Author's Note: Featuring the necessary conversation I think people have been waiting for.

Then Came Love

Chapter 46

Kate left the store–no, scratch that–she fled the grocery store as if she could somehow outpace her own emotions, outpace the sound of the holiday music lingering in her ears, outpace the echo in her mind of her own outburst to Castle, her own ugly, unjustifiable words.

She was peripherally aware of hearing Castle call her name behind her as she fled and something inside her flinched but she didn't turn back–couldn't turn back. Her throat was tight, her eyes pricking, and she was horribly afraid that she might start to cry right there in the crowded grocery store, stupid tears of mingled grief and regret and annoyance and fear. And all she could think to do was flee, just get out. She needed to get away, needed to get some air, some space. Needed more than anything to escape all the emotions buffeting her–but of course, there was no escaping them at all.

She could only stride as quickly as she could manage, navigating the holiday crowds on the sidewalks blindly with the ingrained, instinctive experience born of years of living in the City, walking without any set destination in mind, taking random turns at crosswalks, anything that allowed her to keep moving, too restless in her current emotional state to wait for the signal to change.

But she could still hear in her mind the faint, remembered echo of the holiday music that had been playing in the grocery store–what had partially precipitated this whole mess–because the song had been "Silver Bells," which had been her mom's favorite Christmas song. She remembered her mom humming or singing along to it whenever the song had played on the radio, remembered seeing her parents dancing to it a few times in their apartment, a sight that had made her younger self turn away in something like disgust more than once but now struck her with a sharp pang. It was a song she could not hear, even now, without the irrational urge to cry and of course–of course–it had needed to start playing in the grocery store, making her throat tighten yet further with emotion when Castle had been recounting the tale of what had turned into an impromptu holiday party for his mother's theater friends.

And it should have been–had been intended to be–a lighthearted story. Castle had been smiling fondly at the memories, his eyes bright, and somehow his very cheerfulness had struck her like a blow because it had seemed to underscore all too painfully how very different she and Castle were, how much he loved Christmas and enjoyed holiday parties while she… no longer knew how to celebrate Christmas at all.

And then, as if all that hadn't been bad enough, Castle had mentioned that he'd already called her dad—her dad!—to invite him over for Christmas Eve. Her dad, who had also not celebrated Christmas in any way in the last decade. Her dad, who'd always understood her decision to volunteer for the Christmas shift and more often than not in the years since he'd stopped drinking, had gone out to the cabin for Christmas to avoid all the holiday festivities in the City. She didn't understand exactly why the mention of Castle calling her dad, bringing her dad into the discussion–or not-a-discussion–of Christmas at all had somehow proven to be the last straw but it had, all the emotions–the mingled hurt and grief and regret and fine, yes, some annoyance at Castle for assuming so blithely that she and her dad would join him and his family for Christmas, no questions asked–had spilled over and she'd found herself erupting at Castle, the words bursting out of her, aware in some corner of her even as she said them that she wasn't actually expressing any of what was really bothering her.

The image, the memory, of Castle's surprise and confusion sharply returned to her and she inwardly flinched, her steps slowing a little for the first time and she came to a belated awareness of her surroundings, how far she'd walked–more than 20 city blocks. She'd passed the point where she should have turned to return to her own apartment and up ahead, she could see a very small park with a miniscule playground area for a nearby elementary school and headed over to sit down on one of the benches, bending over to rest her elbows on her knees as she shut her eyes. She was belatedly conscious of the fact that she was tired, her feet and legs starting to protest a little at her long walk, not helped by her current condition.

Oh damn.

It was a couple minutes but then, almost as if on cue or somehow reacting either to her own emotions or to the physical exertions, she felt the little flutter in her stomach, now-familiar and still, somehow, so strange and thrilling, of the baby moving. Oh, the baby… Her hand moved to rest on her stomach and now, finally, she felt some hot, unwilling tears well up, escaping her closed eyes. Not many, thankfully, just enough to dampen her cheeks but it seemed as if the escaping tears had a cathartic effect, calming her rioting emotions at least to an extent.

