Castle accompanies her back to her apartment after she calls into work from his bed, apologizing for the late notice, but earning the day without much protest from the commissioner. He had made pancakes during her phone call, created her a plate with fruit forming a smile and a cup of coffee steaming on the breakfast bar. If her body hadn't been so ravenous with hunger, she would have dragged him back to bed.
She had stepped up behind him in the kitchen instead, pressed her mouth to his bare shoulder and sealed her gratitude into his skin.
"Should I pack a bag?" Kate asks, knowing he's not far behind as she strides into her bedroom. He had asked her to come home last night, but she's unsure if the words had been a request to move back in right away, or if he preferred a gradual process, akin to how she had come to live with him during their engagement.
She drifts inside her closet, closes her fingers around the strap of a duffel bag, but Castle steps in beside her, reaches down for the larger suitcase tucked beneath the rows of clothes instead.
"For now," he replies, rolling the luggage out into the cramped space of her closet. "Until we can move everything back, if you actually want to move back in, that is. We can wait until after Christmas since the loft is packed with the decorations and the tree and-"
"If I want to move back in?" she echoes, snagging the edge of his jacket and tugging herself into him. "It's not even a question, Rick."
The corners of his lips twitch upwards, the hints of hesitation evaporating beneath the beginnings of a smile. "Didn't want to be too presumptuous."
"When it comes to this, you can be," she murmurs, a little too vehement in her insistence, but she's given him so much reason to doubt her; she doesn't want him doubting this. "Wherever you are… that's where I want to be."
The broad width of his shoulders rustles her blouses, her coats, as he nudges the suitcase out of his way and comes for her, enveloping her body in his arms and burying his face in her neck. They stand that way, in the narrow entryway to her closet with Castle's arms secure around her torso, his breathing rough against her throat, long enough to have concern swirling through her chest.
"I'll start packing," Kate mumbles, brushing a kiss to his temple and sliding her hands down from the rounded bones of his shoulders to soothe the tense muscles of his biceps. She squeezes the subtle bulge, far more solid than she had remembered. "Have you been working out?"
A startled laugh whisks through her hair, but oh, there - his muscle flexes beneath her fingers, the strength swelling under her touch.
"I'm a little offended that you didn't notice until now," Castle scoffs, drawing back to meet her eyes with a smirk teasing along his lips.
"Oh, I noticed last night." She arches on the toes of her boots to nip at the smug curve of his mouth, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and bracing her hands at his chest, spanning her fingers out to appreciate the sturdy wall of his sternum, the firm pectorals, beneath her palms. "Shaping up, Castle?"
His chest rumbles with amusement, the cool tip of his nose pressing to her cheek before she can drop back to the soles of her shoes.
"Had a lot of time on my hands," he muses, diverting his eyes from her, allowing his gaze to roam the crammed racks of her clothing instead. "I had this stupid idea that if I was physically stronger, I could do a better job of protecting you. Are those my shirts?"
Rick shuffles past her, soft delight shimmering in his eyes as he finds her stash of his t-shirts, a button up she had always favored, and even a pair of his boxers that she'd taken to using for pajama shorts.
"You left me one of your shirts," he recalls, dusting his fingers over the faded superhero t-shirt folded atop the small stack. "The ratty NYPD one you always wore, your favorite."
"Because I'd planned to come back for it," she informs him, finally gaining the return of his attention. "And your physicality had nothing to do with why I left, you know that."
"Yeah, but really, Beckett, I was an unreliable partner. You needed someone who could have your back, not another civilian to look out for, and I-"
"Stop it," she hisses, surprising them both with the hot burst of indignation flaring through the two syllables, but to hear him degrade his importance to her, to devalue his place in their partnership, slices her chest wide open, has all of her healing wounds vulnerable and aching. "You have always had my back. Don't you dare try to sell yourself short."
"Why? You obviously did," he mutters back at her, dropping his hand to his side.
"You think I didn't trust you with my safety?" she demands, advancing on him in the confined space, trapping him against her shoe rack. "That I thought you wouldn't have my back?"
"Not enough to tell me the truth," he growls, glowering at her. "You thought you were protecting me by keeping me in the dark about LockSat, I get it, but if I was better at defending myself, then maybe you wouldn't have felt the need to."
