- Haiku -
His whole body is churning, head to toe and everywhere in between. His thoughts, his blood, his heart: all racing. His face is hot, his fingers cold as ice. His mouth is dry. God, even his hair is freaking out because she's here, standing right in front of him, like some painful mirage his broken parts have conjured up in an attempt to save him.
Castle looks back down at the signing table, needing to see something solid, something real. She's placed a copy of his book in front of him. That much is certainly real. When he looks up again, she's still standing there, a hopeful (and he'd probably say sheepish) smile on her face, though before today he'd have said Kate Beckett didn't do sheepish, ever.
When she speaks, he knows for certain that she's real; the voice that has visited him so often in his dreams unchanged by their time apart.
"Kate. You can make it out to Kate," she says.
Not Beckett, but Kate.
Before he can stop it, his brain is rushing headlong down a familiar path, playing a familiar game: that of trying to figure out if this distinction in nomenclature means something particular. Like that she's here as a friend rather than on some official, partner related business.
You crazy fool, the less romantic, more pragmatic side of his brain interrupts. You're not either of those things to her anymore. She's past that. She left you hanging with your Goddamn hand in the air. No high-five for you, bud, declarations of love for the dying or not.
He shuts both sides of his brain down, focuses on scrawling his name in her book instead. No message. Just his signature, partly as a punishment but mostly because this angry scrawl is all his muddled brain can handle. And then he slams the front cover closed and pushes the book back across the table.
"Next."
Oh, he sees the flash of hurt and then the look of embarrassment on her face when she realizes that he isn't joking around this time. He's already looking past her, beaconing an excited, plump woman with a crazy smile and wide-set eyes to come forward, and Kate is forced to retrieve her book and step aside.
Dismissed.
She meets his eye as she clutches it to her chest. He understands her hurt and her disappointment, he's lived with those self same feelings and many more like them for them last three months. Why she's looking at him as if he's patient zero in this particularly virulent outbreak of heartache is anathema. He tears his gaze away from her face to focus on the frothy, bubbling words of excitement coming from the next women in line, though it half kills him to ignore her; he's not that kind of man, or at least he never used to be.
As she finally turns to leave, a piece of paper falls - unseen by Kate - from within the pages of her book. Castle reaches down to pick it up. As he rises, he feels the backdraft that Kate leaves behind as she moves past him towards the exit. The paper has her handwriting scrawled across it. Three neat lines and it's signed. He tucks the note into his breast pocket, unread, and fake-smiles for the next fan in line.
"Hi, what's your name?" he says for the hundredth time that day.
The scrap of paper burns a hole next to his heart for the rest of the final tedious hour. It's almost as if he can feel her touching him from inside his shirt pocket, reaching into his heart and rooting around, her fingers cold as ice. He already knew he was losing his grip on reality. Today seems designed to confirm this as fact, once and for all.
When he's done with the signing session, he heads to the men's room to wash his hands. Paula offered him a bottle of Purell for the signing table, but it seemed a little rude to publicly dilute the bacteria proffered by his fans while they stood lined up in front of him; a writhing mass of germs.
When he looks into the mirror, the face looking back at him is pale and stern. In the sickly glow of the strip light, his skin is sallow from too much time spent indoors - moping, sleeping, and drinking late into the night, a routine he's been practicing on repeat lately. His anger in that moment at seeing her again and at being so affected by her presence spurs him to resolve to change in a way that nothing else has. Time to move past this adolescent crush. Kate Beckett got shot in the chest, she almost died, twice, and she looks a damn sight better than you, the impatient voice says. She looked free, better. It's time for you to let her go.
He washes his face and hands, but the towel dispenser is empty and so he's forced to dry off on the tails of his shirt. Angrily, he takes it off, balls it up and buries his face in the fabric so he can scream without being heard, then he tosses the crumpled heap of damp fabric at the mirror, throwing it hard.
Spent, emotionally exhausted, he leans his hands on the countertop and hangs his head. He needs to get past this; it's killing him. He blows out a few breaths, straightens up, and runs his hands through his hair. Finally, he retrieves the crumpled shirt from the sink. As he shakes it out and pulls it back on he hears the dry, crackling sound of paper in the breast pocket. The note he'd forgotten all about is a little mangled, but it's dry and still perfectly able to be read.
He repeats the words to himself twice, muttering them quietly as he does so. When he's finished and the words have sunk in, he feels sickened.
