Close Encounters 6

Her father was on the front porch waiting for them; she'd called ahead to warn him once they were only a few miles away. He had one arm propped on the post, his hip at the railing, leaning into it like he was casual and easy-going.

He was easy-going; she hadn't been wrong about that. But she was apprehensive about this meeting. Castle meant something to her father as well, and the grief of losing that possible future had struck him too. She'd seen it on his face at the funeral, felt it in the way he'd kept his distance afterwards. She'd known, peripherally, that he was there and that she could lean on him, but he'd given her space and crawled back to his own home to lick his own wounds.

Neither of them were any good at grieving. She figured this was something they might have to revisit, figure out. But not today.

Castle came to the bottom of the porch steps and waited even as Kate climbed the stairs; she paused and turned only halfway up, glanced back at Rick as he stayed still. When nothing was said and nobody moved, she looked to her father.

He swallowed and dropped the arm from the railing, put his hands on his hips. Still he said nothing.

"Sir," Castle said quietly.

It had been Jim. When Castle had come up to the cabin to heal from his knife wounds, they'd gotten close. She felt her chest squeeze at the loss of trust, the way her father guarded himself still.

Because of her mother.

So she snaked her arm in her father's and tugged him down a step, pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Dad, please," she murmured close to his ear.

"Rick," he got out finally.

Kate ignored all their usual family secrets, the way they protected and huddled around themselves to keep out the worst of things, and she reached across the short distance to grab Castle's hand. "He's hurt, Rick. Because you left us. But, Dad, he couldn't stay gone. He couldn't go through with it. That makes up for a lot."

Both men flushed at her words, Castle shooting her a panicked look while her father glared at her, their cheeks both stained crimson.

"I'm tired of fixing things," she said wearily. "Dad, where's the coffee?"

Her father nodded and then turned to lead them inside.

She felt Castle's quick kiss at the base of her neck, his soft breath as he spoke for her ears only. "Have I said I love you? I love you, Kate."

When they shuffled inside, Castle realized that Kate was asking her father about his security detail.

"How many are outside?" Kate murmured.

Jim shrugged. "Two. But it's easier out here. More defensible."

"It's the NYPD?" he asked Kate, snagging her elbow.

She nodded at him. "Just in case. Couldn't take the chance."

He swallowed and nodded, mutely watching Jim as he poured them all coffee. His thoughts were tangled with things he hadn't considered - protection for her father, maybe even the boys, though he doubted they'd take it, even the simple coordination with the local police. He'd done none of that, had hidden himself away and attacked the one problem he could control.

Castle sat down heavily at the kitchen table with the Becketts and cupped his hands around the hot mug. The rich and textured scent of coffee did something to put him at ease and he finally took a slow sip, watching Kate for signs on how to proceed.

But she didn't seem interested in facilitating things here and Castle was at a loss for words.

Jim fingered the handle of his mug and twisted it back and forth across the wooden top. Castle curled his fingers tighter over his own and decided to put himself out there.

He wasn't good at explaining, and Kate was tired of his apologies, but there were things that had to be said, that now could be said, and Castle ought to say them. Since he was alive, since her father had been at his funeral and grieved the loss as well.

"Sir," he started, still unsure of where they stood. Her father at least gave him the respect of meeting his gaze. Castle tried not to disappoint him. "When I was here recovering, you treated me like family. You opened your home and trusted me with your daughter, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"Rick-"

"I wish I'd done a lot of things differently. But I didn't know - I couldn't see a way out. I did what I thought would keep Kate safe, even though I sacrificed her trust and yours to do it."

Next to him, he felt Kate shift and press her knee against his, but he kept going.

"I don't know that I can ever make up for what I did. For what I put Kate through. And you. I've never had. . .people like this. People who depended on me or whom I was responsible to, and to be honest, I don't know how to be that man."

He swallowed and fought to clear his throat, dropping his head to the wood grain of the table, trying to find words to make it right.

