Title: Good For You

Disclaimer: Not mine. Someday. An eternity away.

Summary: When the Dragon is slain, there's just a life to be lived. And sometimes there's more to learn in peace than in war.


Chapter 11:

"That's a big roller coaster," he manages as they stand at the gates of Wonderland, which hosts an impressive 16 roller coasters that he's been dreaming about for two days. Now that they're here though, that 306 foot drop is kind of scaring the shit out of him. "A freakishly big roller coaster."

"That's awesome," Kate exclaims, grinning with such abandon that he momentarily forgets his fears. She looks giddy, radiant, and damn it, he's going to crap himself on that giant monstrosity. "Come on! Let's get there before the line's too big."

It's Tuesday, in September. They don't need to get on line for that coaster just yet. It's early, really early—like the park just opened early.

"Why don't we," he looks around frantically. He loves coasters, he does, but that's more than he can handle. It looks like it might kill him, actually. "Hey! Dinosaurs," he says madly, finding the sign for the new exhibit. "Let's go do that first."

"No way," Kate argues, even as she lets him drag her over to the display. "Come on, we should do that after Leviathan," she protests. "That way we can calm down before the other one, Behemoth?"

"Or," he says, going for calm and collected and practical. "We could enjoy this while it's still cool outside, and then do the coasters when it's hot. Cool off with the wind?"

She eyes him, staring him down even in her white-cotton long sleeved shirt and jeans with her sunglasses on her forehead. Apparently, the lack of heels and blazer does not make her less intimidating. Pity. And he's so busy noticing how her hair curls along her shoulders that he forgets to keep up his bravado.

"You're scared," she decides, something between amusement and disbelief in her voice.

"I'm not," he asserts, turning to look up at the coaster, which rises like a blue tower of doom above them. They're running a few cars for the start of the day, and even empty, it looks utterly, thoroughly terrifying.

"I thought you liked coasters," she adds, leaning into his shoulder in a way that would make any other man think she was comforting him. It's the lilt in her voice that gives her away; she's enjoying this way too much to be an innocent, loving girlfriend right now.

"I do," he says petulantly.

"What'sa matter, Castle," she taunts, stepping away to stand in front of him. "You afraid of a little wind?"

He glares at her and then glances back to the coaster. "Of course not."

"It's okay to be scared," she says with a shrug and a voice that almost sounds convincing. "I can ride it alone."

Right, like he'd ever agree to that, the evil, evil minx of a woman. He'll show her. "Let's go," he decides, grabbing her hand to pull her toward the other side of the terrifying death trap. Why? Why does he put himself in these situations?

Alexis still hasn't let him forget about the time he screamed so loud he won a prize on the Superman at Six Flags. Why on earth did he suggest this again?

He turns to look at Kate as they join the short queue for the ride, a line that winds them through a maze of orange dividers. They're probably four trains away at this point, and the group is a mix of people who look as excited as Kate and as terrified as he feels.

He watches her as they watch the first train rise up that nauseating 306 feet and he realizes why he suggested it. Kate's eyes are huge, a hand over her forehead to block the glare from the sun, like she's just forgotten her sunglasses are even there. She's bouncing. She's actually bouncing, and when she turns to meet his gaze, she's lit up, no trace of sadness, or grief there to see—just Kate, just radiant, beautiful, childish Kate.

"I'll hold your hand," she says sweetly, squeezing the fingers she's still got wound through hers. "And I won't tell the boys if you scream."

"I don't believe you," he mumbles.

It's enough. It's so more than enough, because she's excited next to him, bouncing and jostling his shoulder every so often. She gasps as they watch the fourth train make the plummet. She squeals lightly in glee as they move up again; they're first in line.

He's wanted proof of life, of her survival, her reality with him. This is it. This is real, and them, and Christ that is a long way down.

"We're up," she says, tugging him behind her as the guard opens the gate.

The first car. Oh, no way. Kate!

But she's let go of his hand and strapped herself in before he can protest, and there's no way he's doing this without her by his side. But the first car?

