Close Encounters 23


Kate grunted and came awake when Castle drew her blood. She blinked to push sleep away, struggled for a moment when she couldn't orient, and then she stopped, understanding again.

Just the plan. They were following the plan.

Black was standing there beside the bed, watching. He gave her a long look. "How do you feel, Katherine?"

She swallowed, tried to give that some thought, tried to figure out what was the best thing to tell Black. Truth or not? "I feel - tired. Chelation makes me tired."

He nodded. Seemed to be what he'd expected.

"I feel better without it," she kept going. She didn't say why, that it was her son's own mitochondrial extraction that was reviving her. "I feel better when we're not doing the chelation."

Black regarded her sagely. "Well, you know that's because the very point of chelation is to strip minerals out of your body. It's going to get the good as well as the bad, Katherine. That won't feel good."

"But it feels really bad," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"I know," Black said. "Much like chemotherapy, sometimes the cure is as bad as the condition."

Castle grunted, and she opened her eyes - she could tell he didn't appreciate that kind of parallel. She held his gaze, made him back down with a quelling look. They had to sell this, make Black think Castle was that close to desperation that he'd do whatever it took to keep Black here to save Kate.

It kept her safe; it kept them all safe.

"All right," Black said then, taking the vial of her blood. He kept saying he needed half a liter for these tests - nearly a whole bag - but Castle always refused. "I'll get right on this, start the machine. We'll see what's going on, Katherine."

Castle gave her a look, disdain and arrogance that really didn't look good on him, even if it was directed at his father. She caught his fingers, wincing when the gauze at her elbow folded over with her movement. "Don't," she murmured to him.

Don't blow our cover.

His face reformed; he nodded and leaned in, kissed her forehead. "Anything for you, Kate. Even this."

She felt her lips curling into a smile, scratched at his six-day beard. "You feel good," she murmured. "Stay right here. Make him think I'm dying."

"That's not funny," he growled at her. His cheek brushed roughly against hers.

"It's only a ruse," she promised. She wasn't dying now; she couldn't. She absolutely couldn't. They had years and years and they had a son who was in New York who hadn't even really gotten to know them.

"It better be a ruse," he muttered. "Holding you to that, Kate."

"Hold away," she said, smiling against his stubbled cheek. "Promise me you won't shave when we get home?"

"Won't?" he grunted. "Why not?"

"I like it. And I can't exactly - um - do anything about it right now."

"You can't do-" Castle choked off, burying the laugh into her shoulder as he crouched over her at the bed. "You absolutely are forbidden from being dirty, Kate Rodgers."

She grinned, tried to keep it from lighting up the whole room and so giving them away. "Forbidden? That sounds rather-"

"If you say naughty, I'm going to lose it."

She ached trying to hold in the laughter. But at least the blood machine was already humming, drowning out their words, masking their familiarity, their laughter. She stroked the back of his neck with her fingers and angled his head so that his cheek was against hers once more.

"You like that?" he murmured, rubbing his jaw against hers now. A shiver ran through her and he laughed, sounding so pleased with himself.

She scratched at his roughened cheeks. "Go watch him," she said. "See what he says about it."

They'd already done the tests themselves, right before Mitchell had left. They knew what the bloodwork was supposed to say.

Castle let out a little sigh of resignation and brushed a kiss to that spot below her ear, just 'happening' to scrape his scruff against her as well. She smiled at him as he stood up, towering above her - why was it that Castle always looked so damn dominating when she was flat on her back?

Castle moved to the station they had set up near the kitchen bar. The counter stretched out into the open space, neatly bisecting it, and two stools had been pulled up. Black sat on one, adjusting the screen's display on the machine.

It only took minutes; it was a newer model that Mitchell had procured for them, dumping all their stolen medical equipment before they had crossed the border.

Kate shifted onto her side, being careful of the IV still in her arm; she had another few hours like this, and she really was exhausted, despite having felt marginally better before now. She nudged her cheek into the pillow and watched the two of them at the counter, waiting.

She could see the moment that Black comprehended the results.

It wasn't like he stiffened up - no, Black never allowed his body to tell on him. It was just the so-very-smooth way he lifted his head and looked to Castle.

"Well. Well," he said again, slowly. "Her potassium levels are - quite high."

Fuck yeah, they were, she thought. They were supposed to be high - just so she could survive the damn chelation. At least, that was their theory. Only thing that made sense. The PK pump which controlled how much water was allowed in her cells was apparently vital to this whole process.

"Which isn't good," Black continued. "That looks very close to toxicity to me. We'll see what the chelation can do for her."

Black gave Castle a sober look, as if he had bad news. He put his hand on Castle's shoulder.

"Son. I just don't know. This kind of level... see for yourself. See this spike here? That's the potassium. We're going to have to keep a close eye on that."

Kate buried her smile into the pillow. A close eye? Yeah, look at that. Black was so not happy that she was recovering. He was lying so fast that it didn't even look sincere.

But Castle grimaced and nodded, selling it, and Kate felt the exhaustion washing over her.

