Close Encounters 10

Castle laughed and adjusted the screen of his phone so he could share it with her. "I swear. I love this show."

"You're messing with me. I've never seen you watch television."

"Well. Okay. So." He winced and tilted his head at the screen. "It's funny though. I didn't realize it would be so funny."

"Oh, jeez, Castle. No television at all?"

"Some." But. No, not really. "I like it. You said I needed to be educated. Educate me."

Kate laughed again and took the phone from him, paused the show. "This one's good, but there's one episode where they have this contest to see who gets the girls' apartment. They do this kind of jeopardy thing - or maybe more like the newlywed game - see who knows whom better. Let's watch that."

He let her dictate their tv viewing, watched her fingers on the screen as she went to season four. He was content to let her have it, content to do anything she wanted really. He was just trying to be normal, to make it normal for her as possible. They used to sack out in front of the tv in the living room on that ugly couch. Normal stuff.

Kate evidently found what she was looking for because she started the show and propped it up on the bedside table against her food tray. She'd eaten everything on it, except for the jello - he had no idea what she had against jello but it was a permanent and nasty hatred.

She'd even eaten a roll and nibbled at the bearclaw-like pastry. He'd eaten a turnover thing - it had some kind of fruit in it and she'd tasted it too - but she hadn't pushed the solid food experiment that far. He was glad, actually, because it meant she knew her limits and wasn't being stupid; it meant she was telling the truth when she said she was good.

She was good.

He settled in beside her, drawing an arm around her knees as they canted over his lap, her cheek against his shoulder. He brushed back the hair that had gotten in her mouth and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Tomorrow we go home," he said softly.

She smiled against his neck and nudged his jaw away from her. "Tomorrow. But it starts right now, Castle. We're right now. This can be home."

He tilted his head away and gave her a look. "I think maybe you're just food-drunk, sweetheart. This is not home."

She stuck out her tongue at him. "No. Well, a little. That roll, Castle. I'm gonna have wet dreams about bread; I can feel it."

"We'll add it to the list. The ice machine at Stone Farm, strawberry milkshakes, bread."

"Oh, sometimes there's you," she added, a little half-shrug like he was an afterthought.

"Oh, sometimes I'm your wet dream?"

"Yeah. You know. When there's no bread. Or ice. Or milkshakes."

"Uh-huh." He laughed and shook his head at her, but she snuggled in against him and shifted so that more of her body pressed to his.

"But I meant it," she said suddenly, her fingers stroking at his collarbone. "You're my home. It's built on you. On us together. We have a house and a dog and plans for the future, but Castle, it's this."

He couldn't help the tight clench of his chest and the closing up of his throat. He loved her and he couldn't do this without her and he understood, he knew - she couldn't have made any other choice but the one she made.

He didn't like it but he could hardly hold it against her - he'd have done the same.

"Kate," he sighed. "Love. I'm sorry."

"What?" She brought her startled glance to him, as if rousing from a dream, and he realized she'd been half asleep. "Sorry for what?"

He didn't know how to say it, how to make sense of the complicated knot of what he felt for her. "Sorry for - for this. For. Taking it out on you."

"No. No, Rick. You didn't-"

"It kills me; it kills me that you were - I can't even - Shit. It kills me. But I - I'd have done it too. And it's not fair to pretend that it's unequal. It's not like I love you more; it's not like this would work without one of us."

She clutched his shirt again, smoothed her hand out once more. He could feel her heart beating too hard against her ribs and his as well. Castle pressed his hand over hers and tried to settle her with just his touch.

"It doesn't work without you," she said then. "It works because it's both of us. Together."

"So together we go home," he said in return. "Together we go home."

She laid her head against his shoulder again and her fingers stroked at his shirt underneath his hand, over and over, as if soothing him. The show was still playing on his phone and he realized it was funny, it was distracting, and it was enough of home for now.

She'd fall asleep and he'd watch over her, and then tomorrow they'd go home.

He was still asleep - even after the night nurse's visit. Kate stroked a light finger over his eyebrows and watched his nose twitch, but he stayed asleep. She leaned in and kissed so very softly the skin at his jaw, the round satin of his bottom lip, the flare of his nose. He was a beautiful man, with a strong and deep heart, capable of such extremes.

She wanted to touch him, wanted to have him, wanted. She was tired of waiting, tired of tired. Time to get things back to normal, one step at a time.

