Chapter 27

Atychiphobia- Fear of failure.

Fear.

Fear is a chain reaction in the brain that starts with a stressful stimulus and ends with the release of chemicals that cause a racing heart, fast breathing and energized muscles, among other things, also known as the fight-or-flight response.

There are many levels and types of fear. Serious fears like paranoia or any of the seemingly innumerable phobias.

He had a list of phobias.

His favorites.

He liked to pull them out, as he did his holiday trivia, at random times just to inject a bit of random fun facts into everyday life. He remembered one time when he got Alexis to compete with him in a game of 'Extreme Chubby Bunny'. Regular Chubby Bunny was hard enough, but they had decided to up the ante` and dip their marshmallows in peanut butter before stuffing as many of them in their mouths as they could. That was the day he whipped out Arachibutyrophobia: Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth. Alexis hadn't found it funny at the time, but she gradually grew to appreciate that there was a word that stood for how she had been feeling.

She'd gotten him back when he was helping her study for the Jr. National League Spelling Bee held by her school. It wasn't quite in league with the SCRIPPS bee, but he couldn't have been more proud. They would switch off tossing out words to each other as they did a variety of other activities. Words like gladiolus, cerise, albumen, and luxuriance were tossed back and forth while they did the dishes trading not only spellings but definitions and sentence usage as well. Elegiacal, fibranne, and lyceum became dinner table topics. And then one evening she gave him Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia. When his face screwed up in confusion she was only too delighted to provide him with the definition: Fear of long words. Couldn't. Be. More. Proud.

Then there was the time that his mother was on a spa kick. She would burst in the door at the end of the day each Friday for about a month declaring that the 'week's stench clung to her like death' and that she needed to surround herself with the aromas of the spa. He responded maturely and accused her of suffering from Bromidrophobia: Fear of body smells. She had not so subtly suggested that he could benefit from a shower himself. To which he had replied that perhaps she suffered from Autodysomophobia: Fear of one that has a vile odor. He had been willing to admit that he might smell a little ripe after a day spent running around and sweating in his suit.

Then there were his other favorites that he just couldn't comprehend. Omphalophobia: Fear of belly buttons. He had tried to wrap his mind around that one, but belly buttons were just. Weird. They were weird and he could understand why one might not be attracted to them, but fear of was simply beyond his realm of understanding.

Lutraphobia: Fear of otters. He didn't understand this one until he watched a National Geographic special on otters. Then it made complete sense. Ruthless little beasts!

Phronemophobia: Fear of thinking. He would be in trouble if he had this particular phobia. A lot of trouble. With his writer's imagination he thought on planes that the average human mind probably wasn't even aware of. His imagination often went into overdrive without his permission. In fact, just thinking about thinking about having this phobia was trouble.

Pogonophobia: Fear of beards. This one he learned when a kid in line to meet Santa Clause freaked out as soon as the jolly elf came out from behind the curtain. "He has pogonophobia," the child's mother had explained, and pulled her him away from the crowd. Why then, you might ask, did she take him to see Santa? A little detective work and Castle found out that the boy's father played Father Christmas. He was clean shaven at home, but donned a beard for his volunteer job. The boy had apparently insisted on going to see daddy work and…that's all she wrote. And that was only a tiny bit of the detective work he'd done prior to meeting the illustrious Det. Kate Beckett.

Hm. He stroked his chin. Getting a mite scruffy. Better hope that she didn't have pogonophobia. Though she seemed to really like it, come to think of it. She'd scratch lightly at his chin and then dart in for an appeasing kiss. As if he'd need her to appease him for anything that she did with her capable hands.

Her capable hands that were currently gripping his hand tightly. Oh. Right.

Fear.

This fear was the kind that he was less familiar with. It was a mix of nervousness and anxiety with a dash of hope and restlessness.

And it was coming off of her in waves. He could practically hear her thoughts: Was this too much?

Had she gone too far? Would they like it?

"H-how?" he stammered, "You were with me all night."

It was like magic.

"This was the way my mom did Christmas, she said softly, "She brought the magic. So, I wanted to do the same." She shrugged and sank back into his embrace.

"You did. You most certainly did," he said and kissed her temple before directing his gaze once more to the scene before him.

"I know it's not Christmas day yet...but that's kind of the point...I don't know what Christmas morning looks like for you and I didn't want to interfere with that so I just went ahead and—I hope it's ok?" she rambled on before stumbling to a halt.

"Ok?" he stammered, looking from his mother to his daughter and finally back at Kate. "OK?"

He surveyed the room once more and gestured with his right arm whilst clinging to her bicep with his left. "This is—I don't even—what in the world made you—I just don't-...Do you know Santa, too? 'Cause Buddy the Elf did something remarkably like this and he knows Santa. I just—WOW."

Alexis suddenly broke free from her shocked trance and spun beneath the skylight. The large snowflakes that now hung from the ceiling tickled the top of her head and her fingers danced above her outstretched hands. Her silent smile said everything for her. Something carefree and childlike flitted across her face as she settled and lay on the floor facing the ceiling.

Martha looked suspiciously like she'd started to tear up, but her hands quickly brushed any evidence away as she laughed, patting down. "Look at what you've done! Making me giggle in a manner unbefitting a woman of my age!" She collapsed on the couch in a huff and snagged one of the pillows for a closer inspection.

Snowflakes had taken over the room. A wonderland—an indoor winter wonderland—had taken residence inside the cabin. All a safe distance from the fireplace, he noted, but still covering the place. Many were made of paper or doilies. Some were crudely cut while others looked as if they'd been created by Jack Frost himself. Others were made from unexpected objects, just as he imagined her mother probably did-based on what he knew of Kate's own style and preferences. She wasn't a stark white kind of gal. She was quirky. And for that he loved her more.