She wished Logan and Threkeld had decided she could stop the chelation too. But they thought it was actually helping.

Even as the darkness began to steal over her, she was confident this time.

Confident she would wake up again.


She missed her son.

She was aware enough now, strong enough, to find a pattern to the hours, and for those hours to shape slowly into night or day, and then for those periods of light and dark to mean days of the week.

She was aware and she took note of them carefully, storing the hours in her head as if they were all debit transactions in the bank of her relationship to her son. Her connection.

She needed him. He touched something in her that was innocent, and unconditional, and Castle was there too, already there, but Castle was everything else as well, and all-consuming, while her connection with James was easy and beautiful and familiar.

Strange, but she'd begun to think of her family as a presence, as a force inside her, each with their own light in the dark cosmos of her soul. James was there, he was always warmth in her heart, but the light was dim and she needed it back, strong, steady.

It wasn't his fault she was stuck halfway across the world and he was forgetting her. It wasn't his fault she was so good at keeping things in their neat boxes.

She was an expert at building breakwalls between the powerful currents of her emotional ocean, damming up the floods, channeling the anger or love or strength into the places where she needed them to go. But Castle - he was uncontained, unwilling to be walled off - from the very beginning. She was finding that James had crept into that same category through stealthier means, diffusing across her psyche until he filled all the cracks in her walls, support instead of tidal-wave-destruction.

Castle was still a tsunami; he always would be. But she craved it, needed it, being washed clean by the way he loved.

James was everything else and she needed her son, needed to see him, now more than ever with his blood's chemistry mixing with her own.

She shifted slowly in the red chair and drew a knee up to her chest, frowning when she realized she'd have to get up and go to the bathroom again - eight bottles of water a day was ridiculous - but she didn't move just yet.

Sitting here put her in Castle's line of sight the moment the door opened and he came back inside, his hair windblown and his eyes as violently blue as the storm-sky outside.

"Beckett," he said, closing the door and locking it. He had a scowl on his face, which either meant his meet with Mitchell hadn't happened or his frustration with her was back at fever pitch. Black was on the blood machine at the bar stool pulled up to the counter, and he tossed Castle a quick look as if to say, don't blame me.

"I feel good," she told him. "Better today than yesterday." She hadn't wanted to be lying down with Black in here, alone. She'd told Castle to go ahead, but she wasn't so confident that she wanted to be flat on her back alone with him.

She'd had the last of James's infusions today - this morning before Castle had left - and maybe it was all in her head, maybe so, but she thought it was working. Of course the chelation therapy was going to make her feel run over tomorrow, so she was worried about what happened next.

No more vials of the infusion. She was dreading the next few days.

"Why are you up?" he asked. "It's four in the morning."

It was? She'd thought four in the afternoon; her circadian rhythms were off then, still off. She'd checked her phone for the time, but apparently the a.m. part hadn't registered. She should set the clock to military time so she'd always know. Damn it. She was already starting off on a bad foot with him then, not even knowing how early it was.

"But I feel awake," she told him. "And I had some food, drank water. I wanted to get out of the bed, starting to hurt lying down."

Castle relented, just like that, his frustration melting away into a kind of little-boy pleading as he came to her in the chair. She lifted her hand to him and he took it, but he sank to her feet and leaned his shoulder against the leg of the chair.

She saw he had a clear line of sight to his father though.

"Only for a while, Kate. You were - bad yesterday."

"I know. I felt bad," she murmured. Her fingers slipped through his hair and combed it at his ears where it was getting shaggy. He leaned into her touch and she knew there was no time like now. "But not today. Better today. Can we video chat with my dad?"

"Is that why you got up early?" he murmured.

She grimaced; she hadn't even considered the time difference. If it really had been four in the afternoon, it would have been morning there, an idea time to see James. But four in the morning her time meant late evening for her father, who might have already put James to bed.

"I want to call and let him see my face," she said. "Let him believe it's working. And - and James..."

Castle stiffened and sat up, glanced at her, but he also cast a swift look towards his father, wary. "I want to - see him." His eyes came back to her, troubled. "But."

"I don't - even care," she admitted. "I just want to see him."

Castle let out a huge breath, relief washing through him like a deluge, his forehead bowing briefly to her clasped hands. "Me too, me too," he incanted. "I want to see him."

She bit the inside of her cheek, wishing she'd brought it up sooner. In her darkest moments, she'd been afraid he was too angry, too grieved to want to to see his son. When she was smarter about it, she thought maybe he was just being protective, not wanting Black to know a thing about James. "Castle, call my dad."

At that, he lifted his head, determination striking his features, and he pulled out his phone. Castle looked better than he had in days.

She was pretty sure she did too.

She would get to see her son.


Castle carried his wife out to the balcony and they sat in the hard iron chairs for the call. The morning light showed her up, but it also highlighted the curl of her hair around her face and the life in her eyes.

Jim would know she'd been sick, but the image of recovery was painted in broad, forgiving strokes.