Suddenly her father's voice came, strong and quiet. Confident. "At least you're learning, Rick. Learning how to be that man."

He lifted his head and squeezed his hands into fists, felt his breath catch. "Yes, sir. I am. Kate's - she deserves. . .everything."

The reserved mask of Jim's face broke and let out a brief flicker of a smile. "Yeah. I can agree to that. You'll make it. Kate won't let you fail, son."

She had no idea how Castle had done it, but after only a few hours, the three of them were grouped together in the living room, talking and idly watching tv like no time at all had passed.

No time, and no funeral.

Her father was in his chair, surveying the scene and making comments on the basketball game, while she and Castle sat on the couch. Once the effort of moderating had seemed less necessary between them, she'd stretched out and put her back to the arm, her feet in Castle's lap so that his hands fell warm and heavy over her.

She realized she was drifting off, dozing really, and that the two were talking about her obliquely, like she wouldn't notice or understand. But the reality was that the haze of daydreams was so thick and the comfortable embrace of the couch so possessive that Kate found herself slipping in and out of consciousness, unaware of what her father and Castle might be sharing.

After some time, she found his arm sliding under her neck and a whispered entreaty for her to slide down or maybe that was lie down and she was curling at his lap and falling asleep.

Maybe it should have been strange, sitting on Jim's couch with Jim's daughter asleep in his lap, her mouth open on his thigh. But it wasn't. Castle kept his hands on her shoulder and the top of her head, brushing his fingers through her hair, but that was it. Jim made comments on the basketball game, explaining rules when Castle asked, and if his eyes ocassionally strayed to his daughter, he didn't comment on their position.

And then he did. Sort of.

"You two going to stay here tonight?"

It was later than Castle had intended, but now that he saw how exhausted Kate was, how she must have been since. . .since he died, he couldn't say no to that.

"Looks like. You mind? We didn't bring anything with us, but I didn't realize she was so tired."

Jim eased forward in his chair and stood. "I'll make up the bed."

Castle startled. "I should help-"

"No, son. You stay right there. That's help enough. I'm sure Kate hasn't had good sleep since. . ." He waved his hand and moved off down the hallway, leaving Castle on the couch, trapped by the weight of his responsibility.

Kate hadn't slept. Or she'd cried herself to sleep and woke hours later. He'd known that, he'd seen it, but to know just how comfortable and safe she felt here at her father's cabin - and with only a couple of NYPD uniforms out there-

"Castle?" she murmured.

He lifted his hand from her ear and she turned to her back, staring up at him for a moment.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Your dad's making up the guest bed."

She hummed and curled back in on herself, turning into him and practically snuggling. He hovered his hands over her and then settled one at her hip and the other at the top of her head.

His throat was tight with the weight of everything so very precious.

He had meant to carry Kate into the bedroom and get some sleep himself, early as it was, but it didn't happen. She was out, and Jim had changed the sheets, and then the two of them had sat in the living room and finished the basketball game while Kate slept in his lap. It was eleven, and the night outside had come creeping in through the open blinds, and now Jim got up to close them, settle the house for the night.

Castle stayed where he was, an arm looped around Kate's waist so that his forearm and palm braced her back, and Jim came back to sit down again, a curious silence between them.

He figured it was up to him, and rightly so.

"She told you we got married in Rome?" he said first.

Jim chuckled. "She did. Though she said the details were classified."

He grinned back, the two of them sitting mostly in darkness. The tv was muted and the blue light of the nightly news strobed into the room.

"That is technically true," Castle said finally. "But still. We filled out the paperwork for the state of New York; we're going to file it tomorrow. I had wanted to get it done today, but we thought it was smarter to lie low for right now."

"Don't put it off too long. Or she'll never do it."

Castle nodded, felt his lips twitch. "I'd noticed that about her."