Kate smoothed her thumb over his eyebrow again and he stirred; she cupped the side of his face as they laid together on one pillow.

"Shower?" she murmured, nudging his hip with her knee.

Castle startled awake, dislodging her hand, and blinked at her, rubbed his eyes like a little boy.

"You were going to help me shower," she whispered, smiling at him.

"Oh. Yeah. Did I fall asleep?"

"No wonder you don't watch much tv. Puts you right out," she said quietly, letting him wake. She curled her hand over his bicep, loved the flex of muscle even as he yawned and pushed up onto his elbows, finally sat up.

"Shower. Yeah. Let's do that."

"Before it gets too late."

He nodded and climbed out of her hospital bed then offered a hand back to her, helped her down as well. She slid to the floor and felt the first flutter of instability, but Castle had her and she'd be okay.

"When the night nurse came in and took my vitals, I told her you were going to help me shower," she offered. "She seemed relieved she wouldn't have to do it herself."

Castle chuckled, pulling a face. "I don't think she likes us."

"Not at all," she agreed quickly. "But she likes Mitchell. Did you see the way she got all curious when you mentioned he'd be coming by?"

He laughed, ushering her slowly towards the ensuite bathroom. "No. Really? That's just too perfect. Have to give her Mitch's number."

"Oh no," Kate laughed. "He doesn't deserve that."

Castle shrugged a little and she slipped her arm around his waist feigning that she needed his support; he pulled her closer, his palm hot at her hip. More like it. Kate smiled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, slipped her fingers under the untucked tails of his shirt.

His skin rippled when she touched him.

"What are you doing, Kate?" He opened the bathroom door and drew her inside, flipped on the light.

"I'm well-rested now," she murmured, lifting her eyebrows. "And I ate all my dinner."

"Good girl." He gave her a wicked grin back. "What about dessert?"

"This is dessert," she hummed

He grunted and she grinned, glad she'd already driven him to animal noises and they'd only made it into the bathroom. She felt good, and it was all because of him, and she wanted to touch him.

"Kate, Kate, I don't think-"

"Oh, thinking isn't the point," she whispered, reaching for his pants.

She didn't try to stand; they just sat on the tile floor of the shower, Kate in the vee of his legs. He massaged the shampoo into her scalp, held the weight of her head in his hands, her body falling back into his.

"Love your hands," she sighed.

The shower was the most privacy they'd had since they'd gotten to the hospital in Turkey, and next it would be hours on a military cargo flight to Athens, and then cramped into economy class to Rome. He wanted this time to have her, have her close, be with her like this. Touching her.

Castle grabbed the plastic cup he'd stolen from her dinner tray and filled it from the shower spray, then he laid her head back against his chest and sealed his hand over her forehead, poured the water down over her hair. It ran the suds free, slipping down his torso and to the drain.

And that was the last of it. He'd washed himself first to get it out of the way, and now he dropped his hand from her forehead and curled his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer.

She nuzzled into him, a sigh from her lips. "Last time we'll get to be alone before..."

"The hotel in Athens," he murmured.

"Oh, fun," she hummed, eyes flickering open.

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Ready to get out, dry off?"

"Guess so," she sighed again. But she unfolded from his embrace and rose before him, water shimmering and streaking down her body, her eyes dark on him. She looked stronger, even if he could see her ribs and the hard juts of her joints. She looked ready.

Castle stood as well, pushed off the water faucet with his foot. She grinned and shivered, a hand coming to his wrist to tickle in the cupped well of his palm. He laughed at her and she shrugged.

"Need a towel. I'm cold."

"Hold your horses. I'm getting there," he muttered, stepping out of the short tub and to the even colder tile floor. He snagged the over-starched hospital towel and turned back to her, wrapped it around her body. She shivered again and he rubbed her arms with it, embracing her and lifting her up and over the tub.

She laughed a little and wetly kissed his neck, her hair soaked and dripping against him. "You need a towel too."

"You need clothes," he countered. "I brought them in here with me. What'd I do with them?"

"Right there, tucked into the handicap bar."

Castle turned and found her sweatpants, the tshirt, and a pair of clean underwear. When he turned back, she was using the towel to press the ends of her hair dry, goose bumps across her bare skin. He leaned in and couldn't help kissing her cheek, cupping the side of her face before he handed over her clothes.

