Author's Note: Another chapter that I can only hope came out well….
Then Came Love
Chapter 33
For probably the first time in her life, Kate was thankful for the vagaries of Manhattan rush hour traffic because it meant it took almost half an hour before the boys returned with Lyla's boyfriend, Max Snyder, in tow. Time which gave her (and Castle) a chance to catch their breaths and return their focus to the case, rather than on… anything else.
Because they were in the middle of a case. And she'd promised Ms. Bernard that she would find Lyla's killer.
Max Snyder turned out to be, unsurprisingly, a good-looking boy with black curly hair and blue-green eyes and a general look about him that Kate guessed in normal circumstances, gave him enough charm to turn the heads of any number of young girls. But Kate was also old enough and mature enough that she could also see what Ms. Bernard would not have liked about him because he had something of the perpetual rebel about him too, a wannabe bad-boy as it were, but one who didn't appear to have the brains or the spine to be any sort of criminal mastermind.
His eyes showed some evidence of tears but once Kate and Espo started questioning him, even mildly, his manner shifted towards being sullen and uncommunicative. Kate's instincts flickered. He knew something, was guilty of something, although whether that was of actually killing Lyla she wasn't sure.
She flicked a glance at Espo, who took up the cue and spread the crime scene photos of Lyla's body on the table, managing with a deliberate twist of his fingers to have the graphic close-up of the bloody gash on the back of Lyla's head land on top alongside that of her bruised, bloody face. It was a terrible set of pictures and Kate was hard-pressed not to flinch or react visibly herself, and she had known what to expect.
A choked sound escaped Max and then Kate almost started as Castle, until now a silent onlooker in the corner, stepped forward and slammed his palms down on the table, his height and his bulk effectively looming over Max. "You did this. This is your fault, isn't it? I bet you liked it, having a young, pretty girl like Lyla adore you, didn't you? It made you feel like a man, didn't it? But she didn't know that you weren't worth it."
Castle's expression was dark, angry. This was because of Lyla–or more accurately, because of Lyla and seeing Ms. Bernard's devastation–and about Alexis too. This was personal.
Beside her, she sensed Espo opening his mouth to intervene but gave him a quick kick under the table to shut him up. Castle was pushing harder on Max than they normally would this early in an interrogation but she could understand why. And from the look on Max's face, he appeared to have decided that Castle was the dangerous one in the room, rare for Espo to be deemed the softer touch.
"What was it, Max, did Lyla figure out that you're a loser and that's why you killed her?"
Castle's harsh voice lashed out like a whip and there was one frozen moment and then–Max broke. "I didn't do it! I didn't know they'd kill her!"
"They?" Espo pounced and Kate reached out, tugged Castle's jacket and he straightened, stepped back, let her and Espo take back the reins.
And that was it. Max really didn't have the spine to be a real villain and it didn't take long before she and Espo had the whole sordid story spilling out of him in fits and starts. Msx wasn't malicious so much as foolish and greedy from the sound of it–since he'd agreed to act as the middle-man to sell other less-legal substances on the side while bartending. Typical patsy, really, no doubt at first thinking of it mostly as a sort of game because it would have involved secret catchphrases whereby the buyers would communicate what they sought and pass the payments along under the table while paying for their legal drinks over the table.
And Lyla had found out and objected, tried to persuade Max out of it but drug dealers–drug dealers smart enough to use patsies like Max–were hardly the sort to let Max go and just wish him well. And Lyla–young, idealistic Lyla–had decided to try to persuade the dealer herself, who, Kate guessed, was one of the higher-end drug dealers as it were, one of those whose parody of suave manners hid their ruthlessness, to Lyla's cost.
So now they knew the why of it. It wasn't entirely over yet though. Espo went to collect Ryan and a couple uniforms from Narcotics as back up as they went to track down the dealer and they would need to have Narcotics look further into the bar and its owner, see how much the owner knew of all this.
Another uniform came in to take down Max's official statement. And with that, Kate knew her part in this case was mostly over. What was left for her was paperwork–and telling Ms. Bernard the story. Which would inevitably be another difficult conversation.
Kate was abruptly aware of being exhausted. It was the end of the day, a long emotional day at that, and at that moment, she felt as if she could happily crawl into bed and sleep for twelve hours or so. She pushed herself to her feet and felt Castle's hand rest lightly and briefly on her lower back as she left the box. He accompanied her as they updated Captain Montgomery on the case and then she turned back to Castle.
