CHAPTER NINETEEN: Comfort

Castle is acting strange. She didn't notice it at first. She may be running on adrenaline and caffeine, but over the past few hours she's started noticing subtle changes. Something is different. She can't figure it out. But she doesn't like it. It scares her.

Maybe it's L.A. Maybe it's because they're more in his world than hers right now. Whatever it is, she can't pinpoint it and doesn't know what it means for them. Watching the scenery fly by on their way to the hotel, she thinks back over the last day, searching for answers, worried about him.

Seeing Royce's body shook her to her core. He wasn't the man she thought she knew. He'd been important to her once – a steady presence while her life spun out of control. She'd felt betrayed when he misled her. But he didn't deserve what happened to him either. While she'll always be grateful for what he'd taught her as a rookie, whatever feelings she'd had when she was younger are gone, their memory a distant whisper, as if they'd happened to someone else.

Regardless, Royce deserves justice. And she feels obligated to provide it to him, if only because he'd been her lifeline during a difficult period of her life. She feels driven to pursue this, knowing it's irrational yet helpless to stop herself. Getting cut out of the investigation and sent home like a disobedient child set off her temper, causing her to stubbornly entrench herself in the case. She's been so focused on proving everyone wrong and chasing his killer that she'd stopped thinking rationally and started acting on emotion, blindly chasing leads without back-up. It's been years since she's been so impulsive and stupid.

It wasn't until she was shown her up-graded seat that she realized her tunnel vision had caused her to shut out the one person she needs most.

Castle. Thinking back to that moment when she discovered him sitting there, she felt like she's found her port in a storm. He's been a constant presence in her life. Showing up when she needs him, knowing just how to support her, help her. Filling her days with smiles and diversions and her nights with…everything. He's become so embedded in her life that she sometimes forgets and takes him for granted. But then he reminds her, simply by being there. She's ashamed of how selfish she's become, how narrow-minded and needy, always taking from him without giving him something worthy in return.

So many feelings rushed through her when she saw him sitting there in first class, a tight smile on his face, eyes unreadable. Seeing him, she felt swamped with an overwhelming sense of relief. She didn't have to do this alone.

Her greeting to him was not the best. Seeing him there, she was swamped with remorse. Embarrassed. Contrite and a lot angry at herself. She should have called him. Told him what she was doing. Asked for his help. But she didn't. And now he's there, and she's grateful. But she doesn't know how to tell him all of that so she says nothing. Just sits next to him and tries to act like everything's okay. But it's not and she knows it. So she covered her feelings of inadequacy with meaningless conversation, instead of telling him all of that.

She slept restlessly on the flight, in and out of consciousness. Waking or sleeping, he was there. She was thankful he was there, propping her up, holding her hand when she reached out to him. Sharing her burden. Supporting her. From a careful distance. Maybe that's it.

The last few days he's been different with her. More reserved. Less open. When they touch, which isn't often, he holds her tight – almost too tight. But then he lets her go and backs off. She doesn't recall him reaching out to her, which is unusual. Uncertain, unable to pinpoint precisely what's changed, she sighs, letting it go for now. She may not know what's going on with him, but they're together, so it can't all be bad. Maybe it's her turn to just keep showing up.

Exhausted, she studies him as he navigates the freeways of L.A., intent on getting them to their hotel. Under different circumstances, she'd love this opportunity to have him all to herself, away from everything and everyone, just the two of them. Even as she knows she has to focus on the case, she can't help but think ahead to the time they can steal together. She needs that time with him. Now more than ever. And she senses his need for it too.

If only she didn't feel so numb. And scared. She knows she's a little out of control and hates it. If she could just rein it all in and relax a little she might be able to find the courage…and the words. Maybe then she could tell him how much his presence by her side means to her. But she's not there yet. She doesn't know if she'll ever be able to articulate exactly what he means to her. All she knows is that she's grateful he's there.

X X X

The doors close quietly behind the bellboy. The soft snick of the latch announcing they are finally alone, their cross-country travels over for now. Looking around the suite, Kate takes in the opulent surroundings. He's thought of everything. A suite to protect their privacy. A spare room if she needs her space. His momentary embarrassment over the quickly cancelled couples massage was funny, yet a little heartbreaking. She knows he doesn't want her to feel disposable, like so many that have gone before her. He constantly surprises her with his thoughtfulness. His sensitivity to her moods. Her needs. He makes her feel so special.

But a niggling sense of doubt intrudes. Why did he get a two-room suite? Maybe he wants his space. They've hardly touched each other since she first got the call about Royce. And he's kept his distance on the plane, in the car, on their way up in the elevator. Even now, he's focused on unpacking his things, leaving her in the main room by herself. Why is he pulling away from her?