"Do you hear yourself?" she snaps, exasperated, scraping a hand through her hair. "Rick, it had nothing to do with your strength or your capability to defend yourself, to defend me. You'd already proven to me, time and time again, how capable you are of handling yourself in bad situations."
"Then there was no reason for you to-"
"Do you remember what Smith said to me a few years ago?" Beckett murmurs before this conversation can advance any further, watching his brow knit with the question. "When we met him in that parking lot while we were on the run, right before we arrested Bracken?"
Concentration tugs his brow down further, fills his eyes with the frantic search through his memories, but Kate saves him the trouble.
"He said I was radioactive, that I couldn't even help myself, let alone anyone else," she recites, the words that had stung and then stayed during their brief meeting with Smith in the shadows of a parking garage. "And he was right. Just being with me puts your life at risk."
"Fuck what Smith said," Castle growls, confidence climbing his spine, settling in his shoulders. "You're not radioactive, Kate. Never once have you stood down when you know there's been a blatant act of injustice, you fight for the truth, and it's one of the reasons I fell in love with you in the first place."
She squares her jaw to maintain her ever-wavering composure, grits her teeth when he snags one of her hands, brushes his thumb over the band of her wedding ring.
"But I promised to stand with you, to fight every battle at your side, not hang back while you do all the work. You have a problem, I have a problem, that's how this goes," he reminds her, coaxing her deeper into the closet, to him, by the thread of their fingers. "You're not poison, Kate Beckett, you… you don't let go, you never back down, that's who you are, and it's what makes you extraordinary."
"Rick," she chokes, the flash of memory so bright, the echo of those words so strong, she can barely breathe past it.
"And I'm proud of who you are. Proud to call you my wife, my partner-"
"Partners," Kate picks up, tightening the tangle of their fingers and holding onto the intense burn of his gaze. "No more going rogue, Castle. I promise."
Rick's arm winds around her shoulders, hugs her to his chest and rubs her back when her breath leaves her lips in trembles. So many who have come into contact with her have suffered, fallen victim to the radioactive venom she seems to exude with every breath, but Castle had always been immune to her toxicity. There had been close calls, so many close calls, but his heart still beat beneath her ear, his lungs still expanded with oxygen. And even if he was wrong, even if she was a rare form of poison, perhaps Castle could be her antidote.
The wheels of her suitcase rumble along the hardwood floors and Kate parks the luggage beside the door, still needing to go back for the extra overnight bag she had filled, but her eye catches on Castle in the petite eating area just off from the stove and the fridge. The place had become a decent hideaway, but she wouldn't miss the depressing grey walls, the appliances that sometimes gave out on her and the maintenance man who rarely replied to her requests for assistance; she wouldn't miss the lack of space or the underwhelming view of the brick wall outside her windows. She hated this apartment, hated every moment she spent self-imprisoned inside of it, and she can't wait to leave.
She abandons her suitcase and moves to join Rick at her pitiful kitchen table, hunched over the excuse for a dining space, studying. He doesn't acknowledge her presence as she peers over his shoulder, unable to recall what she could have left on the table that would garner such intrigue.
"What're you reading?" The question is already past her lips before her eyes can follow his gaze, register on the papers she had left splayed across the cheap dining table the night she had called him over two weeks ago now. The divorce papers. "Castle."
He lifts the papers from the table, stacks the thin sheets together neatly, and then rips them in two.
"Rick-"
"No, there's no need for them anymore," he protests, allowing the shreds to slip from his fingers, float to the floor. "There was never any need for them in the first place."
They had spent their first wedding anniversary apart, technically, and then the second too. He had served her with the divorce papers before they could reach a third, and she had ended up smearing the ink with her pitiful tears. Divorce had never even been an option and she had slammed the door on the idea any time it had attempted to enter her mind. Never once had she wanted to divorce the love of her life, but she had made him wait four years prior to all of this, she couldn't be upset when he had refused to wait for a second time around.
"Yes, there was," she argues, watching his eyes widen with horror, and Kate quickly grabs hold of his elbows, tugs his body forward before he can step back.
