Kate's phone goes off suddenly in their strained silence; it's Alexis's ring tone. Castle gestures her towards the entryway where her phone still sits in the bowl on the table where he left it after dumping everything out of Dashiell's bag. "Go, go."

Kate scoops her phone up and answers it, but her eyes lock on his a moment.

It gives him a chance to catch his breath, regroup a little. But the second he leans back in the couch, he hears Dashiell squawking from upstairs. Kate's eyes cut back to his, and Castle gestures that he's got it.

He steps over the new baby gate, takes the stairs two at a time until he hits the hall. Dashiell's cries gather volume as he gets closer, and when Castle opens the door, he sees the boy standing up in his crib, the makeshift tent pulled down.

"Hey buddy," he says softly. Dashiell's got tears streaked down his face, so Castle leans over and picks him up, bringing him to his chest to rub his back. "Bad dreams? What's up?"

"Mom-ma," he whimpers.

"Momma's downstairs." Castle bounces him a little bit, hoping he can get the boy to fall back asleep. He glances at the clock and sighs: almost four hours of sleep for Dash so this might be all they get. "She'll come kiss you when you go back to bed, okay, buddy?"

"Mom-ma. Mom-ma."

"All right, all right." He walks around the room, hoping to feel the boy settle down, hoping he'll fall back asleep. But of course he won't. Sleep's never easy for him.

When Dashiell starts wriggling to get down, Castle gives up on putting him back to bed and instead heads for the hall. Maybe if Dash gets a good-night kiss from mommy, then he'll protest less about going back to bed.

Castle steps back over the baby-gate in time to see Kate coming back into the living room, phone in one hand, her gun in the other. She's dressed in jeans and a white tshirt; she's got the whole gear on and sliding her gun into the holster on her hip.

"Kate?" A block of ice settles in his chest.

"Alexis wants me to come get her." Kate gives him a hesitant look, then explains. "She's at a warehouse party in Harlem. She called as soon as it got bad, but Paige is already wasted. She thinks. . .she thinks someone spiked her drink; she said she feels funny."

"What?"

"Castle." Kate holds a hand up, steps closer. "She's just a little nervous about where they are. I told her to stay inside; I'll go get her."

"What about a cab?" he says, distractedly wrangling Dash as the boy squirms.

"She called the usual cab company and they don't service that area; the car service is closed after one, so she just missed it. She didn't want to just google a cab company and hope they were legit. So I'll go pick her up. It'll only take a thirty or forty minutes; she'll be fine."

Castle squeezes a little too tightly and Dashiell grunts against his chest. "I'm going with you. We're going with you."

"Castle."

"He's not gonna sleep anyway, and maybe the car ride will knock him out. We'll take the Audi; the car seat is already in it."

"You're not dressed."

He's already moving towards the entry table and the pile of shoes under it; he slides his flip flops out with his foot and shoves them on. "I'll wait in the car with Dash while you go get her."

He grabs the bag with Dashiell's stuff; he repacked it while Kate was putting Dashiell down for the night. He slings it over his shoulder and adjusts Dashiell, then looks at Kate.

She closes her hand in a fist around her phone, then nods. It dawns on him that maybe she wanted this excursion as an excuse to get away from him for a few minutes, but she only grabs the keys to the Audi out of the bowl on the table and opens the front door.

He follows after her, watches her lock up, then reaches down and takes her hand, lacing his fingers through hers as he juggles Dashiell with his other arm.

"We can talk in the car. If you want," he says softly.

She glances over at him. "Can you concentrate on anything other than Alexis right now?"

"It'd probably be good to have a distraction," he admits, pushing the call button for the elevator.

"All right. We'll talk in the car." She squeezes his hand, then leaves over and kisses Dashiell's cheek.

He's pretty close to panic. The only thing keeping him from teetering over that edge is the tight hold Kate keeps on his hand, and the fight they just had. His guts still haven't healed after that one; it makes it hard to focus too clearly on Alexis at a party in Harlem and feeling funny.

If Lofton is in any way involved, he will murder that boy.

She drives expertly, snaking her way through two a.m. traffic. It's like a strange, second rush hour as people careen from club to club. She angles the rear view mirror and checks out Dashiell in the backseat.

"He's already asleep," Castle says softly.

She adjusts the mirror back to the road and breaks cautiously for a clump of pedestrians who've wandered through the intersection, then steers around them.

"Moment is kinda over, isn't it?" she says back.

"Yeah."

"Still."

"Yeah."

She sighs, waits for something more from him. She doesn't know how to start this conversation; she doesn't know how to be careful about it either, careful enough not to hurt him.

"Kate. I don't know what to say."

She turns on her blinker and merges onto the onramp for Harlem River Drive; the darkness washes over them. She takes a breath. "Am I. . .living two lives?"

They're still in silence when she gets on the expressway. She thinks maybe that was a bad question to lead off this conversation. Also, maybe she doesn't want to hear his answer.

"Scratch that. How do I not. . .what would reassure you, Castle? About me."

He sighs. "I don't think it's reassurance I'm looking for."