But before she could say anything, he forestalled her. "I should get home for dinner with Alexis. We'll talk tomorrow?" he suggested. "When the case is really over?"
"Tomorrow," she agreed. She couldn't quite manage a smile, not then, not with Lyla's fate too much at the front of her mind, but she briefly pressed his fingers, in a small gesture of thanks. And she found something like calm settling inside her, perhaps oddly, at his offer to postpone their talk. She knew him and she knew he must have noticed or guessed that she was tired and was using dinner with Alexis–which, admittedly, was also probably true especially since she knew Lyla's similarity in age to Alexis had been weighing on him–as a reason to leave, give her this one night to rest before the talk they needed to have. He wasn't going to push.
It somehow felt like the last, crucial piece of evidence as it were. The evidence of the last weeks and months, evidence of Castle's kindness, his trustworthiness, his understanding. Alexis had told her that Castle was good at taking care of the people he cared about and Kate knew it was true–more, she could see that she herself was one of those people. He cared about her–as her dad had told her.
She felt a swell of gratitude for Castle, for his patience and his understanding. She could have kissed him for it–except, of course, she couldn't, not standing in the middle of the bullpen as they were. All she could do was link her fingers with his for a moment, offering him a small twitch of her lips as a substitute for a smile. "Night, Castle. See you tomorrow."
"Til tomorrow, Beckett," was all he said but his look and his tone somehow made the words seem like a caress in itself and she felt herself flushing.
The next day really did see the case being closed. The boys managed to arrest the killer and the dealer too so one small drug operation had been disbanded so Lyla's death had served some purpose after all. Kate would need to talk to the DA but she guessed that Max's cooperation would likely see him get off with probation and little, if any, actual jail time and–one hoped–a salutary lesson.
Better than that though, Kate was able to tell Ms. Bernard not only that the killer had been brought to justice but that they'd found drafts of unsent, unfinished emails on Lyla's laptop, emails to her mother, seeking to heal the rift. It would not–could not–make up for the loss of her daughter but Kate hoped it would remove the poison of guilt over the fight, allow the wound to heal. Ms. Bernard broke down in tears as she read the first of the emails but they were healing tears and she managed a watery smile as she thanked Kate and Castle and left the precinct, clutching the print-outs of the emails as if they were the Holy Grail.
"Will she be okay?" Castle murmured. "I can't imagine what I would do if…"
Kate winced and sighed. "I don't know," she admitted honestly. "At least the emails should help but I don't know."
She felt his sideways glance. "A very wise person once said that knowing why will help in time."
She met his eyes. "Yeah," she agreed with a small sigh. "It does." Whether it would help enough, she didn't know.
"How do you do it?" he asked almost in a whisper.
It occurred to her that this was the first time anyone had ever asked her that, how she managed her grief over her mom. Most people shied away from the subject, partly out of awkwardness and uncertainty of what to say, she knew, and contented themselves with the usual platitudes of being sorry for her loss. And if almost anyone else had asked, she might not have really answered but this was Castle and he cared enough and she trusted him enough that she felt she rather owed him candor.
"You just… go on. Get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, the normal things of life," she answered slowly, a little unsteadily but not too much so. "And somehow, over time, you learn to carry the grief better. It becomes a part of you, an invisible but lasting scar."
"You really are amazing, you know that?"
Her lips twisted ruefully. He hadn't seen her in the bad years immediately following her mom's death. "No, just… experienced. And I've had a lot of time to think about it."
"Doesn't make it less amazing," he countered.
She offered him a faint smile at that. "You're biased and now I have paperwork to do."
He made a face at the mention of paperwork but dutifully–loyally–kept in step beside her as she returned to her desk and proceeded to amuse himself by playing games on his phone while she finished up the paperwork to close the Lyla Bernard case.
When her paperwork was done, she turned to him, managing a small smile as she tried to tamp down on the nervous butterflies that had appeared in her stomach. They did need to talk but she was so bad at this kind of thing, at talking about emotions and things. "The case is really over now so I was thinking, maybe we could get some takeout–I was thinking of pizza, if that's okay with you–and go back to my place? Just to talk," she added belatedly, feeling herself flush as she realized how suggestive the invitation sounded. "I thought we could use some privacy. For our talk." And, yes, for kissing some more too.
"That's fine with me–both the talking and the pizza," he agreed easily.
She returned his smile, feeling some of her tension dissolve. "Okay, good." This was Castle, after all, who had a way of making things easier, making her more comfortable.
