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Find You Anywhere
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Chapter Two
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An AU Caskett meeting. Because regardless of time or distance, they will find each other. Three shot.
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It was his touch that had changed her mind, driving the final nail into the coffin of her self-restraint.
They spend most of their time - what little time they have together - in their suits, protected against the elements of Mars; the lack of oxygen, the rolling dust storms. Even when he worms his way inside her station, she not so subconsciously shields herself, the thick, durable material they wear a barrier between them, a last frontier that keeps them apart.
Keeps her from falling all the way to his side, into his eyes, under his spell.
Not that she believes in magic... Or at least she didn't.
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"You just have to kiss my finger better, Kate. It's not rocket science." He wiggles his hand in her direction, displays the miniscule mark that is nothing more than a paper cut, egging her on, but once again she refuses to take the bait and he huffs out a dramatic sigh.
There's a twitch to the corner of her mouth though, a little hitch that assures him she enjoys playing this game as much as he does, and it spurs him on.
"If you're worried about catching cooties, I was tested for that before I left earth. I'm clean."
"Really? Because having seen, and spent time with some of your crew, I wouldn't trust those scientists of yours. You could have a whole hoard of issues for all I know."
Lifting an eyebrow, he fights against the smirk tugging his features until Kate turns to the control panel, her focus straight ahead like the good astronaut that she is.
Astronaut...
Seven years ago he was struggling with the idea that his daughter had moved in with her Mom. Shards of his career had been like glass, littering the floor at his feet as he produced flop after flop, inspiration lacking after he'd killed off Derrick and run to Vegas to escape both his ex-wife and his second ex-wife. And now?
Now he's on the cover of Time Magazine for making it here. Mars. They weren't the first ones, granted, that would have been better, but Beckett and her team had smashed them by three months.
He'd hated them for that. Until he met them.
Met her.
Now he is happy to be behind her, beside her, anywhere in her vicinity.
Oh, the positions that he would love to explore.
Where was he...?
"You can perform a physical if you'd like, Beckett. Ensure that I'm in top condition. Besides the broken finger, that is."
There's no movement this time, her face as perfectly smooth as any sculpture he's owned - used to own, his mother claimed his belongings long before he left - and he drops his shoulders an inch, until her chair swivels, her gaze locking with his.
Hope restored.
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Her gaze drifts lower, the pale pink of her tongue peeking through her lips. "Stripping you down, making sure you're… healthy. But doctor's offices are cold and..."
The fiery emerald of her iris heats his skin, a rivet of sweat forming at the base of his neck, sliding beneath his suit as it trails the ladder of his spine.
"Then again, we have microscopes on board so I suppose it would be okay."
Oh. Burn.
"Just kiss my poor finger, Beckett. You can do magic."
Her eyes dart to his before returning to her hand curled around the robotic stick that controls the viewing telescope attached to the top of their station. She's aloft, and turned away until, almost as if in slow motion, she shifts forward, reaches for his fingers with her own while peering into his soul.
There's warmth before she connects, like a sphere of fire encircles her, extending to encompass him first, and it's glorious.
Yet it's nothing compared to when her skin slides across his own, the inferno seeming to have a life of its own, melting the small muscles of his finger, creating lava from his blood, boiling him alive.
This is what it is to be consumed.
"Nothing happened, Castle. Looks the same to me."
He twists his hand, fingers swallowing hers within his much larger one and he ghosts his thumb in and over the ridges of her knuckles, his stare fixed and unwavering on hers.
"I disagree. Feels magical to me."
Her gaze drops away, her focus on the computer screens flashing intermittingly, no agreement forth coming and he'd label this a loss if it wasn't for the curve of her lip, a soft hoodedness to her eyelids.
The way her palm kisses his as they hold each other's hands. Just because he can.
And maybe, just maybe, because she wants to as well.
