He had to give her up. He had to give her up in favour of Nikki and it's eating him inside even as his fingers fly across the keyboard.
He has no idea where she is. Somewhere in the loft. Maybe. Crap, what if she went out without him? He smashes the backspace key furiously; frustrated with this sentence that just doesn't say what he needs it to.
He can't spare any more than his errant thought for her. For Kate. Not now, when Nikki's voice is so loud in his ear, when Rook needs the same happiness that Rick himself has found.
He hits the period key with a flourish, smiles as he saves the document – twice to be sure – and then closes his laptop. He stands up from his desk chair, locks his hands behind his head and stretches, groaning as his back cracks audibly.
He moves through to the living area, turns slowly on the spot, looking for a sign of her presence. Hmm. Nothing.
Oh. He has a gym upstairs. Maybe she's there. He ignores the thought that surely he would have heard her working out even as it smokes low in his stomach, just embers. He doesn't run up the stairs. He doesn't. He just…jogs.
She's not in the gym. Or the upstairs bathroom or his mother's room or Alexis' or the laundry room or-
Crap. She isn't anywhere.
It hits him so hard that it knocks the breath from his lungs and he staggers forward, grips the counter, his knuckles protruding from his flesh. He locks his elbows, focuses on the feeling of his joints snapping into place, solid and strong. He dips his head until his chin meets his chest, sucks in oxygen through his teeth. The nauseating flame of panic erupts in his stomach and he trembles.
Someone out there wants her dead. Someone wants her dead and he has no idea where she is.
He knows, some small, rational part of him knows that she's fine. She probably went to her apartment or just out. To give him some space. It kills him to admit it, but he can't feel guilty. She knows he gets like this, has seen him spend days at a time not showing up at the precinct because the book has him hostage. She knew to expect this, just like he knew to expect her to run.
It doesn't stop him from swallowing hard, wiping his hand across his face. Trying to collect himself. Trying to force the images of her lying broken in an alley from his stupid, vivid imagination.
He hears the key in the lock and his heart stops. He closes his eyes and tries to school his features into some semblance of calm, can feel at the corners of his eyes, his mouth, that he fails.
It's her. This is not the happiest he's ever been to see her, but it's close. "Kate," he breathes, and her gaze darts up from locking the door.
He delights in the furrow between her eyebrows, the way her mouth turns down at the corners in confusion. She's here, alive.
He strides over to her and takes her in his arms, knows he's squeezing too tightly, can't stop. He buries his nose in her hair, breathes in the sharp tang of sweat and underneath, the musky scent of her.
She pushes on his arms. "Castle, get off. I'm all sweaty."
He laughs, beams, can't stop smiling at her. "You're alive."
He feels the tension rip through her body, feels her muscles preparing themselves for action. "I just went for a run, Rick. I wasn't-"
He swallows hard, turns away from her slightly. He can't concentrate on what he has to say when she looks so deliciously pissed. It sends waves of relief through him, leaves him weak and shaking. "I know, I just- Just because you're done doesn't mean they are, Kate."
Her eyes widen and she steps back from him, breaks the tenuous circle of his arms. "You think they're still after me?"
He clenches his fists at his side. Her gaze tracks to them and he forces his palms to lay flat against his thighs. "I don't know. I didn't know where you were."
She sighs, runs her hand down her face, curls her fingers and rests her fist just below her mouth. "I did text you."
Oh. Crap. "You did?"
She shrugs. He hurries through to his study, finds his phone on his desk. He taps the screen, groans quietly as it displays a new message notification. He was so focused, so completely blind to the outside world. He didn't even notice.
He taps it, his heart in his throat as the message comes up. Oh, there are two. One sent thirty seconds after the other.
Going for a run. Didn't want to interrupt you. I'll be back by 2.
And then, because she knows him.
Not running away. Just need some air.
Shit. He didn't even- he was so panicked that he didn't check his phone, didn't even think to call her.
She appears in the doorway and he turns to her, guilt weighing him down. "I'm sorry. I panicked. Didn't think to check my phone."
Her face is carefully blank. "I get it Castle. You were scared."
Yes. Yeah, he was scared. She's his whole life, already, she's everything. He thought she was gone. He was terrified.
