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I choose you
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Chapter Seven
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And as long as it takes
I will prove my love to you
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Rocking from foot to foot, a sense of urgency races through her body, and as she nods along to Gates' speech of dismissal, Kate's fingers squeeze her elbows, her forearms pressing hard against her ribs where she has them crossed.
Telling Gates to hurry up won't get her out of here any faster - if anything she'd be in the Captain's office for a considerable amount of extra time - and she swallows her impatience. Seconds. She can count the time left to go in seconds if she wants to, and then their waiting is over. Case closed. Time to go home. The end.
Except, if she can get the words out, it will be anything but the end. If she can say what lines her heart, bleeds through her veins, overtakes every thought, then this will be their beginning.
If he can forgive her that is...
"The FBI has taken Leann West into custody. This woman, whose blind ambition led to the death of five people, will get what she deserves." Gates' spiel pauses for a moment, her eyes catching Beckett's before moving onto Castle, and following her gaze, Kate sways to her left, her shoulder brushing her partner's arm. They were great today. He was great.
"I um, I want to thank each of you for what you did to make this happen. You all put in one hundred and ten percent and made me proud. So let's get out of here, head on home, and catch up on some much needed rest."
Smiling, Kate turns to Castle, hopes he can see how proud she is of how he'd retold the facts until the story was as clear as any TV show. How he'd been by her side as Leann confessed to her crimes. How together they got justice.
She can't imagine not having that, going back to the days when it was just her and the boys, and she reaches between them, snags the cuff of his jacket. He twists hard into her body, his stare slicing her open, and the way his eyes darken, the blue disappearing as the black expands, sends a shiver down her spine.
It seems she's not the only one eagerly awaiting their exit.
"Do you wanna go out for a drink now?" A little bit of liquid courage is hardly going to hurt matters. It may even ease the crescendo of her heartbeat as it accelerates in her chest.
"Are we going out for drinks to celebrate?" Butting in, Espo crashes her party for two, and she whips her head in his direction, her vision narrowing.
"You want to come?"
Oh, for the love of all that is holy he needs to say no, or the measures that she'll be taking will be desperate ones. The interruption after interruption is too much for her to cope with. She's standing on the edge of this life changing moment, on the edge of a life with Castle, and if she has to sit through drinks with the boys first, she may take her gun out and shoot someone... Esposito and Ryan, to be specific.
"Sorry, it feels like a month since I've seen Jenny. I should really get home." Ryan bows out, and Kate inhales sharply as she concentrates on Espo.
His gaze travels from her face to Castle, and then back to her, one eyebrow lifting, his expression clearly asking what's changed - what's changing between the pair of them. She doesn't answer though, just stands a little taller, schools her face in order to conceal how much she's wishing for time alone with her partner, but he must see through her façade, and his teeth flash within his grin.
"Me too, I'm tanked."
If she could jump for joy without attracting attention she would, but as he throws her a wink, she merely rolls her eyes, turning to face Castle. To face her future, head on.
"Looks like it's just you and I, then?"
"Yeah." His chest appears to expand, his stature towering over her even with her heels on, but the sensation that envelopes her isn't one to be afraid of. It's like being sheltered from the December chill, like the first sip of coffee in the morning, like coming home.
She's so close to having it all.
"Is it okay if we stop by the loft first? I just want to check on Alexis and grab a few things."
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"I can't believe this is what you meant when you said you wanted to 'grab a few things'."
Both of Kate's hands rise as she makes air quotes around his earlier words, and he grins until his cheeks hurt. It's nice to have surprised her, even if the last few days seem to be nothing but moments of wonder and beautiful disbelief.
And tomorrow awaits, they just have to make it through today in one piece. He has to hope that when he explains what he has been doing, why he's been doing it, she understands.
But right now, he's going to enjoy this second with her.
Waving goodbye as their driver pulls away in the town car they'd taken, Castle steps back onto the sidewalk, the basket of goodies clutched tight to his chest, two blankets thrown over his shoulder, and as Beckett reaches forward to lighten his load, he shakes his head.
"I've got it."
Her lips twist in the corner, a cute smirk that tugs low in his abdomen, but pushing aside those thoughts, he begins his journey toward the open patch of grass under the lights strung high above for nights just like this one.
Granted maybe not for nights at the end of March, but he did grab the thickest blankets he could find in the loft, and if it gets too chilly, they can always cuddle for warmth.
"It's not going to be too cold out here tonight? Or was that your devious plan all along?"
Looking sideways at her, he wiggles his eyebrows, and the look on his face must be hilarious enough to set her off. Kate's turning into his side, her face hard against his bicep, body shuddering with laughter. He curses the fact that both of his hands are needed to carry the basket containing the thermos of cocoa that he made for them while she'd lingered in his kitchen, peering over his shoulder and interrogating him in the way only she can.
Not that he was revealing anything about his plans for tonight. Not yet.
He lifts his elbow, just a fraction from underneath her, would like nothing more than for Kate to slide her arm through the angle like she'd done earlier in the elevator. It's a bit of a far away wish, they're surrounded by people after all, yet, as her fingers curl around his jacket, hanging on to him as they walk the last few yards, his stride hitches, as does his heart.