"You're not going to vomit, are you?" she asks, and he hears a touch of actual concern in there as he straps in, hauling the chest guard over his head with shaking hands. "Rick?"

"I'm going to deafen you," he grits out as the car jerks forward.

She laughs, delighted, and he feels her delicate fingers winding through his, her grip strong. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

"You better be screaming with me," he groans as they press back into the seats, nearly vertical in their ascent. "Loud and embarrassing."

"I'll do my best," she agrees with a grin. Her sunglasses aren't on her face and he can't remember seeing her take them off. But she looks so happy, so very excited and she squeals again, just in time for him to snap his head forward as they crest the top of the hill.

Holy mother of—

His scream drowns out her astounded laughter as they hurtle downward. He's going to die. They're going to die. After everything, this is how they'll go.

"This is amazing!" she shrieks as they hurtle toward the bottom.

Amazing? It's—it's—holy crap that's awesome. He's screaming like a tiny, frightened three-year-old girl, but it's fantastic. And then they're upside down. It has a loop? When did it get a loop? How did he not see that coming?

Her hand slides from his so they can grip at their own restraints, laughing and yelling as they even back out for the last dip. All too soon, they're screeching back into the station, eyes wide and wet with the wind, cheeks pink, mouths open and gasping.

"Oh my God," she breathes out, beaming at him. "That was incredible."

"Yeah," he manages, his stomach still somewhere by his feet, his heart beating a million miles an hour—maybe really just the 148 miles per hour of the ride.

"You okay?" she gasps as their restraints hiss and allow them to free themselves.

"Yeah," he repeats, finding the muscles in his face to smile at her. "That was awesome."

"Told you it would be," she teases as he follows her out and across the platform, chuckling as she pulls her sunglasses out of her cleavage. Maybe that's where she hid the badge all those years ago. Couldn't be though, really, could it? There wasn't enough space.

"No," he corrects as he catches up and wraps his arm around her shoulders. "You promised to protect me. There was no declaration of impending awesomeness."

"I succeeded though," she gloats even as she twines her fingers with the ones that dangle off her shoulder. "You're smiling. You even laughed."

"I wasn't scared," he rebuffs as they slow to wait for their pictures on the screens in the little shack. He's not really looking forward to seeing what he looked like.

The guy behind the counter takes one look at him and laughs so hard he has to adjust his baseball cap. "That bad?" Kate asks, already grinning.

"Oh, just wait," the kid, Don, says, smirking at him.

The photos pop up on the six screens and Castle groans. His mouth is wide in a horrified shriek while Kate's there beside him, laughing, her hair whipping back behind her. There's definitely a tear streaming down his cheek and his eyes zero in on their hands.

He looks down at his shoulder and examines the hand clutched in his, which is still pink. Damn, he bruised her.

"A badge of honor," she says quietly, still giggling. "Like that picture. We'll take three," she tells the kid before Castle can protest.

She slips out her wallet and passes the money across. Don hands them three cards with that embarrassing photo that he's pretty sure they need to frame, and Castle takes them grudgingly, slipping them into the pocket of his light jacket, proud of having thought to wear the tan one with big pockets.

"Can I buy you a cotton candy to soothe your wounded ego?" Kate asks as she hooks her arm into his and gives Don a grateful smile.

"A big one," he grumbles. "Huge."

"Trying to match the size of your—"

He cuts her off with a swift kiss that's instantly heavy since neither of them has fully reclaimed their breath. "Trying too hard," he mumbles against her mouth, smiling as she laughs.

"Didn't know I could over-inflate your ego."

"When I'm not paying attention, feel free," he says, smiling as she slides her arm across his back, fingers toying with the belt loop on his hip. "But right now, you're so transparent, I'm a little ashamed for you."

She pinches his side but leans into him, steering him toward a stand along the sidewalk right next to a billboard for the Dinosaur exhibit. "Shut up, and noted," she murmurs as they step up to the counter. "One embarrassingly large cotton candy, please," she tells the dread-locked man behind the counter, passing him a few dollars. "Blue raspberry. American money okay?"