"Save the underwear," she said.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Save them?"

"For tomorrow. Just sleeping. Don't need underwear to sleep."

"No shenanigans from you," he warned.

She laughed. "No, no. Couldn't possibly. Help me?"

He grinned back and bent down to help her with the sweatpants, black, loose, too loose really, and when he looked up, she had shrugged on the tshirt by herself.

Her fingers came down to his bare shoulders, played at the nape of his neck, stroked through his hair. He swayed forward into her, wrapped his arms around her waist, nose pressed into the warmth of her belly.

Her fingers made designs against his scalp, combing through his wet hair, and he closed his eyes for a moment just to feel her. Just for a second more, just the two of them.

And then he stood and dislodged her hands, and he guided her out of the bathroom and back to bed.

Kate Beckett woke paranoid.

But it really was her own name she heard and then whispering and she tried not to jerk, tried not to let on she was awake, but a hand came down to her shoulder and gripped in awareness and she stiffened.

And then remembered.

Castle. It was Castle.

"She's right here," he said.

She opened her eyes and he was on the phone, his face furrowed with concern over her. His hand at her shoulder drifted up to her neck and stroked down, releasing some knot of tension she hadn't realized she had.

She must have been in the middle of another dream.

"Yes, sir. I think so," Castle answered. His thumb pressed behind her ear even as his fingers snared in her tangled hair.

Kate shivered and drew her arms up, curled tighter against his thigh where he sat beside her on the bed. Sometime during the night, she'd woken and he'd been gone, no longer in her bed, but she'd been so exhausted she'd fallen back asleep without him even though the darkness had been oppressive.

Castle's rumble of words didn't make any sense to her, and she stayed where she was, her nose against his clean dress pants, smelling laundry and hospital and something dark.

Something like freedom, the wide world beyond this place.

It had given her nightmares.

"Thanks, Dr King. I'll be on the lookout."

Kate lifted her head from his thigh and blinked at him. Castle ended the call and slid his phone into the breast pocket of his dress shirt; he looked sharp this morning. Freshly shaved and eyes so blue. He had kind eyes, despite everything he'd been through, done, fought for.

"You called Dr King?" she asked. It was an effort to prop herself up on her elbows like this; she ignored the weariness already plaguing her limbs and studied him.

"Yes," he answered. He looked grave, like he didn't know what to expect from her.

"That was a good idea," she sighed out, dropping her forehead to his thigh again. "Very smart, super spy."

He grunted and seemed to be leaning over her; she could feel his body warm against her head and shoulders and then his mouth brushed her cheek.

"Wanted to know what we're in for," he said softly.

"He say?"

"Yeah."

"And?" she growled, lifting her head up against the pressure of his embrace. He was watching her, but he let her crawl up to sit beside him.

"And he thinks you'll experience - well, something kinda like culture shock. Noise, people, civilization again."

She frowned into her hands. "I don't think - I mean. Castle." She shook her head. "I'm not like some feral child found living with wolves."

A flash of teeth snapped behind her eyes, and she flinched. Hard.

"Kate? Kate. Kate, sweetheart. Kate."

She opened her eyes to him and realized he was gripping her shoulders. She blinked.

"Kate? What was that?"

She shivered and ignored his question. "I think so long as I'm in civilization, Castle, I'm gonna be fine."

He didn't look convinced.

But she knew - as far away from caves and rocks and things that hunted in the night - that was where she needed to be.

Castle smiled when she came out of the bathroom.

Kate had been in there long enough, but she'd been insistent on doing it herself, doing it alone, and so he'd waited in the hospital room for her, trying to keep from going in there after her. Helping.

She looked soft. Despite the cheekbones that could cut him, the splay of her wrist bones under her skin - despite the signs of her thirteen days without food, holed up in a cave, she looked beautiful.

"Hey, honey," he murmured, holding a hand out to her.

"Honey?" she said back, taking a slow step towards him and coming into his arms. "We do that now?"

"We do," he confirmed. He gave her another smile and stroked his thumb over those cheekbones, felt her small smile back.

"I don't like honey."

"Oh? You don't get much say in it," he said.

She laughed and lifted her eyes to him. She was wearing the black pants, the dress pants he'd bought for her because they'd be on a military flight out. And the deep blue shirt.