I only want you,
Can you not see that by now,
Can you not feel it? - Kate
This note was tucked into the pages of her book, a placeholder or sorts. Kind of like him, it occurs from somewhere. Her book, which is also his book, and he understands her well enough by now to know that she'd have read the book before she came here today to get it signed. That being the case, only one explanation for the note makes any sense…if you're feeling broken hearted that is.
He contemplates tearing the damn thing up, but something stops him. This is evidence, his rational brain tells him. So he holds onto it. He puts it back into his pocket. Yes, this is the trump card he'll play when the time is right, when she wants him to be her back up as she surely will someday. But enough is enough. So if he feels his resolve weakening, and he starts to moon or backslide into the swamp of his romantic fantasy, he will simply look at this love note and the course correction will be automatic. He will avoid those sunken rocks, sailing off into the sunset alone, instead.
When he leaves the bookstore by the staff entrance, she's waiting for him at the door, hovering like a super fan, her copy of his book clutched to her chest. His feet pause only momentarily, stuttering with surprise as he hits the sidewalk, before he's on the move again. Her own shock at being brushed off for a second time that day is overcome by her superior reflexes, and she dogs him, keeping pace as she walks alongside for half a block.
When Castle can take it no more, he slams to a stop and turns to face her. The note is in his hand, although he can't remember even fishing it out of his pocket. "I think you dropped this," he says, thrusting it towards her as if it's toxic in some way that can't be seen by the human eye.
"I— What?" She takes the rumpled note and turns it over, frowning all the while.
"Your bookmark or…something." Castle shrugs and wills his feet to move him away from this scene of humiliation before he says or does something he'll regret.
Kate looks down. "My…oh!" she exclaims, finally realizing what he's thrust into her hand.
"Little something for Josh? Nice. You should have said. I could have made the book out to him." This comment is snarky and mean and he instantly regrets it. He lowers his head and shakes it, eyes trained on the scuffed toes of his sneakers. Deflated, he says, "I'm sorry. For saying that. I should never have read it. It's none of my business."
He turns to leave, eyes still downcast.
"It's not," she says, loud and clear enough for him to hear and to stop him.
He spins back around, his bubbling gut load of anger making him braver and meaner than usual. "Yeah, okay. Beckett, I get it. Overstepping the mark as usual." He holds up his hands, a mea culpa. "Hard habit to break. Agreed. It's not my business."
She hurries closer, shaking her head. She closes her eyes, her whole face screwed up. "No. No, I meant the note. It wasn't…I mean I didn't write it for Josh." Her pale face turns a little pink. Just enough that a man so besotted, so observant, would notice. She chews her lip.
Castle listens, tries to absorb what she's saying, but the mere fact of her here in front of him is too much, too confusing. He keeps it short and clipped, trying to maintain a grip on his emotions. "Okay then. Glad we cleared that up," he says, and no matter how hard he tries to be civil, the bite in his tone is undeniable. It makes him cringe inside. He truly hates the person he has become.
"We broke up, actually. Josh and I…Josh and me." She waves a hand in mild frustration with herself. "Whatever. We broke up." She seems stressed and then relieved.
Castle says nothing for a handful of heartbeats and then he looks at her. "It's Josh and I," he says, grammar being the one thing he's still certain of.
"Not anymore it's not," she says, turning to walk away.
"Glad to hear it." He lifts his voice just enough that he's sure the words will reach her ears. But beyond controlling the volume, he has no idea why he says these words, or what their purpose might be.
Now it's Kate's turn to wheel back around. "Are you? Are you?" she demands. "Why are you glad, Castle? Because from where I'm standing it just looks like you're mad at me. Why are you so mad at me?"
This question, of all the questions she could ask, is the one that sends him spinning. Is she fucking joking, he thinks to himself? No, she's a smart woman. She knows exactly what she's saying. Well, if she's asking, for once he's going to tell her. At this point in their...relationship, he has little left to lose.
"You want to know why I'm so mad at you?" he says, wounded fury burning behind his eyes.
She nods. Her face is thinner, he notices for the first time, and her chin juts out a little pointedly.
"Because you left, Beckett. You said you'd call in a couple of days and then you left. Three whole months and I have to find out from your new Captain. A woman who, by the way, hates my guts even worse than you."
She takes it when he slings these words at her, and then she nods slowly and sadly. "You're right. Things got…complicated and I ran."
Honesty is not what he was expecting. Her words suck the wind out of his sails and he sags a little.