"She'll tell you she doesn't believe in fate or destiny or signs from the universe, but I think she wants to. She wants there to be a greater purpose in everything, especially for all the bad she's seen. So if filing the paperwork looks too hard or it's not convenient-"

"She'll think it's not meant to be," he finished with a rush. "I - yeah. I've seen her do that with other things."

Was he proud? He was proud. Yeah. He'd unconsciously realized that about her, that she did that with things, that she held out so much hope for life in a theoretical way, but in reality, she expected it to go wrong, to not be ideal; she expected for it to hurt.

She was tough and she was prepared for the worst, and she made it through. But she'd allowed herself to believe in them, the two of them together, and when he'd died, the grief had been so much worse for all that. Because she'd put everything into that belief in them.

"And she's not really a morning person," Jim continued. "She fakes it."

She faked it. Castle grinned and curled his fingers at her neck, his pulse beating hard. "Oh yeah?"

"When she was a little girl, we had to drag her out of bed," Jim chuckled. "Getting her ready for school wasn't a problem; she was too conscientious for her own good. But on Saturday and Sundays. . .trying to get her up was a nightmare."

"The weekend. I understand. I hated getting up, but my father made me." Training. There was always training or lessons or drills. He couldn't remember a single instance of sleeping in late.

"But to be still in bed at eleven? No, we couldn't have that. Johanna came up with the perfect solution. She made brunch on Sundays and the smell of pancakes or waffles would pull Katie right out of bed. After a couple years, Kate would be up and helping, the two of them together in the kitchen."

He had to remind himself to not grip her too hard, to not clutch her against his chest. The vision of some ten year old Kate with her mother, the warm and familial scene, made Castle ache.

"We want kids," he blurted out. "I want kids with her. And until now, I'd just - seen this serious little boy with her eyes, having a son, but. . ."

"A daughter," Jim said with relish. "Best and worst thing to ever happen to you. Nothing will be the same after you have a daughter."

"Yes," he rasped, staring down at Kate still asleep in his lap, the loose fist at his hip, the fall of her hair. He lifted his head to see Jim grinning at him.

"Son, you get it all straight in your head and then you tell her. The whole story - how you see it. That'll get her. She's a sucker for a good story."

Castle grinned back. "I can do that. I can definitely do that."

Where was that detective's notebook of hers?

It was time to start dreaming. With her. For her. She deserved to have back that family she'd lost when her mother had died. And they could create it together.

She woke sometime in the night to find Castle pressed hard against her hipbones, lying over her in the guest room bed. She grunted and pushed on his torso, but he didn't wake and he didn't move. Her hips ached and her knee felt twisted and she torqued her body and finally rolled them over.

Her heart was pounding with the exertion and her head was swimming; she felt dizzy even lying down.

When had she really eaten? The fruit at the diner this afternoon as a kind of early dinner/late lunch. They'd gotten something together at a sandwich place, there was that, and she'd scarfed it down. Before that. . .she couldn't remember; she didn't want to remember.

Before that was the funeral and not having him and-

Kate groaned and her stomach growled fiercely in the darkness. Castle was out, hard, and she pushed away from the mattress and slid her legs out of bed. She came around to his side and pressed a kiss to his forehead, brushing the hair off his face, and she realized she'd be doing that kind of thing for a while.

Until he felt real to her again.

Beckett left the room and went searching for food, her stomach cramping. She was no longer light-headed, but she was fuzzy with sleep, and she didn't realize her father was sitting at the table until she nearly fell over him, stubbing her toe.

"Dad," she groaned, hopping back from the table. "Ouch."

"Get your toe? Sorry, sweetheart. Here. Sit down."

"Ow, ow, ow. I'm starving. I gotta get-"

"Sit. I'll get you some cereal. Or whatever you want."

"Cheese," she said suddenly. "Cheese and crackers maybe?"

"I got that," he laughed softly, putting his hand to her shoulder as she finally sank down in the chair. "Talked with your - husband."

She groaned and buried her head in her hands at the tone of her father's voice. "Are you serious? We are not having this conversation."

