Close Encounters 12

"Bracken is making a run for the vice-presidency," she said, toneless delivery.

Castle clenched his fists as she thumbed off the television with the remote; she stood immovable in the center of their living room at one in the morning, and he couldn't bear it. But he didn't know what she needed to make it better.

Nothing would make it better.

"I can't stand seeing his face," she rasped, turning her head away. Towards Castle, who finally dropped the facade of giving her space and went ahead and wrapped her in his arms. She came, at least there was that; she came into his embrace and nudged her head in under his chin and he closed his eyes.

"Kate," he murmured. It'd been hours at the Office after they'd found Robert's body, working on forensic details and coordinating with the 12th who had jurisdiction. It was lucky Esposito and Ryan had just come on board, because they'd been invaluable in the whole process.

"I just can't... the bastard killed my mom, Castle. And now he's coming after me. The people close to me."

"I'll keep you safe," he promised. His throat closed up, black dread washing over him again. "Let me take you somewhere, Kate. A safe house in Estonia."

She pressed her nose into his chest and breathed, her hands clutching his biceps and her body so strong. He felt so weak in the face of her determination and grit; he felt like falling to his knees.

"Is anywhere safe?" she murmured.

"Safe as anything in this business," he admitted. "But for Christmas - a break. A weekend holiday. We'll keep our phones on, but we won't go in to the Office. We'll hide out, you and me, get a chance to armor ourselves before we push this through."

"Secret Service-"

"I know the guy they've assigned as liaison. I trust him enough to take a few days. Plus we've got Javier and Kevin on our side of things and they'll stay on top of this."

"Fezzik," she choked. "He didn't - he wouldn't do what they wanted. That's why Robert's dead, isn't it?"

"Either he wouldn't take the bribe to get close to you, or we foiled their plan when we refused to see the next PT they assigned us."

She lifted her head from his chest and her face was bright with illumination. "The next PT. Who was that? Did you ever get a name? I don't remember getting a name. I just - I didn't think I could start all over with someone else and you knew the drill so..."

"I... don't remember if we had an actual person assigned yet."

"Whoever it was, Castle - Bracken could've already gotten to him. Paid him off to do the dirty work that Robert wouldn't. We need to look into that."

Shit, he hadn't thought of that. Why hadn't he already thought of that? Why was Beckett the one making these leaps of logic? That was usually his schtick in their partnership. "You're right," he said slowly, frowning. "I'll call Mitchell. He can do that."

"We need to look at this like a homicide case," she reminded him. Not for the first time. "Trace Robert's last few days and find out where and when he was taken."

"I know, Beckett. That's what we have Esposito and Ryan for."

"I really wish you'd let Lanie on this."

"Bracken's plot can't go that deeply. Our crime scene guys-"

"At least let her assist. Badge her as a visitor, I don't care. But let her in that autopsy suite. She can be our redundancy, our safety check."

He frowned. "Fine. Dr Parrish is allowed inside the inner circle."

"Good," she said with relish. "Tomorrow we should-"

"Tomorrow is Saturday," he said plaintively. He could hear the whine in his voice, but he couldn't stop it. He'd wanted to take her to her father's cabin this weekend - tonight, actually. He'd cleared it with Jim and the man had agreed to stay in the city until Wednesday night, give them a chance to relax together. It was supposed to have been a surprise.

She pushed out of his arms to pace. "We have too much to do here. We can't just leave for the weekend. There are all kinds of avenues-"

"Just-" Castle grit his teeth and shut his mouth, marshaled his argument. He had to do this right, logically, or she'd never go with him. "We both don't do Christmas, I know. But I wanted..."

Her head jerked back to his, their eyes locked. She immediately stood down from battle ready, her body softening towards him.

"I wanted to start," he finished lamely. He felt ridiculous, dropped his gaze to somewhere past her, the entryway floor in the darkness of one a.m.

They weren't pregnant, but... he still felt the need to mark this Christmas over all others. A beginning. And shouldn't they honor the season in their own way? Memorial or vigilance. He knew she worked through Christmas, and he usually had as well, but the last few years they'd worked it together at least.

Last year, he thought maybe they'd begun to find ways to make it special.

God, he just felt so tired. He ached for rest. A chance to stop.

"Rick," she murmured softly. Her voice was throaty and tender towards him and he lifted his eyes back to her gaze. "Okay. Okay, love."

He took a quick breath in but she was already coming back into his arms.

"Okay, Rick. We'll go somewhere this weekend. Decompress. Recharge. It's been non-stop since we got back here, I know. I know." She murmured to him like he needed soothing, like she was rocking him to sleep, and he let himself close his eyes and wallow in it for a moment.