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She angles her head just a fraction to peer over her shoulder, her focus ostensibly on the drill in her hand, but it's a lie, and the kick of the machine in her palms, the jerk as she misses her target is undeniable proof. She's not paying attention to what she's supposed to be doing.
He's not here.
There's no pestering. No comments about how well she can handle a tool. No shiver edging down her spine as she imagines the heat of his breath, which under different circumstances, would brush the fine hairs of her nape.
No unwanted help.
There's no Castle.
What does she do without her shadow?
Her huff of laughter blooms, a cloud of hot air across the glass of her helmet, the outside atmosphere dropping as they leave the sun behind once more; it wasn't that long ago that being free from him was the dream and now…
She drops her arms, the whine of the drill tapering away until there is peace and quiet. Solitude has been her companion for far too many years. A steady friend as she'd walked the halls of the Twelfth, her rise to detective after her mother's murder swift and icy.
Cold and lonely.
It's why she applied for this program; to be a part of something bigger, greater. Running from her past, her inability to succeed in any relationship, her guilt over her failures as a daughter.
As a cop who couldn't even get justice for her own family.
She couldn't run much further than to a different planet.
Except what she found here may be more destructive than anything on earth.
Where is he?
Striding toward the tool kit, she unplugs the battery, securing the device inside the foam casing. Buys herself another minute. If she's not going to work on re-securing the light poles that flood the area around their base with an eerie red glow, then heading back inside her station is her next step.
Should be her next step.
And yet, with a tug of the bag onto her shoulder, her toes point in the opposite direction, her shuffle placing yard upon yard between her and her 'home', until a white door so very much like her own comes into sight. Except it's one she's never been through.
For all the times he has visited - gate crashed - her team's dwelling, especially of late when their hands slide across each other, fingers shifting until they interlock under the table and counters where no one can see, she's never returned the favor.
And her inhalation pauses mid-breath, her chest tightening.
How could she be so dense?
She lifts her hand, her fingers curling, the material of her glove resisting such a movement, but she knocks anyway, swallowing the sudden flood of nerves blocking her throat. The wait for an answer draws out the seconds until they're minutes - or has she been standing here for hours? - and the anxiety breathes life to her doubts.
Run.
Go.
Don't look back.
There's no plan here, no excuse at the ready. Castle would have one; he always has a flippant remark thrown over his shoulder as he strides into her station without a care in the world.
Except, as she closes her eyes, his face shadowed in the dark of her eyelids, maybe it wasn't true. Maybe he had stood outside of her own white door and searched for a reason to enter until one day it was just expected he'd show and he stopped using excuses.
He didn't show today though…
"Hi, Kate. Right?"
She spins on the ball of her feet, the voice behind her crashing into her musings, and she nods automatically at her name, the bag on her shoulder falling to the dirt.
"Yeah. Hi. I'm just here…"
"For Castle." The younger man, light brown eyes and a smile that portrays his amusement, lists his head toward the door. "He's in his bunk."
"Oh. Um. Right."
Maybe they hadn't been so discrete after all.
"No. Down the first corridor to the left. It's the same layout as yours. I guess brilliant minds think alike."
She nods, even as she draws her eyebrows together, a curl of… curiosity creeping along the base of her neck at his words, but this is hardly the time to investigate the coincidence of similar stations. They're all here now, how it came to be isn't going to make a difference to her mission.
Grabbing the handle, she yanks the door open, her eyes squinting as the bright fluorescent light reflects and shines off the internal chamber, searing her retinas for a moment. She steps forward regardless, the familiar cocoon of their station - so much like her own - calming the irregular thump to her heart.
The door snaps shut behind her, the whirl of oxygen signaling that she can remove her helmet, and she does so, finding an empty bench to set the sphere down on, trapping her bottom lip as she stares at her hands.
She's come this far after all.
