Post Season 3 AU

The Conspiracy: Chapter 6

The next few days went by somewhat quickly. Kate helped Castle as he further outlined some story ideas, and spent evenings cooking and sharing dinners. Kate experienced firsthand the interesting event that was Martha working with acting students, and Alexis going through the cycles of school, homelife, and homework. Beckett had never really taken much time to imagine herself having a life like this, a family. Maybe she'd begun to think it was impossible, maybe she hadn't wanted it in the first place, or perhaps she just never imagined she'd find herself in such a position. It was fun, playacting, imagining a world with a family and togetherness, a devoted man by her side. It unnerved her how easily she could get used to this.

Having Martha and Alexis around certainly cooled off their amorous sides a bit, at least on the surface. In some ways Kate was grateful for the distraction and the excuse for celibacy, and in other ways, she wanted to grab his keys, drive the pair of them to her apartment, and show him a few days neither of them would be likely to forget. She relished those nuanced moments of contact, the late night cuddles on sofas and surreptitious touches, like they were having their own secret love affair, forbidden but too wonderful to forego.

Before she even settled in fully, the nights and days cycled until Thursday had nearly arrived, the day of her first appointment with the surgeon. In the morning she was scheduled for a battery of tests, and later the consultation with the surgeon. The following day she'd see the cardiologist who would review her overall heart health. In some ways, that second appointment scared her most of all as she wondered what, if any, restrictions she'd have to carry with her for the rest of her life.

Castle was exceptionally mellow and tender that morning, a fact that she was entirely grateful for. They had a quick breakfast, and he insisted on driving her to her appointment, although she didn't even consider truly attempting a protest. It wasn't so much because she couldn't go on her own, but because she wanted him by her side.

He waited in the waiting room while the physician's assistant and an intern checked the healing of her surgical scars as well as the bullet wound. Tests were conducted to measure the strength and health of her heart, the results of which she wouldn't have until the following day. Simply performing some of the tests made her realize how much progress she'd made since the last round of tests shortly after her surgery. No matter what the tests said, she definitely felt stronger.

When she returned from the tests and initial physical exam, Castle accompanied her down the hall to the surgeon's office and waited. Sometimes her partner was so good at being strong and silent, simply present. When she'd first met him, she never imagined he could be such fantastic support. And that was exactly what she needed. She didn't want to talk about things, or be distracted. She didn't need anyone fussing over her. She just wanted him at her side, reminding her with his presence alone that he was indeed there for her, that she didn't have to fight whatever may come alone.

She made a mental note to tell him how much she appreciated it later, after she finally had some answers. It was infuriating that her own body might be hiding bad news from her, and she needed medical professionals to decode its workings and share them with her.

As they sat in the sterile waiting room for quite a long time, they saw patients of all ages and conditions around them. She swore it was the least he'd ever spoken. Finally, he leaned over, and she expected a joke or something to diffuse the situation. Apparently knowing that no quip could amuse her, he didn't try any such thing. "I could go back with you…if you want. Or stay." She didn't answer, so he started to ramble, "I completely understand if you don't want me back there…it's kind of personal, the doctor's office. I just don't want you to feel alone. Unless you want to be alone, which is fine. I get that you may want—"

"Thanks, Castle," she interrupted, stopping his awkward dialogue. "It's nice of you to offer, but I can handle this on my own."

"Sure," he nodded, displaying forced cool and bravado like it didn't matter to him either way.

Of course it did.

The surgeon was running behind, and they'd already been waiting almost an hour. Kate was pretty certain some of the other doctors and nurses there recognized her because of her association with Josh. This was the office he worked out of when he was in town. Although he was overseas, she suspected some of them remembered her from the stories, the brave doctor whose cop girlfriend had been shot and he found her on his table. Of course the "happily ever after" ending to that story was missing since Kate broke up with him, and he went back to saving lives all over the world.

A doctor with full, dark hair walked through, his back to the waiting room, and Kate felt Castle tense next to her. They both wondered if Josh might be back in town. When the man turned, he clearly wasn't Josh, but Kate knew it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for him to show up. She leaned over to Castle, "If you want to leave, it's okay. I'll be fine."

