Close Encounters 26


"He's not sleeping on our couch," Castle hissed at her.

She was at the end. She just couldn't. Kate sank down on the bottom stair and put her head in her hands.

Castle immediately crouched before her, James twisting in his arms to fall over her, both her boys earnestly concerned.

"Mama?"

"I'm okay. I'm fine."

"Kate."

"I don't have the energy to argue this with you," she whined. She knew she was whining. It was difficult to control.

"He can't-" Castle growled and cut himself off, let James fall into her arms. "You're making it impossible to be angry."

"Good?" she whispered, lifting her head. He was angry though; she could see it. Only so much to distract them and he was a possessive man. He wanted to be angry with her, but she wasn't quite able to take it.

"I don't want him - uncontained," he husked. He caught James as the boy hung on them, swinging out like she was his tree. Castle glanced back to the couch. "He can't just be - out on the couch while my son, while you are asleep upstairs. I'll - just - no, don't worry about it. I'll stay downstairs-"

"No," she cried, leaning in and looping her arm around him. Her heart was twisting. "Don't leave. Don't-"

"Kate," he gruffed, his hand gripping the back of her neck. "I'm not leaving. I'll just keep watch tonight. I don't need sleep like you guys-"

"I won't be able to sleep."

"You can-"

"I won't," she insisted. She couldn't possibly fall asleep alone, knowing Castle was downstairs, that Hunt had kissed her and she had - for too long a moment - done absolutely nothing. "Please don't do that to me now when-"

"Kate," he sighed.

She blinked hard and swallowed past the knot in her throat. This had been - it wasn't her best day. She felt she'd made the wrong choice with every decision, and now here they were, and she was so tired that she was going to cry. And over stupid things. Over her hands smeared with blood and not being able to hold her son and dumping him into a stranger's arms and stitching up a man dying and not moving away fast enough so that the image - the sensation of his lips - persisted still.

"You can-" she started, about to say, you can stay down here and I'll just figure it out, but it wouldn't come out of her mouth. She took a shaky breath, James gripping her hair and climbing towards the stairs behind her. "Put him in the panic room. He won't make it back up those stairs. Tell him it's - it's a guest room. All we have. Put him down there."

Her hands were shaking; it seemed so vital what Castle would say to her next.

"I'll have to wake him to do that. I can't carry him alone." And you're not helping me carry him.

She nodded. "So... wake him. Just long enough to get him down there. You could even shut him inside. Provisions under the bed. But - but you could shut down access to the control panel from the one in James's room, right?"

Castle studied her thoughtfully and then nodded. "Yes. Okay. We'll do that. I'll get him down to the basement."

"Thank you," she whispered. They hadn't said, one way or another, how long Castle would suffer Hunt's presence, but it all felt like borrowed time. And she wasn't helping the situation. "Can you - would you help me up?"

"Hell, you I am carrying," he growled. He was already scooping her up into his arms before she could protest. She tightened her grip on James, curling in close to Castle, trying to make herself as convenient as possible.

She hadn't meant for him to carry her. But maybe he needed to. As much as she needed him to not leave her alone in their bed tonight after Colin Hunt had fallen into her mouth.

"All right, James in bed first," he said.

"No, let me - let me rock him in our room," she said, asked, pleaded. "We've had a - this day has really sucked for us and I want to hold him. Now that I can."

"Now that you can?"

She swallowed even as Castle switched directions and headed for their bedroom. The grief was welling up in her again, that ache of never being enough, not doing it right, pushing too much. And Colin Hunt was downstairs on her couch, unconscious.

And she didn't know why it bothered her so much. Unsettled. She was unsettled.

"When I was stitching up that knife wound, I couldn't very well console him," she got out.

"Ah," Castle murmured. "All right. Then - all right. Here." He lowered her to their bed and she scooted back with James still cradled like a baby in her arms. "See? He's ready to drop. You stay right here, Kate, hold him. I'll take Hunt down where it's safer for all of us, and when I get back upstairs, I'll tuck James into bed too. Okay?"

She nodded, her son heavy now and growing heavier, his thumb in his mouth. He'd never done that before; she idly pulled it free, wrapping her fingers around his. "Okay," she got out. But when she lifted her head, Castle had already disappeared down the hall.

Kate stared down at James, blinking heavily. His chin was quivering as he squirmed in her arms; he looked like he was going to cry. She sucked in a breath to soothe him, cupping the back of his head and bringing him closer. His eyes were so silver-blue that it made her heart hurt.

Feedback loop.

Wasn't that was Logan had said too? That she and James had this closed system, one feeding off the other. And here was her son, spilling tears for not the first time today, because she was exhausted and heartsick and unable to control herself.