For the first couple of months, they had kept an odd, sometimes platonic and sometimes not, marriage in tact. Twenty months spent in a sublet had followed, in an uncomfortable bed without her husband by her side, scattered with strained phone calls and painful run-ins at the precinct, until their communications tapered off into nothing but silence.
Until those divorce papers arrived with her mail. Silence was no longer an option after that.
"Those papers forced me to make a move. It took me awhile, longer than it should have, but they forced me to stop being a coward, to call you that night and ask you to meet me. Allowing me as much time as you did was merciful, Rick, and I'm grateful I won't have to sign away our marriage, but some good did come of those documents."
"I hate that the idea of divorcing you was ever documented," he sighs, glancing down to the torn legal papers with a frown carved deep into his mouth. "I couldn't even read them over, it made me sick-"
"We're not getting a divorce," she whispers, because they both need to hear it. "We're not separated. I'm with you. I love you and I'm not going anywhere."
"No," he agrees, glancing over her shoulder to the suitcases near the exit. "Except home."
The darkness recedes, the idiotic grin claims his lips and rising to infect his eyes with light, and Kate digs her fingertips into his elbows to lead him towards the waiting luggage.
"Yeah, and I'm ready, so you can take the first suitcase down and I'll bring the rest."
"Why do I get the heavy one?" he whines, putting on a show as he assesses the hefty black travel case with disdain. "I'll throw my back out trying to get that thing down the stairs."
She releases his arms, dusts her hands down his sides to graze his backside instead. "I'll give you a massage later."
His adam's apple bobs and Rick reaches past her for the suitcase, extending the handle and bumping the front door open with his hip, making a production of hauling it down the hallway with a great deal of effort. She bites her lip to conceal the chuckle as she hears him thumping his way down the stairs.
Her bags are in his bedroom, most of her clothes back in place in his closet, her makeup on the en suite's vanity, her bath products in the shower. It's been a day and she's practically moved back into the loft.
"Kate," he calls from the living room and she straightens from her position in the bathroom doorway, shaking free of her assessment of their bedroom, appreciating the sight of all of her things back where they belong.
The smell of popcorn is in the air, the sounds of Sinatra filling her ears, growing louder as she starts for the living room, a grin lacing along her lips. Castle had unboxed Christmas decorations while she had unpacked, swearing he wouldn't start without her, even though she wouldn't mind. Nothing has gone back to the way it used to be, but they've managed to find a new way home, to rekindle the fire that had never gone out, and it has a sense of magic, stronger than the kind Christmas can bring, sprinkling through her veins.
Their life together is different than it had been before, but she's beginning to believe that now, it may have the potential to be even better.
"Have I mentioned that we're getting a pre-lit tree next year?" Castle grumbles from the top of a stepladder as she comes through his office doorway to find him balancing near the top of their Christmas tree, half of the massive cord of lights wound through the branches, the rest tangled around him.
"Yes, but you're doing quite the impressive job on your own," she muses, earning a glare through the array of pine needles. "If you would have waited, I'd have helped you."
"I wanted to spare you," he huffs, creating another lap of lights around the circumference of limbs. They'll have to go back, straighten the winding path of cords once he's done, but he's making steady progress, already halfway finished. "There's cocoa on the counter, and popcorn."
"I know," she chuckles, heading for the beverage still steaming with warmth. "Did you use Alexis's secret recipe?"
"Maybe," he admits between grunts of effort. "I may have also added my own personal touches."
Kate sips at her hot chocolate, appreciating the hint of cinnamon, and works to properly arrange the toy train set that makes him light up like a little boy. It whistles with her success, journeying on its railroad tracks around the perimeter of the table behind the couch, while he finishes with the tree, descends the steps of the ladder with a sigh of relief. The traces of exhaustion clear from his eyes as he approaches the boxes of ornaments, the piles of shimmering tinsel, and it feels magical, to share this experience with him again, to take part in one of his treasured traditions. A family tradition.
"Is your mom busy today?" she inquires, fiddling with one of the golden Santas that stand sentinel on either side of the tree, wiping away a smear of imaginary dust.
Castle's eyes flicker up to see her, a question in the smile that twitches at the corners of his mouth. "She mentioned something about a cast dinner this evening, so she's most likely preparing for that. Why?"
"I just thought… doesn't she usually help when we decorate?"