Oh god, she'd run from Castle–again. After all her high-minded resolution of not letting him see or know anything that might ruin his love of Christmas, her emotions had just erupted out of her and she'd exploded at him–snapped at him–unjustifiably. Her stupid emotions getting the better of her and not for the first time, she felt a sharp stab of fear that Castle would tire of having to deal with her issues and her weaknesses, would realize that he could do so much better than being with someone like her. She'd wanted to make him happy–and instead, she'd snapped at him, again, and run from him, deserted him in the middle of a grocery store of all public places, and generally shown that she really didn't deserve him.

But even in all her self-reproach, her old, automatic resistance to the idea of celebrating Christmas at all–the thought of trying to be festive and happy on the holiday even as she was bombarded with memories of her mom, the impending dread of the anniversary of her mom's death–remained. She didn't think she could do it. She didn't know how to celebrate Christmas anymore, not really, certainly didn't know how to actually feel festive for the holiday anymore. The holiday season just… wasn't something to celebrate for her, just something to be ignored as much as possible and what couldn't be ignored had to be endured.

And yet… it occurred to her that nothing Castle had said indicated that her dad had expressed any reluctance or unwillingness to join the Castle family for Christmas Eve, had certainly not refused the invitation. Had her dad only been being polite?

Kate swiped at the lingering tears on her cheeks and pulled out her phone to call her dad, noting but for once, not checking the voicemail and the text message she'd received from Castle. She would check later. For now, she needed to talk to her dad. She felt a little flare of warmth in her chest at the sound of her dad's so-familiar, so-dear voice, the little lift of her spirits at how strong and happy he sounded which she still felt whenever she spoke to her dad these days, the reminder of how far he'd come.

"Katie, this is an unexpected pleasure."

"Hi, Dad. Castle told me he called you?" she asked, without preamble.

"About Christmas, yes, Rick called the other day. It sounds like it'll be a wonderful day and another delicious meal."

"So you said yes?" she asked, a little uncertainly.

"Well, yes, Katie, I would hardly turn down a chance for a home-cooked meal with you and Rick and his family, and certainly not on Christmas Eve." He paused and then added, his tone shifting a little, "What is it? You're not still concerned about how Martha and I will get along, are you, because–"

"Oh, no, that's not it at all," she hurriedly assured him, truthfully. "I was just–well, it's Christmas, Dad."

Her dad sighed, not needing any additional explanation, but then he was the one person who not only knew what her Christmas tradition was but also understood it. "Oh, Katie… I know you always volunteer for the Christmas shift but I was actually not that surprised when Rick made it sound as if you would be joining him and his family for Christmas instead this year." He paused. "Haven't you and Rick talked about this already? When Rick called, I assumed…"

She winced a little. "No, we haven't. I've–well, I guess I've sort of been avoiding talking about it. I volunteered again but the Captain hasn't talked to me about if I'll be allowed to take the Christmas shift this year under the circumstances and, well, Castle really loves Christmas and I just… haven't wanted to say anything to take away from his excitement about it."

Her dad's voice became a little firmer, a mild note of scolding entering his tone. "You know, Katie, I would have thought you'd know that trying to avoid or ignore an issue won't make the issue go away. Usually, it only makes things worse in the long run."

She supposed she did know that, had certainly seen evidence of it now. But of course, it was easier to know it in theory than practice it in reality. "I just didn't want to disappoint him or make him feel like he shouldn't enjoy the holidays." But why oh why did that reason somehow sound flimsy and too much like an excuse when spoken out loud?

"And how well has that worked out for you?"

She made a face that even she had to admit was more than a little petulant and was momentarily thankful that her dad couldn't see it. "Okay, Dad, you're right, it hasn't worked out." She hesitated and then finally admitted, "Castle and I… sort of had an argument about it." If it could be called an argument, considering it had been almost entirely one-sided. She inwardly flinched.