"Why not?" he said amicably, pulling open the fridge door.

"I'm not 17, and he's definitely not Paul Mason or oh, man, Johnny-"

"Johnny Danger, I always called him. And no. He's not. He's definitely better than any of them. Or Will. Or that damn training officer-"

"Nothing happened," she grit out. "Nothing happened with Royce and you know it."

"But he came back and completely-"

"Dad, that's over. And Castle-"

"Wants to have a family with you."

She froze and her father kept right on going, setting a plate of cheese and crackers in front of her.

"I liked him before this. Hated him a little when he came to the door this afternoon-"

"Dad-"

"But. He's been - a son. I know it. I'm the last to admit these things; you and I are both terrible at taking the guards off the doors, relaxing long enough to have someone matter. But."

She peeled a slice of cheddar from the stack and pushed it into her mouth, listening.

"You forgive your son when he comes home to you," her father said finally. "You open your arms and invite him in and he takes up his old place because he's your family, and you can't do anything else. Wouldn't do anything else."

"Doesn't mean it's easy," she said back, breaking the cracker with her thumb and finger.

"Not for people like us," he sighed.

She nodded, playing with her food as she tried to sort out the things all trapped in her chest. How she wanted that life with Castle, how afraid it made her, how the last few days' grief had done something to her - had broken her in a way she didn't yet fully know. And what it would take to fix that in herself, to again trust in the life they were building. . .

"It's worth it though; don't you think, sweetheart?"

She settled her head into her hand and tried to find an answer that wasn't as pathetic as she felt. It would be work, but she didn't really have a choice. It wasn't like she could not be with him. The work of being without him was worse, infinitely worse, than the work of trusting it again.

Jim cleared his throat. "His father. . ."

Kate lifted her head and stared.

"Not much of one, is he?"

"Not - no. Not at all. Dad, he - he's emotionally manipulative. To Castle. To me."

"Yeah, I got the impression that faking his own death wasn't Rick's idea."

"No. Black's. Of course." She sucked on a piece of cheese and swallowed.

Her father folded his arms at his chest. "And with you?"

"He plays mind games. It's nothing I can't handle."

He didn't look convinced, and something about the knowing in his eyes made it all spill out.

"I can when it's between Black and me, when Castle has my back. It's nothing, not important, just another thing to deal with, you know? But when Black starts twisting Castle into knots, I can't get to him anymore. I can't reach him."

"It's his father," Jim said with a shrug. "You're asking him to turn off decades of - well, of abuse."

She nodded, pressing her finger hard into the cracker so that it broke in half. "I just - I wish he'd stop falling for it. It makes it my fault when-"

"How is it at all your fault, Kate?"

She glanced up at the harshness of his voice and realized he was defending her. He was her father. He was a good man, and she was lucky to have him.

"Just - I hate that Black can get him with just one word. One word - my name. He says my name and Castle suddenly loses all ability to think rationally about anything. It's because of me."

Her father sighed and reached across the table to still her fingers. She realized she'd crumbled all of her crackers.

"Sweetheart, that's just what love does. And obviously, I'm no better a man than Rick - see what happened to me when your mother died?"

"Me either," she said softly, shaking her head. "I'm not any better at handling it. It makes me - all out of control."

Her father laughed a little at that and she glanced to his face, saw the gentle amusement and was glad for it. At least they were both at a point where they could be honest and deal with it - their mutual failures.

"I want to make him stronger," she said suddenly, the urgent clutch of it in her heart. "I want him to make me stronger too."

Her father sighed. "Sweetheart, look at you. I think you've already been made stronger for having him in your life. It doesn't feel like it because - like you already admitted - love does take it out of your control. But you're stronger. You've done so much. You're not who you were."

"But him?" she said, feeling small and desperate all of the sudden. "I make him - he loses sight of. . .I'm no help to him at all."

"That's not true," her father said forcefully. And even though she knew he had to say stuff like this, he was her father, it still helped.

"It's not?"

