Close Encounters 21


Kate bit her bottom lip and went carefully on the zucchini, slicing it thin enough for their pizza.

"Need help?"

She lifted her head, blew the hair out of her eyes with a puff of breath. "No. Get out of the kitchen. It's my turn."

But Castle came closer, skimming his fingertips at her cheekbone and behind her ear, tucking her hair away. "You sure?"

"I got it. Hang with James and my dad. I can make a couple pizzas."

Castle was smirking at her, and she narrowed her eyes, but he lifted both hands. "Fine, fine. You got this."

He left her in the kitchen, heading back for their son she hoped, and Kate glanced back down at the long, green zucchini. Her father had bought a few fresh vegetables at the Union Square Greenmarket, a farmers' market that had been around for thirty years at least, and Kate loved the smell of fresh tomatoes and basil that permeated the kitchen.

She started then on the squash, cutting the ends off the yellow gourd. She rubbed the cut ends against the inside flesh, which her mother had once told her drew out the sour, and the act made her feel somehow close to the woman.

She'd had that feeling a lot lately. Every time she held James at her neck and the boy curled up, making that little fist against her collarbone, Kate felt like her mother was right there, breathing so close, rocking with her. A lovely haunting.

Oh, and that first time Kate had managed to change James's diaper without getting it everywhere - that victory, small as it was, had made Kate feel ridiculously happy. She had buttoned up the cover of the cloth diaper and scooped her son to her chest and she had turned to tell her - to tell her mother - but Johanna hadn't really been there.

Hadn't mattered. Kate had felt her there, sharing that moment, and it was enough that James was so small and needing her and she could do something right finally.

This pizza on the other hand. Oh, shit, she was in trouble.

Kate had sliced her finger, daydreaming like an idiot. Shit. Shit, come on, pay attention, Beckett.

She hurriedly ran water in the sink, washing the blood off the knife, from her finger, hissing as it burned. Kate glanced over her shoulder, but both her father and Castle were too far into the living room to notice. At least there was that, no witness to her failure.

Shit, that had hurt. Well, at least James was whimpering like he did, that pitiful sound - it was a good distraction for the men. James always turned down his lips too, and he looked so pathetic that they always rushed to him.

Kate hissed and stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking at the laceration. She glanced back and Castle was holding James on the couch, saying something to him, the dog whining a little as she lifted her front paws to the cushions, nudging her nose into the baby's foot.

Okay, okay, she could handle this. Pizza. Her finger was throbbing a little, but it had stopped bleeding. Huh. She had thought she'd cut it pretty deep, but this looked fine, really.

Overreacting to a simple little scratch. Shit, this thing with Black had really scrambled her confidence. She had to get it together. It was a simple pizza. Cut the vegetables, spread the cheese, and stick it in the oven, don't moan about it.

Kate glanced once more to the cut, but it was fine. Didn't even need a band-aid. She started gathering the slices of squash and zucchini, layered them on the whole-wheat crust her father had laid out earlier. She had to grate the fresh cheese from the wheel, but the mozzarella and parmesan came off in pungent curls, and she avoided grating her own fingers.

With the pizza finally in the oven, she took another look at her finger. The skin at the sides was white, but a line of red had healed over and kept it from bleeding. She could probably just be careful not to reopen the scab and it would be fine.

"Hey, how's it going?"

Kate spun around and saw Castle in the doorway, holding James with an arm so that the boy was facing out. The baby grinned at her and smacked his lips, wriggling in Castle's grip as if to get down.

"It's good. Just fine. Put the first pizza in." When Castle got close, Kate leaned in, giving James a kiss since that lip-smacking made him look like he was asking. "Hey, my little wolf." She pushed her finger into the roll of baby fat at his thigh, and James babbled back at her, reaching for her hair.

"Can we put pesto on the second?" Castle asked. "And some of that pulled chicken your dad has in the fridge-"

"Is this my meal, or are you bullying me about dinner?"

Castle barked out a startled laugh, lifting an eyebrow at her, and she grinned back at him. James had a fist in his mouth but was grunting too, like maybe he was trying out those same sounds.

"Fine," she gave in. "I'll put pesto and chicken on it - just to make you happy. The last of the veggies here too. How's dad?"

"I haven't told him yet," Castle sighed, wincing as James pitched back and knocked him in the chin. "Settle down, James Beckett, before you give me a black eye."

James tilted his head back to look at his father, as if he couldn't quite take that seriously, and then he arched and put a test to Castle's grip.