"I can't lose you Kate. I can't." She presses her lips together so they turn white, closes her eyes. When she opens them, they're softer. She walks over to him where he leans against his desk, steps in between his legs and cups his face in her palms.
She kisses him softly. "I'm right here. I'm being careful. It's okay."
He holds her waist in his hands, too tightly still, he knows. He's just finding it so very difficult to come down from the adrenaline rush of the past twenty minutes. "I'm sorry for being clingy."
She laughs, kisses him again. "How many times has one of us almost died? I think we're allowed to be clingy."
Oh God. How is this so good? How did he ever deserve her?
She rests her forehead against his. "I really am sweaty. I need a shower." She cards her hands through his hair, traces the shell of his ear. "So do you."
When she comes out of their bedroom after she's dried her hair, one of his shirts drowning her slender frame, she finds him with his head in the fridge.
"Rick," she calls out across the loft and laughs as he startles and smacks his head on the shelf.
He turns to her, rubbing his head with one hand. "Ow, Kate, that hurt. Don't surprise me like that."
She smirks as she reaches him, straightens the collar of his shirt. "Don't put your head in the refrigerator."
He sticks his tongue out at her. "I was looking for food. I wanted to cook for you, to apologize."
Damn. She thought that, uhm, energetic round in the shower had assured him that no apology was needed.
She reaches up to gently probe his head for serious damage. Satisfied that he's fine, she slides her hand down to rest next to his mouth. "You don't need to apologize. It's fine."
He opens his mouth to argue and she fuses her lips to his, works over him until she's sure that his mind is blissfully blank. She pulls away, smiles at him. "You were saying something about food?"
He huffs. "Yeah. We don't have any."
She does her best to ignore the rush of delight at his choice of pronoun, picks at a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt. "Do you want to order in?"
He shakes his head. "No. I want real, homemade food. Let's go grocery shopping."
"What, right now?"
He grins. She knows it's because he expected her to say no, refuses to think about what that says about her. "Yeah, unless you had something else in mind?"
He makes his eyebrows dance and she rolls her eyes at him but doesn't fight her grin. "No. Okay, let me change."
He catches her around the waist as she starts to move away, fuses his mouth to hers. When he pulls away and lets her go her knees give and he smirks. "Do you have to? I like you in my shirt."
She swats his chest. "I like wearing your shirts, but not in public."
He hangs his head in mock dejection, nudges her towards the bedroom. "Okay fine. I'll wait here."
She's still laughing at him as she rounds the bookshelves and he disappears from view.
"Kate, let's-"
"No."
"But-"
"No."
She won't let him get any of the good stuff. He wants candy and pizza and chips and, oh, is that-
Yeah, he absolutely wants to try Golden Double Stuff Oreos.
He grabs the packet, bounces over to Kate where she's still, still, choosing fruit and vegetables and other boring stuff.
"Kate," she doesn't look up from the carrots. "Kate, look. Golden Double Stuff." She sighs at him but lets him put the packet in their grocery cart.
He doesn't usually do this. Usually, he buys healthy stuff. He had to raise his kid all by himself, has to keep healthy enough to follow an NYPD detective. He learned when Alexis was four that pizza is not a sustainable diet, so he bought cookbooks, found new and innovative ways to sneak vegetables onto his daughter's plate.
He's just so very excited that Kate's here and she doesn't seem even a little wary of how utterly domestic this is. And he wants her to be in charge of the healthy stuff, wants to give her a chance to prove that she does know how to survive without takeout. He remembers the Styrofoam temple in her fridge all too well.
She pays for half of the groceries and he lets her without argument. He knows how lucky he is that she even agreed to come with him, is saving the money conversation for later. Once she's moved in officially.
When they get home, she helps him put the groceries away, never once having to ask him where anything goes. He watches her, his mouth hanging open, and she turns to him.
"What?"
He shrugs. "You know where to put stuff."
She laughs at him. "I picked up on some things when I stayed here after my apartment blew up."
He grins, wraps his arms around her waist, kisses her. "I love you."
It just bursts out of him, he can't hold it in, can't do anything but tell her. She smiles at him, her eyes soft at the corners. "You too."
She helps him make vegetable risotto for dinner and they eat it on the couch. She watches the movie. He watches her.
(Until she swats his chest and threatens to move unless he stops the creepy staring.)