"No. He's here, isn't he? You think he'd ever have the guts to show up here if it weren't for you? He told me about Javi punching him."

She snorted and shook her head. "Men."

"He humbled himself for that, to take what he deserved. If he didn't love you, he couldn't do that."

"That doesn't seem to be defending your case, counselor," she muttered.

Her father laughed at that. "What I'm saying is - he's a changed man. He's working on it, and so are you."

She rubbed a finger along the edge of the table and studied the grain, tried to pull her thoughts together. "I'm just not sure what to do to help him, though. How to reach him when Black uses me against him."

"Not to the change the subject," her father said slowly. "But has he told Martha he's still alive?"

Oh, shit.

Kate stared at him and slowly shook her head.

"You might think about that, Katie. If you want to get through to him. I think the deepest wound he has is tied to that woman."

She nodded, her fingers flexing. "I'm almost certain she didn't give him up - or that it wasn't her own idea. Black. That man has. . .he did something, said something to her. Convinced her she couldn't do it alone, or threatened her even. I wouldn't put it past him."

"Rick needs to know," her father said slowly. "Start changing his thinking."

"Yeah," she breathed out, suddenly filled up the sense that this was actually doable. She could help him; he could stop defaulting to that lonely little boy when it came to his threatened relationships. "Dad, you're a genius."

"Glad to hear it," he chuckled. "Now eat your snack, Katie."

She glanced down to the crumbled crackers, the slices of cheese, and she felt her heart filled up with all the good ways love could manifest. The ways it healed.

Kate reached out and hooked her arms around her father's neck, breathed in the pine and soap scent of him.

"Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

Castle listened to her on the phone with Carrie as he laid in bed, one hand playing with the ends of her hair as it shined at her back. She was sitting up, her knees curled up to her chin and picking at her toenails as she talked. Such a girly thing for her to do.

He was still flirting with sleep and it was early, so he just let Kate's words tumble over him, listening to the sounds of them rather than the content, their conversation mostly about the dog and how Kate was doing, her reassurances.

And then Kate jerked and he opened his eyes in a flash, saw her glancing at his phone with a little frown. She pushed her mouth back to the receiver and interrupted.

"Carrie, I gotta let you go. This - case. I'm sorry. Thank you so much for taking care of Sasha while I'm - while I work on this."

He had just pushed up onto one elbow when Kate ended the call and turned to him, holding the phone out.

"You got - a message."

He didn't like the look on her face, but he took the phone and read the memo in his email.

Castle growled and chucked the phone against the headboard, heard it clatter to the floor.

"Damn it."

"That mean what I think it did?" she asked quietly, her chin on one knee and her fingers coming out to brush at his shoulder.

"Black dismantled the JTF. Joint Task Force. On Bracken. Just fucking called it off."

"He can do that?"

"He can," Castle growled, sank onto his back with a groan. "Damn it all to hell."

"You know why he's done it, right?" she said and her hand was at his chest now, warm and weighted, a good reminder.

"Yes," he got out tightly. "He's recalling me. Because I broke cover and got you. Because I left the Office and am strolling around New York City in broad daylight."

"He's never going to stop doing this to you," she said, leaning over him now so that her face was right above his. "You keep coming when he calls, Castle."

"Not this time," he growled. "I mean - I knew we'd have to, at least sometime today. I figured we'd go back last night, honestly, but we were both tired. But not now."

She nodded slowly. "With the task force disbanded, what does that mean for the assassination?"

He lifted his hand to her bicep and stroked his thumb over the soft skin. "Oh, that's still on. That's the point. We're not investigating this guy anymore, Kate; we're taking him out. It's a subtle reminder of what I'm supposed to be doing. It's his way of saying, Get your ass back here; we have work to do."

"You're not killing him," she said.

He kept his mouth shut because they weren't going to agree on this point, and he liked the way she felt pressed against him, the soft and tickling touch of her hair at his chest.

