Close Encounters 31: Brokenclaw


Kate lifted James to her nose and jerked back again, scrunching her face. "Oh boy. I shouldn't have fed him the bell peppers from my salad."

Castle chuckled, lifting his eyebrows. "Remember that chili night when Hunt was here?"

She nodded at him, a hesitant side eye. They had just walked through the door, and James had apparently been working on that dirty diaper the whole drive home.

Castle petted Sasha behind the ears as he dropped the baby's bag on the dining room table. "I was the one who got up five times that night to change the kid. While you slept. There were bell peppers in the chili and it was not pretty."

"What are you saying?" She narrowed her eyes at him, holding James a little ways away from her body. "It's my turn?"

"That bad, huh?" He shook his head and reached for his son. "Naw, I'll do it, love. I have experience, that's what I'm saying."

"No," she said, drawing James into her chest. The boy whined and scuffled against her neck, kicking his feet up to climb her ribs. "No, Rick, I've got it. I'm going to change, too. So might as well. Will you take the trash with you when you take Sasha out?"

Oh. He was taking Sasha out, alright then. "Yeah," he said. "And I'll message Mitchell or Reese or whoever is on detail right now."

"It's Mitch," she nodded, heading for the stairs. "He said he wanted to take a shift every week, just to keep his hand in."

"Riding a desk," Castle grimaced, watching her scale the stairs with James. "Does in the best of us. You and me, Beckett, we gotta get out into the field more often, you know?"

Her face lit up, even as she was attempting to keep James from climbing over her shoulder and spilling down the stairs. "Yeah. I know, I mean, I think so too. Stay sharp."

"Stay alive," he countered.

"I love you," she returned, grinning at him now. She had ascended the top of the stairs, and now he was forced to turn in the entry to keep her in sight. "Trash, Castle."

"Castle Trash?" he called, teasing.

She gave him the finger as she disappeared into the baby's room with James.

"Careful," he called in warning. "It's gonna be... runny."

He heard her direct her complaints to James and he smiled to himself, dropped his gaze to the entry, the living room with their pale blue walls and the well-worn couch.

He could put that down in the basement and get her a leather one; she'd said something about how outdated it was, stained, how James kept gumming the arm and she was picking stuffing out of his mouth.

He should do that for her. Surprise her with a new one, or maybe just be normal and take her shopping at a regular store, let Kate pick out her own couch. Or even-

Damn.

Buy her shit because he couldn't be nice to her? Not okay. Not the way he wanted their family to work, and definitely not the way to her heart. She wasn't a gifts and flowers kind of woman; she wanted his words, she wanted him showing up in action. And yeah, he had a tendency to do that, buying her a whole island came to mind, but that was his love language, not hers.

Sasha barked at him, snapping him out of his introspection. "Yeah, yeah, standing here in the entry is kind of torture for you, isn't it? My fault, puppy. Let me tie up the trash from the kitchen. Shit, and the diaper thing probably too."

Castle made quick work of rounding up the trash from downstairs, made a stack by the back door.

"Kate?" he called up, coming to the bottom of the stairs. He didn't hear her in the boy's room, so he jogged up. Both were gone, but the diaper genie looked stuffed full; she'd probably meant this trash all along. It drove her crazy when he took out the kitchen trash but forgot to check the others.

He didn't get it, really, but he was going to collect all the others from upstairs, that was for sure. He was already pretty much well into the doghouse with her, and it was his own damn fault, so at least he could get the trash done right.

Castle deposited the bag from the baby's room at the top of the stairs and then went hunting for the others. Office first, then their bedroom-

"Whoa."

Kate laughed. Naked. Completely naked, and so was James. "I gotta rinse off both of us after that one."

"Oh, ew. I warned you it was runny."

"It was exceedingly runny, but don't remind me, I might gag."

"You?" he scoffed. "Never." He followed her into the bathroom and saw she had already put their clothes in the tub to soak. "Oh, wow, that bad. Well, I came upstairs to collect all the trash. Since I'm taking it out."

Kate twisted on the water in the shower stall and turned back to him, pressing James closer. "You did? Good job, baby."

He rolled his eyes and reached in under the cabinet for the trash can, pulled the bag out. Kate brought James into the shower with her and the boy shrieked in delight, laughing hard as he was pelted with the spray. Castle straightened up and watched through the clear glass of the door, Kate trying to keep James from bowing backwards and out of her arms, James's lashes dewed with water.

He swallowed roughly and carried the trash out of the bathroom, headed for the stairs. He collected the rest of it, came down to call for Sasha, and then the gathered trash at the back door.

He felt like an asshole, knew he didn't deserve them, either one. He'd done nothing today to even indicate his gratefulness at such a gift, nothing but give her a hard time and punch his boss in front of her kid. And then complain to her. And be generally a shitty husband.

"Damn," he muttered, opening the big bin behind the house. He glanced up at the brownstones surrounding them, the narrow strip of sky between the buildings, the sense of anonymity it always gave him. "Fucking hell, I'm an asshole."

"That you are."

Castle startled badly, drawing a weapon that wasn't there, only to find Mitchell coming out of the darkness. He must have entered through the side gate they'd had built into the narrow space between their house and the next; his hands were in his pockets and he was sauntering.

"What'd you do this time?" Mitchell said, coming to stand with him at the edge of the patio.

Castle gestured for Sasha to go on, she had circled back at Mitchell's approach, and he turned to his friend. "You get the message about us heading down the street for dinner?"

"All of you? Yeah, did. Why I'm here. Won't crash your dinner, but I'll be on watch."

"Yeah, I appreciate that. Kate said you wanted to keep your hand in."

