#38


Three word prompt - "pull over now"

— ANONYMOUS


"Pull over." She fisted her hands against her thighs. "Now."

Castle glanced at her, opened his mouth like he was going to say no, but he closed his jaw and flipped the turn signal to change lanes. Her heart was in her throat, in her mouth; she could taste it.

He pulled off the side of the road, a cut-out into the trees, and she struggled with her seat belt, with the door, with her own feet.

"Kate?"

She jumped out and stalked to the edge of the treeline, burning with it, so furious she was shaking. Castle wisely remained behind, not approaching her, not even climbing out of the car, and she stalked off into the trees, mad enough to be stupid.

It was stupid. She knew walking into the woods when it was dark was stupid. But she had to have space.

She walked until she ran into a tree obscured by the shadows, grunted and rubbed her shoulder, leaned back against the bark. The car's headlights were a fine pinpoint of light, and the sky overhead was clouded, no stars. No stars for eons.

No stars.

They were on the run.

And that was when she walked back. Slowly, finding her way, breathing. Her head pounded painfully; she was probably concussed from the motel room encounter. Bracken had sent men after her, and just because she had managed to deal with them didn't mean she had ended it. There would be others.

And Castle was here. With her.

She halted at the line of trees, forest behind her, the car ahead of her, each one waiting, breathing, alive. She had a choice. She could just keep walking, lose herself, lose everything, or she could drag him down with her into this furious darkness without stars.

She stood; she could not move, not ahead, not behind.

And then Castle climbed out of the car, his hand on the hood, watching her a moment. She trembled there, caught between, and then he came for her, making his slow way, ambling almost. As if they had all the time in the world.

Castle stood before her, so tantalizingly close she could smell the aspen musk of his aftershave. A brutal and sharp contrast of the real aspens at her back. The quaking aspens.

"How's the headache?" he said quietly. And with a small gesture of his hands, seemed to open his arms to her.

She stepped into them, laying her forehead to his collarbone, making herself just that inch smaller so that she could.

So that she could.

His fingers cradled the back of her head, probing gently. He winced as she winced. "Stopped bleeding, at least."

She breathed and he held her up.

"You want to get back in the car?" he said.

No.

But yes.

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