"Not a chance," he said with a sympathetic smile. "I'll wait right here until you're done."

When they called her name, she stood, filled with determination and bravery, and began walking toward the waiting intern. She took several long steps, hearing Castle state, "Good luck," as she left. She paused and went back to him.

"If the offer is still on the table…do you want to come back with me?"

He grinned, like a kid getting picked first for a school yard game, nodding and hopping up, draping his jacket over his arm and saying, "That offer is always on the table."

If the doctor had bad news to give, she'd have support, and she wouldn't have to find a way to tell Castle later since he'd hear it firsthand.

Back in the surgeon's private office, they waited yet again, models of hearts on shelves and diagrams on the walls. Castle was next to her on what was either a tiny bench or a wide chair. They were tightly packed in the spot, but she felt no impetus to leave the shared space.

The flurry of movement from waiting room to office that made them feel like they were making such progress halted abruptly after the assistant asked a few questions, tapped information into the computer, and then they were left again to wait.

For days.

Actually it was only twenty-two minutes, but it felt like days.

As prepared as she'd been for the absolute worst, to hear that she had months to live or would never run again or wouldn't be fit to be a cop, the surgeon delivered only good news. He reviewed the paperwork and photos, and the incisions looked good, and she could swim or take baths again. She seemed to be healing well. The surgeon wanted the cardiologist to review the ECG and stress tests, but from his perspective, Kate was released from care.

The surgeon stood, extending a hand to shake hers, and she kept waiting for the bad news or painful blow that surely would follow. Ironically, the good news slammed her. She rose, shaking his hand and thanking him, agreeing when he said she was a very fortunate woman. Not many people survived a shot in the heart by a trained sniper.

In Castle's car, he assured, "Only one more appointment to go. And tomorrow, when the cardiologist tells us you're fine, and everything is okay, this waiting and worrying can finally be over. And then...we're going to give that heart the workout it really needs." He raised his eyebrows, then seemed to pause cautiously. "That is, obviously, if you still want to. No pressure if—"

"Oh my god, Castle, I can't wait. I really can't wait. I just hope…I hope it isn't bad news. I want the chance to be with you…without scaring you so much you have to sit awake all night in case I die."

He took her to a nice hotel, so nice that calling it a 5-star hotel seemed insufficient. He brought her inside with the bag she'd packed and made the arrangements at the desk.

Of course she was certain he would stay. She'd been convinced of that all along. And maybe they could get back to pushing the edges of the envelope a little…maybe a little hanky-panky wouldn't be the worst thing. After all, even if Castle worried, the appointment with the cardiologist was the following morning. She told herself a thousand excuses, but deep down part of her feared they'd tell her she was ruined, and she wasn't ready to hear that.

They went to the room very near the top floor, and found a woman waiting outside the door. She introduced herself, Amanda, a certified massage therapist with a specialty in helping people post-operatively. Once inside the room, the massage therapist began to set up, and Castle took Kate's elbows in his hands. "See you tomorrow. Order room service, anything you want. My way of congratulating you for being virtually indestructible. Enjoy."

"You're not leaving!"

"Yes. Tonight is for you, exactly what you need… a nice meal, huge soaking tub, some quiet relaxation away from Mother. Hopefully the massage will help."

"You honestly set this up but didn't plan on staying?"

"I told you…a room for one."

"At least come back tonight? Have dinner with me?"

"You sure?"

She nodded. "I'd like that very much."

"Okay," he looked around, "get some rest."

"Thank you for this," she said, but with a quick glance of his lips against her temple, he was gone.

Amanda had the hands of a healer, Kate thought. For over 90 minutes, the woman carefully worked on Kate, releasing physical and emotional tension. As some of the pain left her body, she found tears of relief forming in her eyes, and was grateful she was face down and couldn't be seen. Amanda stayed and talked for a few moments as she gathered her things, refusing to accept even a gratuity because Castle had covered it all. She also offered to return for a follow-up session if Kate needed it.

Finally alone in the spacious room, Kate took a little tour. The bed looked like a giant, landing-pad pillow, fluffy and welcoming, with a faint scent that in itself was relaxing. She found the tub, and it was indeed enormous. It would take a while to fill, and she knew once she got in, the only thing that would get her out was the water becoming too cold.