Sighing, confused, she turns to his room. More than anything, she just needs to be near him.

He pauses when she walks in, shirts clutched in his hand as he turns toward her, his path to the open drawer arrested by her interruption. An inscrutable expression on his face, he glances back at the drawer, continuing his task, taking items from his suitcase one and two at a time and placing them carefully in the drawer. His actions deliberate, methodical, the silence stretching between them broken only by the thump of his hands knocking against the drawer as he places items inside.

At a loss to understand his mood, his actions, she pauses, hesitant to approach him. Not knowing what to say or do, she watches him for a moment, feeling more awkward now than she did that first night they were together.

When did this distance creep in? Why are they like polite strangers? Why has he retreated so far away from her? This silent man is not the Castle she knows, at work or in private.

Shaking her head, unable to stand it any more, she forges ahead, determined to break through his reserve. Taking quick strides towards him, she steels herself for possible rejection even as she hopes for something more.

Grabbing his socks out of his hands, she tosses them into the open drawer before pulling his hands behind her, needing to feel him wrapped around her, even if it's just a hug. She can't ask for what she needs, but she can show him.

He hesitates for just a moment before giving in, his arms tightening heavily around her as she pulls him into her. Tucking her head under his chin, she relaxes, aligning her body to his, the familiar feel of him calming her, making her feel safe.

Sighing, she revels in the comfort he brings to her. And feels him relaxing in turn. The tight clutch of his arms around her eases slightly, as he holds her more naturally. Their bodies have become acclimated to each other. She's more comfortable with him than alone. Without thinking about it, she snuggles in closer, knowing she needs sleep and that she won't sleep if he's not with her.

"Thank you, Castle."

He starts at her words, pulling back and searching her eyes with a questioning look even as he tightens his arms around her again.

"Of course, Kate. " Hesitating, he asks "For what?"

"For just being here." She responds. Seeing he doesn't understand, she forces herself to continue, fighting herself as she lets the words fall, her quick, staccato bursts of words saying more clearly than the words how difficult this is for her. "I'm sorry I didn't call you and tell you my plans. I wasn't thinking clearly. I've been on my own for so long it didn't even occur to me to call you and ask for your help. But I want your help. And I'm glad you're here."

Hands soothing his back, she rubs a soft pattern up and down his spine as she confesses the truth to him. "I uh, I need you here, with me."

Shyly looking up at him, she searches his eyes, willing him to understand how much she means what she says. She is grateful for his presence. But she's beginning to realize how much she needs him. More than she would have imagined. And even though every self-preservation instinct she has urges her to hide her need from him, she can't. He deserves to know. It may not be much, but she needs to give him this not-so-little truth.

His tight expression eases at her words, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, even as the serious look in his eyes lingers.

"Then I'm glad I'm here." He responds, some of his anxiety easing at her words. He can tell she's struggling to articulate what she wants to say. Inside he marvels at her words. She needs him! And she admitted it to him!

Closing his eyes briefly, he pulls her in for another hug. It's enough for now. Pulling back, he searches her face, sees the emotions roiling through her, the dark circles under her eyes underscoring the fatigue evident in every action she takes. Feeling some of that same fatigue, he loosens his hold, his hands soothing her back and sides, returning that comforting touch that she's been unconsciously using on him the past few minutes.

Knowing they both need rest, he leans down and places a soft, tentative kiss on her mouth, needing this small reassurance from her. Without hesitation, she kisses him back, giving and taking comfort.

For once, neither one of them escalates the kiss. Instead, they simply hold each other, their mouths sealing the strong connection between them, hands soothing, bodies aligned. Breaking apart, they smile softly at each other.

"Let's get some sleep." He suggests, knowing she must be ready to fall over from exhaustion.

"Okay." She agrees.

Pulling away from him, she begins stripping out of her clothes, dropping them in a pile, the automatic movements of her body slow and clumsy, a silent testimony to how far she's pushed herself towards the brink of collapse. Crossing to the window, he pulls the drapes closed, cutting out the evening sun before turning down the bed covers. By the time he's finished with the routine chore, she's nude, slowly moving towards the bed and climbing in, her eyes half closed already. Following her lead, he undresses, tossing his clothes over a nearby chair before climbing in beside her and turning out the light.

Once he's settled under the covers, he turns towards her. Even as he reaches out for her, she scoots back into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms wrap around her as she settles further into the mattress. Her hand reaches down and captures his hand, pulling it up and drawing him in close, tucking his arm across her body, hands entwined just below her chin, as she falls into sleep, safe in his arms.

"G'night Rick." She mumbles, sleep taking over as her body relaxes, driven to the brink of exhaustion.

"G'night love." He whispers back, before following her into dreamland.