hers, squeezes.
"It's a nice story," he says with a sad smile and a shrug of his shoulders. "I never really minded that I didn't have a father. Well, you know, from time to time I wondered about it, what it would be like. And there were moments of bitterness. But for the most part I let my creativity lead me through that. I dreamed he was an astronaut, or a scientist, or… an undercover spy sent to save the world." Castle chuckles darkly. "Maybe I wasn't so far off."
Her heart aches for him. "Castle, you don't know that Sophia was telling the truth. She wanted to hurt you. Hell, she wanted to hurt me. She lived a lie her entire life, lived with hatred day in and day out. You can't trust anything she said."
"But I can't disregard it, either."
Kate frowns, thinking that over. She watches him, but he won't meet her gaze, won't lift those serious eyes to hers. "If you could, if you had the chance, would you look for him? Do you want to know him?"
He lets go of her hand to reach up and rub his fingers across his forehead, as if he's trying to wipe the misery away. "I—I don't know. I guess, yeah, I'd like to know him. I was never angry with him, because he doesn't know I exist – or so I thought."
"He would have known your mother's name, Castle."
His eyes lift to hers and she watches the realization dawn in them.
"You're right. He would have had the program from the play. He would have known exactly who she was the whole time."
"Your mother may not have been super famous, Castle, but she was known. And if he kept tabs on her or just happened to catch an article about her that mentioned she had a son, he might have looked in to it. He might know about you."
Castle slumps his head back, knocking against the wood with a thump. Kate winces, but he doesn't seem to notice any pain.
"Shit."
"I can help you, if you want."
Castle looks down the length of his nose, studies her across the table. "Help me find him?"
"If you want." She bites her lower lip. "I don't know if we'll be successful, but if he is CIA, maybe we can dig up something. It's worth a shot… if that's what you want."
He straightens, looks at her, his eyes shining with affection and… and love. She can't deny it, not anymore.
His lips quirk and he shakes his head at her. "You're something, you know? Maybe we'll look in to it, Beckett. Let me think about it, okay? Talk to my mother."
She dips her head. "Okay. Whatever you want, Castle."
He smiles, wide and happy this time. "What would I do without you?"
She chuckles, appreciating his throwback to their earlier conversation. "Wither away, I imagine."
"So, what did you mean when you said Sophia was trying to hurt you?"
Kate blinks, adjusting to the quick change of subject. She hadn't expected that question, wasn't sure how to answer it.
After a moment's thought, she decided to go with literal. "I mean, hell, Castle, she told us to get on our knees, but didn't even give me a chance before she kicked me down."
Castle winces, his eyes darkening with anger. "That was unnecessary," he mutters.
"Tell me about it. My knees agree with you."
"I'm sorry—"
"Castle, it's not your fault. You have a history with her, and you trusted her. And… well, I didn't exactly trust her, but I didn't expect her to be the driving force behind the whole mess, either. We didn't see it coming. It's not your fault."
"I feel like I let you down." His eyes cut to the table top, where he runs the edge of his thumbnail through a carving in the wood.
Her hand on top of his stops his movement.
"You didn't." She rubs her thumb across his knuckles, strokes the bones and slightly rough skin she feels there. "But I almost let you down."
"What?" He straightens. "What are you talking about? When?"
"She's a liar, Castle. And I believed in those lies for a little while. I let her color my opinion of you. That wasn't fair."
Castle's brows draw together, confusion passes like a cloud over his face. "What did she say?"
"I asked her what happened between the two of you."
Castle sighs heavily. "Kate—"
Guilt chews at her insides, sends her stomach dropping. "I know. I should have asked you. I meant to. I tried, at the park, and then I let her get under my skin and I… I'm sorry."
"What did she say?"
She hesitates. "It's not really important."
"Kate."
Kate sighs heavily, pushes a hand through her hair. "She told me that you were attracted to each other but didn't give in to it for awhile. Once you did, it… fizzled out and you got on each other's nerves. She told me that she wished she had never slept with you because then the longing was gone."
Understanding dawns in his eyes, and he takes a long swig of his beer before replying. "I see."
Kate swallows hard, sees resignation creeping over his face, and she knows she's losing him. She has to figure out a way to stop it, to keep him here with her.
"Do you see how she was trying to hurt me? She was trying to make me doubt you. Doubt… us. And at the time, I thought she was just being nice, answering my questions, telling me your history. But it pushed all the right buttons, made me wonder, made me… fear that."
"Fear what exactly?" Castle leans his elbows on the table, cants toward her.
Her heart thumps hard in her chest and she has to resist the urge to rub the heel of her hand against her scar. She feels cornered, scared, and she wants to tell him, wants to spit it out, but the words are stuck, swollen in her throat, her vocal chords paralyzed.
