The airport is bright and loud and busy like all airports are. Castle doesn't want to leave Kate alone, he really doesn't, but she insists that she'll just make a quick stop by the bathroom and meet him at the check-in counter.
"I have my phone," she says, using that calm, reasonable tone that makes him feel like a five-year-old. "And you have yours. Nothing's gonna happen, Castle."
He doesn't have a valid answer to that, of course, so he gets to watch her walk away with his heart in his throat and force his feet into the opposite direction. She's right. Nothing to be afraid of. She took the car alone more than once to go to therapy in the Hamptons, and she was fine. She'll be fine. He knows better than to worry about a trip to the bathroom.
He finds the Air Canada counters pretty easily, but check-in for their flight isn't open yet, and neither is the baggage drop. "Just wait another ten minutes," the woman tells him with an unwavering smile.
Seriously. What good is checking in online if they have to wait to drop their suitcase?
Castle sighs and thanks the woman, moves out of the way. He finds a pillar and rests his back to it, finally releases his hold on the handle of their suitcase. His fingers hurt when he works them.
He shouldn't be so nervous. They've done everything right, left early so they'd have plenty of time to get here, chatted with the cabbie and left the man a generous tip. Kate is on top of things, has it all mapped out, their itinerary and reservations at the hotel in Timmins, the car rental.
And she's the one paying. He wasn't too keen on that, but she's not asked once about paying him back for the therapy, for their life in the Hamptons, and he figures if she can make an effort then he can too. Can at least give her this.
There are lots of people walking around, heading towards the counters or the security check. His eyes linger on a couple waiting in line, purposefully not looking at each other, like maybe they just had a bad fight and they're not over it yet. The man's stiff shoulders confirm his theory, and Castle lets his gaze drift to the right, where a sixty-something woman is talking in soft tones to a little girl, three or four years old, her very dark hair split into pigtails. The kid sees Castle looking and smiles at him, brazen and adorable, something exotic in her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that reminds him of Beckett.
"Hey," Kate says, appearing out of nowhere and startling him a little. She rests a shoulder to the pillar, right next to his, and the way she reaches for his hand - so casual and spontaneous - has warmth spreading softly in his chest. "Line for the bathroom was longer than I expected. You check us in yet?"
"No," he says, assessing the look on her face. Her cheeks are tinged with pink like she hurried back to him, her mouth parted, her breathing fast, but her eyes are clear. Sharp. "Check-in opens in five minutes, and apparently we can't drop off our luggage before that happens." He bites back a comment about how different things would be if they were flying business class. Truth is, it's his fault their suitcase is so big. He's the one who dragged Kate into The North Face and insisted they needed appropriate clothing, and he doesn't regret it.
"Poor baby," she teases, seeing right through him. "Having to wait five minutes is hard on you, huh, Castle? You think you're gonna live, or should I have 911 on speed dial just in case?"
He huffs. "Your concern is touching as always, Beckett." He'll be fine, really - the flights are short anyway, only an hour and a half each. The longest part of the trip is the layover in Toronto, two hours, but the airport there is modern, spacious, has free wifi too. Not the worst place to be stuck in.
"Doesn't look the plane will be full," Kate observes, glancing at the Air Canada counters. "Not that many people in line, and there's a flight for Vancouver leaving before ours."
He hums. "Could be a small plane," he says for the sake of argument, but he agrees with her. It's eleven in the morning, middle of the week, and it's February. Nobody in their right mind would be heading to Ontario where it's at least twenty degrees colder than here.
Kate's knee bumps into his, rouses him from his thoughts. "You've got a fan," she says with that cute smirk that makes him want to kiss her breathless. But he follows her eyes and sees that the little girl has stepped closer, is now watching them intently, her small hands pressed to her cheeks.
"Ana," the older woman - her grandmother? - calls. "Ana, come back here, sweetheart. We have to go soon."
The child half-turns and then glances back at Castle, a shy but playful spark in her dark eyes. Rick waves, twists his face into a grimace that he hopes is worth it, and Ana runs back to her grandmother with a giggle.