"I already have a place in mind," he husked then.

She paused, her fingers cool at his nape, and she stroked her thumb along his jaw. "Of course you do," she sighed.

"I asked your Dad if we could use his cabin."

But this time her surrender was laced with joy, a stirring that made her smile slow and graceful and easy. "Sounds good. How long?"

"We have until Wednesday night, but we can be flexible. I can be flexible," he added.

Kate stroked her fingers in his hair and came up on her toes for a kiss, her mouth brushing along his, again and again, light and soft and raw.

"You know Christmas's not for another three weeks," she said against his mouth.

"I know. Figured we could avoid it if we wanted to. Work it like usual when it comes."

"Thank you," she sighed.

He cupped the back of her head and brought his mouth to bear against hers; she opened for him easily, let him slide inside. So good, so warm.

When she spoke, she kept him close, their bodies brushing against each other's, brief flares of heat at hips, belly, chest. "It's terribly inconvenient, baby, but you're right. Family comes first. We should get in the habit now."

Oh. Yes. Exactly. That was exactly what he'd been trying to say.

He was so relieved she understood.

"Now come to bed, Castle," she sighed at his ear. "You feel like you're about to topple."

He really was. He wanted to sleep for ages.

Beckett pulled her knees up into her chest and watched him sleep, the beginnings of a panic attack tumbling around in her guts. She pressed her lips together and stared at him, realized the panic wasn't entirely for herself, her life, but for him. For Castle. For her friends. For the life they were trying to scrape out by their bare hands.

She didn't know what was going on any more. She had no idea - suddenly Robert was dead, murdered because of her, and she'd just convinced Ryan that it was safer here, out of the uniform, and the NSA was following her down the streets of New York.

Sasha whined from the hallway and Kate jerked to her feet, stumbling over the tangled sheets, wincing as her knee hit the floor.

"Sash-" she whispered, standing again and coming through the doorway. The moon was brilliant through the stained glass window in the entryway and made strange lights across the upstairs hallway. She blinked, stunned by the colors and the darkness, but she didn't see the dog.

Kate walked barefoot towards the extra bedroom at the end of the hall, the pale grey walls that held absolutely nothing. Waiting for purpose. Of course, they'd had to pull the herb garden inside when it started to freeze overnight, so there were spots of green before the bay windows now, and she found the dog lying among them, as if hiding herself in a miniature forest.

Asleep. Sasha was asleep. The dog must have been dreaming.

Kate stood in the moonlight, silver now in the transparent windows, and watched the wolf in her run through dreams. Kate turned finally and slipped out of the room, trailing her fingers along the chair rail and wondering.

When. How. And would it be blue? Would it be pink? Maybe it would remain grey, soft colors added here and there. She had no idea about this either, but she wanted it.

And while the NSA stalking her on the street and Robert floating in the East River scared the shit out of her, made her feel the future closing down on her, dark and unknowable and frightening, Kate was deciding - here and now - to consider this a good thing. It would force them, as Castle had said, to push through it; it would make them fight harder, longer, fiercer. They would circle the wagons and dig in, entrench themselves, and they would get Bracken before he could hurt anyone else - not Ryan, not Espo, not Castle. No one else was going to die by his hand.

They were going to put Bracken behind bars before he could wipe out the visions she had for this room, the things she and Castle wanted for themselves.

They could do this.

Kate headed back towards the bedroom, sliding through shadows in the darkness to find her husband in their bed. Oh, her amazing, beautiful man. How he loved, how he poured himself out for her, for their dreams, for their lives. Maybe he poured out too much, maybe he was wearing himself out trying to be everything for her, for them, but she couldn't - she wouldn't - want anything else.

She found herself slipping between the sheets and curling her body around his, wanting to shield him from all of this, the terrible danger she'd brought down on his head when she'd opened her mouth and - instead of telling him I love you too - told him about her mother's murder.

She was tired; Castle was tired. They wanted to rest, and they wanted to start the next part of their lives. They were both frustrated with holding back, limiting themselves. They needed this to be over.

He was right. This time to love each other, to dwell in the good they had together - that would hold them up in the coming weeks, that would remind them of what they were fighting for.

Each other.

Kate pressed her lips to the soft, warm line at the corner of his eye, slid her hand over his shoulder and brought herself closer.

Tomorrow. No more case. Just the two of them.

