Around the World Series

Part Five

North American Dream

Chapter 12

*Mistakes are mine. All mine! Kthxbye.

. . . . .

The end of October buffeted New York with gusts of wind, torrential rain and even threatened snow, but as Kate stepped off the plan in New Orleans, all of that misery dissolved. After two months, she finally had four days off. Four days she was spending in New Orleans.

Four days with Rick.

It was heaven and paradise and she was staunchly refusing to acknowledge how ridiculously needy and dependent that made her sound. But she missed him. She had missed him. It was a testament to the changes they'd made in each other that her life didn't seem the same without him in it.

She was so excited, she hadn't even bothered to promise herself dignity and poise when she saw him. She didn't care if they looked like the stereotypical reuniting lovers. They were.

Kate could feel her breath speed up as she neared baggage. Any minute now. They hadn't talked about where they were meeting, but she knew Rick. There was absolutely no way he would have the patience to wait in the hotel for her. God, at this point, she'd probably even forgive him if he decided to make a spectacle of their reunion.

He wasn't there when her eyes did a cursory search of the claim area. She stomped hard on the disappointment and picked a strategic shot by the chute. She allowed her mind to drift as she waited, checked her phone…

She was thinking about texting Rick when she felt lips settling against the spot on her neck that made her knees weak. Strong hands caught her waist as her eyes slipped closed.

"God, you're a sight for sore eyes," Rick whispered when his lips reached her ear.

Kate spun and sealed her mouth to his. Rick squeezed her hips as he responded in kind, pulling her against him. Kate felt her body give into the feel of him, finally, after two months.

"You feel so good," she finally whispered when they pulled away and he wrapped her up against his chest.

"I missed you," he replied. "Every day."

She chuckled, but didn't scold him for his romantic tendencies. "I missed you, too."

"Yeah?" he murmured against her hair. He was fishing.

"You know I did," she replied, pulling back to kiss him again. "Of course I did."

He couldn't get enough of her. He wanted her. Desperately. Now. "Which one's yours?"

Kate laughed against his mouth, very aware of what was going on. She wasn't immune to the need either. "Anxious?"

"You have no idea," he breathed against her lips. "Kate…"

"Soon," she murmured back, pressing herself against him. "Suitcase, then hotel, Castle."

His eyes darkened and he took one last gentle nip at her ear. He felt her shiver against him before releasing her. He'd already considered this particular day a write-off. "Your suitcase, Detective."

"Right," she breathed out on a sigh, her blood humming in her ears. "Suitcase. The red ones."

"Not the Hawaiian?" Rick inquired with a pout. He loved them because they were so easy to spot on the baggage claim. But they were unprofessional and Paula had vetoed anything but plain, black luggage.

"No," she answered with an indulgent smile. He'd all but begged her to bring them, just so he could swap out his things. "Red."

He released a put-upon sigh. "You are entirely too practical."

"You love me," she replied easily, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

"Dearly," he promised, wrapping an arm around her to tug her in front of him. He wrapped both arms around her then as they watched the conveyor start up.

She hummed softly. "Are you going to be my big, strong stud and pull it off for me?"

"Only if it won't threaten your coveted independence." If she was going to needle him, he was going to push back. Especially here and now, when he had her in his arms and everything felt normal.

"Nope," she replied, tracing her fingers along his forearms. "And I may have brought you a present."

"Present?"

She knew by the tone of his voice his entire face had illuminated. She knew, regardless of what the present was, he was excited. She smirked. "Well, maybe it's more an 'us' present." Then, while he absorbed that, pressing his hand harder against her stomach, she pointed out her luggage. "That one."

He nudged her aside. When the suitcase was in his grasp – he'd had to release her to do it – he turned to her with glowing, sparkling, hot blue eyes. "Can I open it?"

Her smirk turned to a sultry smile. "Of course."

He went for the suitcase and she reached out for his wrist, leaning into his ear. "Who said it was in the suitcase?"

His eyes raked over her as his mouth curved dangerously. Then he had her hand in his, and all but yanked a laughing Kate out of the airport.

They ordered room service for dinner. It was, to Kate, rather decadent. Sure, she spent a little outside her regular price range, but her job made it difficult to travel further than the Hamptons. And when she did get the time off, all she, Rick and Alexis wanted to do was go to the Hamptons. Sometimes it was the house in Boston, but either way, neither provided a room service menu.