Kate pressed her lips together, trying to keep the laughter in, and she leaned in to kiss her squirmy son, blowing softly on his neck. James laughed, that chuckle that made him sound like an old man, but he calmed down, going still again as he watched her.

Castle sighed softly, his palm at James's belly. "Here. He wants you anyway. I'll finish the pesto pizza."

Kate trailed her fingers over Castle's forearm, reached in to smooth an invisible line over James's cheek. "No. I got it. James, hang out with your daddy. Okay?" She kissed his forehead and James hummed, one of his happy-baby noises he'd started making lately.

Castle met her eyes as she pulled away, both of them smiling to hear it, how James echoed the sounds he loved the most - Sasha's whines, Kate's hums, and Castle's growls. She felt honored - they both did - to witness the way James was responding to his environment, the way he was learning. It was kind of amazing.

"Get cooking, Beckett," Castle murmured, winking at her.

She grinned and pushed him out of her way.


Castle was washing the last of the dishes at the sink, able to look across the open floor plan to the living room where Kate was nursing their son. James was all eyes on his mother, adoring and entranced, as always, but it was the way Kate looked at him that got Castle.

Since they'd agreed to wean James as soon as possible, there weren't a whole lot of moments left like this one. He couldn't help shoring up his memories with this nightly ritual, the only time she was breastfeeding now, both of them maybe hanging on to it longer than James really needed just to have this time.

Kate's head was tilted towards their son so that her hair fell forward, long and in soft waves this late in the day. James often opened and closed his fists in her hair as he got sleepy, and tonight he was doing some kind of swirl with it, probably on accident, but Kate was in love.

God, it killed him. He sunk his hands into the hot water to keep a chain on the fierce pride that thrashed in his ribs, and he watched Kate smooth her fingers over and around James's face, murmuring to him as he nursed.

She was beautiful. Her face was filled with light, her lashes dark against the sharp sickle moon of her cheek. Her lips moved as she spoke - or maybe she was singing, sometimes she hummed a melody and the words came out too like she couldn't help it.

With her hair falling forward like that, Castle could only see part of her face, her body curled around James in the armchair before the great windows. The darkness of the night had fallen outside, though the view was dotted with gold because of the city life surrounding them.

The peace of them, his wife and his son, filled him up so that not even his heart had room to ache. It was just good.

Jim came out from the laundry room just then, carrying in a basket. "I've got his blanket here. Had to run it through the dryer again. You think he needs it?" He was talking quietly, and when Castle turned to look, he saw that Jim had stopped at the edge of the counter to watch them too, unwilling to interrupt the scene.

"No, he's fine," Castle murmured back. "Just put it on top of my bag in the entryway so we don't forget to take it with us."

"Sure thing," Jim said. He left the basket on the counter and folded the cloth as he headed for Castle's bag, placed the boy's favorite blanket on top. James had gotten attached to this silk and cotton thing that had been part of Martha's baby gift to them; it was grey with a pale blue trim, though most of that had faded with repeated washings.

Lately James was restless at night without both that corduroy elephant and his soft blanket. Castle's mother had been so honored when she'd found out that James liked it, though she'd only been to visit a handful of times. Castle just didn't know with her - one day she was desperate to see her grandson and the next she was in Monte Carlo with her new husband.

As Kate always said, one day at a time.

"How's it going?" Kate called out, her voice muted in deference to the boy.

Castle smiled back at her. "Almost finished cleaning up. How's it going in there?"

"Almost finished here too," she grinned. Kate shifted the baby and brushed her hair back, gathering it on her neck as she smiled, tilting her cheek to the heel of her hand. Her eyes dropped down to James again, and she shared her smile with him, saying something Castle couldn't hear, softly shaking her head.

Castle laid the pizza pan on the rack to dry and flicked water off of his fingers. He released the drain and wiped down the sink, hurrying now to get in the living room with them. Jim had wandered back to his bedroom with the last of his laundry, obviously giving Kate time to finish nursing, and Castle wanted a moment with her before they started this conversation with her father.

After Castle came through the living room to her, he leaned in and braced his fists on the arms of the chair, touched a kiss to her neck where her hair draped. "Hey, look, you made two meals tonight," he whispered in her ear. "Wonder woman."

Kate grunted and lifted her head, nudged her shoulder into his chin to get him away. "Don't be crass." But her narrowed eyes and pressed lips meant she was trying not to laugh. "He's almost done; you're distracting him." Her head came down, her body hunched over James. "Oh, no. No, baby, ignore Daddy. He's leaving. You keep eating."