"You better give me *something* here, because this is already the most awkward and uncomfortable conversation I've ever had with someone. And I was the one to confront my father about his drinking. So-"

"So. Where do you want to start?" Castle glances behind them at Dashiell again, stalling.

"How about we start with why you had to trick me into using your money, when I told you, I *told* you, that I didn't feel comfortable doing that."

"Uh, would you accept, Ignorance is bliss?"

"Castle."

"Are we going to talk about it, or are you just getting mad again?"

She lets out a breath and cuts her eyes to him. "Okay, so you decided tricking me was preferable to having a conversation about the money."

"We *had* a conversation, Kate. The conversation went like this: 'Kate, you should use this money. It's yours anyway.' And you said, 'I'm not using your money, Castle.' And I said, 'Kate, you're having my baby,' And you said-"

"I got it. Okay. So I wasn't receptive. Obviously. And you did it anyway?"

"I did it anyway."

"You think you can just bulldoze over me? That what I feel doesn't matter?"

"You think that's what I'm doing?" he shoots back. "Here we go, then. You think I don't take your feelings into consideration. That I ignore what you want for your life. That somehow I'm going to take over everything, that nothing will ever be the same again, that it will be worse now than when you were alone."

She pushes her back into the seat, clenches her hands on the steering wheel. "I think that's about it, yeah."

He snorts at her. "I don't have to tell you how ridiculous that sounds, do I?"

"It's not ridiculous." She narrows her eyes at the car she's currently tailgaiting.

"It is. Because it's just about the complete opposite of everything I've been trying to do. I *know* you, Kate. You think that, for a second, I'm gonna try to order you around, take over your life? I couldn't even if I tried, you're so stubborn."

"Thanks." She glares at him for a second, then manages to get a break in the traffic that lets her whip around the slow-moving Corolla ahead of her. "And what do you mean? The opposite? Tricking me into using your money is the opposite of controlling my life?"

"Sorta. Kinda. Maybe not exactly now that I'm thinking about it. But the idea was there."

"The idea was crap."

"The idea was to do the right thing without getting you all. . .upset about it. Which-" he rushes on, "-has clearly backfired. I see that."

"Clearly."

"But I did it thinking it would be the best way to make sure you had what you needed without me having to mess around in your life. See? I *told* you it was the opposite."

Kate sighs, rubs at her forehead with a hand as she feels her phone vibrate. She pulls it out of her pocket, tosses it to Castle. "Check that."

Castle fumbles with it. "It's Alexis. She says she's waiting by the elevators. The party is on the 3rd floor of the warehouse."

"Text her back that I'm coming to get her. ETA 20."

"Cop talk," he murmurs, shooting her a look that she catches.

"Back to *our* talk."

"Yeah."

She waits a second, but realizes it's her turn again. "So I get it. I mean. . .I understand that you thought it would be. . .easier on me to not know. Just don't do that again."

"Yeah, no. I got it."

"But still. . .why did you feel like you had to pay for stuff? I don't *get* it, Castle. I have my own money. I agreed that family stuff was okay to spend your money but. . ." She shakes her head, still hurt. It still hurts. When does it stop hurting so much? It's not just anger; the anger is easy to deal with. It's this deep wound where her trust is. Even the love isn't a problem. It's the trust. "Why did you trick me?"

"Why," he says softly.

"Why?" And she knows it's the question that's haunted her since her mother's death. The question that's a part of the hurt. The question that never gets an answer and eats away at her. She just doesn't understand.

"I want to feel like you need me for something," he says quietly. "I want to feel like I matter at all to you."

Well, damn, that hurt too. She gulps down the knot in her throat and frowns at the traffic. "You matter." Saying 'I love you' right now seems too cheap for what he's confessing.

The silence is back. She tries to figure out a way to explain that doesn't hurt him, but none of the things that come to her are very flattering. She just has to go with the truth. "I guess the thing is. . .I don't want to feel like I need anyone. For anything."

He sighs again. "Yeah. That's about what I thought."

She chews on her lip and increases her speed, cuts to the fast lane. "Well. Where does that leave us?"

"Me sneaking bank cards into your wallet and you. . .pretending not to know?"

She reaches out, blindly, and trails her hand down his forearm to clutch at his fingers. "I get the feeling," she says slowly. "That a lot of this is my fault."

He turns his head to gape at her. "Did you just. . .no, I must be hearing things. You can't have said-"

"Shut it," she grouses, squeezing his hand.

He chuckles softly. "I must say, never in a million years did I think you'd say this was your fault."

"Not totally my fault. Just. . .a good deal of it."

"No, right. Not totally your fault." He holds up a hand at her look. "I'm serious! Takes two to tango. Right, no, I get it. I did something stupid. I do a lot of stupid things when it comes to the people I love. That's just me. Ask Alexis. She's got a host of embarrassing moments."

"Hopefully, this will not be one of them," she interjects, tugging at his hand to get his attention. "You're staying in the car. Don't freak out on her. Not right now. Later. Okay?"

"Right."

"I'm serious, Castle. She called me because I can be discreet. I'll get her and Paige out of there; we'll drive home in silence. Let her sleep off whatever it is she's been exposed to."