He nods. "Feeding her sweet tooth, man?" he asks, winking at Castle.

Kate bristles at his side and Castle grins, shaking his head. "She's feeding mine. Making it up to me."

"You cheat on him?" the guy asks.

Kate opens her mouth but he squeezes her side. "Just the cotton candy, thanks," he says, giving the guy a significant look.

"How is that the next thought?" she hisses in his ear as she arches up to press her lips to his cheek.

"Forget it," he whispers, squeezing her side.

The guy hands him a huge cone of the blue, sticky spun sugar, giving both of them an embarrassed smile. "Here you go. Sorry," he says quietly.

Kate gives a brisk nod and then drags Castle away, walking quickly, angrily. He lets her work it off for a minute, keeping up even as he takes a huge bite of his cotton candy. He grins around the mouthful. It's kind of disgusting, but he loves it, loves the way it sticks to his tongue and melts along the roof of his mouth.

"Your lips are turning blue," Kate observes as they stop and she plops down on a bench.

"You know, blue lipstick on men was very popular in Asia a while back," he offers, joining her on the wooden bench that's probably been home to more than one sticky-handed child and fat-bottomed American eating his own gluttonous mound of candy and fried food.

"I don't know if I want you kissing me after that," she says, watching as he tears off another piece, his fingers plastered together as he licks them clean.

"Try some," he insists, ripping off another piece and extending it toward her. She eyes his hand with trepidation, eyebrows furrowed. "Come on, then we're both blue, and no one will assume you're cheating on me," he cajoles.

She glares at him and surges forward, wrapping her lips around his fingers and taking her good, sweet time to slide her tongue over his digits, between them, swirling. His breathing speeds up and he shifts in his seat. "Kate," he groans when it's apparent that she's no longer eating, just torturing him.

"You better never assume I'm cheating on you," she bites out as she releases his fingers with an obscene pop.

He swallows hard and meets her eyes. "I, uh," he stammers, watching as her glare melts into a self-satisfied smirk. "Right."

She laughs and slides closer, gliding her hand up to caress the nape of his neck. "Got that, Castle?"

"No cheating on me. Got it," he offers, taking a bite of candy just to have something to do with his mouth, which seems to have gone slack.

"I can't believe he even suggested it," she huffs.

"Probably just couldn't believe you're with me," he shrugs, turning to press his lips to her forearm. He leaves a small lip-shaped, blue imprint on the white fabric and smiles sheepishly at her.

She laughs. "I shouldn't have bothered wearing white to a theme park to begin with."

Oh, he so loves Vacation Kate. He grins and peppers every part of her he can reach with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. She laughs and tries to fight him off, both of them careful of the candy; smudges are one thing, but neither wants her covered in the stuff.

"Castle," she finally gets out, pushing him away. "Eat your candy, and then we can see the dinosaurs."

He grins and nods before demolishing what's left. They'll need to spend a long time in that exhibit, or he really will lose it on the next coaster.

"Are you thinking of trying to ride every one?" she asks a few minutes later—minutes filled with her softly-caressing fingers and the sweet taste of spun sugar.

"If you're game," he decides. Might be fun to be able to say they did it, and the park's relatively empty.

"I'm not the one who screams like a little girl," she taunts, standing and extending her hands for his as he tosses the empty cone into the trash.

"No, you laugh in the face of danger," he concedes, letting her pull him up and stumbling purposefully to wrap his arms around her. "But maybe the dinosaurs will scare you."

(…)

It's not the dinosaurs, though they are freakishly well done. It happens as they pass by the pterodactyl—a glint off the sign explaining the habitat. It bounces at them and Kate stalls to a halt, bringing him with her, her fingers a vice on his arm.

"Kate?" he says softly, watching as she stares at the sign. Then her head swivels, looking around the area, zeroing in on the small family on the other side of the path, looking up at the brontosaurus, the father crouching down next to his young son, pointing up at the dinosaur, explaining.