Kate lifted her foot from the cushion of the chair and kicked out at Castle; he laughed and cupped the side of her face for a better kiss. But he left James's line of sight, not wanting to ruin the feeding - James wanted to play at night, and if he didn't have a full belly, he'd never fall asleep and stay that way.

Castle sank down onto the couch and leaned his chin on his fist to watch them, waiting. He memorized every detail of them together - the wave of Kate's hair down to the curve of James's little skull, the struggle of those small lashes to stay open, the soft sound of Kate as she lulled him towards drowsiness.

When James was finished, Kate lifted her head to him and Castle stood again, coming forward to cradle their son. He held James close, cupping the back of his head, swaying as he walked the room. He could hear Kate adjusting her shirt but already James was a heavy, sleeping weight against his shoulder.

"Sleep tight, baby," Castle whispered. He lowered James to the carrier and eased him into the seat, buckling him in. He'd sleep their way home, but first Castle and Kate had to talk to Jim.

They were going to have to explain.


She was still sitting cross-legged in the armchair, smiling at Castle as he sank back to the couch, when Jim came back into the living room and joined them. He had a heaviness around his movements that made her stomach flip.

Her father wasn't stupid. Kate didn't know why she had thought they could pretend nothing was wrong; he saw through her so easily.

"Something's happened," Jim said quietly, keeping his voice down. James was asleep in the carrier in the entryway, Sasha lying down between him and the door like a good guard dog. "Hasn't it. Something to do with Black, or you wouldn't be looking at me like that, son."

Kate glanced to Castle in time to see his surprise. He masked it quickly and met her eyes, but her father kept going.

"It's all right. It's not your fault, Rick." Jim turned to Kate and there was something both tight in his eyes and yet easy on his face that she didn't understand. He sat forward on the couch to look at James in his carrier and then he stared back at her. "I'm gonna say this because I ought to, shouldn't go another day being unsaid. Katie, honey, I never thought we'd make it to a day like this."

Kate stared at her father, her hands heavy on her knees. "What?" she croaked.

"You and I were so - we were damaged. In different ways but by the same thing, the grief of it, and I was bad for you, I was no good-"

"Dad-"

He went on like he wouldn't hear it. "I made your grief worse with my own and that's unforgivable. And so the thought that I could come to a place like this after the things I've done, after the place I was in, we were in, Kate, it's... a miracle."

Kate sat forward, anxious to dispel the gloom, but Castle made a motion that cut her off. She waited, trying to be patient, because her father seemed to need to say this.

"He's a miracle," Jim said quietly. His voice was steady. "We all know it. Not just because of the trouble, but because where we all were seven years ago. All of us. None of us are clean; we've all brought damage into this family. But look at us. Thank God. That's what I want to say. Thank God."

Kate's chest was too tight to let her breathe; it felt something like a panic attack but it was just memory and relief tangling up in her throat.

God, it had been so bad for them. For her father, for her. And then they'd scraped together something that looked okay, that limped along, but it wasn't life. It had been a kind of memorial, a living waiting, waiting for justice, for it to stop hurting, treading water in their grief. Until Castle.

"It's because of you," Kate got out, chewing on the inside of her lip as she stared at Castle. "You know that, right?" She couldn't - she didn't dare move and break the spell, the moment; she could only stare at her husband and hope he felt it too.

"Me?" he said roughly. "No. Kate, I-"

"Yeah," Jim interrupted. "Yeah, it is. You're not responsible for my sobriety or Kate's either, matter of fact, but the day - the covert op that brought you two together - that was when it finally started to work. It got easier. Not just for her, but - but me too."

She saw Castle swallow, a shaky hand to his jaw as he stared back at them.

Her father finally stretched out an arm and laid it heavily on Castle's knee. "And I know Kate does the same for you-"

"You both," Castle hurried. He sounded rough, she thought, as rough as she knew they all felt. It was good; her father had been right. It needed saying. "You both have been - this is my family."

"Son." Jim squeezed his knee with it, and the relief that flooded Kate was just so powerful she felt dizzy.

Her father didn't know the worst of it yet, how they'd have to leave, but he did. He knew it got bad with them, that it wasn't easy, that their life was really messed up sometimes - and that they liked it, they loved their life.

"Son, whatever it is, whatever he's done, you don't carry that. Do you hear me? You're not responsible for him, things he's twisted up."

Castle hung his head and Kate's heart ached for him. How she wanted to cradle him against her, save him from his father. But she couldn't. Black was... too much a part of this.

"You're not responsible," her father said again. "The past is past. And whatever happens in the future - that's not this, it can't touch on this, what we have right here. How we're family, all of us."