They picked up a pizza and, at Castle's suggestion, a salad too and returned to her apartment to eat. It was the second time in a week that she and Castle were eating dinner alone together, first the other night at the loft and now here at her place. It was still a little surprising–and a little frightening too–how comfortable it somehow was, how quickly it had become almost normal to be eating dinner with him at his home and at hers.
That really was not a helpful thought, nervous butterflies appearing in her stomach all over again, as she set out glasses of water for them while he set the table (and she didn't know how it was that he already seemed to know where things were kept in her kitchen).
She shot him a small smile. "Well, help yourself."
He caught her elbow before she could sit down. "Just one more thing."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"This." Something in his tone, his look, told her his intent as he bent and kissed her and she gave in willingly, even eagerly. Kissing him, at least, was easy; it was everything else that wasn't. But for now… He tasted vaguely of chocolate from the M&M's he'd been snacking on over the afternoon and more than that, just like… him and oh, if she'd wondered if how good his kiss had been was some sort of fluke, she had her answer because if anything, his kiss was even better now. He was sure, confident, as he explored her mouth all over again.
When he lifted his head, she just barely managed to choke back a little whine of protest, blinking as she tried to remember where they were.
"Sorry," he said in a tone that was much more smug and not at all apologetic. "I just really missed kissing you."
She–uh– She was saved (or something) from the need to respond (not that she had any idea what she could say) when her stomach chose that moment to growl and she flushed, ducking her head as she hurriedly sat down. "Not a word, Castle."
"I didn't say a thing," he protested even as his eyes danced, his lips twitching with irrepressible humor.
"Your silence was eloquent."
"Eat some salad, Beckett," was all he said, sternly controlling his expression.
She narrowed her eyes at him but she could hardly snap at him just for the way his eyes were bright with amusement, and focused on her food instead.
They ate in mostly comfortable silence and she felt her embarrassment easing along with her hunger–because she really had been hungry and had been thinking about pizza all afternoon so the pizza was certainly hitting the spot, which helped too.
Castle finished eating before she did and she only escaped feeling self-conscious over that because she was focused instead on the talk they needed to have about their relationship, whatever it was right now.
She finished eating and then busied herself by putting her plate away and washing her hands before returning to the table, now out of mundane tasks to do. "So I guess we need to talk," she began inanely and then could have kicked herself, briefly shutting her eyes. "Sorry, I'm really bad at this."
"Don't be silly, you're great at kissing."
She huffed a laugh as she knew he intended. "Thanks, but that wasn't what I meant. I meant that I'm bad at talking about relationships and things. I just…" she made a vague gesture with one hand. "I'm not good at talking about what's on my mind."
He raised his eyebrows at her. "I'm aware," he responded, his tone faintly dry. "I figured out a while ago that you're probably the most frustrating, challenging person I've ever met."
Oh. She felt something inside her shrink a little. She knew she was rather closed off and hard to get to know but she hadn't expected him to agree in so many words either.
"Hey, look at me," he went on, his tone changing, softening, drawing her eyes up to his, as he reached across the table to briefly squeeze her fingers. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. A mystery I'm never going to solve, remember? You're the most remarkable person I've ever met, more than worth any challenge. I'm here, with you, because I want to be and I'm not about to go anywhere, okay? And I think–I think we could be really good together."
Together. Her heart clenched a little with longing at the word, the idea. "And it's not just because of the baby, because it would be convenient or something?" she found herself blurting out. She didn't really think it was but she just wanted to be sure.
"It's not because of the baby. If anything, the baby exists because I care about you. It's like I told you that night, I wanted to help you and I know I made a mistake but I did it because I cared."
"Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons," she murmured, remembering what he'd said about John Allen's deceiving his wife about his losing his job. And she knew it was true; she had thought it even then, hadn't she, that Castle had looked into her mom's case because he'd wanted to help her.
He recognized his own words, she saw, as she looked at him–and saw too the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. She felt a pang of recognition, of empathy–and with it, oddly, came a sort of confidence, of courage.
She was afraid of being hurt, afraid of letting herself care about him (too late for that), afraid of being more vulnerable to him than she already was–but it hadn't occurred to her fully that he was vulnerable to her too.
Maybe it was time to risk her own vulnerability for this man who had already shown her his.
"I want it too, to be with you," she managed, not entirely smoothly. "I–"
He cut her off with a kiss and she willingly sank into his kiss, his lips so soft and warm against hers. His hand came up to cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, and she sighed a little into his mouth, welcomed the way his tongue swirled over hers. And ooh, it might have only been a day but she thought fuzzily that she was already becoming addicted to this, to his taste, his touch, his kiss.