Her dad's tone gentled. "Katie, I hope you didn't feel like you needed to stick with our usual traditions on Christmas this year just for my sake or something like that. Traditions evolve with our own changing lives, it's the nature of things. And this year, with everything going on with you and Rick and the baby, it seemed natural to me that our Christmas tradition would change too."

Put like that… was she being childish and stubborn, clinging so tightly to the thought of her usual tradition of working the Christmas shift because she knew that this year would almost certainly be the last one on which she could work on Christmas? Because in just a few months' time, once the baby arrived, her entire life would be changing forever, not just when it came to Christmas but every other aspect of her life too. The thought was terrifying, still, just as much as it had been since the moment she'd sat in her bathroom and stared at the pregnancy test results more than three months ago. She might, slowly, be learning to adjust to being pregnant but she didn't feel any more ready to be a real mom to the baby, had been mostly trying to assume and hope that she would figure it out on the way and turn to Castle and her dad and Martha and Evelyn Montgomery (among others) when she was at a loss. Was it mostly the fear of the unknown–and unknowable–changes that were coming that was making her cling so much to the thought of her usual Christmas shift, trying to stick to her old life as long as she could?

"I just… miss her so much at this time of year," she admitted, very quietly. "I don't know if I can do Christmas without her."

She heard her dad's sigh. "I know, Katie, but you know, it doesn't take anything away from our grief for us to spend Christmas with Rick and his family, starting a new tradition."

"It won't be too hard on you?"

"I won't say it'll always be easy for either of us, to celebrate and be around other people celebrating, but Katie, life–and our emotions–aren't that simple. Things can be hard and painful and still happy too." He paused for a long minute and then went on, his voice quieter, "Do you remember the day we went out to Coney Island?"

She stilled, her throat getting tight again. The day of her mom's funeral. She knew it was a rhetorical question. And although that day had not been the only time they had been out of Coney Island, somehow, when she and her dad spoke of that day, they only did refer to it as the day they went to Coney Island, did not refer in so many words to her mom's funeral. But then, there was no need for them to talk about the funeral as they both knew those excruciating hours were indelibly engraved onto their hearts and minds. "Yes," she managed in a voice just above a whisper.

"It was a good day, remember, an example of how happiness can still be found even in the middle of pain. It's the nature of life, that our joys are bound up with our sorrows."

She gave a little choking gasp, blinking back tears at the memories of that day–the truth of her dad's words.

"And Katie," her dad went on after clearing his throat a little, "it's what your mom would want for you, you know. She wouldn't want you to spend all your Christmases alone at the precinct, mourning for her. She always loved Christmas and she would want you to celebrate it, would want you to spend it with people who care about you."

"Oh, Dad…" She had to swallow back the lump of emotion in her throat.

"Talk to Rick about Christmas," he advised. "Rick cares about you deeply and I think you can trust him to understand."

"I will," she promised. Because she did trust Castle. She might not have done a very good job of showing it these past few days, she thought with a pang, but she did trust him.

"My brave Katie-bug," was her dad's fond rejoinder and she managed a shaky smile at the childish moniker, one her dad still, occasionally, used. Her mom had generally preferred "Katie-bear" as her childish nickname but Katie-bug was her dad's–and now, she even treasured hearing it, childish as it was. It was a sign that she had her old dad back because he hadn't used it at all in the years when he'd been drowning (not that they had been on the best of terms in those years to make the endearment appropriate).

She and her dad didn't talk for much longer, their conversation becoming more casual as she checked in with how he was doing and confirmed a plan to meet for dinner the coming weekend, as usual.

And when she ended the call, she headed to the loft and to the conversation she needed to have with Castle.

Knowing what she needed to do was the easy part.