Castle lifted his head and Kate saw, for the first time in a long time, a return of at least some of that ease he'd always had. She remembered how Castle used to tell her stories about his childhood, those months on his sabbatical, and how nonchalant he'd been, how it just hadn't occurred to him to analyze his father's actions.

It wasn't a return to naivete, but at least a return to a measure of innocence.

She'd known it the moment Black had put her on her knees in that alley with a gun to her head - this was worth it.

So very worth it.

Even more so now than then.

"Dad," she said softly, starting where Castle could not. "Black has called in his favor. He wants me to meet with a contact of his in Paris, and I have to go. To keep this tenuous truce we have, I've got to be there, to do this for him."

Castle cleared his throat. "And I won't let her go alone," he rasped. "I won't. So I'm - we're asking you to keep James safe for us. Keep him... for us."

If they didn't make it back.

Because with Black, there were no guarantees.


"That was easier than I thought," he whispered. James was wonderfully asleep in the carrier and Castle wanted to keep it that way. "Your father didn't even object."

"Like he'd have a leg to stand on," she snorted.

Castle shot her a startled look in the darkness of their car, put his eyes back on the road. "What does that mean?"

Kate growled and buried her head in her hand, and Castle glanced in the rear view mirror to check on James. Not that he could see much, with the rear-facing carrier blocking his sight of the baby, but at least there was no whimpering.

Kate lifted her head. "Sorry. That was - please forget I said that."

"I've never heard anything like that come out of your mouth," he said. He was still stunned by the bitterness that had laced her voice. About her father. He'd never have guessed that was there.

"It should never have - it never will again. I'm just - afraid. I'm afraid, Castle, and I say shit I shouldn't."

He swallowed past the sudden dryness in his throat and clutched the wheel. "I'm afraid too. Tell me what you meant about your dad."

"Shit, it was - so long ago now. He just mentioned it tonight and I guess he got me thinking about it."

"About when he was - wasn't sober?"

"Yeah."

Such a dull, lifeless sound to her voice. It made Castle's fingers slide off the wheel and land in her lap. "Rough time?"

"God, it was hopeless. It was hopeless, Rick, and I'm - that first year after he got sober, I used to think, this is it. This is the last day. He won't show up for brunch. Or I thought, when I'm off shift, I need to swing by Dire Straights and check."

"That bar?" He thought it was in Harlem; shit, that bar was awful. He couldn't even begin to imagine Jim in a place like that.

"Yeah, the bar." Kate seemed uncomfortable as she talked, and he saw her turn around and lean back, looking in on James for a moment before settling in her seat again.

"Kate?" he prompted.

He was surprised by her; he had thought he knew everything about Kate Beckett but this was information he hadn't ever gotten, hadn't even known existed. He knew her father had been an alcoholic, that the two of them had made a deal to clean up at the same time - her addiction being her mother's case - but this was new.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "He's not the same man now. I don't want you to see him like... like I saw him."

"It would never - I could never lose respect for your father," he said gravely. "He's done more than - and it's in the past. Like he said. I don't carry the past with me like-"

He stopped and Kate snorted, tilting her head against the passenger window to look at him. "Like I do?"

He wisely kept his mouth shut.

Kate shook her head, her hair spilling down her shoulder. "You know, at first it was the nice places like the Old Haunt - classy places where the bartender would call me, where I'd leave my card and tell them I was a police officer and could they please let me know first? It was easier then. Not to see him like that, but easier to handle it."

"And then?"

"And then it was Dire Straights because they served until closing, no matter if you'd spent the last few hours half unconscious and weeping."

"Oh God," he flinched.

"It took - everything to get those fuckers to pay attention to me. I called the Department of Health on them twice before they finally smartened up and called me when he was down there."

"Before - when they didn't call - how did you know he'd been there?"

"Because my dad was passed out in the street, Castle." She shook her head and turned her face away from him and that just - just gutted him right out.

"Kate."

"It was really bad for us," she whispered. "I don't think you understand sometimes, just how - how you've made things different."

Castle swallowed and shot her a quick look, unwilling to take his eyes off traffic for long, but unable to not look at her. "Kate, honey-"

"That's why I just told you all that about - about him. I know you love him, I know he's been a father to you, and I'm so grateful for that. It's how it should be. You deserve it. He does too, you know? And I don't want to pull him down from the pedestal you've got him on, but I thought you should hear it - what you've done for us too."

"He's not on a pedestal," he said quietly. "I mean - I know he had problems before. He's human, like the rest of us."