"Hey," Castle tries again, gently removing his arm so he can shift to stand in front of her, finding her eyes through her sunglasses. They're wide and panicked and she's standing stock still, just staring at him. The T-Rex roars in the distance, a few hundred feet back, and she twitches. "You okay?"

She opens her mouth just as the little boy knocks over his stroller, sending it clattering to the ground, two metal water bottles spilling out to hit the ground with a twang. He brings his eyes back to Kate and finds her with her lips pressed shut, eyes closed, hands in fists at her sides.

"It's just a little kid," he says softly, shifting again to block her from the prying eyes behind them. "Kate?"

"I, hum," she gives him, licking her lips as she forces her shoulders down. "Yeah."

He reaches out and smoothes his hands down her arms, watching as she takes a shallow breath and forces on a smile. "You wanna get out of here?"

"You like dinosaurs," she says and he can't help but laugh a little.

Her mouth twitches, whether to frown of smile, he can't be sure. But it's something. "I do. But we can hit a museum in another city. Let's get a water or something."

She nods and he takes her hand as the damn brontosaurus lets out a growl, or something. She shifts closer to him and drags his arm up over her shoulders, in a move that absolutely floors him. But she relaxes slightly with the weight and winds her hand across his back to clench into his jacket. Anchor, he can be.

After a few minutes of stiff, stilted walking, they find a food pavilion and he ducks them inside, ignoring the garish dinosaur decorations. It's empty; thank goodness for small favors. He steers them to the counter and buys two waters before guiding her back into the corner. The kids at the counter eye them curiously, but he can't be bothered to care, not when he's got a girlfriend somewhere in the throes of PTSD.

"Here," he says gently, lowering them to a wooden bench along the wall. She scoots toward the corner and he follows, more than concerned, breaking, aching for her—for the way something so normal spiraled her down.

He really should have seen it coming. She's been entirely too collected for the past few days, and he's been so—well shit. He's been so needy that she's been being strong for him and that won't work, not if it leads to this.

He unscrews the lid of the water and passes it to her, watching as she takes a few short sips before handing it back with trembling fingers.

"Was it the light?" he asks quietly, his hand falling to rest on her thigh where they're smashed together on the light brown bench in their dark corner.

She nods and swallows thickly, turning to press her cheek to his shoulder. "Then the noise," she murmurs.

"What about it got you?" he wonders as her fingers come to rest over his. "You were okay on the coaster."

"I don't know," she sighs, squeezing his hand. "I don't. It's not something—not rational."

He nods and then rests his cheek against her head. "I know that feeling."

"Yeah, but yours doesn't leave you seized up in the middle of a dinosaur walk," she mumbles into his jacket. "God. I'm crazy. I'm absolutely crazy."

"No, you're not," he asserts, rubbing his thumb against her jeans. "No memories, no triggers, just the light?"

She huffs out a breath and her fingers slacken around his. "I don't know. That family, you know? The ones near us? I just—my mom and dad and I did this once. Not here, but they took me to an exhibit in Boston when I was really little, and my mom crouched down like his dad was doing. But it wasn't a trigger or anything," she tells him, her voice rough and low.

"It made you miss your mom," he concludes, shifting so he can wrap his arm around her.

She wastes no time in turning sideways to slide her legs over his so she's curled into his chest. There's a column that blocks them from view from the rest of the pavilion, so he presses his lips to her forehead and strokes his hand up and down her thigh. Her fingers thread into the lapel of his jacket, her other hand curled up along her side, fist at his bicep.

"I didn't think solving this would make the grief come back," she whispers, bending in on herself in his lap.

"It's okay," he offers, feeling rather lacking in anything but physical comfort.

"It's not. I just had a panic attack in a theme park," she retorts and he clutches her thigh, adds pressure to help her relax against him—gives her the strength in his body, all he has.

"It'll fade with time," he promises. It did before. It will again. And this time he's here to help her through it, rather than standing on the other side of a wrought iron door, listening to her break down.