"Mm. So what did you fuck up today, Castle?"

He snorted and rubbed a hand down his face. "I punched the Director."

Mitchell laughed, turning to him in the evening's last light. "You did not."

"Yeah."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"You know we were on mission for a short thing? An exfiltration that didn't go as planned-"

"Hey, man, only tell me what you can," Mitchell warned him. "I'm not looking for classified information."

"No, I know. It's not. Just the bare essentials for the story. Anyway, Director sent us, had this elaborate meeting at the DC Office and Margie insisted we bring James to her, to meet her. So. We did."

"Bet he was a hit."

"He was," Castle nodded, lips thinning. "He was but the Director had arranged certain people to see that little display, or knew they'd be in and around at that time. He was flushing out a fucking mole with my son. My family. And it came back to bite us. Hard."

"Ah."

"Yeah." He watched Sasha sniff at the large tree in their backyard. Kate was still so awed by that tree. A tree in New York City, Castle. He'd countered with, A tree grows in Manhattan? And she hadn't laughed. The baby really loved that tree too.

Mitch cleared his throat in the silence. "You do realize the Director was just being the Director?"

"Playing fucking games is what he was doing."

"Doesn't he always? Isn't that his damn job? Fucking hell, if you can't see that, you've lost your perspective, my man."

"Perspective doesn't mean I want that man parading my son around a fucking traitor," he hissed.

Mitchell socked him in the shoulder. "Fucking calm down. I'm just saying - if you went to DC thinking it was a cute family trip, you've lost your mind."

His jaw worked. That tasted sour going down.

"You said you were an asshole, but punching the Director doesn't sound like very assholery behavior. What'd you do, Castle."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I picked a fight with Kate."

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

Castle glanced at the man, narrowing his eyes. "You know, it's not easy when your wife is adored by every damn male she meets."

"And every female."

"Fuck you," he said without heat.

Mitchell shrugged. "You picked a fight with her."

"Yeah, and I'm an asshole for it, I know."

"Especially when she has that fucking experimental procedure in like nine days, Castle."

He growled. "What the hell do you know about any of it?"

"I know it's fucking experimental. I can't believe you're letting them do that to her."

His heart clutched. "Boyd and Threkeld said it had to be done. Her immune system is triggered and..." And he didn't really know.

Mitchell was waiting, face open and expectant.

"Kate said it was necessary," he finished lamely. "She scheduled it for a few days after my hand thing, to be sure I could use it."

"Is that... are you fucking kidding me?" Mitchell laughed. "You don't know a damn thing about it?"

"I know it's supposed to give her DNA something to fill in the gaps."

"Are you fucking serious?" Mitchell shoved on him hard enough to cause Sasha to issue a warning bark from the fenceline. But Mitchell waved off the dog, not taking his eyes from Castle. "The last time they fucked with her blood, she basically died. And you know nothing about this? You're a fucking moron is what you are-"

"Hey, now, lay off," Castle growled. "It's not like I understand the fucking science behind this. I've got a handle on the nutrition and dietary requirements for all of us, I've got-"

"Fuck the nutrition. If she dies in nine days, like hell you're gonna care-"

"Dies," he barked.

"You think she's not totally fucking scared to death?" Mitchell sneered. "What an asshole. You're right, damn right. And I don't think taking her out to eat is really gonna make up for that kind of woeful and willful ignorance, Castle."

"What the hell is your problem?" he yelled.

"I'm trying not to fucking smack you, that's my problem!" Mitchell squared off against him. "You ought to fucking treat her better than that, going under in nine fucking days so those two damn absent-minded professors can fuck around with her DNA-"

Castle went for him. All the rage, the soul-sickness, the fear - it boiled right out. He hit Mitchell in the chest and drove him back, but only a step before Mitch banded his arms around Castle's torso and heaved him away.

Castle wouldn't be heaved. They wrestled hard, each grappling for the other, panting hard but barely moving from their spot at the edge of the patio. Castle vaguely had a sense of the dog barking around them, but he was growling himself and trying to tear Mitchell to pieces for talking about his wife (himself, really, talking about him and his wife and how fucking stupid and blind and ignorant he allowed himself to be-)

It went nowhere. Castle got a punch to Mitchell's ribs, Mitch socked him in the eye, Castle kicked a kneecap, and Mitch kneed him in the groin with a you don't need these anyway. And that did it. At that they were both cracking up with laughter, the switch was thrown and they were collapsing into the grass, not really laughing but wheezing.

He was out of breath and bruised, and Mitchell was groaning as Sasha circled him. The dog was snapping at Mitchell's fingers and ears in retaliation, though not quite biting him. Castle reached out and snagged a finger in Sasha's harness, gasped in pain as one of his smaller digits caught and twisted.

Shit. Two days before they fixed his hand, rebroke these jacked up bones and shaved down the knots and removed the spurs. Really fucking hurt sometimes.

And Kate had arranged everything, made sure he got it done, made sure her own issues came last so she could be right there for everything. She'd even told their security team so that he'd have whatever he would need, hadn't she? God damn it.

Mitchell fell back to the grass, breathing hard and swiping at his face. "Damn."

"Yeah," he croaked. He rubbed the back of his neck where Mitch's grasp had chafed the skin. "Yeah, I'm..."

"Burying your head in the sand," Mitchell said softy, "and hoping it will go away. And Rick, when has that ever worked?"

He swallowed roughly, shook his head. "Never."

He'd call Logan after dinner, get the full story on the procedure. And then he and Kate were going to talk. Really talk.

Well, Kate was going to talk and Castle was going to actually listen this time.