As if she never wanted to kiss anyone else ever again.
Wait, what had she just thought?
It was insane, right? Had to be–she could not be thinking like this so soon.
She didn't think she'd reacted but as if he sensed her flare of nerves, he drew back just a little. "Kate," he murmured against her lips, his voice a little husky and breathless and oh god, just his voice saying her first name should not be able to do this to her, sending a delicious tremor of arousal zipping along her veins. He gave her a last, gentle, closed-mouth kiss before lifting his head. "You're thinking very loudly. What is it?"
She didn't really mean to answer him–at least she didn't think she did–but it appeared her filter had dissolved, helped along by the flutter of fear at her inadvertent–insane–thought. "What if it doesn't work, this relationship?"
He blinked. "Already thinking about when you'll get tired of me? Careful with the sweet talk. I might just swoon." The words were light but the flicker of something in his eyes told her his attempt at flippancy was just that, an act.
"Not like that," she hurriedly rushed out, her hand lifting to cup his cheek in an unthinking gesture. He tilted his head slightly into her hand and she ruffled her fingers through the soft hair above his ear. His lashes dipped for a moment. Oh, he liked that. She filed the knowledge away as she almost reluctantly let her hand fall away.
"I didn't mean it to sound like that," she went on, not entirely fluently. "It's not you, it's me." It was true and it occurred to her that she didn't expect to ever get tired of him–no, what she feared was that he would get tired of her. Would get tired of dealing with her issues, her reticence, her fears, her darkness. He was such a bringer of light, so fun, so good at making things brighter, making people happy–and she was… not.
"I'm just trying to be realistic, trying to think about the baby. We're friends and partners at work and that's fine, making things work for the baby and everything, but what if we try to be more and we lose what we already have? I just… there's more at stake here than just us."
He was entirely sober now. "Always the sensible one, Beckett." He sighed a little. "You're right, of course. Relationships don't come with guarantees but I think… the fact that we're even talking about this now says something. We're both adults and we both love this baby and it's like I already told you, I trust you. I trust us, trust that no matter what happens between us, we wouldn't let it affect the baby, would always try to put the baby first."
And Castle, of all people, knew what he was talking about. He had kept an amicable relationship with Meredith, no matter how Meredith had betrayed him or how much Meredith's neglect of Alexis bothered him.
Her whole chest felt tight with a combination of fear and longing. "You should know I'm not good at relationships. It's like I built up this wall inside me when my mom died, and I just… I'm not sure I even know how to have the kind of relationship I want… and I… get scared sometimes because our relationship doesn't really make sense on paper… You're this multimillionaire celebrity and I'm just a cop and–"
"Beckett–Kate," he interrupted her and she stopped, thinking it really was a little absurd how much she liked the sound of her first name on his lips. She was so used to being called Beckett by basically everyone in her life, even preferred it, or at least she thought she did, but somehow, from Castle, he made her first name sound almost like an endearment. "We might have our differences but we're already friends and we don't live our lives on paper. And just because a relationship might make sense on paper doesn't mean it'll work out." He paused, his lips twisting a little. "I've tested that theory already, with Gina, and it was basically a disaster."
Oh, she hadn't thought of his relationship with Gina like that but he had a point and it occurred to her too that her relationship with Will might be characterized in the same way. On paper, Will checked off all the boxes–working in law enforcement like she did, his steady, upright character–but her relationship with Will hadn't been any sort of success.
"It might be a risk but I would hate to miss out on something really great because of hypothetical worries about what might happen." He paused and extended his hand, palm up, on the table. "I trust you. And I want this, want to take a chance on us, if you do too."
She remembered what her dad had said the night they'd had dinner with Castle, that relationships took work and what mattered was if you trusted the other person to put in the same effort. It really was about trust and if that was the case–she'd already made her decision in a way, hadn't she? She trusted Castle with the baby, not because of biology (she'd seen enough in her line of work to know that being a biological parent didn't guarantee anything about a person's ability to be trusted), but because of who he was. How could she not trust Castle when it came to a relationship?
She slid her hand to cover his, curling her fingers around his. "I trust you too and I want this, I want you–" She gave up on trying to be eloquent and instead just surged forward and kissed him, let the press of her mouth communicate what she couldn't quite say.
And fortunately, from the way he immediately reacted, his hand coming up to cup her cheek, as he kissed her back, he had no problems with this mode of communication.
She had no idea how many minutes passed before he drew back.