Kate found herself fighting a battle with nerves as she took the elevator in Castle's building up to the top floor. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so nervous about seeing Castle–actually, no, she did remember. The last time she'd been so nervous to see Castle had been the day she'd come here to tell him she was pregnant. But then–something inside her chest twisted–on second thought, she was more nervous now. Crazily enough. Or not. Because then, she hadn't, well, cared as much as she did now. But now, she did. She cared so much, about him, about this, her relationship with Castle–her relationship with him that was entirely separate from the baby. And she was terrified that he would be angry–he had a right to be angry–terrified that he might have decided she wasn't enough, that he was tired of dealing with her inability to talk about things, her issues. (Oh god…)

She swallowed back the lump that had taken up residence in her throat as she knocked.

He opened the door and she couldn't read his expression, if he looked angry or hurt, although she noted that he wasn't surprised to see her. "Beckett," he greeted, his tone flat.

She clasped her hands together in an attempt to keep from wringing them. "Hi," she began lamely. "Can we talk?"

"Now you want to talk, rather than just jumping down my throat?"

She winced a little. Her heart twisted abruptly because he didn't sound angry–he sounded tired and that was worse.

But she tried to take some encouragement in the fact that he didn't wait for her response–not that she knew what she should say–before stepping back, allowing her inside and closing the door behind her. And she realized, peripherally, that one unintended benefit of being so tied up in knots with nervousness over the talk she needed to have with Castle was that she was too focused on him to pay much attention at all to the holiday decorations or react to them as she usually did.

She shrugged out of her coat and he accepted it automatically, hanging it up in the front coat closet, before turning back to her. His uncharacteristic silence was unnerving. "I'm sorry," she blurted out after a moment. "About earlier. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." Shouldn't have run from him, shouldn't have avoided talking about her feelings about Christmas as long as she had.

There was a pause in which she hardly dared to breathe as he studied her. "Yeah," he finally answered. "Have you eaten anything?"

She blinked, taken by surprise at the seeming non sequitur. "No." She hadn't even thought of it.

"Neither have I." He gestured with his head before turning abruptly to go into the kitchen and she followed him, a little confused but also a little reassured too. For once, she didn't offer to help–she knew him too well to think he would let her and right now didn't feel like the time anyway–but only sank down onto one of the chairs at the table, watching as he started pulling items out of the fridge to make sandwiches and salad fixings, she saw, something quick and easy.

He didn't say anything and his silence was uncharacteristic, telling her if she hadn't already known, that things were not back to normal but she found the silence becoming strangely comforting for all that. Because whatever else, he wasn't angry at her anymore, wasn't about to break up with her. That much was clear because if he were, he wouldn't be preparing to have a late dinner with her.

He returned to the table in a few minutes with salads and sandwiches for both of them and then glasses of water before taking his usual seat at the end of the table.

She was, she belatedly realized, hungry and he was so good at taking care of the people he cared about, as Alexis had once told her, and that still included her. On unthinking impulse, she reached out to grasp his hand. "Castle, I–thank you," she managed, not very smoothly. For still caring, for being so good to her. She really didn't deserve him, did she?

He paused, the set of his lips easing slightly as he looked at her hand holding his, and then he turned his own hand to briefly squeeze her fingers in return. Her heart leaped but all he said was, "You should eat."

No, their relationship wasn't entirely fixed, not yet, but she understood that what he meant was that he forgave her. That was reassurance enough for now so the knots in her stomach loosened and allowed her to eat. And the silence as they each finished their respective salads and sandwiches was, almost, comfortable again.

The silence lasted until after they'd both finished eating. She hesitated, wishing she'd managed to formulate some kind of speech or plan for this conversation but she hadn't and, well, talking about what was on her mind, explaining herself, was hardly her forte at the best of times. All she could do was push on and be honest. And this was Castle, after all, with his instinctive compassion, his understanding.

"Earlier, when I lashed out at you, it wasn't about anything you said or did," she blurted out. "It was about… Christmas."

The set of his lips subtly shifted. "I kind of guessed that."