"What was so complicated? You got shot. You needed help. I wanted to help, Beckett." He hears the note of whine, off-key and desperate, bleeding into his voice and he hates himself for it.
One step closer and, "This isn't your fight, Rick," she says.
Usually, he loves it when she does that – uses his first name. Usually, it thrills him. Today, it's like some cruel Svengali trick to get him to fall to his knees and apologize to her.
"Someone's gunning for me," she carries on, oblivious. "Alexis, Martha…you." She pauses, taking the time to really look him in the eye. "I can't have your blood on my hands, any of you."
"So you ran off into the woods like a wounded animal to lick your wounds?" He knows he's being unfair, but he has three months worth of one-sided, middle-of-the-night, argumentative conversations he needs to throw at her. "What happened to being partners?"
"We can still be partners," she says weakly, like she knows what she's saying is ridiculous but she can't stop herself from hoping that it isn't. He's been there, too.
He snorts a derisory laugh. "Are you being serious right now?"
"Castle, stop. Just stop. This is me you're talking to."
Castle starts shaking his head and holding up his hand. "No, no, that used to mean something, Beckett. You and me…we had…something. But you took off, and whatever we had went with you."
"You don't mean that. You're just angry."
"Oh, I'm just angry? Right." He raises his voice and lets it all flood out. "I've been fucking furious with you for weeks." He doesn't say he was also worried sick, he hopes that goes as read.
Kate sets her jaw. "And how'd that help you, huh?"
"What are you my shrink now?"
For some reason that he doesn't understand at first, this shuts her up. The fight goes out of her skinny frame and a look of weary defeat sets in; she is deflated.
"I'm going to go now," she says, and he can see her holding herself together just to get the words out. "I didn't come here to fight with you."
"Why did you come here, Beckett? Just…you know, for old times' sake."
That raises the ghost of a smile on her lips, and the fact that he can still do that make him inordinately glad. It's the best feeling he's had in ages.
"I wanted—" She frowns and corrects herself. "No, I needed to see you." She shrugs, one-shouldered. "I needed to know that you were okay. My— Dr. Burke," she says, looking up at him, "he's my therapist. He said to take things slow. I know that I've let you down. But you know me, Castle, better than anyone. Running away is how I cope. You should have expected this. It's who I am."
To hear her being honest about her own failings is disconcerting, especially when he's this mad at her. For a second time that day, she takes the wind out of his sails. "No," he says sharply, causing her to stare. "Maybe back when I met you that was who you were, but not anymore. You changed me, Beckett, and I know I've changed you. You wouldn't be here otherwise."
In the strangest and the very simplest of ways, he's right. Before, when she ran from someone, she never looked back. "Okay, so I wasn't running from you. Big news," she says because she's embarrassed. "I'm just no good at—"
"Asking for help?" he cuts in, because with Josh gone, it's all starting to make sense.
She smiles again and ducks her head. "Bingo!" she says. "Told you you know me better than anyone."
"What was the note all about, if it wasn't for Josh?" he asks, because how can he not. That note was a love letter to someone.
Now she's really blushing. "If I tell you, promise not to laugh."
He hates himself for finding her flushed cheeks so damned attractive. Is this what love does to you? Real love. Is that why women forget the pain of childbirth – because they fall in love with their squirming babies and the rest is just so many fading scars and half-remembered war stories?
He draws his fingers over his heart. "Promise," he says hoarsely.
"Dr. Burke, my—"
"Your therapist, yeah," Castle says, impatient to know.
"He gets me to do these…tasks between sessions."
"Your therapist gives out homework assignments?" Castle says, his horrified look making her laugh.
"Yeah." She smiles and bites her lip again.
God how he's missed that sight.
"Anyway, he asked me to write down how I felt about…" She pauses for what seems like a long time, blinking furiously, and then she looks up and into his face. "How I felt about you," she says clearly.
Before she can continue he says, "With a Haiku?"
Kate laughs. "He wanted it to be constrained, I think, so I got down to the nub of things. I've spent a lot of sessions rambling believe it or not. I think he got sick of listening to me worry the issue to death."
When Castle remains silent as he works to process what he's just heard, she runs a hand through her hair and hurries on. "Anyway, I have a session later so I slid the note inside your book so I wouldn't forget it, and—" She looks down at her watch. "I really have to go. I'm sorry. I'm going to be late."