"I'll think of a new way," she said quietly. "You're not killing him just because your father said-"

"It was my idea," he said on a shrug. "Way back - after you were shot. It was my idea to kill Bracken."

"You're not doing it," she insisted. "And we're not going back yet. You have to - we should see your mother."

"Also not high on priority list," he muttered, but her body was warm and he spread his fingers out at her back, tugged her closer.

But she resisted. "She was at your funeral, Rick. You didn't see the way she looked. To have found you only to lose you. . ."

She was withholding that soft mouth, using it instead to keep talking at him, her hand at his chest to give her leverage. So he did the only thing left to him.

"Fine. We'll go back to the city and find my mother. Now who's the bully? Hurry up and kiss me."

She grinned at that and leaned down finally, brushed her lips so tenderly over his that he'd promise her anything, anything at all, for that touch to go on and on. Always.

Castle paced the front porch of her father's cabin, anxious to be going, but Kate was on the phone, sitting on the swing and kicking him away with her foot when got too close.

If he was honest, it wasn't a good idea to parade himself through the city. He was asking for trouble.

But he wanted trouble. He wanted to flush Bracken out of cover and force him to make a move so that Castle could take him out. So he'd have an excuse to kill the man, something to ease Kate's conscience.

And he wanted to make his father pissed. Yeah, he could admit it. It wasn't mature, but Castle had spent so much of his adult life doing as he was told and he was done with it. He was finished.

He was thinking about quitting the CIA.

He wanted out. No more of this lifestyle, no more of this man who'd claimed to be a father but had always acted out of self-interest and cold calculation. Castle wanted his own life, his own family, and once Bracken had been dealt with, there was no reason to stick around.

Kate had called his mother from his secure CIA cell phone, and she pushed his face away with her hand as he tried once more to distract her. He didn't need to talk to Martha; she had nothing new to say to him. Nothing that could change the past or rewrite history.

He was done with both of them - his father and his mother. He didn't need either of them to start a new life with Kate. All he needed was Kate.

But Kate wanted him to see his mother.

So he was going to have to do that.

"In an hour," Kate said with relish, ending the call as she turned to him. "And don't touch me while I'm on the phone with your mother."

He grinned and shrugged at her, reached out for her knee once more. "Last night we were in your father's guest bed and I didn't hear you complaining."

She gave him a look from under her eyebrows, but as he came closer and caught her hand, she traced their joined fingers up his abs. He sucked in a breath and caught her gaze, reached down and pulled her to her feet.

Kate came in for a kiss, a soft thing, perfect, and then she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed that too. "Ready to go?"

"No," he sighed. "But we should."

She shook her head at him and squeezed his hand. "Let me say good-bye to my dad."

He let her go and watched her walk back inside the house, the long and lean lines of her body disappearing through the door.

He had a bad feeling about this.

His phone rang when they were only a few blocks from the wine bar where they were to meet his mother. Beckett passed it over to him as she drove.

"Blocked number," she murmured, putting her hand back on the wheel.

CIA then. He answered with a clip to his voice, expecting his father.

But it was Jones, the CIA's assassination specialist who had told him to call him Smith. "Agent Castle, our timetable has moved up."

His guts clenched and he shot a sideways look to Beckett. "I'll be right there."

"No time. Meet me on the steps of the Met, soon as possible."

Central Park. He rubbed the wedding band still on his finger and took a breath. "All right. I'm close to there. Maybe fifteen, accounting for traffic."

The call dropped and Castle clenched his phone a little tighter, turned his head to Kate. But she'd already pressed her lips together, was at a red light waiting on his word.

"Central Park, Kate."

She gripped the steering wheel but only nodded. "Fine."

His chest ached. "I'll call her on the way. How about that?"

She nodded again, saying nothing, and he knew they were both making mistakes here, but he didn't know what to do to fix it.

"Call her right now, Castle. Where in Central Park?"

"The Met."

She sighed out slowly and he waited until the light turned green and she was turning the car around before he put the number into his phone.