She supervised his packing, pulled together some of their extra bedding, and finally loaded the Land Rover - one bag at a time. Castle was messing around with Sasha when she came back inside, softly closing the front door, and she felt the edges of her sleepless night rubbing up against her bones, making them brittle.

The puppy wrestled a rope toy from Castle's fingers and went bounding off with it, happy and growling as she hid it away, and Kate came up at Castle's back and pressed her palm to his shoulder. "Anything else?"

"Just us and the dog," he answered, slowly turning around. He looked as tired as she felt, and he'd been the one to sleep through the night. "My head's killing me. You know where all the aspirin went?"

"No," she said shortly. "I'm not allowed to have any, remember?"

He gave her a flickering look, sheepishness softening the edges of his eyes. "Yeah. Sorry. I'll find it."

"Try the medicine cabinet in the kitchen," she said, easing the tone of her voice. "Did you put Sasha's bag of food in the car?"

"Yeah, I took that stuff out there while you reorganized our suitcase," he snorted.

She shrugged. "I wanted to get some stuff in."

"I got you a Christmas present," he said suddenly. Even still, he was walking away from her, searching for the dog or his pain reliever, something.

"Castle," she said. "Wait. We said no gifts."

"I know."

She glared at him.

"But you got me something and I knew what I wanted to get you and it worked out."

Kate felt her jaw tense - what she'd gotten him wasn't really getting him something, more like reinventing an old gift, but fine. Whatever. He was that kind of person, and it was selfish of her to insist on this every year, insist on dampening his natural enthusiasm for spending a 'real' holiday with her. She had to remember that.

"Go get the dog," she sighed, shaking her head at him.

He grinned wider and came back for her in foyer, kissing her cheek with a loud smack as he squeezed her hip. "Love you."

"Go, go," she muttered, pushing him off her but closing her eyes a moment to feel the brush of his lips all the more perfectly. "Rick?"

He paused, his fingers falling from her hip as he made to leave, but she opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"All of it."

And she came in to cup the side of his face, deliver a softer, more tender kiss, something for him to hold on to, something to mark the morning.

She was different today. She was going to be better for him; she was already figuring out how.

Sasha disappeared into the woods as soon as Castle let her out of the back seat; she went loping off through the densely packed trees with a yip and he heard her joyful howl a few moments later as she sped away from them.

"She loves this place," Kate said with a wide grin. "We won't see her all day."

"She's a smart girl," he added, mostly to remind himself. Sasha would be fine. It was freezing, but her coat was thick and she was half wild anyway. "Hey, there's your dad."

Jim Becket was already coming down the front porch with his hands held wide; he embraced his daughter and kissed her cheek, his fingers fiddling with the ends of her hair. Castle realized that after Russia, they'd kept away from her father rather unconsciously, and he knew it was because Beckett hadn't wanted to worry him. Looking at her now with fresh eyes, the way Jim would, he still saw the thinness to her face and the raw look of her eyes, the lack of any trace of roundness to her features. She'd always been willowy, but she was more winter branch than spring green.

She still looked like she'd been through it, and her father was embracing her once more, murmuring in her ear.

But Jim let go of her and came to him next, a handshake that tugged him in for a hug, back-slapping and chuckling and an exchange of small talk that nevertheless let Castle know he was family.

"The place is yours for the long weekend. Freezer is stocked - help yourselves. Kate, honey, I haven't gotten firewood inside yet, but there's plenty down by the boathouse near the lake."

"We can get it inside for you," Kate said.

"How's your generator?" Castle asked. "Last time we talked, you said-"

"Yeah," Jim sighed, shaking his head. "Comes and goes. That's why you need to be sure to stack the wood inside at least - oh, yay high." He mimed a reach right at his hip. "Can you taste it in the air? It'll snow for sure and if it gets too heavy, everyone around here loses power."

"You mind if I tinker with the generator?" Castle asked. He'd rebuilt a motorcycle in Russia; he was pretty sure he could fix whatever was wrong with Jim's back-up generator.

"Sure, sure. I've worked on it here and there, but mostly I keep the fire going in the living room and hunker down."

"We'll do that too," Kate interrupted. "If it storms."

"I don't think it'll get too bad," her father said with a grin. "But the snow will happen. Few inches, maybe as much as four."

"Winter wonderland," Castle smiled at her, wriggling his eyebrows to get that smile she couldn't help but break out.

"Castle tell you we're doing Christmas this weekend?" Kate said, following her father up onto the porch. Castle came after them, glancing through the thick trees to where the boathouse just peeked through the winter-bare forest. Her father had wood split out there, cords stacked against one side, and he figured he ought to do that sooner rather than later.