Her head seemed almost floaty, like the massage therapist had untethered her slightly from earth, and Kate felt entirely spent. With her robe wrapped around her like a blanket, she flopped on the bed just to give it a try. And before she knew what was happening, she was asleep.

Hours passed and she woke when there was a knock on the door. Peering through the peephole, she saw Castle. Although the robe was bulky, she immediately wrapped it more tightly around her neck, covering herself as entirely as possible. Scars, constant reminders of what had happened, were not beautiful.

Once she had covered herself adequately, she opened the door. "Hey," he said, smiling broadly as he looked her over. "Feel relaxed?"

"Amanda was amazing!" Kate responded as she stepped to the side to let him in. "Thank you."

"Any time," he dismissively countered. He put a bottle of wine in the ice bucket and said, "I was going to bring dinner, but I remembered this place has the most exceptional tasting menu and I thought maybe we'd just order room service. I wasn't sure what you're hungry for."

Kate nodded, closing the gap to embrace him. "What's in the bag then?"

"I had an idea," he chimed, reaching for the duffel and opening it.

He pulled out trunks like he was going swimming, and Kate laughed. "What are you doing?"

"You said you wanted to soak. I figured we could soak together. That tub's huge, isn't it?"

"You always wear trunks when you try to get women in the tub?" she teased.

"It's not about seduction. It's about fun. Now tomorrow…tomorrow is all about seduction."

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she said, "Castle…"

"I'm serious," he answered. "Tonight, this hotel…it's all for you. It's not about me or even us. It's about you. You deserve the best. Even better. I wasn't even going to come back but—"

"I wanted you to come. The hotel is great…but it's the company I really want. I want you here. And, if I can be honest…"

"Please do."

"I really think you can ditch the shorts."

He smirked, looking almost shy for a moment as he nodded, "Tomorrow."

"You really don't want anything to happen tonight? Nothing at all? We're finally alone again…"

"We promised we'd wait," he reminded.

"Since when are you the picture of restraint?" she only half-teased.

"I don't like to use my powers lightly. I stockpile my restraint."

"But aren't you at least a little frustrated?"

"No. I'm savoring. And savoring may have tense moments, but that's part of it. We're walking toward something…the same thing…together." He attempted to look very self-assured and certain, but then spoke out of the corner of his mouth in a hushed tone, "Okay, fine, a little frustrated," but then he raised his voice to normal speaking tones and added, "But it doesn't change the fact that I want to do this right. And as long as we're together, moving with the same goal in sight…it's nothing I can't handle. If anything, I feel energized. Hopeful. You've really built up my tolerance for frustration."

Kate laughed aloud, "Thanks?"

"Part of the fun. The greatest experiences in life are those you work for."

"Agreed," she said with a flirty pause. "I dunno…I guess I figured or, maybe I was hoping, you'd want to take advantage of the situation a little. I didn't think you'd want things to be completely platonic."

"It's not supposed to be platonic, not at all. It's about anticipation. Flirting. Foreplay. And, if you must know, I'm not entirely innocent here."

He dug lower in the duffel and brought out two other suits, although they clearly weren't for him. One was a bikini, one she would have loved only a few months earlier. The other was a one piece, but cut quite low in the front so it would dip to her belly.

With a wide smirk, he said, "You like? They're yours if you do."

"You're so confusing."

"It's pretty simple, actually. I've enjoyed these last few days…looking at you, admiring you without having to hide it from your watchful eye. It's entirely selfish. Besides, I thought it would be fun…close our eyes, imagine tropical beaches and fruity drinks…" he pulled her into his arms, "and hours and hours of pleasure and fulfillment just around the corner."

She took the suits from him and backed away, retreating to the bathroom. Both suits were exactly what she would have liked, he knew her tastes well. They were already washed and ready for her. She tried on the one piece first, and for a moment, she felt okay in it. Then as she turned in the mirror, saw the cutouts on the side and the low dip in the front and realized her scars were visible, practically highlighted and on display. Wriggling out of the first suit, she noted more ease of movement thanks to Amanda, and wanted to remember to express her appreciation to Castle for that again.