Nevertheless, she sat in bed, one of Rick's t-shirts draped tantalizingly over her thin frame as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Rick sat across from her, his own dinner set aside. She placed her dishes on his with a contented sigh. They hadn't left the hotel all day. They'd taken the time to get reacquainted with each other, body, mind and soul. In between rounds, they'd talked, bantered, argued, teased like they'd been together the whole month. She'd be ready for the next round in a minute, but first, she had one thing she definitely wanted to get done.

"I brought some of the wedding things."

His eyes lit up and she smiled. She'd been silly to think he didn't want to help her. Of course he did. He was Rick Castle. Party planning was his specialty.

She headed to her carry-on, bringing it back and setting it on the end of the bed. He watched as she shuffled through it until she withdrew a plastic envelope. Organized.

"What's on the menu?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"No pun intended," he said with a smile.

"Honestly? I still haven't picked place cards," she answered, climbing back up after setting her bag on the floor. Her laptop was in that bag. The last thing she wanted was for it to tumble to the ground.

"Invitations?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I've narrowed down the style but I'm totally stuck on fonts. Don't you dare make fun of me."

"Kate, they have to go out."

"I know," she promised, settling beside him. Truthfully, it was their wedding invitation. She'd saved it because she wanted it to be something they picked out. She could rationalize choosing her own flower arrangements, she could understand allowing her to choose the colour scheme, but she was set on the invitations. Their wedding, their invitations.

"Alright, Detective. Lay it on me."

She pulled a handful from the pouch. "I've vetoed the complicated or intricate ones," she told him, as she fanned out six options. She hadn't ruled out some fun ones. A couple were cartoons, others colourful and then, of course, some elegant selections.

He flipped through them, humming when he came across a blank one. "Our engagement shot?"

"We could," she agreed. "Though the one that's in your office."

She had the same one on her desk. They'd done a photo shoot for the press with a photographer friend of Rick's. Once they'd had the formal shot, Nick had ordered them to get goofy. Considering it had been them, it hadn't been difficult. Nick had ended up showing them a gorgeous shot of Rick lifting Kate his arms tight around her waist and her head thrown back in laughter. It spoke of so much in their relationship. She made him happy and it was so evident by the look on his face, the focus on her. He held her up, supported her, helped her fly.

They'd loved the metaphor.

"We can do funny wording too," he offered.

"We're going away from formal?"

"Formal's not us," he pointed out.

She grinned and tucked the two cream embossed selections back into the envelope. He kept looking at the blank one. She'd liked it too. She'd loved the idea of printing that picture, of showing off what they had and what it meant. From the way he was shuffling around the cards but always coming back to the virtually blank one, she could tell he felt the same.

They picked the font next – nothing calligraphy or elegant, but looking almost handwritten – and he composed a goofy poem that made her laugh. This was what she'd wanted all those nights she'd sat alone at the island, puzzling it all over. She'd wanted this, the fun, the laughter, the light-heartedness. She didn't take this to seriously when he was beside her and he made it so much easier to make decisions.

They talked about buffet style finger food for the reception because the ceremony was going to take place in the Hamptons. Rick even called Paula and Gina, asked them to e-mail Kate a list of caterers that would be willing to handle an event like their wedding. They narrowed down their guest list too before Rick tackled her to the bed.

"I can't wait to marry you," he whispered against her lips

Kate felt her worries dissipate. How could she have believed that Rick didn't want to plan with her? She knew better. He wanted this wedding as much as she did. He wanted to call her his wife, to promise her forever, to be that 'one and done' that she'd been looking for when he'd dropped into her lap.

"Me either," she promised.

They spent the rest of the weekend as tourists. Besides her semester in Kiev, Kate had done very little traveling and Rick too the opportunity to drag her to every touristy thing they could do. New Orleans was in full swing with Halloween just under two weeks away. They toured cemeteries and plantations, wandered the French Quarter and seen the city from a riverboat. He'd even managed to convince her to sit down for a Tarot reading in Jackson Square. She'd all but swooned when he'd easily tugged her into Café du Monde for a beignet and coffee.

Kate had lapped it up, and Rick had fed off her excitement.

They spent Saturday night in the hustle and bustle of the city, eating dinner at the Hard Rock before wandering down to see the street performers. On Sunday they got dressed up and just barely made their reservation at Arnaud's. Kate's eyes had shone across the table as they shared appetizers and dinner and didn't even pester him about what the bill had been. Instead, she'd taken his hand and they'd headed back to the hotel.

And then, before they'd both known it, before they could blink, it was Monday. Kate had to return New York, and he had to move on to Mississippi. They packed their bags and headed to the airport.