An emotional feedback loop. But how could Hunt possibly know anything about that?

Kate gathered James against her chest, pulling her knees up at his back to surrounded him. She forced herself to calm down, to breathe in the clean scent of James's skin after his bath, to remember the way he'd grinned so enthusiastically with chili in his mouth and the love he had for Sasha, following her around, commanding her help.

James released his fists, a stuttering breath came against her neck.

"You know I love you so much," she whispered, turning her head into him. She softly kissed his cheek, his round ear, brushed across his fluttering eyelid. "Can you feel how much I love you?"

James mouth went slack, his breathing heavy, and now she eased back against the headboard and peered down at his face.

He was asleep, angelic and beautiful, dark lashes like feathers.


Castle grunted when Hunt swayed in the middle of the basement stairs, his body beginning to crumple.

"Hunt. Damn it. Colin Hunt, I will drop you and think nothing of it-"

"Here, I'm here," Hunt garbled. "Shit. You bloody Americans. Go so fast."

Castle ignored him, moving instead to get Hunt down the stairs. He did end up half-carrying the asshole, even though the last thing he wanted to do was help the man. He didn't want to help the man, actually, and the better part of him knew that wasn't okay.

But the better part of him was upstairs in bed and not down here with Hunt breathing like a beast and groaning in his ear at every step.

"Get in here," Castle clipped. He elbowed aside the door and swung Hunt into the panic room, the cool interior a relief.

It always was. Psychological response, he knew, but it still made Castle feel in control again. He hefted Hunt onto the low mattress and laid him out, straightening the man's limbs into something like comfort.

"You've got everything you need down here," Castle started. "Water is here. Food." He laid his hand on the box beside the bed. "And on my phone, I've got video feed into this room. Keep watch over you. If you need something, you can press this over here."

Hunt's eyes followed his movements, noted the provisions and the panic button. Castle showed him the video feed on his phone, saw the two of them down here.

Hunt sighed and Castle closed the feed, pushed the phone back into his pocket. He watched Hunt for a second, and then he stood up, proud of himself for doing no more than being a little indifferent.

Hunt had been - someone they had used in Europe, counted on. Hunt had come through. Castle had to put that forefront of his mind.

"Is... Kate really okay now?" Hunt said from the mattress. "She didn't look so good today."

Castle clenched his fists and pressed his forehead against the doorframe, closed his eyes. Not here, not here, not here.

"That kid of yours was all over her, you know. She didn't seem able to keep up with him."

God, he was going to murder the man. He really was. He couldn't be expected to keep it under control with Colin Hunt sliding barbs in under the already-too-thin skin of his faith in himself.

He'd been paying attention. He was paying attention; he was on top of this, he was taking care of her, he didn't need Hunt to point out how tired she'd gotten today.

"Woman like that should never-"

"If you don't shut your fucking mouth," Castle choked out. He smashed his fist into the cold, reinforced metal of the door and walked right out, slamming it shut again.

His hand was throbbing but at least Colin Hunt wasn't bleeding out from a new and far more accurate wound.

Castle stomped up the basement stairs, calling up the video feed in a fit of masochistic perversion, watching the man on the bed as he shut the basement door.

Passed out on the mattress, evidently unconscious again.

He had kissed-

Castle shook his head, moved through the downstairs, turning off lights and collecting the medical stuff to throw it away, moving James's toys into the dining room where it was usually housed. When he got to the stairs, he took a breath and paused there, glancing back at the couch.

He should sleep down here and keep watch.

Kate hadn't moved away.

Castle scrubbed both hands down his face on a groan. She hadn't moved. He'd walked in the door and she had to have heard him, the alarm disengaging and the door opening, and he'd gone all the way into the foyer and then she had shoved Hunt's face away from her.

How many seconds had that been? Lips to lips. Kate stunned or into it or-

Castle growled and took the stairs up, hating himself and his damn imagination, hating Colin Hunt and his fucking aggressive arrogance, but not her.

Not hating her at all.

Just really fucking soul-sick about her, and how much he still loved her, how he couldn't help but want to tie her up in their bed and prove himself to her - who was better, who was hers, who-

Fuck.

Enough of this.

Castle straightened his spine and moved down the hallway to their bedroom. Kate lifted her head when she saw him, a bleak hope in her eyes that just gutted him out entirely.

"Hey," she said softly. She tilted her head down to James, asleep against her chest. "He's out."

He nodded and came into the room, grateful for a chance to postpone the inevitable. He didn't meet her eyes, just carefully transitioned James into his arms. When he had his sleeping son held against him, he cupped James's skull and kissed the boy's forehead.