The phone rang down the line and Castle flat-out panicked.

"You have to tell her. First. You have to-" He pushed the phone back to Kate even as she drove. "Kate. I can't just - surprise her."

Kate bit her bottom lip but she took the phone, pressed it against her ear. "I can't believe you're making me-"

She caught in a little breath as Martha must have answered and then Kate's eyes shot to his in an equal panic. She didn't know what to say either.

"I have to - cancel on you, Martha. I'm so sorry. I know I said it was important, but work - there's this case. But I wanted to tell you. Tell you what - what the news is."

She paused and he waited anxiously in the passenger seat, his guts churning, clenching the handle of the door rhythmically.

And suddenly Kate let out a bark of laughter, her cheeks flooding red and hot, and what?

She turned her eyes to him and looked away again, flushing even more, if that was even possible, and she kept opening her mouth as if to interrupt, but she was blushing crimson and not able to speak.

"What?" he hissed. What had his mother said to her?

"Martha!" she finally shouted, then groaned and shook her head. "I'm not pregnant. I'm sorry. I'm not - that's not it."

Castle huffed out a long, strangled breath, couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out at the end, couldn't help the sudden clear image of the future and the way Kate would tell him, and how-

She flicked his ear and he winced. "Ow, Beckett."

"No, Martha. No. I - I wanted to tell you this in person, but now because of this case, I can't. But. Richard isn't dead."

There was silence, a stillness to the air of the car even as it continued its course towards Central Park. Castle realized he was holding his breath and couldn't manage to make his lungs work even once he was aware of it.

"I'm sorry," Kate was saying, practically crooning into the phone. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Until yesterday. No. No, I'm - he's right here."

And then she handed the phone over to him with a look that could cut a man.

He took the phone.

She wasn't even trying to look like she wasn't blatantly eavesdropping. She was just blatantly eavesdropping. They were only a few blocks from Central Park and most of the conversation had been on Martha's end - and rather effusive and dramatic - but the woman's son was alive, of course she was being dramatic. Kate couldn't blame her the theatrics, especially over this.

She'd thought Kate was pregnant. Jeez. No. No, just - no. How terrible would that have been? To have Castle dead and-

And amazing. Like a gift. A last kiss.

Shit, she was going to cry.

No. Not here, not now, when he was sitting right beside her making promises to his mother.

"I will. As soon as Kate and I get this cleared up. Yes. It has to do with why I had to pretend in the first place. . ."

She turned to him and saw the grimace in his face, the half-panic.

"I can't tell you. Yes. Mar - uh. . .yes, I - okay." He scraped a hand down his face and she turned her eyes back to the road, felt her heart clenching in her chest.

"Castle," she murmured as they started to come up on Central Park. She could let him out or try to find parking somewhere. . .

He waved her on, still connected to the phone, so she kept going, hunting for a spot.

His mother had sounded close to breaking on the phone. Kate knew, from experience in the interrogation room, that a few pointed remarks, a soft question, and Martha would confess it all. She'd wanted to have that conversation today, give Castle something to hang on to, something to keep in mind as a weapon against his father, but that wasn't going to happen.

She heard Castle grunt next to her and looked over again to see him ending the call, staring at the phone.

"Rick?"

"She said. . .she loved me."

Kate's breath caught and she reached over, snagged his hand before she could second-guess the moment; she was rewarded with the clutch of his fingers.

There were all kinds of things she wanted to say, should say, but nothing came out. Instead she spotted a gap in the rows of cars and pulled into a space, parallel parking the Range Rover easily.

"What are we here for?" she asked him then, the silence muffling everything else.

"The plan," he said in a low voice. He wouldn't look at her. "Jones - our specialist - said the timetable had to be moved up."

"What does that mean?"

Castle was releasing her hand and pushing on the door. "I don't know, Kate. We'll have to see."

But she thought they both knew exactly what that meant.

Bracken was going to die and Kate was out of time.