She's leaving is all he can think. He's an 'issue' she's talked over with her therapist, so much so that the guy—
He feels his heart begin to race. She wrote him a love Haiku and now she's leaving!?
"Will I see you again?" he asks, as if this wasn't a total turnaround from where he started out today – dismissing her like she was something distasteful he wanted to scrape off his shoe.
Kate smiles and he finds himself smiling back. "I'd like that," she says with a look of sheer relief.
"Me too." And he finds that he would like to see her again, in the old way, relaxed. Not with this desperate, angry need he's had destroying his insides the last few weeks.
"And Castle, I am sorry for the way I've treated you. I know how it must have hurt – the silence. I don't have much of an excuse, either."
He knits his brow at that. "I've been told I can be too forgiving."
"Alexis?" she asks and he nods. "I can see that."
"All I'm saying is— I guess, please, don't take advantage, Kate. I think you know how I feel about you." When she doesn't look at him immediately, he reaches out and touches her arm. "I think you know," he repeats with extra weight, and this time she nods, guiltily.
"I really do have to go," she says, looking torn.
Castle lets his hand fall from her arm and he takes a step back. "Yeah. Well, maybe give me a call when you're ready and we can—"
"Talk?" she suggests, eagerly he notes, which is new for her.
"I'd like that. You're looking good…better," he amends, because it's clear to both of them that she's not there yet.
Self-consciously she touches her hair. "Better, yes," she agrees. "Thanks for being honest. I do own a mirror. Anyway, if you don't say it, I'm sure Lanie will be on my case about looking after myself better as soon as I see her."
He does a double take. "Wait. You haven't seen Lanie? Since when?"
Kate hugs his book to her chest. "Since I left the hospital."
"And the boys?"
"Saw them today when I went to see Captain Gates."
Castle's eyebrows rise in surprise. "Wow!" he whispers to himself. "That's…"
"You weren't the only one I turned my back on, Castle. If I made you think for a second that you were, I'm so sorry. Of all the mistakes I've made, shutting you out was the biggest one."
She keeps surprising him today. This Dr. Burke must be some kind of magician. He makes a mental note to send the guy a fruit basket if they ever figure this thing out.
"Thank you for saying that. Weird as it sounds, it helps to know," he says, tempering his reaction to give himself time to process the events of the day.
They part ways without further ado, each walking in opposite directions, and if he was a man for metaphors and omens, he'd be both rolling his eyes and worried sick he'd never see her again. But her sincerity and her honesty make him think that there might be hope here after all.
That night, he lies in bed staring at the ceiling. In the hours since he last saw Kate, he's been bouncing like a manic-depressive between bouts of euphoria and fits of despair. Did he read too much into the things she said? Was he too hard on her or not hard enough? His mind becomes muddled, and the exchange, as he remembers it, becomes blurry.
A little before midnight, a thought strikes him: the Haiku. He kept is as evidence, though at the time he wasn't sure of what.
Rummaging in his laundry hamper, he finds his discarded shirt. But the breast pocket is empty because Beckett kept the slip of paper after he angrily thrust it into her hand. Damn! It's not so much that he's forgotten the words; those are locked up tight in his mental vault forever. No, it's that he wants to see them written down in her own hand to convince himself she really means them.
I only want you,
Can you not see that by now,
Can you not feel it? - Kate
Back in bed, he flops onto the pillows. He's loathed to call or even text her at this hour, not after all this time. Not to mention Alexis would be furious with him if she thought he'd given in so easily. But lying here stewing is worse than not knowing. So he grabs his phone intent on hammering out a text, the content of which he'll figure out once his fingers are on the keys, only to find a new message already waiting for him.
From her.
Hey, Castle. Hope this doesn't wake you. Just wanted to say it was good to see you today. More than good, actually. And I know it's my fault that we haven't been in touch. Anyway, goodnight. Sweet dreams. Kx
She sent the text half an hour ago when he was fighting with his sheets. Fuck! She's probably asleep by now, but he doesn't want to let the opportunity pass. He just has to maintain this slender connection they've reestablished.
Hi. Still awake as if happens. Lots to think about. How'd it go with Dr. Burke? He like your haiku? x
He hates that he's bringing the damn poem up, but he just has to know if she meant it as it reads.
He adds a P.S. to try to lighten things and maybe make her smile.
P.S. Did you get any more homework?
He hits send, tosses the phone across the comforter and then covers his face with his hands. He feels like he's fifteen again. And not in a good way.