Helped. A little. James had done his dogged best to interfere in Kate's attempt to stitch up Colin Hunt, and Castle couldn't help but feel some pride in that. Like the kid knew at all what kind of shitty things were going on inside Hunt's head.

Whatever.

"Say good night, Kate," he whispered.

"I have," she murmured. He glanced up and she had curled up on herself in the bed. "But good night, James."

Castle carried his son out of the room, cradling him, going slowly to keep from waking him up. Sasha had followed him, and she took up her spot in front of the windows, settling down on the bare wood floor where it was coolest.

With James a warm and heavy weight in his arms, he lowered the boy over the crib bars and onto the thin mattress. Elephant was missing, as well as the blanket lovey that James sometimes wanted to cuddle with, and it had been that kind of day - Castle wasn't going to take chances.

Thunder rippled outside the windows, and Sasha lifted her head, glancing towards the summer storm. Castle watched the rain, laying his hand over James's back until he was sure the baby wasn't disturbed by the thunderstorm. Then he headed out of the room and jogged back down the stairs. He searched through the dining room, but the stuffed elephant wasn't in there, sending Castle back out.

He found the soft blanket in James's bag, which had been dumped unceremoniously next to the entry table. Beckett had been in a hurry, no doubt, and she hadn't ever gotten back to it. Castle dumped the bag out, took the tupperware containers into the kitchen and rinsed them out, repacked the bag with fresh stuff for tomorrow.

Even if Kate didn't go back into the Office, if she - shit, if she stayed home to make sure Hunt stayed alive - Castle figured the boy should go to Jim. So another ream of diapers, wipes, the outfit could stay because apparently he hadn't needed it today. Castle cut up a banana and put it into a container, grabbed the little tupperware bowl of mashed sweet potatoes, put those all in the bag.

All right. Enough stalling.

He put the baby's bag by the kitchen door, stood there to survey the living room. Elephant. It only took a second for him to spot the corduroy animal lying forgotten under the coffee table. Castle went in and bent down to scoop it up, hugged it against his chest - right over the snarling wolf tattoo, actually - as he climbed the stairs back to James's bedroom.

Once inside, he leaned an elbow on the top of the crib bars, lowered the elephant to James's side. He trailed his fingers over the baby's back, and then he braced himself and pushed off, heading for their bedroom.

His steps were slow, and he knew he was dreading the conversation she was going to want to have. He wished they could skip that part, just forget this day had happened and start over with it in the morning.

He'd be better in the morning.

When he moved into the bedroom, the light was off and she was on her side in bed, covers pulled up. The storm had turned violent outside, lightning flashing every few seconds, thunder, the lash of rain against the house. Castle sighed and unbuttoned his pants, disappointed in himself when he remembered how Hunt's knife wound had required the same.

Shit.

He folded his pants and laid them over the chair, stripping off his dress shirt. He'd inspect his clothes tomorrow, see if there was any blood, take them to the dry cleaner with hers.

Castle rubbed his forehead and put a knee on the mattress, lowered himself to the bed. Lightning flashed in front of his eyes, illuminating Kate's hunched back and the sudden shake of her shoulders even as he reached out for her. The storm was pelting the windows, loud out there, and so it had masked the sounds he should have noticed first thing.

Kate was crying. Had been crying.

"Oh, love," he whispered, drawing her back against his chest. She pulled on his arm and tucked his hand under her chin, and he felt the wet slick of her tears at her neck. "Kate, honey-"

"No, I'm okay," she husked. "Just stupid."

He sighed and pressed his mouth into her bare shoulder, tucked in closer to her. "Wanna tell me?"

"Just - gone a long time," she whispered.

"I was repacking James's bag," he murmured, hating himself now. "I'm sorry. I had to run downstairs and get his elephant, afraid the storm would wake him."

"Oh." She moved back a little more, taking a rough breath that had a few more tears in it.

"Were you - waiting on me?" Of course she'd been waiting on him. How could he have thought she would fall asleep?

She still had her face against her pillow, her lips occasionally brushing his knuckles. "You said you might - might sleep downstairs."

"Fuck," he swore, suddenly so weary. He couldn't do a fucking thing right any more. "I took too long. I'm not sleeping down there, apart from you. Wasn't even - I only said it because I couldn't see any other way to be sure the house would stay secure. It's not like I want to be down there alone."

She was nodding, but it didn't feel like this was over, didn't feel like he'd made her feel better. She'd been crying. He really fucking hoped it wasn't crying over him.

Castle slid his other arm under her pillow to pull her even closer, tightening his arm at her torso. He shifted his thigh up between her knees, wanting her pressed to him, wanting to somehow give her the strength that her weariness had sapped from her today.

