Close Encounters 30


She half expected Salome to have stolen the Jeep. When the women didn't appear before them racing down the path to where Castle had hidden their transportation, and the vehicle was clearly still there, Beckett became afraid for her.

Castle reached back and grabbed her by the upper arm and attempted to forcibly lift her over the side and into the Jeep. The fact that he only barely couldn't, owing to one hand being unusable, impressed her all over again. His tenacity. His strength. His determination to save her.

He pushed on her hip. "Get in."

"You're not driving. You're liable to pass out-"

"Pot meet kettle," he growled.

"You've used that twice in one day," she snapped back, but she was already hoisting herself into the Jeep, completing the job he'd only half-managed with her. She did it to move things along.

Castle ran around the other side and hopped in, dug his keys out with his right hand, jammed them into the ignition. She reached past him and grabbed his seatbelt even as he started the Jeep, and she buckled him in first and then herself.

The Jeep rocketed forward, farther down the path he'd created taking it offroad in the first place, and she clung to the rollbar overhead to keep her seat. Castle grunted with the Jeep's bouncing shocks, and she saw his face turn white.

"Clinic," she said tersely.

"No, I-"

"You have to get those fingers set," she said abruptly. "And I can't do it, Castle. I cannot set your fingers, the fine metacarpal bones, the carpal bones, no. You will lose all manual dexterity. You could lose function."

She saw him swallow, and she pressed her advantage.

"And I need to take a breath. You were right to drive. I'm upright only barely. Kinda going on fumes."

He shot her a swift, intense look and she let him see that she wasn't just manipulating him. She was manipulating him, but it was also true.

"We both need to hole up, wherever it is, but we can't do that without getting some medical attention. A clinic to set your hand, get a soft cast, and I probably need IV fluids." And observation for a concussion, but Castle himself usually did that. If he got the bones set and his hand in a soft cast and no pain meds, then she could lie down in his hospital bed and close her eyes for a second. Just-

"Okay," Castle said, his voice cutting through the noise of the engine. "A clinic. There's - a trauma center near the technological university. Or there was ten years ago."

"Please," she sighed. Her body was still rigid with tension from holding herself together and trying not to jostle the pounding ache in her skull or the throb of her own pulse in her jaw. Beyond that were the bruises on her pelvis and sternum, and the abrasions on her elbows, forearms, and face. Not to mention the cramps in her toes and fingers from climbing down that disintegrated fire escape.

Rest wasn't an option right now. She was too worried about his hand, and his regimen-enhanced blood trying to knit bones back together that weren't in their correct spots. The longer this took, the worse the pain would be for him when the doc did have to set the bones. She'd seen one study of Black's where they'd been forced to re-break every bone in the man's arm to put it right again.

It terrified her, what Black had done to people in the name of the perfect soldier. And in not quite achieving that perfection - her super husband - Black had fucked up Castle's genetic makeup so damn much that now they just never knew with him. They couldn't know if what they were doing would fuck up some careful balance or set him back decades, and yet they kept trying.

"Beckett," he snapped. "Eyes up."

She jerked forward, realizing she'd been in some kind of trance, hypnotized by the rough road and her own damage. Was she going into shock?

Kate holstered her weapon for a moment, swiped her sweaty palm against her jeans, and then carefully took out her gun once more. She gave herself two deep breaths and then twisted in the seat to keep watch. That was her job right now; she had to focus.

Beckett scanned the road ahead for obstacles he might miss while trying to detour them around the gaps in the scrub brush. And then she swiveled her head and scanned the road behind, keeping her weapon ready in her free hand, on the lookout for demolition workers or police coming after them.

"Okay, hang on. I'm turning back onto the main road."

The front wheels hit hard and she cringed, her head splitting with agony before she could get control of it.

"Sorry, baby, so sorry-"

"You too," she gasped. She could hear the pain in his voice, how it had hurt him probably more.

"Yeah," he croaked out. "Clinic is fucking right."

"You saying I'm right?" she asked, trying for teasing, light.

"I'm saying it's possible you can - on occasion - come up with an accurate assessment of our current predicament."

"Listen to that bullshit coming out of your mouth," she scoffed.

"Too long behind a desk, baby."

She laughed, weird and aching as it sounded, half a groan, while the tires jounced over potholes because Castle wouldn't reduce his speed. He glanced over at her, a fast look, checking on her.

"Eyes up," she mimicked.