As he looked closer, Castle noticed that several of the paper creations had writing on them in blue or silver ink. And then he saw what she had really done. More than what she had passed off as another family tradition (though he in no way, shape, or form lost sight of the enormity of a tradition having to do with her mother) she had yet again twisted a tradition of hers with a tradition of theirs:

Honoring the people of the village.

The notes on the paper snowflakes were from villagers young and old. Thank yous and wishes well. A form of appreciation for the generosity shown over the years. Kids and adults alike from the village pitched in to create some of the most unique snowflakes made of paper paperclips, spoons ,forks, yarn, and felt. There were quilted, knitted, and crocheted snowflake pillows were strewn on the floor and there was even a large blanket now adorning the couch. From some of the younger kids, foil gum wrapper flakes, Lego creations, and snowflakes made from playing cards covered the coffee table. Then there were the small yet impressive metal-work sculptures (though only two) that sat one on each end table. Icicle lights were strung up around the room casting a wintery shimmer over the whole scene.

It was...magical.

Martha stood and took it all in.

Tried to take it all in.

The scene was astounding. There was something magical about the way the snowflakes reflected the light. Something magical about the way her teenage granddaughter had spun in circles the way she had when she was five, about the way she herself had let loose a few giggles...

She found it hard to comprehend the enormity of what was spread out before her. The hearts of these villagers lay bare upon the white of the snowflakes was nearly overwhelming. She fingered one, tipped it to read the words left by a grateful child. These folk who in their way (and, she suspected, with a little nudge or suggestion from Kate) showed their gratitude for what her son had done for them. And he deserved it. These people knew Richard as the man he was. The kindhearted man who was one of the people. Who wanted kids to be kids and enjoy childhood. Who wanted people to excel and succeed in their craft. Who appreciated individuals.

Not the playboy millionaire that was peddled to the masses. Not the egocentric celebrity that the media portrayed.

And it was a beautiful thing to see. That others, not just this darling gem of a woman whose life he'd somehow managed to worm his way into, saw and appreciated the man he had become.

And that, she thought, was magical too.

He could barely contain himself.

It was her. It was all her fault.

…This time.

She spun in his arms and kissed him hard before releasing him and shoving him to the floor to look up at the snowflakes with his daughter. They were like heavenly bodies floating above them. Mmm. No.

He lifted his head slightly and found Kate with his eyes. Hers was the only heavenly body he was interested in. Her eyes found his and she shrugged on a still nervous smile. There was hope there. Again.

He laughed and stretched out a hand towards her. She came to him, pressed her sock ensconced toes into his shoulder, and acquiesced when he tugged her down between himself and Alexis. He peered at her sideways but noticed immediately that her eyes were closed and there was a soft smile upon her lips. He started to sit; his torso lifted, but quickly saw that Alexis's hand was grasping Kate's where it rested between them; a matching smile on her face as she continued to stare skyward. He let his body fall back to the floor and nearly startled when Kate's free hand found his and latched on.

Castle glanced at her once more and found that the fear had melted away. THIS was a Kate he loved to see. Free and comfortable Kate. Happy Kate. Contented and satisfied Kate.

Hell, he loved ALL of the Kates.

Well. All of them except I'm Gonna Kill You Castle Kate. That one was not one of his favorites.

She was stroking between his thumb and forefinger with her thumb. Soft circles. Around and around and back again.

THIS.

This was another reason he believed in magic.

"So you really didn't read them all?"

"No, Castle. I really didn't read them all. I don't know, I thought maybe getting them displayed was my priority." She was joking, but softened still, "Seriously, these are for you. For your family—" she placed a hand to his chest to halt him, "and don't even—I know…I also thought it might be fun to read them together."

"Wow."

Kate laughed. "Wow?"

He nodded dumbly and placed the tiny foil snowflake back on the mantle where he'd found it. "Yeah. Wow."

Kate smirked and poked the fire once more before turning back towards the couch. Alexis remained in her spot on the floor, but had dragged the giant snowflake quilt down with her. Kate tossed a couple of snowflake emblazoned pillows at her, eyebrow raised to indicate that it was NOT the start of a pillow fight. Alexis rolled her eyes back as if to say you should know me better, I'm not my dad and smiled, tucked the pillows around her and pulled the quilt tighter.

A mug appeared at her left hand and she smiled up at him as she accepted it. "I think that's a great idea," he said as he took his place beside her. "We should read them together. But not today. Let's leave them a little longer. I'm a fan of this whole 'Winter Inside' motif you've got going on."

Kate felt her shoulders relax. She hadn't even been aware of the tightness. The rigidity. But knowing that her efforts hadn't been in vain…it was like a weight was lifted and she could fully relax.

"Besides, I'll have plenty of time to take it all down when you're out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She startled, "What's tomorrow?"

Alexis sat up from her cocoon on the floor to join the conversation. "Tomorrow is Dad's 'Saint Nick Scavenger Hunt."

Kate turned to face him fully. "Your what?"

He smiled mischievously and replied, "Saint Nick Scavenger Hunt," before sipping from his steaming mug. "You're gonna love it."

A/N: I still haven't-and will not-given up on this story. Thanks to the reader who recently let me know that they were still out there waiting. I think I needed that kick in the pants. I hope some of you are still with me. This story is definitely a labor of love and I didn't want to post until I was happy with what I had. Thanks to any who are still out there. I am thankful for your patience :-)