When she doesn't answer, he looks away, disappointment flashing on his face. But he doesn't look surprised by her silence, doesn't seem to expect anything else.
"I heard you," she blurts out and then her eyes widen in shock. She groans, burying her face in her hands. "Dammit."
Not exactly how she wanted that to come out.
"Kate?" He pauses, but she doesn't look up. "What do you mean you heard me?"
She lifts her head, her eyes glittering in the tungsten light of the bar. "In the cemetery. After I was shot."
"Oh." He nods. "Yeah. I figured that out already."
She gapes at him, her mouth opening and closing like a hungry fish. "You… What?"
"You're a detective. And how long have I been following you around?"
She gulps in a deep breath of air, feels relief shuttering through her, cooling down her heated veins. He's not upset, not mad at her. "Three years."
"And how many lectures have you given me on the physiological traits of lying?" he asks with a quirk of an eyebrow.
"I…"
"You're not very good at lying, Kate. Not to me. I've been studying your every move for the last three years. I've got your physiological signs all figured out." He smiles and there's no anger in his eyes, on his face.
"But—"
"The question isn't did you hear me? I already know you did. The question is, how do you feel about it?" His tone loses all traces of humor, of charm. "That's what I've been trying to figure out, turning over and over in my head. That's what I worry about. I worry that you've kept that secret from me because you're trying to let me down easy."
"Oh, Castle." She looks at him, shakes her head. She feels everything rising in her, shoving its way up her throat. Guilt, sorrow, anger with herself. "No."
"Okay."
"I kept it a secret, I didn't tell you, because… I wasn't ready. For you. For… us."
He smiles and then slides his empty beer bottle to the edge of the table. With his free hands, he reaches for her, dwarfing her fingers with his. "How long have I been shadowing you?" he asks again.
Her eyebrows draw together in confusion. "Castle—"
"How long, Kate?"
"Three years."
"I've waited that long… Don't you think I'll keep on waiting?"
Kate tightens her grips on his hands, squeezes hard. "I don't want you to have to wait anymore," she whispers.
She opens her heart, lets everything she feels for him shine through. She doesn't want to hide anymore, she doesn't want to lie. She wants him to see everything she is, everything she has to give. Because she wants more, she wants life, she wants love.
She wants him and wants to be his.
"Kate." His voice is tight, heavy with emotion, and she can see it swimming in his eyes, a hope that is so bright it almost blinds her.
"I may not be able to give you everything right now. Not everything you want or deserve, but I… I want to give you hope. I want you to know that I heard you, that I know you've been waiting, and that I'm so glad for it, so grateful to you. And I know I said I don't want you to wait anymore, but I meant I don't want you to wonder about me, about my motivations. I'm… in this. So if you could just wait a little while long—"
"Done."
"Castle."
She feels a little ridiculous, for the rambling, for the fact that he's so eager to please her, so quick to accept. He deserves more, she wants to give him more, but this is all she has at the moment.
He chuckles. "I already knew all this, Kate. You told me all this on the swings that day, though maybe not in so many words."
Kate dips her head, acknowledging that. She'd hoped he'd understood her that day, what she'd been saying between the lines. She realizes now that he had, but he'd wondered if she understood, if that's what she'd really been trying to tell him.
"If you need more time, if you need to solve your mother's case before you can break down that wall, then I'll wait, for as long as it takes. But I have one tiny request."
Kate swallows hard and meets his gaze, hoping she can at least give him this, whatever he's going to ask of her.
"Let me kiss you. Just this once, to seal the deal, and then I'll—"
She moves swiftly, leaning across the booth and balancing her weight with her palms on his shoulders. She slants her mouth over his, tries to pour all of her relief and joy and thanks into the kiss.
He slides his hands into her hair, anchoring her to him. He slows the kiss, explores her mouth with lips and tongue, drawing it out, savoring her.
When he finally pulls back, she doesn't move, still leans across the table top. He grins, and she realizes how she must look; lips swollen and red, hair tangled and mussed.
She sits back hard, thumps down into her side of the booth and watches him with wide and wondering eyes.
"That was much more fun than our fake kiss."
Kate chuckles and rubs her finger along her bottom lip. She sees the way his eyes darken, so she does it again.
He growls, low in his throat. "You better be careful, Beckett, or I won't be able to follow through on 'just once.'"
She drops her hand and smiles, wide and happy, and then gives him everything.
"Castle." She leans forward, dropping her voice to a teasing murmur. "You want to know why I really like country music?"
"Why?" he asks, his body leaning in towards her as if drawn by a magnet.
It's normal, this banter. It's them. So she reaches out, rubs her finger along his arm, takes it up a notch.
"Because all the songs make sense."