He doesn't have to wait long for a reply. His phone buzzes against the bed, like a fly caught in a spider web, and he hears it this time.
He unlocks the screen with his eyes closed, peeling them open slowly to see what she might have written.
If you can call asking someone over for coffee homework, then yes.
He swallows as he watches the typing bubble reappear. She's adding another message.
Castle, would you like to come over for coffee?
He's just pondering whether this is code for something else, though he's doubtful since it's been so long and they're not…anything right now, when he gets another message.
And I do mean coffee, in case you were wondering! ;)
He laughs when he reads this and says, "Screw it," out loud, dialing her number on impulse instead.
She answers on the first ring. "Hey, Castle."
He can hear a smile coming down the line, but there's a hint of surprise in her voice, too, which she's covering pretty well.
"Beckett. Just thought I'd…" He rubs a hand over his face and sighs, loudly. "Actually, I have no idea what I'm doing," he admits.
"That's okay," she says. Her voice is soft and full of understanding. "We don't have to do this now," she adds, and all of a sudden it seems that she's the chatty, sorted one.
"I just…I'm gonna say a few things and probably make a fool of myself," Castle explains, "but I just need to get some stuff off my chest, okay?"
He can hear what sounds like her settling down in bed. For a brief period they used to do this, talk late at night when he was away on a book tour or had been kept out of the precinct by meetings, especially when they had a case to work. So it feels familiar and surprisingly comfortable, even after their miserable time apart.
"Take your time. I'm listening," she says, like some smoky-voiced, late night radio host.
He's momentarily confounded by her cool control, since he's long been imaging her as a broken invalid. Therapy is obviously working for her.
"Part of me wants things to go back to the way they were. Remember how we used to talk like this when you needed help with a case and I couldn't be at the precinct?"
Kate laughs because this is part of their shtick: that she needs his help in order to solve all of her cases. "I remember," she says to humor him.
"But I know that too much has happened and we can't go back to the way things were."
"Would you want to?" she asks, and he can tell from the tone of her voice that her question is genuine.
"Would you?"
"I asked first." She laughs again when she hears him groan and then surprises him by answering anyway. "Actually, I don't think I want things to go back to how they were."
"No?"
"No. I think that maybe we were stuck," she says.
"Stuck? Stuck how?"
"Castle, I think we both know exactly where we were stuck. In the friend zone."
Well, that's a first. "Do you have the good Dr. Burke's number by any chance?" he says, making her laugh again.
"You need a good therapist, Castle?"
"No, I think I want to shake this guy's hand. Thank him for—"
"For what?" Kate prompts.
"For fixing my friend."
"Ah, is that all?" she says, still teasing gently.
"I'm beginning to think you did the right thing by staying away," he confesses.
"Rick, no. Cutting you out of my life was a mistake. It hurt both of us. But…and this is the only mitigation I can offer…"
"Mm, mitigation. Spoken like the daughter of two keen legal minds." Falling back into their old routine is exactly like falling off a log - it's natural and too damned easy. But it's also a whole lot more fun than staying angry.
"Shh. This is important," she says. "Not being around you helped me see how much I miss you when you're not there. If being shot and surviving gave me a second chance at life, I intend to take it. Time apart only clarified who I want to take that second chance with. I meant what I wrote on that piece of paper. You weren't supposed to see it…"
"Oops."
"Yes, oops. But now I'm kind of glad that you did. And I know that you're still angry with me and you have every right to be, but if we could maybe start slow?"
"With coffee?"
"Yes. I would love that," Kate says.
"I'd love that, too." And he finds that it's true.
They make a plan to meet at Kate's apartment on Saturday morning, which is in a couple of days time, since she needs to focus on her return to work and her firearm re-qualification. He has two days to fix his own head the way Dr. Burke has helped her fix hers.
When Castle comes home from grocery shopping the next day, Alexis is sitting at the counter doing some homework.
"Hi, dad," she says, hopping down off a stool to help him with the bags. She pauses by his side to look up at him once they've dumped the pile of shopping bags on the island. "Are you singing?" she asks.
Castle smiles and ruffles his daughter's hair. "Might be," he says brightly. "Pass me that can of coffee beans, would you?"
Alexis reaches for the coffee and hands it over. Castle misses the suspicious look on his daughter's face.
She walks off towards his office and returns immediately with a UPS box. "This came for you today," she says, handing the box over and then hanging around to see what's inside.