Peripherally, she wondered why she wasn't more surprised that he had figured it out but no, she wasn't. Castle could be very insightful, for all his occasional childishness, and he did, after all, know her pretty well by now. "I just… I don't celebrate Christmas. My dad and I don't celebrate, not since…" Not since her mom had died but even now, she still found it hard to refer to her mom's death outright, shied away from the words.

"Your mom," he finished for her, gently.

"Yeah," she managed through the sudden tightness in her throat. She dropped her eyes to the table, shutting her eyes against the prick of tears, as she went on, her voice not entirely steady, "My mom loved Christmas; she was the one who really made Christmas special. She always kept the Christmas decorations up in our house for as long as she possibly could, usually into mid-January. They were still up when she…" When her mom had died but again her throat closed on the words and she had to swallow hard before she could go on. "Afterwards, when my dad and I took down the Christmas decorations, it was like we were putting Christmas away forever and… it turned out to be true. The first Christmas after, we tried, a little, but it just… hurt too much and after that, we never tried again." She wasn't about to go into the painful details of what had happened that first Christmas; she'd never told anyone else about that first Christmas and wasn't about to start now, wished she could forget it herself. She'd broken down into tears and her dad had not been much calmer as they'd made an effort to decorate the tree and the day itself–she shied away from the memory of it. But as she saw the way his expression softened, it occurred to her that Castle could probably fill in the blanks even without her going into detail. He knew enough of her dad's past struggles, was intuitive enough, to guess even without her telling him–and there was something comforting in that. In being known so well.

"I get it," he interjected, his voice so indescribably gentle. "I didn't–I hadn't thought of that, the way Christmas would bring up painful memories."

"It does, so I just… don't celebrate it. My dad usually goes to our cabin upstate and we exchange gifts beforehand but we don't… mention why." Her dad had only stayed in the City for Christmas and the week after twice, once because a big winter storm had been predicted to hit the area around the cabin right around Christmas and another time because something had come up at her dad's work requiring her dad to be inserted as substitute counsel on a case that was scheduled to go to trial just after the new year so her dad had needed to work over the holidays. And even when he was in town, they didn't celebrate.

And fortunately for her, the precinct wasn't one of those workplaces that had some fancy holiday party or where people really exchanged gifts. She usually gave little tokens to the Captain and to Lanie but for the boys, she bought them a drink and usually left it at that, in cop fashion, and occasionally added some candy or a silly gag gift (like the toy police cars she'd given them a few years back.)

Crap, it belatedly occurred to her that she needed to find Christmas gifts for Castle, Alexis, and Martha this year. She'd been so busy avoiding thinking about Christmas and the emotions it evoked that she hadn't even thought of that.

She finally looked up at him. "It's why I don't decorate for the holidays and I don't celebrate. It all just reminds me too much of my mom and… it hurts." She swallowed before she went on, "Instead, I volunteer to work the Christmas shift at the precinct, keeping watch so that other people can have their Christmases, and that's my tradition."

Castle's expression softened as he sighed a little. "Kate…" Her heart stuttered a little at his use of her first name. "You could have told me before." There wasn't even a particle of reproach in his voice but even so, she heard his words as saying she should have told him before, which was true.

She winced slightly. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just… I know how much you love Christmas and I didn't want to ruin it for you, didn't want you to be worrying about how I felt instead of enjoying the season."

His expression changed, his brows lowering. "So you've just been faking it, pretending to be happy these last couple weeks?"

Put like that… "No!" she reassured him, hastily and truthfully (at least mostly). "Not like that–it hasn't been that bad, just… moments here and there but I've been fine. I have been–I am–happy, with you," she added, not entirely smoothly. He didn't look entirely reassured and she hurriedly added, "I'm not that good of an actress. Even my dad would tell you that."

That admission, at least, made the set of his lips ease even as he sighed again. "Okay. I just… hate knowing that something like this has been weighing on you for days and I had no idea. You know you don't have to pretend with me, right? I know that it's hard for you to talk about what's on your mind and I don't expect you to suddenly turn into a blabbermouth, blurting out anything that comes into your mind. I'd probably wonder if you'd been possessed by aliens if you did."