"We've done this before," he said, mouth against her temple as they headed towards the ticket counter. He'd kept her close for the car ride, his hand wrapped in hers.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. It was another one of those situations where Kate didn't care if he was all over her. She was about to separate from him again, this time for six weeks. Four weeks had been brutally hard. She had no idea how she was going to make it to Thanksgiving without losing her mind.

"Next time," he went on, tightening his grip on her hip. "I don't put off the tours."

"Agreed," she replied because that was what had gotten them into this fiasco to begin with. He hadn't been on a tour in years. First there had been her shooting, then the Smith case, and he'd been too busy trying to keep them strong together. It had been one thing after another and he just hadn't done it. Not since the California trip that had brought them together.

"And you come with me."

She smiled, tipped her head back for his kiss. "Also agreed."

"Really?"

"Come on, Rick," she said, nudging his stomach and ignoring the overdramatic 'oomph'. "This is hard for me too." Sometimes, she wondered if it was harder. She was alone in their bed, in their house, with their memories. She found herself abstractly wondering if that was worse than being alone in a sterile hotel room. And, of course, there was the issue of how much she relied on him to pull her out of the dark.

"I know," he promised. "I know." His hand stroked along her ribs. "How much time do you have banked up?"

Kate hummed slightly. "Not sure."

"Six weeks."

That made her turn, right out of his embrace. "What?"

"Six weeks," he repeated, his hand settling on her hip. "Two weeks for our honeymoon and a month in Europe for touring."

"Yeah?" Her eyes were shining. Europe for her honeymoon. Her honeymoon!

"Why not?" he replied, sliding his hand to splay across her back. They shuffled a few steps to move forward in line, miraculously without tripping over anyone's luggage. "Europe is going to have to be my next trip anyway." He leaned down to her ear. "Think about it: we'll see every major city on the continent."

Her smile widened. "Really?" There were so many she wanted to see! Madrid, London, Paris, Rome… She'd been stupid in her semester abroad and hadn't done as much touring as she should have. Plus, considering their weekend in New Orleans she was sure touring the European cities with Rick would be a once in a lifetime experience.

"Oh Kate," he said, breath washing down the side of her neck. "There are so many possibilities when you're my wife…"

The shiver raced down her back and she forced herself to pull away. Why did he have to do this now, in the airport? "You're cruel."

He grinned, then nudged her forward.

The happy bubble evaporated fast when they finally had their boarding passes. They were on opposite sides of the terminal, on different concourses. They stood there, just looking, knowing that neither one of them wanted to be the first to say goodbye.

"Call me when you land," he finally said.

She swallowed, reaching out to fiddle with the sports coat he wore. "I will." She forced back the irrational tears she hated to shed. "Call me every day."

"I promise, Kate. Every day."

They shared a kiss, tender and heartbreaking.

"I love you," he told her.

"I love you too," she echoed.

Their next kiss was violent, turbulent, hot. It had to last them a month and a half after all.

"You need to go," he said when they pulled away, but he made no move to remove his hand from where it had curled around her neck. "Because neither of us is going anywhere if we stand here too much longer."

She needed to be the responsible one. But with was with a heavy sigh and a heavy heart that she let her hand drop from his chest. Then she took one step backwards. Then two, then three. Finally, she sucked in a deep breath, blew him a bittersweet kiss and turned for her gate.

Six weeks was going to suck.

So, thesis, supervisor, issues, Memoir, muse… there are a million words and reasons for why this took… huh, two months. Really there are. I didn't want to write this chapter and it wasn't until I forced myself to that I knew why. I can't do gratuitous fluff. Not when there's so much drama to come. I feel like every scene needs to move towards the endgame and there's really only one part of this chapter that even touches on what the big turning point's going to be for Rick and Kate. And then I had to write the other airport goodbye scene. Now I'm depressed.

I'm hoping now that I've got this one out of the way (and my apologies to those of you who were looking for a more detailed walkthrough of their weekend. It didn't happen, the muse wouldn't let it) I can get on with this. Potentially, there's two more chapters before I get to what I want, so these are all almost transitions. Set ups, if you will. Which is probably also part of the reason they're irritating me. Because while it doesn't feel like they're pushing the story forward they actually are, at a pace that's almost invisible.

If you read this, thanks so much for your patience. Trust me, I know what it feels like to wait forever for a chapter you want now and I wish there was something I could do to change the way my brain works.

If you're so inclined, please drop a review.