The look on her face crushes him, makes him wish he could take the words back, but that would be going backwards and they can't afford to travel in that direction any longer. Watching the heartbreak etch and carve itself into her skin though… it almost has him wanting to ditch the idea of doing this right, just let her take whatever she wants of him and leave him to deal with the consequences some other time.
"I can't promise the end result," Kate begins, her voice fighting to remain steady, and he hates that he's the cause of it, that he can make the words tremble on their way past her lips at all. "But what you said, about wanting it all… Castle, if that's true, then we are on the same page."
Relief flutters in his chest, tugs at the corners of his mouth. "We are?"
"I did not fly to Paris to come searching for you on a whim, Rick," she growls, actually growls at him, and narrows her gaze, lets him see the flecks of gold like fire dancing to life in her eyes. "Nearly dying put a lot of things in perspective for me, but it did not cause me to make a reckless decision. So yes, we are. I don't think I'd still be here if we weren't."
It's all he needs to hear, more than enough to have his self-control finally vanishing, the hands already spanning her back pulling her close enough to seal his mouth over hers when he leans in, silencing her reassurances, taking them instead. Her entire body jolts with surprise, but the reflexive expectation of being pushed away is never fulfilled, the length of her melting against him instead, her lips parting at the stroke of his tongue to the seam of her mouth, all too eager to allow him entrance.
Kissing her like this, demanding and desperate and bruising her mouth with the press of his lips and the nip of his teeth, may be a mistake, a faster pace than they should be going, but Kate's moan of approval, the rise of her hands to his cheeks drawing him in closer damns all of his worries, his fears, and drenches him in the heat of her body surging against his.
They sway into the windowpane, Kate's heel kicking against the empty coffee mug on the floor and her shoulders bumping against the glass, sending her spine arching forward, whimpering at the movement and jerking him to a halt.
"Beckett-"
"No," she groans, her hands fisting at his back, twisting in his t-shirt to keep him close, but her eyes are squeezed shut. "No, don't stop."
"Kate, you're-"
Her lips smear along his jaw, her teeth nibbling on the skin, her tongue slicking over his stubble and causing his hands to clutch her waist, drag her hips to clash against his without thinking. Kate rocks forward instinctively, the friction sparking, delicious and crackling between their bodies, and oh, oh they have to stop because it is definitely too soon to pin her body to the glass of the window and give her every single piece he has left.
Her body curls around him, her mouth open and hot against the throb of his pulse, her chest heaving against his as he holds her still. He can feel her heart galloping hard, rattling the cage of her ribs with every breath, and Rick dusts his lips along the shard of her cheekbone, nudges his nose to her temple. The hands at his back unfurl, drift down to catch at his hips, thumbs hooking in his pajama pants.
Her sigh against his throat is sorrowful, the kiss she stains beneath his jaw regretful, but he doesn't want that.
"We'll take it slow," he murmurs, nipping at the hinge of her jaw, relishing in the goosebumps that arise beneath his lips. "We have time. All the time we want."
Kate nods against him, dropping her forehead to rest along his cheek as her breathing finally steadies, her chest no longer rising and falling with great effort.
"This is enough," he reminds her, skimming another kiss to her cheek, the newfound privilege too good to ignore. "Enough for now."
He feels more than sees the smile blossoming shy and beautiful along her lips, spreading at his chin. "But… soon?"
"Oh yes," he breathes, chuckling at the choked sound of her laughter and squeezing the bones of her hips. "For now, let's just get dressed – separately – and head out for a late breakfast."
"Brunch sounds good," she murmurs, tilting her head back against the glass and staring up at him with hazy eyes that shimmer with lust and promise. "But before we go?"
"Yeah?"
"Kiss me again."