Castle rips the tab along the top edge of the box and slides out something square and wrapped in tissue. When he tears the wrapping off, he discovers an attractive box picture frame. Mounted inside, so that it seems to free float in the middle of the deep setting, is the haiku Kate wrote for him in therapy.
By now Alexis is peering in, leaning on his arm trying to get a better look at the dark wooden framed piece of art.
He braces himself as she reads the words. Her eyes widen and she smiles. "That is so—" And then she reads the signature. "Kate? This is from Beckett?" She spins to look at him, her expression both horrified and disgusted, though he couldn't begin to explain how you distinguish between the two on the face of an over-protective teenage girl. "Dad, have you been speaking to her? Have you seen her?"
Castle nods. But before he can say anymore, Alexis is flouncing off across the room. Though he thinks she's going to leave, she actually turns back and begins to pace…and rant.
"Dad, how could you? She abandoned you! And now she thinks she can worm her way back in with some…some…what even is that?"
"It's a haiku, Alexis. And if you'll just listen for a moment and let me explain."
"Explain? What's to explain? That woman has you wrapped around her little—"
"Because I love her!" Castle interrupts, raising his voice to be heard above Alexis' protestations in a manner that is out of character both for him and for her.
Alexis freezes and Castle lowers his voice. "Because I love her," he repeats softly. "And sometimes we give more leeway to the people we love because in doing so it ends up being good for both of you."
"Did you get that out of a fortune cookie?" she says, her face flushing as she does so because she knows she's out of line.
"Alexis," Castle says by way of warning.
"But you've been miserable for months, dad," she protests.
"I know. I know, and I'm sorry you had to see that. I've been no fun to be around."
"I don't care about fun. I'm not a little kid anymore. I care more about your health. Can't you see what she did to you?"
"Did you see what they did to her?" he fires back angrily as all the old fear and horror comes cascading back.
Alexis blanches.
Castle covers his face with his hands and then he reaches for her and pulls her into a hug. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. I shouldn't have said that," he whispers into her hair.
"How can you be so forgiving?" she asks, sounding tearful.
"It's one of my top three weaknesses," he says, squeezing his daughter to make her smile.
"More like Beckett's one of your top three weaknesses," she says, squirming out of his grasp.
"Yeah, that too," he admits quietly.
Over dinner, he explains how she came to his book signing and how he dealt with her to begin with, that he was angry and confused and he brushed her off. Then he tells Alexis about finding the note, how he assumed it had been written for Josh, and about their meeting outside the bookstore where Kate was waiting for him.
"She is genuinely sorry. She's been putting in a lot of work to…heal," he explains, trying to protect Kate's privacy. "And it's not like I'm giving her a free pass on any of this, Alexis. She knows I'm still angry. She knows how much she hurt me. But I honestly think the time apart hurt her too."
"So what happens now?" his daughter asks.
"We're having coffee tomorrow. Just taking things slow…getting back to being friends again."
Alexis glances over at the framed note sitting on the kitchen counter. "Dad, that note's written by someone who's looking for a whole lot more than friendship."
"That note was supposed to remain private."
"So private that she framed it so you could hang it on the wall?"
He smiles because his kid is so sharp and smart and so grown up. "Yeah, I'll admit that threw me a little, too. I do know that I wasn't supposed to see it. I doubt anyone was. But I think framing it and giving it to me is…well, it's a sign of commitment, wouldn't you say?"
Alexis shrugs. "I guess," she says reluctantly.
"Alexis, I hear everything you've said tonight. I do. And I will bear it in mind, I promise. Now you have to let me make my own mistakes, if that's what they turn out to be."
"Fine. But I'll be reminding you of this conversation when there's some boy you disapprove of, dad. Trust goes both ways."
"I wouldn't expect anything less, daughter of mine."
He stands to clear the dinner dishes, kissing her on the forehead as he passes, and they both smile.
"It is good to see you happy again," Alexis says.
"I'll tell Kate you said hi," her dad replies, giving her a wink.
Later, in bed that night, Castle calls Beckett. "Hey, there. How was work today? Did the lady dragon banish you to the tower?"
"If you mean did Gates put me on desk duty, that's an affirmative. For now."
"You'll win her round in no time," he says, trying to be supportive because he knows how eager Kate must be to get back in the field.
"I don't care about winning Captain Gates round so much as I care about—" There's a short pause and an intake of breath and then Kate asks, "Did you get the parcel I sent you?"