But the bags and stuff first. He caught the screen door with his shoe and called in after them. "I'm gonna unload while you guys catch up. Beckett, nothing classified."

He heard Jim chuckle from just inside the kitchen and he grinned to himself as well, stepping out onto the porch. He trooped back to the Range Rover and opened the tail hatch, started dragging stuff out.

His shoulders were tight as he worked, like his headache had drained out from behind his eyes and settled deeper. He fantasized about lying down in the living room floor and getting Kate to walk over his back, stretch and pop and lengthen everything out again.

A fire sounded good too. Marshmallows. People did that, right? Roasted them in the fire. He wondered if her father had any. And chocolate and graham crackers. Maybe he could head back into town and pick up some supplies, have a kind of indoor campout.

Yeah. He was so ready for some downtime with her. Even without the marshmallows.

"Let's see," Jim mumbled. He was currently deep inside the walk-in pantry as he searched the shelves for marshmallows. "Oh, you're in luck, son. I've got everything you need for s'mores."

Castle grinned and took the bags of stuff as Jim handed them back. "Awesome."

"Kate likes hers burnt to a crisp," Jim grinned back. "So the chocolate melts."

"Ohh," he said, lightbulb dawning. "Right. I get it now. The marshmallow melts the chocolate too and - okay, yeah, I can see the appeal."

"Aw, come on," Jim sighed, shaking his head at Castle. "You're killing me, Rick. You've never had s'mores?"

He half shrugged and carried the loot to the kitchen counter. "Not ever had... opportunity," he said casually.

"Well, damn. Sometimes I'd like to throttle your dad," Jim muttered. And then his ears went pink and Castle winced but felt the amusement rippling between them. "Well, ah. I guess we'll just add that to the list, huh?"

Castle laughed then, and Jim clapped him on the back. Rick had noticed that whenever Jim got worked up, emotional, he tended to descend into the local speech, the rhythm of the woods and a long day's hunt and cleaning fish by the lake. He liked it, what it said about how comfortable Jim was with him, and if his own father was nothing to him now, he was more than grateful to the universe for Kate's.

"So what else have I missed out on when it comes to camp fires?" Castle asked, poking at the marshmallows through the plastic.

"Well, if you grew up with rowdy boys like me," Jim said slowly, a grin flickering to life once more. "Then you chucked aerosol cans into the fire so they'd explode."

Castle chuckled. "Actually. Rowdy boys are everywhere - did that in Afghanistan with a bunch of guys in my squad on a night when we didn't even care if the insurgents found us."

"Universal. Boys and bombs."

"Got that right," Castle grinned. "So I didn't miss much."

"Guess not," Jim chuckled again, rubbing his hand down his face. "But when you're co-ed..."

"Ah," Castle said, giving her father a glance. Was he really going there?

"Bonfires. Johanna and I would sneak away in the dark, make out. Come back when we got too cold, warm up in front of the fire and whisper about the other couples sneaking off."

Castle let out a long breath, couldn't help be reminded once more of why they did this. That murdered woman had been a wife and mother, but more than that - she'd been the woman Jim had sneaked away from the fire with, the two of them laughing and making up stories, their noses cold.

"Usually on the beach," Jim added softly. "So there was the ocean and the moonlight and far off the sounds of everyone still back around the bonfire."

"You telling dirty stories about mom?" Kate laughed from the doorway. Castle glanced up in relief and went to her, sliding his arm around her waist and kissing her temple. Grateful she could laugh.

"No details," Jim defended, lifting both hands in surrender. "He was asking me about what to do with a cozy camp fire."

"Oh gross. I don't want my husband getting pointers from my dad."

Jim's face blanched and Castle couldn't help the laugh that shook out of him. "I don't think I need pointers," Castle mused, and then Jim's face was absolutely comical.

"Oh, no. No, no. I don't want to hear it," he groaned, clapping his hands over his ears. "Bad enough I know what a long weekend away means."

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll strip the sheets and do laundry before we leave."

Castle had to hand it to her. Her face was completely innocent when she said it. But Jim grunted and his ears turned bright red.

"I'll uh... get on the road."

"Oh, no," Castle interrupted. "I thought you'd stay through lunch. I brought steaks."

"Sorry, sorry, Daddy," Kate laughed, untangling from Castle to go to her father. "Please stay. Castle has some master plan. You'll ruin it. I'll keep my mouth shut and I won't tease you."

"Fine, fine," her father grumbled, but Castle could see an answering twinkle in his eyes. "Just be warned. If you do, I'll start asking about grandkids again."