"I love blue," he murmured. "You look beautiful, Kate."

She nudged his jaw with her mouth and kissed him softly. "Okay. All right. Fine. Call me honey if you have to."

"Love you," he said instead. "No matter what I call you."

It was less than nothing; it was easy.

She felt good sitting beside him in the jeep as it wound through the base. They were headed for the landing strip and the Quonset hut housing the military planes. A cargo flight. She'd done that before and at least this time she wasn't recovering from a bullet wound.

She could do this.

Castle gripped the rollbar as they pulled up to the plane already fueled and waiting for them. He jumped out in a display of agility that made her jealous, but he turned back for her and held out a hand.

"Ready?"

"So ready," she said, only a moment's hesitation before she let him help her out.

Castle released her, and even though she swayed for a moment, standing upright on her own in the rich morning light, he didn't try to grab her. She was grateful for it. Either because he knew her well enough to know she needed to do this alone, or because Dr King had told him to back off. She was betting on Dr King, but she'd give him credit for following through on it.

Culture shock. Right.

She was so ready to be out of here, to be home. She wanted her gun, damn it.

Her fingers clenched around air and Castle gave her a look. "You coming or what?"

She started forward, her mind jerking back to the present, to the cool air on her cheeks and the lick of sunlight, to the pavement under her feet and the man waiting on her.

"I'm coming," she said.

She wasn't smiling, but she could feel it close, coming close. Hovering.

She was getting on that plane and getting out of here.

As he'd expected, she fell asleep strapped into the webbing of the cargo plane. Within minutes, actually.

She had to be exhausted. Because of regulations, they had to be in military dress uniform. He'd shaved and cut his hair, was in the Air Force blues but without the stripes and insignia. Kate was in the black dress pants, deep blue shirt that looked similar but wouldn't pass a close inspection. It was enough to get them on board - that and the CIA's initial string-pulling.

The flight was long and the pilot didn't try to communicate, despite Castle wearing the headset. He could hear the chatter of the tower and the pilot getting weather conditions, but for the most part, it was a silent flight.

He watched Kate sleep, resisted the urge to touch her; he didn't want to jostle her out of unconsciousness if he could help it. She needed the rest and she needed to not be startled by every jerk and shake of the plane as it hit turbulence.

He had a CIA-issue phone, clean clothes, a ride back. He had his wife beside him and a clear destination away from the mess they'd left behind.

But a part of him felt like it wasn't really over.

When they landed and she still hadn't woken up, that sharp thorn of doubt pressed deeper. Castle unstrapped himself from the harness first, let his feet get used to the feel of the metal deck and solid ground once more.

The pilot had pulled them to a Quonset hut that looked similar to the one they'd left hours ago. But as the Air Force man opened the back cargo doors and the warm air came in, Castle turned back to Kate and began to unstrap her from the netting.

When he cupped her by the back of the neck to keep her upright, she gasped and flailed out, striking his torso, a knee in his thigh.

"Kate," he said urgently, crowding closer. He didn't want the pilot to see, to know. He didn't know why, just that it seemed important to keep it private. "Kate, sweetheart. We're here."

She struggled against the webbing and he stopped trying to resist her, helped her instead. She was soon free and tumbling out, into his arms, and he dragged her into an embrace, his mouth at her temple.

"I got you," he murmured. "I got you, Kate."

She drew back, blinking at him, and then shook her head, stepped away. "I'm okay. Weird dream."

He nodded and let her believe it, moved her towards the side door and its steep steps down. She glanced around, her first look at the base in Athens. He kept a firm grip on her arm as he followed her down, tried to help her keep her balance on the steps.

At the bottom she crossed her arms over her chest. "Where do we go from here?"

"Base personnel are gonna look the other way while we sneak off," he said with a tight smile. "And then we get a taxi for the Athens airport."

"Just like that?" she said, casting a furtive look over her shoulder.

He didn't like the narrow set to her mouth or the hunch in her back, but he didn't remark on it. Dr King had warned him, and he'd tried to pass it along to her - how it would be.

But he didn't think she had believed it.

"Just like that."

She drew apart from him but she kept darting looks towards the horizon, as if she expected trouble to come looking for them.

He didn't blame her. After everything.

"Kate."

She turned to him, brow furrowed, so he reached out and smoothed his thumb over those lines, tried to erase it.

But it couldn't be erased.