"Fuck off. I'm doing my job. Are you even watching the road?"

"Yes," she grit out, but she glanced behind them once more. The collection of warehouses where Salome had stored her treasure were now more than a mile behind them, and while she heard the distinct whine of sirens, there was no one on their tail.

Yet.

"Kate, honey-"

"No," she snapped. "Don't. Don't you dare." He wasn't allowed to say I love you like it was a parting gift, like this might be the end of the road for them, like he couldn't hang on. He had fucking better hang on. "We just survived a fucking demolition, so keep your damn sentiments to yourself."

"I hate you."

"Right back at you."

She saw, from the corner of her eye even though it hurt like fucking hell to look, his crooked and pained little smile, like the agony was worth it just to hear her refuse to say she loved him back.


The had to dump the Jeep inside a junk yard and walk to the clinic, stripping off their weapons and shoving them into a bag. Two reasons for hiding the Jeep, which he had explained to her even as he was picking the padlock that chained the gate closed. One - no one in the barrio ever drove a shiny tourist's Jeep unless it was stolen, which it was. And two - if the police did find the Jeep, or for that matter if Lo found it, then it wouldn't immediately lead back to them while they were somewhat vulnerable inside the clinic.

They came up with their story on the entirely torturous walk of seven long blocks, and the back and forth plus her mild swearing at him every few feet was enough to keep him conscious.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could remain so. He didn't tell her that, but she seemed to know it anyway.

He was relieved when the trauma center appeared before them, and by the time they came in the door, he was cradling his hand so close to his chest he was afraid he wouldn't be able to move his arm.

"We were in a car accident, last night," she told the intake nurse. She was jittery and trembling, and she might be going into shock - but she kept shooting him death stares every time he opened his mouth to say her first.

"Last night?" the nurse clucked. "Bad idea to wait, very bad. We'll have to see. Come on back. You fill this out-"

"She needs fluids," he said abruptly, unwilling to wait any longer. "This is just my hand, but she's been up all night, because our cousin said watch her for a concussion, but she needs fluids."

The nurse gave him a double take, which wasn't ideal (probably most low-income workers didn't know to tell the nurse about IV fluids) but he didn't fucking care right this second. Kate needed those damn fluids, and he was almost too out of it to keep upright. She had to be balanced out because she was the one who couldn't maintain her levels on her own; he just needed someone to pop his bones back into place.

Kate shot him another look, but he set his jaw and growled obey me - which made the nurse startle.

Kate gave a little tinkling laugh, out of character for Beckett, but in character for some wife somewhere maybe (did any wife laugh so sweetly when her husband demanded obedience?), and she said something like oh you while she batted her eyes.

The intake nurse was now giving them both the stink eye, like they were deviant and strange, and he really didn't care so long as she gave them a hospital bed. And Beckett an IV. And no pain meds for either of them because that would be really bad.

"No pain-" he started, but Kate hushed him with a squeeze around his bicep where she was hanging on.

Shut your fucking mouth, it said so very clearly, and he did.

He did because she handled the medical shit a thousand times better than he ever had, and because he was fairly certain that the regimen was humming to life inside him once more and trying very hard to drag him down into coma-healing.

He couldn't let that happen. Not when Kate needed the rest more.

Castle followed the intake nurse into the back, Beckett at his side and answering questions, filling out forms on the clipboard even while she walked. When the nurse had led them into an exam room, he was relieved to find it was actually a multi-bed room, divided up with curtains.

The intake nurse took the paperwork and handed them off to a floor nurse.

Before he knew it, that second nurse had somehow managed to steer him to the mattress and push him to sit, leaning back against the raised head. He gasped when she probed his hand, not expecting it. Beckett was right beside him, stroking his shoulder on his uninjured side, and he was absurdly grateful for it.

But he wished the nurse would give Beckett an IV first. "She needs fluids," he repeated. "Baby, go-"

"No. I'm not going."

"Just to the next bed," he said, turning back to the nurse. "She needs an IV-"

"I know. The nurse from out front filled me in. We have the phlebotomist coming in to draw some blood and do a full work up. Meanwhile, Senor Fernandez-"

Fernandez? Castle gave Beckett a slack-jawed look and she pinched his side.

"Yes," he answered gruffly, not sure what he was answering, only that Beckett had signed them in under Salome's name. What the fuck, woman.

"Agency is compromised," Kate murmured into his ear, leaving a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Very good," the nurse said. "The doctor will be right in."