When he turns back he finds Kate staring at him, her face softer, more luminous than he's ever seen it. "What?" he says.
She shakes her head, squeezes his hand. "Nothing. Come on, let's go. Counter's open." She laces their fingers and pulls him after her, and although he's got the suitcase and she has her own handbag, although they have to skirt the family of five standing in their way and it's really not very convenient to hold hands in an airport, she doesn't let go of him.
They find their seats quickly - Castle was right, it's not a huge plane - and he offers her the window seat, gallant man that he is. Kate thanks him with a smile, a brush of her fingers to his side, and she slides into the small space.
At least it's just the two of them. She chose the seats online, deliberately went for the ones at the back of the plane, a little isolated. She's confident that she can do this - she's been driving for months now and the cramped space, the seat belt are no longer issues - but that doesn't mean she's going to be able to relax, enjoy any of it.
"You okay?" Rick murmurs, their thighs touching now that he's seated next to her.
She lets the click of the seat belt be her answer, drops her head to his shoulder, just long enough for a kiss pressed to the fabric of his shirt. "You gonna tell me a story to distract me?" she asks, her mouth curling up as she raises an eyebrow.
His love for her leaks out of his eyes, a slow grin splitting his face and leaving her breathless. "Why, Kate Beckett. Are you asking me for a dirty story?"
Her cheeks are warm; she hopes she's not blushing. "No, Castle. If I did that, you wouldn't live through the flight."
Amusement dances across his face. "Oh, I wouldn't live through the flight, huh? What about you, Beckett? What makes you think you'd fare any better?"
She presses her mouth into a thin line and the words come before she can stop them. "Got more practice than you do."
The joy disappears from his eyes, just like that, and he blinks once, twice, clearly trying to get a handle on the brutal mood shift. She bites on her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering closed in regret, and her hand finds Castle's on the arm rest.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," she murmurs, so mad at herself for ruining that lovely moment. "I don't know why I-"
"Don't worry about it," he says, trying even though she can hear the strain in his voice. "It's okay. We're - it's okay."
Silence stretches between them as Kate looks through the window, the grey buildings of terminal 7 visible past the wing of the plane, the overcast sky reflected in the windows. The background music breaks so the captain can greet the passengers and announce their imminent departure, and the flight attendants start walking down the aisles and checking all seat belts. Castle's fingers grip hers tighter and Beckett looks up to find a small, hesitant smile on his face. "Think I'm gonna ask for a glass of Scotch," he says. "You want one?"
Scotch. The burn of alcohol down her throat, the welcome looseness in her limbs. "Please," she answers. The plane starts moving, the pilot maneuvering them away from the terminal and towards the runway, and Kate takes a deep breath.
It's gonna be okay.
She's a little pale by the time they land in Toronto; Castle can't be sure if it's something to do with coming back to Canada or if it's just the turbulences that have made half the passengers sick. He's flown across the US enough times to be pretty much immune to anything short of crashing, but even he's got to admit that that flight was pretty intense. He's never seen so many people throw up either.
Kate hasn't been sick, but there's a faint greenish tinge to her skin, and when the seatbelt sign switches off and she gets to her feet she's a little less stable than he'd like. Castle reaches out a hand to steady her, but she bats it away, gives a small shake of her head. "I'm okay," she rasps, sounding the opposite.
Still he backs off, grabs their coats from the overhead compartment, watches her from the corner of his eye as he starts walking up the aisle. She's moving slowly, gripping the back of seats as she takes her steps; he makes himself look away because otherwise he'll try to help again.
She's a grown woman. She'll ask for help if she needs it.
But they make their way out of the plane without any incident, the blue carpet giving way to the sleek tiles of the airport under his feet, and when they come into the main concourse Kate curls a light hand around his elbow. "I need to eat something," she says, her face white in the harsh lighting. "How about we sit down for a while? We have two hours and they're transferring the luggage for us."
"Yeah, sure," he agrees eagerly, looking around for a place. There's a coffee shop not twenty yards away. "What do you think, Kate? Would you care for a grande skimmed latte, two pumps sugar free vanilla?"