This so-Castle-like digression made her heart clench with so much fondness it almost hurt because she just… liked him, liked him so much, more than anyone else she knew, liked spending time with him, liked being with him. (She shied away from any stronger word.) Her lips tipped upwards faintly.

"Even if you don't feel like talking about it, don't hide how you're feeling from me, if you're upset or sad or angry or whatever. I'm a big boy, I can take it, and it'll be better than having to constantly worry that you're hiding your emotions from me. All I want is to be there for you, to help you, but I can't read your mind the way you seem to be able to read mine."

"Telepathy isn't real, Castle," she rejoined automatically even as she felt another tiny spurt of renegade amusement. (how could he do that, inject even a little humor into what was otherwise a hard conversation to have?) "And you already do help me, not just at work but in everything. You make things better, you know that, right?"

"You make things better for me too." The corners of his lips lifted into the faintest beginnings of a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. And it occurred to her with sudden surprise that Castle might be as vulnerable and insecure as she was in some ways. She hadn't thought, hadn't realized, because he was so good at hiding it, so good at acting cocky, but he had been divorced twice and had told her that he was nervous about starting a relationship too. He had been wounded by her habitual, instinctive reluctance to share and that made her feel lower than a worm.

"I do trust you, you know that, right? And I'll try to be better about sharing," she promised. "I just don't want to… disappoint you or hurt you. You shouldn't have to deal with my issues, my–"

"Stop," he interrupted her. "I don't need to be protected from you. Kate, we're in a relationship, and that means we're supposed to talk about things and be there for each other, in the good times and the bad. And being there for you isn't a burden. It's what I want to do." He paused and then added, more quietly, "It's what partners do."

Partners. The word caught at her. She was used to it in the work context, had accepted that Castle was her partner in the precinct and, yes, out of it too but had she really acted like it, put the truth in the word? No, she really hadn't. Maybe when it came to the baby, at least for the most part, she had but in their relationship, in other matters, like how she felt about Christmas, no, she hadn't. She'd fallen back into old, bad habits, her ingrained instinct to hide her feelings, not show any weakness or vulnerability. God, she really was bad at being in a relationship, wasn't she? But she had to do better, she wanted to do better.

"We are partners, aren't we?"

She reached out and grasped his hand. "Partners," she promised. "And I will do better."

His lips curved slightly. "You're already the most remarkable person I've ever met and even now, you can still surprise me with how amazing you are. If you want to keep your tradition, keeping watch over the city on Christmas, you can and I'll keep watch with you."

This offer made her breath hitch a little. "No," she contradicted. "I talked to my dad and I think… it's time to start a new tradition. Here, with you."

His eyes lit with so much happiness she felt the last lingering doubts, reluctance to change her Christmas tradition, fall away. "So you'll be here for Christmas Eve and on Christmas? And your dad too?"

"I'll double-check with him but yeah, I think my dad will come too."

He leaned over and dropped a quick, exuberant kiss on her lips. "That's great! And you know, your dad is welcome to spend the night on Christmas Eve. We have a guest room and it'll be easier than him leaving only to come back again the next morning, although thankfully Alexis has outgrown her childhood insistence on opening gifts at the crack of dawn on Christmas and usually sleeps in."

His enthusiasm made her heart clench just a little, a twinge of pain at the thought that her mom and Castle would have gotten along, but she tried to focus instead on his happiness and managed a small smile. "I'll check with my dad," she promised again.

He must have caught a hint of her mixed emotions in her tone and abruptly sobered. "Thank you, Kate. Tell me if it gets to be too much, okay?"

She nodded. "I will. But for now, you are kind of cute when you get so excited," she told him with a faintly teasing smile.

He adopted one of his looks of smug complacence. "I get that a lot."