The nurse left, tugging the curtain around them, and he glanced down at his hand to find it taped to a styrofoam board. He blinked, dumb-founded by how and when that had happened, and then he dragged his gaze to his wife.

"I need you," he said. His voice sounded bad - laced with the echoes of pain that he was trying very hard not to actually feel.

"I'm right here," she said, calm. Steady. Not a moment's doubt in her voice.

"I mean, crawl in with me. Need you with me."

Her face changed swiftly, and he saw all of that terrible longing for rest.

It made his stomach twist. "Please, baby. Please just crawl in with me and lie down and I promise - I promise I'll keep you safe. I won't need to sleep once they get the hand set. I promise I can keep you safe."

Her eyes were watery, and he expected resistance, digging in her heels, but instead she gave him a broken little nod and climbed onto the bed with him. He had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from showing how fucking much that hurt, jostling the mattress, but he shifted until she had enough room.

Kate let out a harsh sound and slumped down against his side, and he opened his arm and curled it around her shoulders. He couldn't help leaning in over her and pressing his mouth to her temple, breathing her in, the sweat and concrete dust and travel soap of her, but he didn't close his eyes.

He wouldn't.

There was no way he could. His hand was pure liquid agony, and it wasn't going to get any better.

"No pain meds," she mumbled, her lips brushing his neck.

"I know," he said, words tight in his throat.

"The IV," she sighed. "Don't let them put me away from you."

"No, baby. You're staying right here. I've got you, Kate."

"Don't let go."

"Never."


She had been vaguely aware of him slipping a fat wad of pesos to the floor nurse for some expedited care, and then she came fully awake when the phlebotomist drew her blood. She opened her eyes to see a kind, round face and and to feel the sting on her finger where it had been pricked.

She shifted to look at Castle and felt him petting her hair, and the weight of his fingers on top of her head made her wobble back against his shoulder.

She was so tired.

The nurse was saying something to him about wheeling him down the hall for X-rays, and Kate tried to rouse again, forcing her eyes open.

"No, I'm okay. I can walk," she muttered, sliding her legs out of the bed.

"No, hush, Kate, hush," he was saying in her ear. "You're staying right here with me."

She paused, confused, but the woman was pushing her back to the raised head of the bed and she went, lying against Castle's shoulder once more. The nurse pulled Kate's right arm away from her body, and then she was tapping at the crook of Kate's elbow with two fingers. Tap-tap, and then tap-tap, and then she ripped open an alcohol wipe, swabbed Kate's arm, and was inserting a needle before Kate knew what was going on.

"It's okay, it's the IV. Had to pay for a little special treatment."

All Kate could do was watch as the nurse inserted the line and set up the IV bag, and then fluids were being drained into her. The bag was hung on a pole beside Castle's bed, and when she turned her head to look, she realized Castle's hand was still taped to the styrofoam board.

"What about your hand?" she croaked.

"Just finished X-rays. They have a machine like at the dentist's office, and they just took a bunch of shots of my hand while you drooled on my shoulder."

"Oh." She blinked and glanced back to her arm, dazzled by the bright pink band-aid over the line to tape it down. "Oh, okay. When... they need to set your hand. They have to get the bones set before-"

Castle nudged his chin into her temple. "I know. I got it covered. Trust me to look out for us, baby. Can you do that? I need you to rest while we have the time, because I'm gonna need you when we slip out of here."

"Yeah," she got out, nodding dumbly. She was exhausted. She wasn't sleepy, which would be a bad sign if she were concussed; she just ached in every part of her body. Her hips, her chest, but mostly in her jaw.

His kiss touched her forehead; he hummed at her temple. "Sleep, sweetheart. They're looking at the X-rays, doc seems really competent. He's getting a surgeon's opinion about the knuckles."

"No, no surgery-"

"I know. I already said," he whispered, as if he was trying to lull her back to sleep. "No surgery, no pain meds. Sleep, love, you need to sleep while you can."

"Knuckles," she mumbled, but it was so hard to keep her eyes open. So easy to sink into the heat of his body and the strength of his arm around her. She felt the IV in her elbow like an irritation, and she actually moved a hand to thoughtlessly scratch - but Castle caught her fingers.

"You know my knuckles will heal just fine if they set the finger bones straight. Just fine, Kate. Just fine."

"You're fine," she echoed, but it might have only been in her head.