"My mother's version of helping us decorate is supervising, in which she stands at a near distance and points with her wineglass towards what needs fixing."
Ah, now that she thinks about it… Martha didn't have a very active role the last time they had furbished the loft with Christmas décor.
"But she helped with those little winter village arrangements you used to put out on the tables, and hung a few ornaments on the tree," Kate recalls aloud. "Can we save a few spots for her to fill?"
Rick places the vibrant red stocking with Alexis's name embroidered in gold back into the box he had drawn it from, abandons his rifling through the storage containers to approach her and the toy train making circles on its tracks around the glittering white tablecloth.
"And we should call Alexis, invite her over to help with the tree," Kate suggests, staring down at the handmade angel smiling up at her from a box near her feet. "If you think she'd be okay with-"
"I'll call her," he interrupts, purposefully, pressing a fleeting kiss to her cheek and starting for the kitchen, retrieving his phone from the counter and scrolling through his contacts for his daughter's name. "And I'm sure she'll be happy to come."
"Not if you mention I'm here," she mutters, huffing when a piece of popcorn bounces off of her shoulder.
"Alexis, hey Pumpkin," she listens to him greet only moments later, but Kate refuses to tear her eyes from the opened boxes of decorations in front of her, attempting to channel her nerves into sorting through the differing styles of ornaments instead.
Today has been damn near perfect; she's home, covering the first floor of the loft in Christmas decorations, and she's happy, so blissfully happy during a time that has always caused the hollow spot in her heart to ache with well-known sorrow. The last thing she wants is to cut short the joy of all the progress she's made with her husband by ending up in a stalemate with his daughter.
Fixing her marriage with Castle meant more than mending her relationship with the man himself, she's known that. He was a package deal, as he'd always been, and she's managed to regain acceptance from his mother, but Alexis will be an entirely different story. She doesn't think his daughter will want to mend any fences today and Kate can't find a single reason to blame her.
"Okay, so see you in an hour? No, you don't have to bring anything. Most of the decorations are already here at the loft. Yep, sounds great. Love you too, bye."
Kate caresses a gleaming red ball, swipes her thumb over the streaks of glitter swirling across the surface, mimicking the winter winds outside.
"We're going to be fine," Castle murmurs from behind her, grazing his knuckles down the ladder of her spine beneath the deep red sweater she had changed into during their stop at her place. Her best attempt to be 'festive'. "I promise."
"Don't make promises," she sighs, reaching back to steal his hand away from her back, drag it around to twine with hers at her stomach. "Not those kinds."
"But other kinds?"
The smile rises unbidden to her lips, stretching at the touch of his cheek to hers, the wall of his chest supporting her back.
"I don't even want to know what you mean by that," she mumbles, sweeping her eyes over the tree taking up all the space in the room, roped with lights, lacking ornaments.
"The good kind," he shrugs at her back, even though she's hardly listening to him speaking nonsense in her ear. "I can promise you that no matters what happens when my daughter gets here, that this tree will be decorated by the end of the night. That after we're done, I'll take you to bed, wake up with you in the morning so I can see you off to work, make sure you have your coffee."
He pauses, expects her interruption, but Kate only tilts her head further into his, relishes in the delicious burn of his stubble against her cheek each time he speaks, savors the words that fall out.
"I can promise you a great Christmas, a joyful beginning to the new year," he continues, his voice dropping to that soft, earnest tone that tends to soothe, calm, complete her. "Can also promise you a couple of kids and a long life together too, if you want."
She chokes on her laugh, feels his grin broaden beneath her cheek.
"These are the kinds of promises I could be on board with," she chuckles, untangling from his arms to push a kiss to his mouth, a little harder, more desperate, than she had intended, but the fact that he was willing to make her promises at all, after everything… she was grateful. "And Castle?"
Rick lets her go, but quirks his brow in acknowledgement as he starts back towards the tree, the lights still darkened, waiting to shine. He bends beneath the bristling edges of pine needles to connect the extension cord near the bright red tree stand, follows the path of the forest green wire to plug it into the outlet.
"That last part," she murmurs. "I want it."
The Christmas lights come to life, illuminating the tree with gold, but Castle doesn't spare the magnificent sight in the middle of his living room a second glance. He's looking at her.