When his knee came between hers, she gave a choked noise and lowered her fingers to his knee, clutching. Castle concentrated on slowing his heart and calming his still-frustrated anger, keeping it together when she couldn't.

Her tears were fresh again, and she kept lifting her hand from his to wipe at her cheeks, coming back to his wet. "Sorry," she husked. "Sorry, I just-"

"It's okay," he interrupted. "It's okay, it's okay."

"It's not okay," she choked. "It's not. It's-"

"No, love, don't. It's okay because I say it's okay. It's okay to be tired, to have a bad day, to feel things-" Not for fucking Hunt, but he he kept that back, kept his voice soft. "Because we're made richer for it. We have a good life together, a beautiful life together, love, and it's due to that passion and compassion in you-"

Kate sucked in a sob, strangling it, he knew, because she absolutely hated to cry. He hated it too, but if she needed to just - just cry it out - then he wanted to be what she needed to feel safe.

Hunt had kissed her, and she had been frozen there, but that was nothing compared to their life together, compared to the epic - epic - reach of his love for her - and hers for him.

She was quiet now, but still crying, a slow leak of tears. He tightened his arms around her and rubbed his thumb under her ear, catching the wetness, making it disappear into the mattress.

"It's okay," he murmured. "I promise it's okay. Whatever you need. It will be so much better in the morning."

Outside their windows, the storm settled down into a heavy rain, a constant drum against the house, gutters filling and washing it away.

After a long time, Kate turned in his arms and clutched his shirt, buried her face in against his shoulder.

She fell asleep in the middle of her tears, and he slowly, softly, dried them with his thumb.

He promised himself it would be better tomorrow. No matter what he had to do.


Beckett woke slowly, disoriented by the darkness in the room and the sense of heaviness in her head. Her arms were pinned, her hips ached, and she turned her head only to find that Castle was on top of her.

Awake.

She blinked through the sensation of confusion and lifted her arm out between their bodies, touched his face with her fingers.

He shifted and she took in a deeper breath, surprised, but she twined her arm around his neck and came with him as he rolled. His arms were around her, he was stroking her hair, fingers against her neck and tickling.

"Didn't mean to wake you," he whispered. "James needed to be changed."

She grunted, almost a laugh. "Time is it?" she husked.

"Nearly five, still raining outside."

She laid her cheek against his shoulder, tried to keep her eyes open. They had time, a few hours anyway, and she would fall asleep she thought. If he didn't say anything. If it continued on like this, drowsy with the rain in the gutters and the shush of tires on asphalt outside.

And his fingers in her hair.

Soft strokes, soothing, straightening, curling around his thumb to brush the ends at her skin. She let him, let herself, tried to release the confusion in the solid sense of him under her.

The snarling wolf was on his other side, and she pressed her fingertips to the fanged teeth, the sharp lines, smoothing up and over the ink, around and around. But not covering it. Letting it snarl.

"Remember what I said?" he murmured suddenly. His own fingers didn't stop in her hair, and she didn't hear any condemnation. Maybe sadness, a struggle just as she struggled.

To get past this.

"What you said when?" she answered.

"When I got this."

Her hand curled up on his chest, resting just below his ribs. "You said it was a reminder."

"Yes," he sighed. "It's reminding me now."

"Of?"

"What's most important. What I - what I'd do for you, Kate. Not just in Paris or Colonge or a too-small room with my father looming over us, but here too. In our own house, in our bed, in my heart. What I would do to keep you."

She used to believe there was no keeping, that she wasn't a woman to be kept. But Castle - with Castle there was keeping.

She was supposed to be keeping him too.

Kate spread her fingers out and covered the tattoo, flattening her palm to the ink until the snarling wolf had disappeared - under her hand.

Castle brought his up to hers and covered it, his heart beating a little fast, his fingers gripping hers. She wanted to make love to him, she wanted to not feel so tired, she wanted him to move back over her and hold her down, keep her too.

Kate flexed her arm and he seemed to hear her unspoken longing. He rolled right on top of her and buried his face in her neck, a shuddering breath, their hands still trapped at his chest.

She stroked her thumb as if petting the wolf, the wild of him, knowing that even as she did, she was asking to get bitten.

Castle's mouth opened at her neck and his teeth sank into her skin, sucking. She moaned, stunned but not surprised, her arm tightening around him, her hips nudging his.

He flicked his tongue over the mark and gripped her hand at his chest, squeezed hard, then slowly pushed her arm over her head, holding her down.

He lifted his gaze to hers, and she saw the untamed in him, and her heart exalted.