"Though some of us are a little super," she said, and there was a chuckle in her voice. "I just - you didn't look like you exactly believed him when he was talking tonight. About how you've been so instrumental in getting us here."

"I believe it, but you were already on your way," he said roughly. It was hard to be confronted with the picture of Kate Beckett as anything less, when she had always been so much more to him. "I believe it with my head. Harder to imagine with my heart."

"Sometimes I couldn't carry him out," she whispered. "Sometimes I would manage to beg a cab to stop for us and the weight of him would drag me straight down to the pavement. No brunches, no coffees, no words of wisdom - he could barely stand to look at me."

"No."

She sighed. "Your heart might not believe it, but mine does. I was there. And now I'm here, we're here, and it's - holding on with both hands. It's - God - it's everything."

"I know," he got out. "Don't think I don't know how it's everything. Kate."

"I know," she said, nodding as she turned now to look at him. "I know."

He couldn't find the words he needed to convince her; he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be convincing her of. She knew how bad his childhood had been, and worse, how little that had meant because it had been his life until her. He hadn't had the rosier times to compare the bad to, like she had, so that when her father had started drinking, she'd known what she was missing. He hadn't even gotten that much.

She knew that, but sometimes he didn't think she felt it either. How reciprocal their needs were, how his love for her transcended even himself.

But it was like that for her too, and tonight she had reminded him of it.

"I was there in Tunisia," he said finally. "You don't have to remind me of what it's like for you, Kate. I was there. And my funeral-"

"You were most decidedly not there in that box, for which I am eternally grateful. If still pissed at you for that hoax."

He choked on a laugh, surprised again, shot her another quick look even as he heard the baby stirring. She was scowling at him for that, and she leaned back to look in on James, shushing him with soft noises, promises and endearments Castle couldn't hear over the sounds of the road.

He pulled into their garage and parked the car, turned off the engine. Kate was still leaned back through the seats; he caught a glimpse of the pale expanse of her abs as her shirt rose.

Castle reached out and ran the backs of his fingers along her skin, felt the ripple of her muscle in response before she was thumping down into the seat again, staring at him.

He leaned in to hook his hand at the back of her neck, drag her in for a kiss, but she resisted, her body angling away.

"Wait. Wait, listen to me for a sec."

"Listening."

"My father won't push it even if he doesn't agree, because he feels he owes me for a lifetime. And I promised myself to never need to be owed. Do you understand?"

"Not... entirely." He skimmed his fingers to her jaw, rubbed his thumb at her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and took a long breath, turned her mouth into his palm to kiss him.

"Dad doesn't owe me because it's in the past. It's done. But he's a Beckett; he carries it. And now I'm asking him to - to play godparent to my son. Do you see?"

"I think he's happy to-"

"No, Castle," she whispered. "I'm asking him to get ready, to be ready. For the chance I don't come back. I'm asking him to go through it all over again, and this time, this time he can't drown in it."

Castle dropped his hand and stared at her. "No."

"Yes. Because it has to be asked."

"No. You're not - we're not going anywhere-"

"We're going to Paris," she smiled tightly. "We're going to meet Black."

"We're not going anywhere," he hissed, snagging her hand and pressing it, too tightly. Too tightly, but he couldn't stop. "Do you hear me? I didn't just ask your father to raise my son for me, because we are coming back. This isn't how we end. We just got started. You and I are coming home alive."

She nodded, but there were tears slipping out of the corners of her eyes and damn it, damn it, that wasn't okay. She had to believe in them.

"Don't do this to me, Kate. Don't make this Tunisia all over again."

"We got our son in Tunisia," she offered, a crooked smile turning up one corner through the tears. "There was that."

"There was that," he echoed, glancing back now because he could hear the baby whimpering at the stopped car, the disturbed sleep. "And he's why you gotta believe we make it. He's proof we make it. So don't talk about how your father grieves in the bottle, okay? There's no need."

"There's no need," she repeated, like she had to, like she needed the words to convince herself.

Maybe she did. He was going to keep telling her their stories, their future, until she stopped writing herself out of it.

"I know you're afraid, Kate. But do you think I'd ever do anything less than everything to keep you alive?"

She smiled now, a hand coming up between them to skim under her own cheek, blot the tears. "That got a little convoluted there, but I hear you."

"You hear me, but do you believe me? In your heart, Kate, sweetheart, not your head."

She hesitated only a second before she nodded, her eyes drifting back to the baby, her lips twisting. But then she fixed her eyes on Castle once more and cleared her throat. "I believe you. You make it happen."

"Always."