Castle continues kissing her long after they've finally left the apartment. The remainder of their morning is spent exploring on foot, taking the twenty-minute route to Castle's favorite coffee shop and admiring the scenery Kate can only persist in marveling over. She's seen quite a few pieces of the world, specifically of Europe when it comes to foreign countries, but Paris has stolen her heart. Doesn't hurt that she's able to play into the stereotype, enjoy the city with her partner at her side and her heart ripe with happiness she is almost afraid to embrace.
Too good to be true, her mind tells her, but she stopped listening to the logical part of her brain three days ago.
"And is that the only fan encounter you've had so far?" Kate asks behind the cage of her fingers, attempting to subdue her laughter at his telling of the sole outburst of recognition he's experienced since arriving in Paris. He's been chatty since they left the apartment, regaling tales of the few smile inducing experiences he's had here in the city of lights, and she's been content to listen, content to hear his words about simple tasks and outings, trips to the grocery store with a French dictionary or the first time he tried escargot, spun like gripping stories. This tale of a fan encounter, though, is unraveling more like a cringe-worthy sitcom.
"Yes," he huffs, holding the door to the café open for her, waving to the barista who appears to recognize him. "Once was more than enough."
"Oh, it couldn't have been so bad," she teases. "Oh mon Dieu, Richard Castle." Beckett coos, lifting her voice an octave higher, airier, like she imagines this Parisian bimbette he described would sound. "Puis-je vous demander un autographe sur ma poitrine."
Castle pauses, their linked hands causing their arms to stretch between them in the middle of the cool, air conditioned café, his eyes sparkling as they scrutinize her, but the amused grin doesn't leave his lips.
"I'm not sure whether to be offended or aroused."
"For the sake of the public, I'd go with offended," Kate chuckles, tugging until he rejoins her in their trek across the chic café towards the counter, watching in amusement as he addresses the barista in broken French, orders two café crème's when Beckett nods in approval.
"Merci," Castle quips proudly after the woman has taken his order and he has swiped his credit card, stepping out of the small line with Kate to find a table.
"Impressive, Rick. Been practicing?" she praises just to see him preen, his chest puffing out while her eyes roll.
"Every day. A French dictionary will not get you far here," he informs her, cocking his head towards the clusters of tables outside in askance and Kate nods, waiting until their drink orders are called to follow him out onto the patio area.
"By the way, I had a question," Castle adds, pulling out her chair for her before slipping into his own. Kate hesitates, easing slowly into the warmed cedar wood, nerves clambering to life in her stomach. There was likely no reason for the apprehension, but the mention of questions still awakened it, still had her mind jerking to worst-case scenarios. "Did you have a return date to New York in mind?"
"Uh, not really," she murmurs, relief filling her lungs. "I know I said the decision to come here wasn't spontaneous, but the overall planning probably could have used some more thought put into it. Why do you ask?"
"I was just thinking," he shrugs, taking the first sip of his crème and humming with satisfaction, stalling. "I'm enjoying Paris with you."
Kate's brow furrows, but her lips still quirk upwards. "Yeah, I'm enjoying Paris with you too, Castle."
"But-"
"Uh oh," she mumbles around the rim of her mug, appreciating the first splash of espresso and steamed milk on her tongue.
"But I was wondering if maybe after this week, you'd like to see more of France," he finishes, turning his eyes down to the small cup between his palms on the table. "We could rent a car, travel along the French countryside, that sort of thing? Or we can just stay here, continue enjoying Paris, I'd be happy either way. It's just a suggestion, though, not even a request, I just thought maybe you would-"
"Castle," she quiets him, abandoning her coffee to reach across the table for his hand, curling her fingers into the cradle of his. He glances up to her with uncertainty, his eyes a bright cerulean in the sunlight, flickering with trepidation, and she realizes how unnecessary it is, but Beckett grips the edge of her chair with her free hand, scoots it around the table to sit diagonal instead of perpendicular.
His eyes burn brighter.
"That sounds like a great idea," she grins, using the closer angle to lean forward, dusts a kiss to his smiling mouth.