She donned the bikini, which was absolutely adorable, but still did nothing to cover her in the ways she wanted covered. She left that suit on, and pulled over a tee shirt, figuring that she could step out of the bottoms without removing the shirt if things heated up, thus remaining covered.

When she walked out of the bathroom, Castle stood, leaning against the back of a sofa. She watched his eyes follow her legs excitedly, and then screech to a halt when he found the shirt as his expression fell disappointedly.

"I'm confusing?" he said. "You're ready to throw caution to the wind and get down to business, but need a cover-up for your bikini?"

"Castle," she griped, "trust me, I would have loved the suits not that long ago—"

"Why don't you like them now?" he pressed.

"You know why."

"I don't. I've seen bits and pieces of what's under there over the years, and believe me, I'd like to see more."

"Yea, well things have changed. Now…it's just…you don't want to see that."

"I really do, though."

"Castle!" she yelled, frustration showing, "it's not the same. I don't look like that anymore. It's—it's—not pretty. It's not sexy."

"So tomorrow night, you're not going to let me rip your clothes off at the first possible moment, because I have really been looking forward to that," he joked, but then seemed to realize just how serious she was. "Hey," he began, "you aren't really considering that are you?"

"It's just going to remind us of what happened. I hate how it looks," she blurted. "How I look. I've seen the women you date and—"

"Stop right there. You are so beyond, so much more amazing, and stunning, and remarkable, so…so much more beautiful than anyone else I've ever dated, anyone I've ever seen. I'm not comparing…but if I were, well I couldn't…because there is no comparison."

"That's sweet of you to say, but—"

"Hold on a minute…I've seen the guys you've been out with, unfortunately, and if I'm being honest, I'll admit to feeling a bit…underwhelming." Vulnerability flickered through him, so he teased, "Obviously none of them have my ruggedly handsome features…" He waited for her chuckle, then continued, "I'll admit, the guys I've seen you with probably worked out more than me, were more athletic. Think that's not intimidating? And I see you…I see the way people admire you. The way you're beautiful in hundreds of different ways every moment of every day. Like I said, you deserve the best."

She was overcome with the intensity of his words, with the unhindered way he admired her and confessed that same admiration.

"The surgeon said the wounds look good," he continued.

"To him…they're healing, medically speaking. He only meant they're not infected," she countered.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do," Castle admitted. "But we've been pretty open with each other, and I don't want to stop now. I don't want some imagined, fantasy version of you. I want you…all of you. And if you think some tiny imperfection stands a chance in the sea of hotness that is you…you clearly don't spend enough time staring in the mirror."

She chuckled softly, eyes searching for a safe place to land. Self-consciousness in situations like this was completely foreign to her. He moved to the arm of the sofa and took a seat, bringing her along and standing her between his knees. His fingertips ran slowly up her legs, from the spot just behind her knees to the place where the hem of her shirt stopped at her thighs. He looked up at her, those pleading, wide, full-of-life eyes piercing her shell.

His fingers hooked under the edge of the hem, and he asked with a look if he could continue. Her head bobbed, more of a flutter of her eyes raising than anything, but she gave consent.

Only his right palm slid up under the shirt, over her hip, exposing a sliver of skin there between the waistline of the bikini and the shirt. Lowering his face to that exposed space, he dotted tiny kisses from the jut of her hip and followed the line of skin across. He was as unrushed, as patient, and as carefree as she'd ever seen him. He was happy right there, like that. And she was enraptured, glued to the simplicity of their connection.

She tried to will him lower, to use the powers of her mind to convince him to cave and put that insanely talented tongue to good use. She'd had a sample of what sex with Castle would be like only a few days before, and was certainly open to feeling like that again.

And even as she thought those thoughts and experienced those feelings, she knew she wanted to deflect the sweetness of the moment. She intentionally blocked out the commentary about vulnerability and openness she was certain Dr. Miura would provide, if she were there. But Kate didn't want anyone else there, even in her thoughts, no one in the world but the two of them.