Her smile is all the answer he needs. She gives him a soft look, tender and grateful both, and he can't resist leaning in, pressing a kiss to the line of her cheekbone. "You're gorgeous," he murmurs against her skin, and he feels the little laugh that ripples through her, sees the shyness that comes over her eyes.
"Get me that coffee, Castle, and then we'll talk."
The second flight is quieter. Kate drifts in and out of sleep, wakes up with her heart pounding and her mouth tasting of sock. She shifts in the seat, chilled to the bone; it takes a moment for her to remember where she is.
Castle is asleep next to her, she sees when she turns. His head is tilted back, his mouth open, and his soft snores bring a laugh bubbling through her chest, all the relief she needs. She pushes her knee closer to his, anchoring herself in his warmth, and she drops her head back to the window, watches the ray of sunlight that filters through the pulled-down shade.
She doesn't try closing her eyes again.
They have to stand in line for maybe ten minutes to get the rental car. Castle yawns and rocks onto the balls of his feet, rubs a hand over his eye. He feels like whining. Landing must have woken him right in the middle of a dream; he knows that, rationally, it's just his body demanding more sleep.
Doesn't help with the whininess though.
But Kate knows him. She's not letting him talk to anyone; she was the one to direct them through Timmins airport, to grab their suitcase from the conveyor belt, and now that they're waiting she's got her hand stroking up and down his arm, a soothing, drugging rhythm. Every time he opens his mouth to complain she's there first, pointing out a guy with a crazy reindeer hat or recounting that weird conversation she had in the bathroom with a woman who seemed convinced Beckett was her Croatian granddaughter.
Kate's handling him, and although it pains him to admit it, she's doing it so well he's almost enjoying it.
Oh, who is he kidding? He is enjoying it.
"It's four now," Kate says, checking her phone. "The hotel's not that far from here, so I think we should go there first, get the key, settle in. You want to call Alexis, right? And I really, really want a shower, so I'll do that while you talk to her-"
He cuts her off with his mouth, kisses her slowly, a little decadent; he waits until she's lowered her guard to stroke his tongue along her bottom lip, makes her open up for him. She lets out that barely-there moan at the back of her throat, her body lifting up into his, and for a glorious moment there's only Kate Beckett, the taste of her, the silky feel of her hair under his fingers.
When he steps back to admire his handiwork, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes closed. The dark sweep of her lashes on her cheeks makes his heart flip. "We're a team," he says softly, somehow awed by the fact. They were always a team - and a great one at that - but he still forgets sometimes, loses sight of it. How well they work together.
Kate smiles, and the look on her face makes him think that she needed the reminder too. "A team," she echoes, sneaking another kiss to his lips. "Yes. Partners, Castle."
Partners.
"I don't understand. This is where it should be." Kate stops at a red light and grabs the printed directions from Castle's lap, blows out a frustrated breath. He watches the tense line of her profile, the jut of her jaw, wonders if he should say something. "We turned right and then left. This should be Norman Street. Why isn't it Norman Street?"
"Light's green," he points out quietly, grateful that there are only a couple cars behind them and they're apparently more patient that New York drivers.
Beckett sighs and drives on, turning right at the end of the street and pulling over when she gets a chance. She flips on the light inside the car and Castle leans in close to study the directions with her. "Should've printed a map," she mutters under her breath. "Damn it, I knew better than-"
"You wanna try turning the GPS back on?" he suggests, unwilling to let her berate herself. "Maybe it'll be easier now that we're kind of in the center."
"Nope," she says, shaking her head. "That thing got us lost in the first place. I trust my gut more."
Except her gut has failed to lead them to Cedar Meadows Resort and Spa so far. "Okay, well, how about I ask someone on the street? There's gotta be somebody who can give us better directions than these." He nods at her piece of paper.
Kate leans back into her seat, closes her eyes for a second. He's not sure what exactly is going on with her but this whole trip has been about her making decisions, being in control, and getting lost was definitely not part of the plan. "Okay," she relents, giving him an unreadable look. "Sure. Let's try it your way."