Castle's hand rises to the nape of her neck, his palm curving there beneath the loose curls of her hair, his thumb stroking along the fresh bruise that still bloomed with sensitivity at the back of her head, where her skull had taken a nasty hit to the concrete flooring of the roof.
"Really?" he breathes against her lips, mouths brushing as he speaks, eliciting frissons of electricity to spread through her bloodstream.
"Really. I have enough vacation days to spare," she reminds him, relishing in the huff of his laughter, his lips parted with a response on his tongue, but the ring of his cellphone silences him, has him drawing away from her with an apology in his smile.
Castle fishes his phone out from the pocket of his jeans, automatically perks up at the sight of his daughter's face on the screen, but Kate struggles not to deflate.
"Hey Pumpkin," Castle greets, the smile on his face, in his voice, but not in his eyes as he notices her shift away from him.
It isn't purposeful and she certainly does not want him to think she doesn't like his daughter, but she knows Alexis doesn't like her, practically loathes her by this point, and it reminds Beckett exactly why this could all be a very bad idea. What is she thinking? Agreeing to travel across France with him when he came here to write, to recover from wounds she inflicted.
"No, no, I'm great." Kate listens to him assure while she stares down into her coffee cup, circling the rim of the mug with her fingernail, hearing the muffled chirp of Alexis's voice from the speaker. "Well, the last three days I've been doing some extra sight seeing, taking in the energy of the city and renewing my inspiration."
His hand lands on her knee at that, his palm curving over the rounded bone of bare skin, his thumb hooking underneath. Kate keeps her gaze down, but doesn't remove his hand, training all of her focus on the pleasant sensation of his touch instead.
"I'm not sure yet, honey. My bucket list said a year, remember?" he jokes, tracing the outline of Kate's patella. "I actually think after this week, I'm going to do a bit more exploring of the country, see all of the other beautiful places France has to offer. How is your summer internship going?"
Kate is grateful for the change of subject, able to hear the way Alexis launches into the topic with fervor, and while his daughter chatters on about her internship, Beckett downs the last of her coffee, gently dislodges Castle's palm from her knee, and rises from the table.
His panic is tangible, radiating from his rigid figure still in the chair to choke her, but Kate lifts a placating hand to him, nods towards the café as she makes her way to the entry. She just needs some space, away from him and the reminder of reality in the form of his daughter on the other line. She'll buy him a pastry, something rich and chocolate-filled once she's collected herself, bring it out to him and distract him with the dessert.
Of course, it doesn't work out quite that easy.
The café has a tiny bathroom that she locks herself in for a few minutes, glaring into the mirror at the tired woman in a pretty blue top that flows to her hips, merges into the white shorts that end just above her knees. She looks better – her skin healthier, less pale and waxy as it had been in New York, her hair thick and shining rather than dull and limp, her eyes brighter and no longer so lifeless. She had felt better too, aside from the immovable pain that lives within her abdomen, pulses through her chest.
She feels better, stronger, but strong enough to be good for him, for a change? Strong enough to face his daughter, his mother, all of the people she spent the last year inadvertently saddling with the baggage of her grief? They won't be as forgiving as Castle, she knows that, and she understands it, encourages it even. She wouldn't be too forgiving in their positions either. But she also knows Castle will stand up for her, have her back, and that, she thinks, is what she fears most – causing any form of rift between him and his family.
"Beckett?" His knocks are light but quick on the bathroom door and she curses under her breath, turns the sink on and splashes a some cold water to her cheeks, cools the flush of dread infiltrating her skin.
"Just a second," she calls back, twisting the nozzle for the sink off, and smoothing a hand over her abdomen, willing the agony there to remain dormant before she opens the door.
Castle takes an abrupt step back as it swings open, regarding her with caution as she emerges from the bathroom. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, how's Alexis?" Kate counters, but the hint of suspicion doesn't leave his eyes as they rejoin the rest of the café patrons. She contemplates asking him about having that pastry, but Rick is already drifting towards the exit.