Everything about him, his touch, his presence, his actions, all displayed a depth of feeling that in some ways terrified her. He could hurt her in ways her truest adversaries couldn't dream of.

He raised her shirt a bit more, over her belly button, his fingers and lips offering gentle admiration and assurance as they explored. When he reached the surgical scar on her side, she felt her own body grow terribly rigid and defensive, but he simply kept going. He didn't focus there, didn't draw unnecessary attention to the spot, but continued on, adoring every patch of her that was exposed to him in the same way.

This went on and on, and she was hypnotized, locked in the thick connection between them, his touch slinking higher. She felt certain that he'd kissed or caressed every single spot along her tummy and sides and as much of her back as he could reach. The entire process was so strangely arousing to all of her, not just her physical body, but the entirety of her. It was a moment where the only thing she could feel was his love, respect and fascination with her. It made her heart ache in a new way, painful and exhilarating at the same time.

He snapped her out of that fog when he neared her bikini top and gathered the tee shirt in his fists to pull it up over her breasts, or maybe remove it entirely. The thought of losing that simple tee, that barrier that felt like a cloak of protection, filled her with a dread that approached panic. Her fingers roughly grasped his wrists to stop him, and he paused in his tracks, although he did not pull away.

As he gazed up at her, his chin resting at the dip where her ribs met, eyes vibrant blue and brimming with affectionate compassion, she could practically hear him questioning himself if he'd gone too far. It was that look that pulsated through her, that made part of her revile the desire to maintain space between them. Her grasp on his wrists relaxed slightly until she finally freed him, her hands coming to his face.

The feelings sat in her, heavy and intoxicating, her jaw going slightly slack as her expression softened. Then, ignoring that cautious, pragmatic part of herself, she did something far more terrifying than shedding clothing. She cast the armor from her heart because it was beginning to cause her more pain than protection, and she whispered, "I—I love you." The words came out certain and devout, not so much a sudden realization but the admission of a long-hidden truth.

It would have been easier to avoid speaking the words if she could have just shown him how she felt, physically expressed the feelings inside her that were struggling to get out. But these feelings he was provoking had filled her beyond the brim, occupying her heart, filling her from head to toe and all points in between, and it seemed inevitable that they'd pour over one way or another.

The adoration in his face dropped slightly, replaced with stunned confusion as he soaked in her words. "You do?" he asked, requiring confirmation like he didn't trust his own understanding of events.

She nodded quickly, then immediately wondered if she should qualify or apologize. Was it the right time? Was caving to the impulse to speak those words a mistake? Was part of him disgusted by her even as he tried to mask it?

"I love you, too," he said, more loudly and certainly even than she had. "I have loved you…for a long time. Nothing has changed that."

She felt tears, maybe of joy or relief, as she nodded and confirmed, "You do?"

"Of course. Absolutely," he added. His earlier admiration melded with almost euphoric joy. He seemed even more himself, that enthusiastic excitement he sometimes showed, and he added, "It feels so good to say it. I've been fighting the urge to tell you that every time I look at you. Every time you laugh. Every time you're worried. Every time I touch you."

She smiled, feeling such a broad myriad of emotions that she couldn't have labeled all of them.

"But nothing," he added animatedly, "absolutely nothing feels as good as hearing you say it. Hoping…hoping you mean it."

"Of course I mean it," she countered, almost sounding irritated, and he stood immediately to hold her tight.

Their arms encircled each other as they kissed, a hungry kiss that counterbalanced the pain of love once unrequited as it finally came to fruition. The hopes, fantasies and dreams becoming embodied and tangible as they touched.

The hurried flutters of passion eased, as he seemed to remind himself of what he'd been doing. Carefully gathering the shirt, he lifted it the rest of the way. His fingers traced the upper curve of her breast, coming to settle on her ribs between them. His lips descended down her neck and collarbones, returning the same thorough worship and reassurance to the places he hadn't already found, finally lowering to the flaw there, where the bullet had entered her body and nearly destroyed everything.

He didn't linger near that scarred place, either, treating the spots she saw as defects just as lovingly as the perfect parts of her. Those parts, those imperfections and reminders, mattered no more or less to him than all the other bits and pieces that made her up. Castle seemed to know what to say, even when he wasn't speaking.

