Castle convinces her to venture deeper into the woods, past the trail they walked together last time. He swings their tangled hands between them as they weave through trees and brush thick with lack of taming, coaxing childhood memories out of Kate along the way. He grins as she tells him about all the times she snuck out here as a kid, too eager for the embrace of the forest to follow the rules, risking a lecture from her mother and the knowing look from her father.
They turn back for the cabin when the rain begins to fall, starting as a simple drizzle, but the light mist quickly morphs into a downpour. Castle quickens his pace out of habit, used to dodging raindrops on the streets of New York with the rest of the pedestrians. But Kate loosens her grip on his hand, falls behind him for a few steps until she stops altogether.
He glances back to her, squinting to seek her gaze through the sheets of water. She's gripping her side, her lips pursed and her eyes screwed shut as the water soaks through her hair, her clothes.
"Castle, go ahead," Kate calls over the rush of rain. She's still paused in pain, but nodding in the direction of the cabin. "I'm not up to running right now."
"And?" he asks, fitting his fingers through the spaces between hers. He takes a few steps back to stand beside her, blinking through the rain, but waiting until she's ready. "We're already drenched anyway."
But then the thunder rumbles through the sky, lightning illuminating the pieces they can see through the trees, and he's a little more eager to get inside. He's always heard to stay away from trees during a lightning storm, something about natural conductors of electricity, and considering that they're in the middle of a forest surrounded by them...
With their luck, one of them is bound to be struck by a stray bolt.
"Just head inside. I'll catch up," she prompts, attempting to tug her hand free. But Castle only tightens his hold, sucks in a soaking breath.
With his luck, it would probably be Kate.
"Don't get mad."
Her lashes flutter so she can open her eyes, see him through the water as her lips part with a question. But he's already bending his knees, swooping his arm beneath hers, and lifting her up.
"Castle," she hisses, loud enough for him to hear over the rain. "Put me down. I can walk."
He secures his grip on her, one arm hooked under her knees while the other cradles her back, and begins to stride forward. The thunder drowns out her growl of indignation.
"I know, but I'd rather not risk you getting electrocuted," he reasons, fast-walking the rest of the way back to the cabin with Beckett coiled against his chest, cursing him half-heartedly throughout the quick journey.
He climbs the porch steps as steadily as he can, lowers her back to her feet once he's standing in front of the cabin's door. He expects the pierce of her glare, a smart remark, but she pushes inside without a word to him.
"Kate," he calls after her, shivering as he enters the cabin in his wet clothes. He wants to ask if he should undress on the porch, leave his clothes out there and change into the pair he brought for tomorrow, but she's already making her way through the living room and disappearing past her bedroom doorway. Castle huffs but follows, catching her just before she can shut the door to the tiny en suite bathroom. "Kate, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you feel-"
"It's not you," she groans, dropping her forehead to the doorjamb and squeezing her eyes shut. "It's me, my stupid body."
He lets the lack of understanding bleed across his face. "What are you talking about?"
"You drove all the way out here and all I've done so far is pass out on you and then get us caught in the rain because I'm too weak to move. It's pathetic, Castle."
"I drove all the way out here to be with you," he states, curling his hand around the edge of the door, but not pushing. "Honestly, Kate, I don't care what we do when we're here. I just want to be with you."
She swallows, opens her eyes, but her lashes remain dark and wet against her cheeks. Not lifting.
"You were shot just over two months ago, you nearly died," he reminds her slowly, as if she's forgotten. "You're healing. That's the reason you're here. Not to entertain me. And I don't need any entertainment. We could spend the next day sacked out on your couch doing nothing and it would be the best weekend getaway I could hope for."
She looks reluctant, but her eyes ascend to meet his, bloodshot and glimmering with tears that he knows are born of frustration.
"And what's so wrong with a lazy weekend in your dad's cabin?" he asks, a little softer now. "Can't this be enough?"
Kate sighs, lets go of the door and lets him come in. "I just wanted to be more, wanted to give you more than a boring weekend."
"Kate." She releases a shuddering breath as he draws her into a hug, wraps his arms around her trembling frame. They're both soaking wet, dripping all over the hardwood floors, but he doesn't rush the moment, doesn't try to push her towards the towels hanging on the rack at her back. "You could never bore me." He tightens his arms around her. "There's not a single thing about you that bores me."
Her chin digs into his collarbone, her fingers hook in the waistband of his jeans.
"I'm not going to be good at this, Castle," she whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the pound of rain against the roof, the pane of her bedroom window.
"Good at what?"