He gives her a reassuring smile and grabs his coat, wrapping his scarf around his neck. The sun is setting slowly, the whole town licked with gold, but when he steps outside he's instantly chilled.
Wow, fuck. It's cold.
He's lucky though - the second guy he asks knows of Cedar Meadows, and is able to tell Castle exactly how to get there from where they are. Rick makes him repeat once, just to be sure he won't get back to Kate and tell her the wrong thing, and then thanks the man and lets him get on with his run.
He jogs back to the car, regretting leaving the hat he bought in the suitcase, and eases back inside, slamming the door shut. "So," he says, sliding his hands out of his pockets and rubbing them together. "Drive straight to Algonquin Boulevard, turn right, go over the bridge. Norman Street will be the second one on our right."
He looks over at Kate but she doesn't look like she's heard him; she's staring at the wheel, her right hand curled on top of it. "You wanna drive?" she asks, something raw in her voice that alerts him.
He hesitates. He'd drive if she asked him to - but there's a subtle difference here. This is Kate Beckett insecure, and despite their months of therapy he's never sure how to deal best with that version of her. "Nah," he says, trying for nonchalant and probably missing the mark. "Too tired. You do it; we're almost there anyway."
Her eyes turn to his. She's been worrying her bottom lip but she releases it slowly, the corner of her mouth quirking up with a tiny smile. "All right," she says, and she starts the car again.
It's late.
The staff at the Cedar Meadows hotel are very friendly, a little too much for Kate's taste. She and Castle were given an extensive tour of the place, including many anecdotes she really didn't care for, and now that they finally have the key to their room, the suitcase unloaded from the car - it's late.
Night's fallen, a thick kind of darkness that presses to the window, ties knots in her chest.
She wanted to go to the house tonight, get it over with, but now-
"This place's amazing," Castle says behind her, and if she weren't so hung up about going to the house she might bristle at the surprise in his voice. Did he expect her to book them a cheap motel? "And a suite, too. How much money is that, Kate?"
Ha. She spins back to him, can't help the wry smile twisting her lips. "Now you know the feeling."
He sighs. "You're not telling me, are you."
"Not a chance," she says, humming a laugh. She comes closer and wraps her arms around his waist, lets her body sink into his. She's surprised at how good it feels, how much she needs it. "Thought we could both use some relaxation, given what we're here for," she admits, nuzzling at his neck. "Hot tub looks nice, right?"
"Sure does," he agrees with a chuckle. She feels the press of his cheek to her hair, the long breath he lets out. When he speaks again his voice is so very serious. "Are you okay?"
She's lost count of how many times he's asked her that today, but still she nods, presses a kiss to his collarbone. "I wanted to go to the house tonight," she explains. "I thought we'd get here earlier than we did."
He's silent for a moment. "Ah." That single syllable is charged with understanding. "Kate-"
"It's fine," she says, pulling back a little so she can look at him. "We'll just - we'll go tomorrow. All good, Castle." Even if she can feel the prospect looming over her like a dark, malignant storm.
He watches her, something almost sad in his eyes, and brings his hand up to her cheek. She leans into it and closes her eyes. "You don't have to go if you don't want to," he murmurs. "Still plenty of time to change your mind, Kate."
She smiles, shakes her head. "No, I want to. I need to."
He looks at her like he gets it but doesn't like it much, and she sucks in a breath, arches a playful eyebrow at him. Enough of the depressing mood. "Not going now means we have the whole night ahead of us, Rick. So how about you come and try that hot tub with me, huh?"
He grins slowly, his face lighting up with it, and he's about to say something when he looks at the suitcase in alarm. "I didn't pack any swimsuits. You didn't tell me - why didn't you tell me? Beckett, I know you like bathing in the nude, but there are other people here and surely they'll never let us-"
She can't hold back her laugh any longer. He looks at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes, and she just has to rise on tiptoe and kiss that pursed mouth of his. "Relax," she whispers. "I got us covered."