She laughed a little and pushed herself to her feet, a movement which he echoed, so she was able to step forward straight into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buried her face in his shoulder. A slightly shuddering breath of relief escaped her as his arms closed around her. She did rather miss being able to wear heels but one benefit to wearing flat shoes was the way she fit against him like this, her head tucked against his shoulder, his broad bulk able to shadow her, surround her. She wondered, rather fancifully, if the baby could somehow feel the same sense of security she herself did, if the baby was aware in some strange way that she was securely cradled between both her parents now.

She felt him press a kiss to her hair and turned her face up to kiss him. As usual, his kiss effectively wiped her brain clear of all thought–but then the distant sound of a key turning in the lock penetrated the haze and gave them just enough time to break off the kiss before Alexis entered.

Kate felt some heat creep into her cheeks because it had to be obvious what she and Castle had been doing since they hadn't had a chance to step away from each other and Alexis's fair skin flushed a little but to her credit, she didn't react otherwise. She only gave them each a smile. "Oh, hi, Dad, Kate. I wasn't sure you'd be home yet." She managed to sound as if it was totally normal for Kate to be there–and maybe, after all, that was what she actually felt. Alexis certainly knew that Kate had spent a couple nights at the loft before, even if Kate had always slipped out before Alexis had come down in the morning, and beyond that, Alexis hadn't been anything less than entirely welcoming of her dad's relationship with Kate.

"Hey, sweetie," Castle managed. "Did you finish studying for your French test?"

Alexis grimaced a little as she shrugged her backpack off, leaving it at the foot of the stairs before heading to the kitchen. "I hope so. Allison, Paige, and I spent the last hour and half quizzing each other."

She poured herself a glass of water. "I hate the way all the teachers like piling on tests before winter break starts."

"It's just another week and then you'll have two weeks of vacation," Castle reminded her.

The girl wrinkled her nose at him. "The hard part will be getting through the next week."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Kate interjected reassuringly. "From what I hear, you always do, don't you?"

Alexis brightened a little. "Thanks, Kate. At any rate, I do plan to go over French again before I go to bed. But first, I have other homework to finish up."

"My little over-achiever," Castle affected a shake of his head. "I really don't know how a child of mine ended up so studious. Where did I go wrong?"

"I know, I'm a constant disappointment," Alexis pretended to sigh but then grinned as she dropped a quick kiss on Castle's cheek and surprised Kate a little with a one-armed hug. "Night, Kate, Dad."

"Night, Alexis. Good luck on your French test tomorrow," Kate managed.

"Night, pumpkin. Don't stay up too late studying."

Alexis threw him a look over her shoulder as she picked her backpack up. "It's a school night, Dad. I'll be in bed by 11."

With that, she ran blithely up the stairs.

Kate turned back to Castle with a small smile to see him blink and then refocus on her. "Oh, that reminds me. Alexis is going out to LA for a couple days after Christmas to see Meredith, leaving on the 27th and coming back on the 30th, so she'll be back in time for New Year's. I was thinking, though, while she's gone, why don't we go out to the Hamptons? We don't have any Christmas stuff out there because we never spend the holidays in the Hamptons and I was thinking it might be nice to have a couple days just to ourselves. Unless–will you have to work?"

A couple days in the Hamptons. Her heart seemed to flip. He was asking her to go away with him, their first trip anywhere as a couple, and to his house in the Hamptons, which she was sure had to be luxurious and beautiful. "I normally would have to work but I can ask for a few days off."

"So that's a yes?"

She smiled. "Yeah, Castle, it's a yes."

His whole face lit up with a smile and then he bent and gave her a quick exuberant kiss–or at least, she guessed he meant it for it to be a quick kiss of celebration but as so often happened with them, the one kiss turned into another and then another.

She felt her head spin a little as she sank against him and felt a rush of warmth and hope filling her chest. She and Castle were okay, would be okay–at that moment, in his arms, she couldn't doubt that.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: Thank you to all readers and reviewers, especially the guests whom I can't respond to directly.