He was satisfyingly breathless, his lips–his very soft, warm lips–a little swollen. "Wait, can we move over to your couch so we can make out more comfortably?"
Her chest squeezed in a rush of affection even as she smirked at him. "Smooth, Castle."
He affected a look of mock injury. "Considering the way you just kissed me, I think I'm doing pretty well just to be able to speak in complete sentences."
A little laugh escaped her. "Nice save," she teased before she pushed herself to her feet and held her hand out. "Coming, Castle?"
His chair rocked back as he leaped up, his hand grasping hers, as they moved the few steps over to sink onto her couch.
Somewhat to her surprise, though, he didn't immediately try to resume kissing her once they were seated, seemed content to just look at her for a while. His free hand lifted to touch her cheek, his fingers lightly tracing her eyebrow, her temple, the skin just in front of her ear, the curve where her chin met her neck, such random places.
She managed a somewhat shaky smile as everywhere his fingers touched seemed to set little sparks of arousal humming beneath her skin. "You ought to know what I look like by now."
His lips tipped up slightly. "I do, but it doesn't mean I don't still like to look at you."
"You and your creepy staring," she tried to tease, although the breathiness of her voice detracted from any humor.
"Might as well get used to it, Beckett, because I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at you."
"Just looking and not touching?"
"Well, if you put it like that…"
Now he did pull her closer and she let him, leaning into him as his mouth finally settled over hers, again, his kiss slow and searching as he kissed her as if he was trying to memorize her mouth. Her tongue twined around his and the tenor of the kiss changed, became hotter, deeper.
His mouth left hers and she would have protested, or something, except his lips slid along her chin, found the sensitive hollow just behind her ear lobe (how did he know?), and all she could do was give a little gasping moan as his fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater, found the bare skin of her back and oh…
He startled under her, his hands freezing and slipping out from under her, and she could only blink, try to clear the haze from her mind as he pressed a quick, almost apologetic kiss to the corner of her mouth and then pulled his phone out of his pocket. Oh, that was why he'd stopped.
He checked his phone and then let out a little sigh.
"Something wrong?"
He blinked. "No, it's fine, just Alexis, wondering where I am. I forgot to text her to let her know I wouldn't be home for dinner." He made a small face, hesitated.
"You should go," she told him, making it easier for him. Not because she wanted him to leave but she knew he didn't like to leave Alexis home alone in the evenings and Martha would no doubt be out at her show. He was such a good dad and it was one of the things she liked best about him and she could not–would not–ask him to compromise on putting Alexis first.
"Kate, you're sure? I hate to leave you." He paused, his lips momentarily quirking upwards. "Especially when we're getting along so well."
She huffed a laugh at that and just pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Go home and be with your daughter, Castle. I get that you have priorities. And it has been an intense couple of days. It might be good to take a little while, sleep on it. We'll have more time to get back to all this."
He gave her a soft, lingering kiss. "You're the best, you know that, Kate Beckett?" he murmured against her lips.
"You're not so bad yourself."
He grinned at that and then finally, reluctantly, pushed himself to his feet and then held out a hand to help her up too and kept her hand in his as she accompanied him to her door.
This was starting to become normal, she thought, holding hands with him. Such a relatively innocent little caress had never meant much to her before but somehow, with Castle, she liked it, liked the way her hand felt in his, liked the way their palms fit together. (Oh, she really had it bad, didn't she?)
He turned back to her. "Will you have dinner with me sometime soon?"
"Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Yes, I am," he admitted, his lips curving into a small, half-sheepish smile. "I know we've sort of done things in the wrong order but I want to do things right from now on. So what do you say, Beckett, will you let me woo you?"
Oh, he really might be the most adorable man on the planet. "Sure, Castle, I'll go out with you," she agreed, trying to sound calm and composed like the mature detective she was rather than the giddy schoolgirl she sort of felt like.
His whole face lit up and oh, if that was the way he reacted to her agreeing to go on a date with him, she should really agree to his suggestions more often.
He kissed her in a way that had her regretting her own noble gesture of telling him to go home to his daughter but then slowly, reluctantly, drew back. "See you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow," she confirmed. "Night, Castle."
"Good night, Beckett."
And then after another last, lingering kiss, he left, leaving Kate to close the door after him, aware of a rather silly grin curving her lips and a lingering warmth in her chest. She had finally given in to the attraction and, yes, the emotions pulling her towards him and maybe, later, she would remember some of the reasons she'd hesitated, tried to resist for so long, but for now, at least, she was just… happy.
~To be continued…~
A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to all readers and reviewers.