She nods against him and he feels her breath hitch as she presses her cheek firmly into his shoulder. "You said once you used to take Alexis to the museum?"

He smiles softly and nods against the crown of her head. "Every Sunday. For years."

"Mom did that with me. Dad too, but Sundays were our thing, mostly. Dad and I did stuff during the week after school." She takes a deep breath against him and he relaxes at the feeling—knowing she's calming down now. "It still hurts," she whispers.

"Of course it does."

"I—" she trails off and sniffles so quietly it breaks his heart all over again.

"You can cry, you know," he tells her, hoping he sounds supportive, or comforting, or something that's not pity or prompting.

"We're," she sighs and snuggles closer. He can feel her eyes clenched shut, notes the stiffness in her jaw. "We're in public."

"We're pretty alone, actually," he corrects, looking out at the empty room where they're hidden in their little corner. "Just me."

She's still and stiff for a moment before he feels her let go, listens to the quick intakes of breath and quiet sobs for his ears alone. He rubs her back and caresses her thigh, pressing kisses to her forehead as they rock side to side.

"I want to stop wanting," she whispers, her voice blocked and stuffed as she sniffles and reaches up to wipe at her eyes. "I just want to be normal."

"Normal's boring," he replies instantly.

She lifts her head to look at him, and he wonders if he's wrong. But then she smiles sadly, brokenly, and lifts her hand to his face to smooth over the creases by his eyes.

"I want to go to the theme park with my boyfriend and not end up sobbing my eyes out in a children's food pavilion," she corrects, shaking her head. "I want to stop being this PTSD mess who seizes up and breaks down." She takes a deep, shaking breath and lets her hand fall to pat against his heart. "I want to be strong again."

"Oh, hey," he murmurs, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of her head. "You're so strong, Kate," he says, searching to find her eyes as they finally lift up, red and puffy and perfect. "It's one of the many things I love about you. You're amazingly strong."

"I'm not," she argues, her hand curling into the fabric of his jacket again. "I can't even—Castle, I can't even deal with water bottles and pavement."

"Right now, you don't have to be super cop. That's," he pauses and leans down to press his forehead to hers. "That's a different type of strong. But this? For you? Doing this with me? That's brave, Kate."

She huffs something between a laugh and a sob and rolls her bottom lip through her teeth. "If not with you, then who? No other man would want me after seeing me like this." He opens his mouth, unsure of where to take that, and she does laugh then. "Sorry, no, I meant," she breaks off and shifts down to press her face to his throat. "No other man has ever loved me like you do. If I can't do this with you, who can I do it with?"

"Just with me," he promises. "Right here. I'm here. Don't—let's talk about this." Another family hurtles inside, kids yelling and talking with glee. Kate stiffens and then relaxes against him, smiling into his throat. "Maybe not here, but tonight? You don't have to put up a front."

"I'm not—"

"Being all together so I can fall apart isn't worth it if it's going to put you here every few days," he says gently, running his fingers through her hair. "I'm a mess, but that doesn't mean you can't be too."

"Could end up being a pretty depressing, neurotic trip," she cautions, pulling back to meet his eyes.

"Can we still have sex?" She laughs, shocked, and swats at his chest, her scandal melding into affection as he catches her hand and brings it to his lips. "Can we?"

She nods, her eyes darker and he feels himself shifting without thought. "Not with the kids around," she insists, shaking her head as she considers him, adoring and broken and bright at once. "But yeah, we can still have sex. Needy sex works for us."

"Not needy all the time," he says, grinning as her true smile finds its way back. "But it's always good with you."

"Good?"

"Great," he corrects quickly.

"Just great? Come on. You're a writer."

He narrows his eyes but goes along. "Fantastic, superb, mind-blowing."

"Earth shattering?" she asks, grinning at him, and even breaking and crying, she's evil and sexy and everything.

He surges forward and catches her lips, chuckling as she giggles into the kiss, their happiness restored. It's going to be a long, long road back, but he can make her laugh. He can make her smile. He can help her make herself whole again. "That too."