When the call went through and connected, the screen jostled as Kate reached for it, her fingers brushing James's face. The boy was still up; Jim hadn't put him to bed yet. Castle pushed in close so that they could both be seen, though more importantly, so that he could hold her up if she needed the support. The phone wobbled against the ceramic pot they'd propped it up against, but it held.

"Katie, Rick, glad to see your faces," Jim said roughly. His eyes looked strained, but James seemed content to chew on a green rubber frog in his grandfather's lap.

"Good to see you too, Dad," Kate answered.

James dropped his toy, staring at the screen, and then he lunged for it, hands at the laptop before Jim could wrestle him back. The boy made love to the screen, mouth and teeth and tongue, and Kate was laughing, laughing so hard that Castle had to tighten his hold on her.

"Hey, baby," she said, over and over. "Hey, James. Let Papa hold you. Don't eat the screen."

"He's doing 'kisses', sorry," Jim said, angling the laptop again so they could see him. He held James against his chest in a bear hold, but James was obviously enthralled by the picture of his parents that moved and talked to him.

"Kisses?" Kate said.

"Yeah, here. James. Hey, James. Kisses. Kiss-" And then Jim got an open mouthed slobber on his chin where James came in. The boy pulled back looking absolutely so proud.

"Oh, that's-" Kate's voice hitched and Castle reached across to grip her upper arm, hanging on to her. She smiled at him, then back to the phone. "James. Were you giving us kisses?"

James broke out into a babble, squirming hard in his grandfather's arms, obviously trying to reach them. Jim clamped another arm around him and spoke into his ear, soothing him in some quiet way that they didn't even know.

They didn't even know.

Kate shifted and Castle realized he was gripping her too tightly; it took an effort to release his fingers. "He looks good," he murmured to her.

"He hasn't forgotten us," she whispered.

"Of course not-"

"Okay, sorry about that, guys. James has - he's been missing you. I might, uh, I might take him to your place. If this is... going on much longer."

Kate's face broke. "I'm sorry it's been so - messed up. Take him - yeah - anywhere you need to. He might be homesick for his bed and toys."

"And his parents," Jim said roughly. He shook his head then, gave them a firm smile. "You just work on getting better. How're you doing?"

"Better," she said, nodding. But Jim's eyes went to Castle.

"She is," Castle promised. "Did Logan say anything to you?"

"Just that they sent you guys some supplies - some medicine."

"Basically," Castle said. "They used cultures from - uh - from James. Helped them make something to help Kate."

"And the toxic part?"

"It's slowly getting stripped out," Kate said. "And the damage that was done - that's what James's help is all about."

"Because he's - augmented," Jim said.

Augmented. There was a word for it. "Yeah," Kate answered, before Castle could even step around the emotional bomb that was augmented.

"You know he's hitting eighth-month milestones," Jim said softly. "In a few months - he'd be strong enough to walk."

Walk? James was six months old. He-

"Yeah, I thought so too," Kate sighed. Her fingers skimmed the phone again and it tilted precariously. Castle reached out and caught it before it could tip backwards. She pushed both her hands into her lap as Castle repositioned it.

"And his language is progressing. It's just sounds, but they seem to be attached to specific things."

"Naming things?" Kate murmured. It hit him too, that they were missing his first words, his life, out here on a balcony in Cologne as Kate struggled to sit up straight for an hour.

"I don't know if it's true words yet," Jim said, giving James a rueful look. "But he likes to say things. He holds whole conversations alone in his crib. He definitely can entertain himself."

Kate let out a long breath, and her head dropped against Castle's shoulder. "Thank you, Dad."

Jim glanced up at them again. "Hey, don't worry about us, Katie. We're doing just fine. He'll be happy to have you home, but you gotta make it home first. You hear me?"

"I hear you." She ran her fingers over the image of James still squirming in Jim's arms, and Castle just gave up and held the phone so she could.

"Rick. You do what you have to do so you both get back here."

"Yes, sir."

"Son," he warned, shaking a finger. "None of that sir business."

Castle nodded tightly, felt Kate's mouth pushed against his shoulder in a kiss. "Thanks, Jim."

"Now, let's see if we can't get James to give some more kisses. Without wrecking my computer. James, hey buddy, see Mommy and Daddy?"

James stopped wriggling so hard and turned to look where Jim was pointing. He clapped his hands together and leaned forward again, a nosedive towards them, and Kate laughed, drew the phone closer to her.

They went through a few rounds of kissing before James started yawning and rubbing his eyes. Jim patted his back and said something about bedtime, but then James twisted in his grandfather's arms and reached for Kate.

Hands out, pleading in his eyes, and Kate sucked in a pained breath beside him.

Jim's face shadowed as James began to whimper; her father leaned in to the laptop, cradling James like a baby against his chest. "Love you guys. I'm going to put him to bed. Bye."

And just as Jim shut the laptop, Castle could hear the sharp, pitiful cry of their son calling for her.

"Fuck," Kate moaned.

Just like that, everything felt a hundred times worse.