"She's great, busy, worried about me," he sighs, holding the door for her and an elderly couple that are entering as they depart, giving Beckett a head start down the sidewalk. "But that's normal."
"Shouldn't be," she murmurs, crossing her arms below her breasts, but Castle nudges her with his elbow.
"Alexis has always been a worrier since she was a kid. Nothing's changed that."
"I'm sure certain things, people, have intensified it," Beckett points out, but Rick shakes his head, draws her to a stop in front of a bookstore.
"Castle, I don't-"
"I told Alexis I was here with you."
Her stomach drops out, her heart clenching in horror and her hands threatening to shake as she lifts them to bury her face in her palms. It doesn't matter if she's strong enough to face his daughter, whether she's ready or not; he's taken the time to prepare from her.
"Why would you do that?" Kate grinds out from behind the barrier of her hands, feeling one of Castle's curl at her wrist, tugging her palm away, but her fingers form a fist.
"Because she said I sounded better," he states, his voice soft, reasoning, but she can barely hear it through the blood rushing in her ears with the panic. "So she asked if I had met someone. I know we haven't talked about this, but I didn't want to lie to her."
"You shouldn't have to lie," she whispers, but her eyes are threatening to sting with frustration as she finally lowers both of her hands, allows him to see the raw shame contorting her features into a pained expression. "But this can't - we can't do this, we can't-"
"Don't you dare," he growls, his hands gentle despite the low tone of his voice when they lift to her shoulders. "We can and we are-"
"Castle," she huffs, gripping his waist to pull him out of the way, closer to the wall of the brick building of a bookstore at their backs. "I don't want to come between you and Alexis. She's the most important part of your life and I refuse to be the wedge in your relationship with your daughter. It means too much-"
"Alexis isn't happy," he concedes, his thumbs extending to graze the edges of her collarbones. "And as much as I love my daughter and respect her opinions, her feelings, she can't dictate the decisions I make. She isn't the parent here, Kate."
"She'll never be okay with this," Kate sighs, pressing two fingers between her brows, to the headache drumming to life there.
"She will, eventually. She'll just need time."
"No, Rick, you don't understand." Beckett shrugs his hands from her shoulders and tilts her back to rest against brick wall behind her, diverting her eyes to the heavens, to the gorgeous blue sky, the Eiffel tower standing tall in the distance. "Alexis came to see me about nine months ago."
Castle's eyes narrow on her, his brow creasing with a mixture of confusion and skepticism. "What did she say to you?"
She really does not want to tattle on his daughter, and she won't tell him everything, won't recall how Alexis had shown up on her doorstep on a Friday evening not long after Kate's return to the Twelfth with her eyes blazing as bright as her hair, fury fuming from her lips as she demanded Kate explain why she had 'banished' her father from the precinct, why she had disappeared like a coward during the summer. She won't retell how Alexis had deemed Beckett's stuttered excuses as bullshit and then spit out that she wished she never would have come back.
"She was just looking out for you," Beckett murmurs, summarizing the reason for the surprise visit that had only added to the misery lacing her bones.
"What did she say, Kate?" he asks again, his determination cold and steely, but Kate shakes her head, refusing to disclose the information he seeks.
"She wanted me to stay away, but that had been the plan regardless, Rick. Alexis was just protecting you the only way she knew how."
"Lashing out at you is not the answer," he snaps, brushing off the touch of her hand to his forearm. "I don't need anyone to protect me from you, Beckett. It was bad enough knowing you had shut me out, but I didn't need my daughter aiding in that."
Her mouth opens, but the words are stuck in her throat, dry and crumbling, it's useless anyway. He's already walking away from her.
A/N: Regarding the brief mention of French in this chapter, I apologize if I butchered it a bit. My language skills in that area are rusty and Google was of little help.