He paused his ministrations, forehead to hers, and spoke. "What was done to you was an ugly, horrible thing…a vile act. But you…you aren't ugly or horrible or vile…no part of you is any of those things. You're beautiful. You're hot and sensual and intriguing, caring and brilliant, and empathetic. That act, that person who did that…can't destroy what or who you are."

"You're pretty amazing yourself, Castle." She giggled and added, "more than just ruggedly handsome."

He grinned at her, the strange combination of infatuation, love, and desire filling him with exuberance. Kate wondered if anyone in the world could ever be as unashamedly full of life as this man before her.

She began to unbutton his shirt, bearing the undershirt beneath, and her fingers gravitated to his belt. "My turn," she offered as she tugged it open.

He took her hands under his, holding them against his chest. "I'll go get changed," he rumbled, his lustful voice sending jolts of anticipation through her, adding, "so we can go soak."

"Come on, Castle," she groaned, lifting her thigh to press against his groin.

"It's one more day," he negotiated. "Just one more."

"Are you doing this just to torture me?"

"Absolutely!" he jovially teased. More seriously, he continued, "Part of me loves the idea of you, all hot and bothered tomorrow, just waiting until we're alone. I can admit that."

She smiled softly, knowing too well that he simply didn't want to risk anything happening to her. And she was still torn, half wondering if they should take advantage of the night just in case everything went wrong the next day at the cardiologist.

"It's confusing …you being the one with so much restraint," she teased. "I wish I would have known about this three years ago…I would have known you can rein in your impulses when you want to."

"Only when something is important enough. Then, and only then, I am a master of self-control. This…you…are important enough."

"I want you so bad," she moaned, seeing easily the impact her words had on him. "I want you and me…in the bed, or on the floor, or in that shower in there."

She brushed against him, feeling the urgency of his arousal pressing against her through his clothes.

"I want you, so much I can hardly stand it." He pulled away and went toward the bathroom, leaving her there in the middle of the hotel room. "Give me a minute," he said, grabbing the trunks and disappearing into the bathroom, "to get things set up."

She heard the water run into the huge tub while she waited. So distracted by the dilemma of forced, although temporary, abstinence, Kate forgot she wore only a bikini. For a second, she wondered if he was making her wait to distract her from her own self-conscious thoughts. If that was the case, the man was clever indeed, because she was so caught up in wanting and needing that she nearly forgot her other worries.

A few moments later, he popped his head through the door and said, "Water's ready," with a flash of his eyebrows and a devilish look.

The water was at that perfect point, almost too hot, so she had to enter slowly. It was so welcoming and soothing that the heat swallowed up her pained body. She didn't realize the extent of the noises she made as she eased in until she paused and saw Castle staring. His head was tilted, teeth biting his lip to grapple with the self-control he seemed to have so much of lately. As soon as he realized she was watching him watching her, he tried to regain his composure. "Feel good?" he asked, his voice higher in register for just a partial syllable before it lowered again.

His desire and interest reassured her a bit. After all, usually she didn't need to plead to get a man into her bed.

"Get in," she offered.

He took a spot at the other side, and even though he'd been composed when she first came into the bathroom, she could see his trunks tightening again before he hid in the water. She put her head back on the rolled towels he'd placed there, relaxing and letting the heat penetrate her muscles, finally allowing her to feel like she could wash the figurative grime that remained after the shooting from her body.

Castle didn't speak, but took her foot. Still under the water, his thumb massaged with such lovely pressure along the arch and across her heel. After some time, he worked up her calf a little, never even reaching as high as her knee. Although she felt frustration and still some confusion, in a thousand ways, she'd never felt better. Her heart was full, body relaxed, and she was finally soaking in her tub. Maybe someday soon she could truly put the shooting behind her, move on, live life again.

Kate squeezed her eyes shut, and silently pleaded with the universe to have mercy on her, not to swoop in and deliver horrible news or let even the chance of happiness slip through her fingers. She wanted this, wanted him. She was finally willing to admit that to him, and he to her. Beckett hoped to hell this wouldn't all vanish the next day.