Castle let the smile furl out over his face, gave a long look to Kate. She was blushing now. "Well, Dad."

"You're welcome to join the conversation already in progress," Castle said easily. "Soon as it happens, you're the first person we tell."

Jim's face split wide in a grin that lacked all his earlier tease; he wrapped his arms around Kate and squeezed her hard, kissed her cheek.

"Hasn't happened yet, Dad," she grumbled, but her eyes met Castle's over her father's shoulder and she looked dazzled. Happy.

He wanted to make that happen for real. Wanted to watch Jim's face as they let him know the news. And his own mother - they'd tell her as well. How that might affect things, how it might change... it was an entirely different direction.

"So how can I help?" Jim said gruffly, pulling back from Kate. "Steaks, what else?"

Castle laughed, tugged from his reverie, and moved towards the cooler he'd packed back at home. "You can help me start everything. I've already got them marinading." He nudged Kate with a finger, shooing her out of the kitchen, leaning in close to whisper. "And you go take a nap, Kate Beckett. Got a master plan for you too."

She grinned back at him, kissed his mouth before he could say anything else. "I think you'll like my plan better. But a nap is a smart idea." She stepped back slowly, seductress and sweetheart, and then called out over her shoulder as she left, "You guys have fun. Wake me for dinner."

"Lunch."

"Whatever."

Kate hadn't meant to overhear. She'd slept hard for an hour but was woken by a dream, disoriented by leftover panic. But she'd been leaning against the wall in the hallway to wait for her heart to slow, the cresting wave of her nightmare to settle out, when she heard them talking.

"I could tell just by looking at her," her father was saying.

Kate leaned her hot cheek against the cool wall, closed her eyes as Castle's voice rumbled from the kitchen.

"Even now, you can tell?"

"She's not - there's not enough of her," her father gruffed. Kate pressed her forehead to the wall and swallowed down the urge to walk into her father's arms. A hug after that nightmare. Reassure them both.

"I don't think it was conscious," Castle said quietly. "She didn't want anyone to see her like that. It scared the shit out of me - it was so much worse."

"I wish I'd known."

"I think it was just - you know she hunkers down, circles the wagons when she's hurt."

"I used to be part of that circle."

Kate stood up straight. Castle was already rushing to fill the void. "Oh, that's not - we come to you. We both need you. When I got myself stabbed - it was here that I recovered; this is where we both feel safe."

"But not this time."

"I don't think she could've stood it," Castle rasped. He sounded hurt; there was a wound in his voice. "She barely let me... it was bad. I know you shouldn't have to hear that-"

"I want to hear it. That's what I'm saying. I need to know how it is for you both because you matter to me. I don't want that sock in the gut when you guys step out of the car and you both look like you've been on the brink of death. I worry about you both."

Kate sucked in a shaky breath and trailed her fingers along the wall for balance as she moved for the kitchen, ready to apologize, ready to promise, but Castle beat her to it before she could even step into view.

"Me? You're worried about me?"

"I know you're a grown man, but I got the right to worry over you. A father will always worry."

Kate came to a halt, felt it as if she were Castle, as if his very own shock and gratefulness was being poured into her, and she had to press a hand over her eyes to keep from crying.

Her father was - she was so thankful to him she could never express it, never make it up to him, what that meant for Rick.

"I'll let you know," Castle said finally. All other sounds had ceased in the kitchen, there was just the two men testing the bonds of family.

"You'd better. Gotta be prepared, at least. You leave me in the dark and I-"

"I'm sorry," Castle husked. "I won't do it again. Won't let Kate do it either. Next time, you'll know."

"Don't take this as a talking-to. You're not in trouble. But son, you could use some sleep too. You look like you've been running flat out for months."

Kate took a soft step towards the doorway to see whatever it was her father saw, and now that she was looking, now that she'd had someone else confirm what she'd thought, she knew he needed to slow down.

Castle looked ready to collapse. Every movement was a struggle for grace and surety, and when he blinked, his eyes seemed to close for a moment too long.

Kate leaned back against the wall and took a breath. If she went at him straight on, she'd never get Castle to agree to stop. Rest. He needed rest. But if she made it about her, about doing it with her, she could get him to agree to anything.

He needed to sleep at night, and he probably needed naps as much as she did. He'd been out there too, severely injured by a gun fight and then by shrapnel from a mortar round. And before he'd even had a chance to heal, he'd been trekking across the steppe to find her and carrying her back home.

She was going to make him stand down this weekend. She was going to give them both time to rest.