"Oh crap, that really isn't helping, Kate. Exposed to? Can we go back to the part where a good deal of this is your fault?'

She sighs. But she sees what she's done. She's changed the subject. Avoided the painful things. "What do I do then, Castle? How do I. . .not make you feel useless?"

"Ouch." He winces and rubs a hand down his jaw. "That didn't sound very manly."

"I am not sugar-coating-"

"No, no. Please don't. Kate Beckett does not sugar-coat."

Something tickles at her brain for attention. She glances over at him. "Does it bother you?"

"What?" He looks bewildered.

"Not taking your last name."

"What? No. Why?"

She shrugs it off. "I don't know. It's not like, a man thing, or something?"

"It could be. Not for me though." He lets her have her hand back so that she can change lanes again, but reaches over and lays his palm against her thigh, heavy and warm. "It's not really the point. You can have whatever name you like. You do what you need to do. I've said that before, Kate, and I mean it."

"It just seemed easier to keep it the same. For work. Same driver's license. Bills. Stuff."

"You don't have to defend yourself, Kate."

She chews on her lip and then decides to tell him the real reason, the secret reason. This is step one in trying to make him understand that he matters to her.

"And because-" She stops. He's got a big enough ego, already. She doesn't have to-

"Yeah?"

She *does* have to. Clearly she does. "Because I like it when you call me Beckett. And if it wasn't my name anymore, then maybe you wouldn't say it." She holds her breath.

Kate can practically hear him grinning in the car; he squeezes her thigh and leans in to kiss the side of her mouth, then draws his lips up to her ear. "Beckett." She struggles to pay attention to the road, wishing they could have this conversation at home, raises her hand to touch the side of his face.

"I think this would be the point where we get to have make-up sex," he says, pulling away slightly.

She laughs, lets her hand drop. "Yeah. Hard to know though."

"Why?"

"First real relationship fight, Castle."

He laughs back, a rich sound in the darkness. She really wants him right now; she's a little surprised by how much.

"I guess it is. Wow, two years. Kind of a record."

She laughs again, shaking her head. "I meant. . .with anyone."

"You *never* fought with anyone else before? Seriously?"

Kate glances over at him. "It was either good. Fine. Or it was over."

"Well." He presses a hand to his chest. "I'm certainly glad it's not over."

"It's not." She looks over at him again, tries to be sure he's joking, that there's not some truth to it.

"No wonder you're so terrible at this," he laughs.

"Shut up. You're not much better."

"I am too!"

"Are not."

"Didn't I start this conversation?"

She thinks back, narrows her eyes at him. "No. I did."

"Well, you're learning from the master, Young Anakin."

"Didn't he grow up to become Darth Vader?"

"Semantics," he grumbles.

"You big geek." The exit sign for W 155th looms in the darkness. "Hand me my phone, Castle."

He gives it back, and she takes a quick look to call up the google maps application. She put in the address Alexis gave her back at the loft, and so now she checks the directions once more.

"We've got about ten minutes more on surface streets before we get there." Kate drops the phone in the cup holder and takes the exit left.

Castle glances at her. "Are we good?"

"We're. . .good."

"That's not very convincing."

"Well, I feel like shit when I talk this stuff out," she says, going again for honesty.

"Yeah, I know you do."

"You do?"

"Remember that analogy I told you?"

"What analogy? When did you tell me?"

"About the splinter. About how I like to dig around and get it out quickly, even if it's painful and makes me bleed?"

"Oh, no you didn't. Are you kidding me?" She looks over at him, reaches out to shove on his shoulder as she stops at a light. "You told me that analogy when I was in labor, Castle. *Not* good timing."

He laughs, his face creasing with a happy grin. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

"I thought you were trying to make some stupid comment about our son, you idiot."

"Well, this has been enlightening for me. I gotta admit."

"I'm trying to squeeze this thing out of me and you're going on about splinters. If they would've let me have my gun in the delivery room, you'd have been on the floor."

"You were squeezing my hand hard enough to drop me to my knees. You don't remember that?"

She grins back at him, floors the accelerator through the green light. "You deserved it. Now. The splinter? Care to enlighten *me* on what the hell you were talking about?"

"Oh. Right. Just that we like to approach problems two different ways. The problem, in this analogy, is the splinter. I like to dig around-"

"-Get bloody. Right. The painful way. I see. And I like to let it work its way out. I distinctly remember you saying that. Work its way out. I could've killed you for that. That boy's giant head was not going to work its way out."

"Not out of those hips," he mutters.

She slaps him again.

He catches her wrist. "But I was talking about problems. About how we deal with things. And I meant, back then anyway, that I was willing to deal with problems your way, willing to just let it go. I meant that it would all work out eventually."

She's silent for a second, takes her hand back to make her turn at the next light. "But sometimes it doesn't all work out."

"Yeah. Sometimes it gets infected."

She pulls up the map on her phone again, takes a right at the next block. They're close. They're so close.

"How do you tell the difference then?" she says softly, her forehead creasing in concentration. "Between the kind that should just be left alone and the kind that should be pulled out?"

He sighs. "I don't know."