—–

She sat stiffly in the first class lounge, a glass of wine untouched in the armrest's cup holder.

Castle had been quiet. Sweet, but quiet. Waiting on her. She didn't know what to think, let alone what to say to have the conversation they probably ought to have.

She sort of wished he would just talk until she caught up. Like he usually did.

"Um, so…" He gave her a serious look, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his own chair.

She took a breath, bracing herself for it. She knew he liked to talk. This would be - good. This would be good.

"Can I hold your hand? Or are you too mad at me?"

Her jaw dropped. "I'm not mad," she choked out, grabbing for his hand. "I didn't know you wanted to - you want to hold my hand?"

"Yeah," he said, a pink flush at his ears. His fingers squirmed in the grip of hers, his whole body squirmed. "Stupid. I-"

"No, it's not," she rushed out. And then the words stopped, gummed up, and she had nothing. She could only stare at him and wish so hard.

He flipped their hands so he was hanging on to her now. "You're not mad?"

"I'm…"

He waited, and she faltered, and then his face fell. "You're hurt. I - hurt you."

"I… yeah." She felt it now, in a way she hadn't before there were words for it. She was - cut to the quick. Old wounds that hadn't healed.

He reached in and grabbed for her other hand, and she realized she'd been pressing her knuckles against her sternum, at the scar. He leaned in over her hands like he was clutching at her for dear life.

"No, don't be-" She shook her head. "I'm not mad."

"I can handle mad," he said. "But this is worse."

She shook her head again, mute. She didn't want to cry again; she was so tired of being a mess, being an emotional wreck. She wasn't that person.

"I only wanted to keep you safe. Keep you from getting hurt. I couldn't do a damn thing to help this summer but this I could do."

She nodded, as if agreeing, and maybe she did in theory. It sounded good; it just felt bad.

A lot of this felt bad. Had felt bad. She had thought, naively, she wouldn't be hurt again. But that was moronic. Of course she was going to get hurt, of course he would do the hurting - he was what mattered most. It had hurt when Montgomery had made that deal. It wouldn't have hurt so much if she hadn't loved so much.

"I love you," she finally said, bobbing her head. It was all she knew to say; it was the answer to a question neither of them had asked.

"I know," he said quietly. "I know. Is it enough?"

She sucked in a ragged breath. "Is it enough for you? How I treated you this summer and how I - couldn't change it even if I wanted to. And I don't. I needed to not be - not be with you, Castle. And I am sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry my working a suspect in the box hurt you when all it would have taken from me, on my part, was to be a little more clear. I'm-"

"Hey." He stilled her words with a brush of his lips to her knuckles, his clutch dragging her hands against his chest. "It's okay. It's done." He was leaning so far out of his chair that he looked like he might crawl into her lap.

(Oh, God, she really wanted him to. She needed him to. She ached to think only about his hand between her legs and how high, how so very high she could be launched.)

"Are you thinking about sex," he growled. Not really a question, and she shook her head helplessly but it wound up being a wordless affirmation. He grit his teeth and squeezed her hands between his. "That's not fair. You can't railroad - train wreck - a conversation like that. I need you to talk to me about this. About Smith-"

"Smith?"

His face slipped. "That's - the name he gave me."

"The man you made a deal with."

His head hung. "Yeah. Obviously that's a fake name." He released her hands to scrub at his face, a weary sigh. "When we get back to New York, I'll show you everything - I've been investigating on my own because I know it's not fair to ask you to quit-"

"No," she croaked. Horror clogged her throat. She fisted the edge of his jacket and pulled him in. "No, you damn well better not be investigating. Castle."

"I'm sorry, sorry, I know your mother's case is sacrosanct. I know. I wouldn't have if it weren't for this restriction-"

"You can't investigate on your own, Castle. You can't. What happens to you if they find out? He finds out? God. I don't even know who, where to even start if you wind up missing, or please God no, if you're dead and I-"

"No!" His face was so startled it nearly made her laugh. But this wasn't funny. He leaned an elbow onto her arm rest, getting closer. "No, Kate. It's not me, it's you. They don't want you-"

"They don't want anyone. They want to keep it buried, Castle. You can't either. You stop. If I can't, you can't."

He let out a frustrated huff. "No, but-"

"If I can't, you can't. You've appointed yourself my protector, well I damn well can do the same. You don't get to sneak around if I don't get to-"

"Sneak around with me," he said suddenly. His mouth fell open and he stared at her like he hadn't expected that one.

She tilted her head. Something dark was blooming inside her, waking up.

"That's what we do, that's how we beat this." Castle grew animated, his whole face lighting up. "I have the caution, and you have the brains. Together - right? You have to agree to that, Kate, or else you can't be-"

"Together," she said in a rush. It wasn't permission; it was a lead.

She had a lead on her mother's case, after all this time.

(A lead he had kept from her.)

—–