"I did indeed. Thank you. I won't say I wasn't a little surprised, and Alexis—"
"Oh, God. Alexis saw? I didn't think…Rick, I'm sorry. Was she upset?"
"It's fine. She has some…concerns," he says diplomatically. "But she'll get over it."
"She must hate me for shutting you out. I was miserable, Castle. But I had my rehab to focus on. You must have been…"
"I was no fun to live with, put it that way," he admits.
"I'm sorry. I know those are just words. But I will make it up to you. That's why I sent you the poem. I want you to hold me to that. I want you to know…everything." When the line goes quiet after Kate stops speaking, she listens, for breathing, for any sign that Castle is still there. "Rick? Can you still hear me?"
He clears his throat. "Yeah. Uh…yeah. I'm still here."
"Did you hear what I said? I need you to know that I'm serious. I want to put in the work to fix this, Castle. If you still want that too?"
He whispers back, his voice choked by emotion. "More than anything."
He hears Kate blow out a long, slow breath. "That is so good to hear. I thought I'd completely messed up, and I know I don't deserve another chance. So, thank you."
He'd given up on ever getting here. "This is— One day at a time," he says, blowing out a breath of his own.
"Yeah. We can do that."
Early on Saturday morning, Castle paces outside the door to Kate's apartment building for ten minutes. He's fifteen minutes early and he doesn't want to rush her on her day off. With five minutes to go, he heads inside to take the stairs in the hope of killing a little more time. He's still early when he gets to her front door, but he can't wait any longer.
He raises his hand to knock and the door opens like magic before his knuckles even touch the wood. Kate is standing in the doorway with a smile on her face. She's wearing the cutest summer dress.
"Hey," she says sweetly, starting to laugh a little at the awkwardness of the situation. "Come in."
"How did you know I was—"
"Castle, I saw you pacing outside my building. You should have come up when you got here."
"You saw that? Oh, God." He buries his face in his hands, but Kate grabs one of his wrists and leads him inside.
"I think it's cute that you're so…eager." She flirting with him already and he only just got here. It feels amazing, like a bright summer's day after the longest and darkest of winters.
She moves closer and now he can smell her perfume mixed with the scent of fresh coffee coming from her kitchen. It's intoxicating, being so close, close enough to hear her breathe and feel the heat radiating off her skin.
He says, "I missed you," before he can stop himself.
What did Alexis say? Trust goes both ways, right?
"I missed you, too," Kate says, with her eyes shining and her skin so fine and translucent he imagines he can see the pulse of blood rushing through her veins.
He just wants to take care of her. He doesn't give a damn what anyone else thinks. To hell with twelve missing weeks. She almost died. He has no idea how much that must mess with your head, and after what happened to her mother? He can give her twelve weeks of silence if they can just move forward from here.
Her arms are around his neck before he knows what's happening. She stands on tiptoe and buries her nose in his collar. "I'm so sorry, Castle," she whispers in his ear.
Instinctively, he wraps his arms around her and holds her even closer. She's so slender, almost fragile, and their bodies press together tightly as if there's some danger they'll fly apart.
"Is this real?" he whispers when she kisses his neck and begins to move against him.
His shirt is damp where her face was buried. He can feel her tears on his skin.
She walks him backwards towards the bedroom, but her grip never falters. "It's real," she says. "Do you want to stop?"
He shakes his head. He's been sad and angry, but never insane.
The bedroom is dark and cool, and it smells like Kate.
She stops them in the center of the room and then she turns them around.
"Are you sure about this?" he says.
Kate bites her lip and nods. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest is heaving, her breathing fast and shallow when she whispers the words she wrote for him. "I only want you. Can you not see that by now? Can you not feel it?"
Better than that - he can finally believe it. "Yes," he says, right before he captures her mouth and they tumble onto her bed.
THE END
I only want you,
Can you not see that by now,
Can you not feel it? – Tyler Knott Gregson
Haiku - A traditional form of Japanese poetry consisting of three lines. The first and last lines have five syllables and the middle line has seven. The lines rarely rhythm.
A/N: I've been focusing on writing my own stuff lately. But then I saw this haiku by the very talented Tyler Gregson on Instagram and this story began to form in my mind. I know it's a well-worn subject and not in any way original but I enjoyed writing it as a one off journey to revisit this incomparable pair. I hope you enjoyed it, too. Thanks for reading.