"Recovering, our relationship, all of it," she sighs, the pressure of her chin abandoning his clavicle, but she stays. "I should have waited until I was better and back to work-"
"No," he argues, sharper than he meant to, but he feels it like a stab through his chest. Waiting until she was back to work? That would mean an entire summer of moping, feeling like there was a gaping hole where his heart should be. "No more waiting."
Her brow furrows, like he's just said the most preposterous thing, and - well, yeah, because of his vow to wait for her, wait as long as it takes, but no. Not what he meant.
"That month after you were shot was one of the worst of my life," he admits, not that he believes it's a very shocking confession. "From the day you dismissed me at the hospital, until you texted me-"
"I wasn't dismissing you," she says quietly, the guilt he hoped to avoid blooming through her gaze. "And that month wasn't exactly a breeze for me either. I needed time to just… I couldn't face anything that happened that day, including you. Montgomery was dead, I had a bullet in my chest, and there wer- are people out there who want me dead, who probably won't quit until I am."
The reminder of of that final fact wrecks him. Out here, in the safety and seclusion of her dad's cabin in the woods, it's almost easy to forget that it isn't over. That the sniper who shot her is still roaming free, potentially plotting his next shot, that she's still being hunted.
Kate's fingers unfurl from his jeans, her knuckles brushing the base of his spine and bringing him back to her.
"The memory of you telling me you loved me… it was too much, too tainted at the time." Her jaw quivers and he watches her tighten the bone with resolve, avert her eyes to the wall. "It doesn't mean I didn't want it, didn't want you, but I didn't want that one beautiful thing crushed by all the bad. So I forgot it."
Her words strike him like a punch to the gut and clench like an iron fist around his heart at the same time.
"That month before I sent that first text message was brutal - the pain, the nightmares, the memories. I never wanted to hurt you, but I needed to be alone. Otherwise, I think you would have regretted saying it in the first place."
"No, I wouldn't have," he argues, calm but firm in his protest.
Her lips purse. "Rick-"
"No, I wouldn't have," he repeats. "I loved you before you were shot, Kate. Nothing was going to change that or make me take it back."
He trails his eyes along the rivulets of water streaming down the side of her throat, converging in the hollow place between her clavicles.
"Nothing's going to make me take it back," he murmurs, swearing it to her like a promise. "But waiting an extra two months to hear from you would have been hell. I can give you space, time, but don't shut me out."
Castle drops his hands from their resting place at her waist, but she catches them before he can move away.
"Okay," she murmurs, stepping in close. She looks like she's freezing, subtle shivers racing through her bones every few minutes, but she doesn't rush in cupping his face in her hands, dropping her forehead to his. Her breath whispers across his lips. "I'm sorry."
Castle shakes his head and steals one of her hands, presses a kiss to her palm.
"Already forgave you, Beckett."
Her fingers curl around his lips, trapping his kiss in the cove of her hand.
"Sometimes it feels like after my mother died, I built up this wall," she sighs, stroking her thumb to the corner of his mouth. "I guess I just didn't want to hurt like that again, but I think it's also caused me to block out a lot of other things. Good things."
The disappointment leaking into her features devastates him, but he strokes his thumb to the bone of her wrist, presses the pad of his finger to the line of her pulse.
"Pretty sure I built a ladder a long time ago," he murmurs, watching the light flare like hope in her eyes, burning away the dark traces of despair. "I may be wrong, but it feels like I'm inside the wall with you, like I've had access for a while."
Finally, that secret smile he's only ever seen her wear for him begins to bloom across her lips.
"You're not wrong."
Thank god.
"See? Just swimming around behind a wall. The metaphors prevail."
She huffs a laugh, but presses her fingers to his cheek, nudging his face back towards hers. The kiss she brushes to his lips is soft, grateful, a pleasant warmth unfurling through the rain induced chill that's engulfed his skin.
"Take a break from swimming and go so I can change," she murmurs against his lips. "I'm freezing."
"Me too. Ooh, I should make us some hot chocolate. Do you have marshmallows?"
Kate smirks, but that light is still dancing in her eyes. "I think so. Check the pantry."
"Be right back," he grins, pushing one more kiss to her mouth before finally letting her go.
The light from her gaze spreads through him, eviscerating any residual grief from their conversation and the scars they both ripped open to have it.
These discussions, confessionals, aren't easy. They're damn grueling, but with each exchange they struggle through and emerge victoriously from, he feels even better about what they are and where they stand. He feels all the more certain of what he wants.
This relationship will require work, more than he's even fathomed putting into with any other woman, but that's the difference.
Kate isn't just another woman he's dating, she isn't a new conquest or a temporary thing. Kate is for keeps, for always.
Kate is worth it.