"Are you right there, Castle?"
"Ye-ah." What is he twelve? And clearing his throat, he attempts to answer her again. "Yeah. Here looks good."
The frozen blast of winter has receded enough in the last few days that the crackle around them is considered more crisp spring, but it's only the brave out tonight. The couples under their own blankets are spread far and wide, and the spot they are standing in has minimal neighbors.
He sets the basket down, trying not to chase after her when she steps back, and, snagging one of the blankets from his shoulder, she works her side out and onto the grass, while he reaches for the other, smoothing the creases until it's ready for them to sit on.
This is it. The moment that they fall into each other's arms. Whisper declarations about how they've finally got it right. That they no longer need to wait. That they can believe in love again. They can be together.
Their eyes lock, the distance between them suddenly more a chasm then a simple blanket, and he flexes his fingers as they tremble. The desire to reach out and wrap them around hers, to pull her body flush against his own, sings louder than the music drifting from the speakers hung high in the bracketing trees. It plays their song, and he doesn't want it to ever stop.
Except Beckett tears her gaze away, landing heavily onto the edge of the blanket, her stare flitting from couple to couple - anywhere, it seems but at him - and he's forced to breathe out the long line of questions that are rising to the surface.
What just happened? For a fraction of a second he felt as if this was it, their moment, and he felt like he was flying.
But why is he crashing back down to earth now?
He doesn't need a writer's imagination to see the bricks stacking up one by one around her, and he falls to the ground, the air leaving his lungs in a puff as silence stretches between them.
A silence that should be filled with proof of their love.
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What is she doing?
Clinging to the edge of Castle's blanket, she can't pull her focus away from the other couples around them, each pair huddled together, their expressions shining bright in the dark, their love written into every dip and smooth plane of their faces.
Leaning to her left, her skin tugs tight around her scar - scars - and she drops her palm to the blanket, curls her body as much as she can to relieve the pressure. The reminder doesn't fade though - and neither will the marks that mar her, both inside and out.
She can't breathe. What does she think she is doing here?
She can't love like them. She's not whole. Not worthy of the man who sits beside her. For all the work that she's done, all the hours hashing out every detail of her life with Burke, she'll never be right.
She'll never be what he needs.
He should have uncomplicated and fun, unbroken and honest. Someone who doesn't run and hide. Someone who isn't her.
"Beckett."
She's going to screw this up. Screw him up. She's going to break him, them, until the little pieces of their jagged souls lie twisted and destroyed amongst the grass, and her chest constricts, the muscles contracting. Beads of sweat slide along her nape, her fingers tingling within the fists she holds them in.
"Kate."
His palm cups the side of her face, turns her head until she's looking at him.
If only she can lift her eyes.
"Kate. I'm right here."
Swallowing the sob that climbs her throat - doesn't he understand that's the problem? - she closes her eyes, counts backwards slowly in her head, attempts to calm the storm raging within.
"Just tell me, Kate. Just tell me."
She shakes her head. It's not that easy. It's never been that easy. And while she'd shown up at the loft, ready to make all the wrongs of their world right, she's forced to wonder now if anything would have happened that night.
Would she have panicked the way she is right now? Would they have never made any progress if she hadn't written that first message?
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He's losing her. Somehow their romantic evening is spiraling away from them, slipping through his fingers, and he frantically seeks for a way to get them back on track, to where things were at the precinct.
They'd been doing so well, swapping their notes and hearts, taking steps forward regardless of how little they were. It was progress.
Progress that will be a distant memory if he can't recapture what they had...
And then it comes to him.
Dragging himself away from her side - there has to be something around here - he flips open the lid to the basket, searching inside. Shifting the thermos of cocoa, their coffee cups he couldn't resist adding in, the chocolate he'd discovered at the back of the cupboard, he looks, except...
Nothing.
Twisting back to Kate, ice slides across his skin. Her hair curtains her face, her knees to her chest, and he reaches to narrow the gap between them.
It's then that his jacket moves, his phone shifting against his hip, and he almost rolls his eyes in perfect imitation of her at his own stupidity.
This is the twenty first century! What is he thinking?
Grabbing for his phone, he calls up his notebook app, and as he holds it out to her, he sucks in as much courage as he can.
"Write me another love letter."
Her head jerks off her knees, her gaze smacking into his, and for a moment time stills.
"I haven't been writing you love letters." Soft amusement twirls around her statement, her body relaxing a fraction on the blanket, and he smiles, inching closer to her side.
"They were love letters. I loved the letters. Thus, they were love letters to me."
Red flushes her cheeks, her hair falling again as she moves to duck away from his statement, but he encloses her chin, stops her from hiding.
"Kate?"
Her fingers ghost across his as she takes the phone, and as she stares at the device, he moves until his lips are level with her ear.
"Write me. Tell me. What do you want?"
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Thank you again, and to those that were guest, you make a smile bright xoxo
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Thank you to Jo for the edit and to everyone that had waved a pompom for this hard week xoxo
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Thank you for reading xoxo