Tugging the heavy material off her shoulders, she frees herself of the spacesuit, leaving her standing in nothing but her grey uniform. The lightweight material has always made her appear more soccer mom on the way to the gym rather than the ex-detective, enclosed within a ten-foot ivory tower of her own making.
But the isolation of Mars has crumbled the edges of her walls. Family, hanging out with friends, and living a normal life are not possible up here. More than one night has been spent staring at the ceiling in self-reflection.
Rick Castle is somehow taking a wrecking ball to the rest of what still stands around her.
She lets herself into his home base, breathes in the stale air that pumps through the main section of his station, shaky strides carrying her toward his bunk. No wonder he was able to leave her that coffee mug so easily, they could be living in the same place.
Not like that. Damn.
She catches herself with her palm, the notion of them being… something, together, a couple, stilling her progress forward. Is this what she's doing? Walking towards a them?
Working towards a them?
"Beckett?"
"Castle?"
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He touches the corner of his sleeping bag, flips the material back and forth as he struggles with what to say next, at all. She's been sitting at his hip for nearly five minutes, the silence heavy within the bunkroom, small talk evaporating quickly. Beckett is still here though, still by his side and maybe as the user of words, the once upon a time writer of sentences, he can do this.
Say what he wants to say.
"I'm sorry I didn't come around today, there was… stuff."
Well that failed.
"No, Castle, you don't have to come around, I mean if you want to, but you don't have to. I just…" The stretch of her 'just' continuing on longer than it should, her head dropping, her thumb inserting itself between her teeth as she gnaws on its edge.
She appears almost as nervous as he is. And maybe she is. Maybe they're just two lost souls drifting through life trying to find permanence.
Find something real.
Find a reason to be bigger than they are. Better. Stronger.
"It's Alexis' birthday today. My daughter. I have a daughter back home- back on Earth. It's her birthday today and I'm not there." The rest of his explanation clogs his throat as Kate's fingers drift across his, the smooth arch of her thumb as she forms tiny circles over his knuckles stealing his words.
"She misses you, but I'm sure she's proud of where you are. What you have done. What you're doing."
He swallows her platitude, the lie that it is, because the truth is so vastly different.
"Maybe." He has no idea. He never did get more than an 'okay, Dad' from his daughter before he left, the phone heavy in his palm as he'd asked if he could see her one last time, the sigh as she'd explained that she would be away on a study-abroad program.
"I'm proud of you." Her eyelashes duck, hiding the color of her irises, the shades of green that he fell in love with first.
"It goes both ways. I-" Extending his hand toward Kate, he ghosts the tip of his fingers along the line of her lips, the hue of red enticing him closer, the inches between them dissolving as he leans into her.
He never does finish his sentence, her breath against his mouth a blanket that curls along the edge of his jaw, embracing the length of his neck, covering his shoulders, bringing him home in a way he'd never thought he would feel again.
His heart pounds against his ribs, a beat so erratic that he swears he's becoming short of breath. The tattoo is a rhythm that must thump against her chest, a pattern that declares all the words he hasn't spoken. Not yet.
Lust.
Like.
Love.
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This is what it is to be home.
That day on his bunk he'd had his heated skin stoked by the inferno of her own. Had his vision clouded in a red that not even Mars comes close to. Every thought now is consumed by the image of Kate, the way her lips draw wide as she pulls away from their kisses, smiling, hesitant and yet open, for him.
It's all for him.
That first kiss led to many. And yet never enough. Two weeks of having the taste of her lips seared against his own, the scent of her skin lingering even when she isn't there. Two weeks of finding joy and an ease to his stride he'd thought long lost.
Two weeks of home.
Except as the words blur on the screen in front of him, the tears swelling between his eyelids, his heart shatters.
His team is being ordered home immediately.
To Earth.
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Thank you to the wonderful people that weren't logged in but left sweet words that I couldn't reply to, and again to all those were and did the same xoxo
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Thank you to Jo and Jamie for being magic xoxo
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Thank you for reading xoxo