Disclaimer: I do not own Castle or the recognizable characters who appear in this story. Any other names, for characters or businesses, are fictional.


Week Thirteen (part three)

"So."

Beckett peeks over the top of the diner's breakfast menu, but it's no good – the flimsy tagboard with peeling laminate offers no protection from her friend's glare. As she expected, Lanie saw right through her, knew at first sight that things had changed. Or maybe it was smell, not sight. Now that she and Castle have begun to explore other aspects of their relationship, she's probably throwing off enough pheromones to cause noses all around the diner to twitch.

"So, I'm, uh, staying at the loft again," Beckett preemptively confesses.

"And?"

"And I brought enough luggage for an extended stay," Beckett offers, still hiding behind the menu but casting glances around the restaurant to ensure no one's eavesdropping.

"And?"

Damn. She's not letting up, Beckett realizes. We'll be here all day, hearing nothing but 'and, and, and?' Unless Lanie can be led down a different path…

"And when Alexis called to ask me when I was coming home, I didn't think twice before running to meet her at the loft," Beckett confesses.

Reaching across the table to grasp her friend's hand, Lanie's demeanor softens. "That's sweet," she says gently. Before squeezing her hand while adopting another stern look. "And?!"

"And I'm not sleeping upstairs this time," Beckett caves, but not before ensuring that the server isn't about to arrive this time. "We're together," she offers in simple confession, placing her menu down to let her friend see she's not hiding from this conversation, from this relationship.

"And by 'together' you mean…?"

Not even Castle's driven her to the point of knocking her forehead against a table, but that's where Beckett finds herself now. Tilting her head back, she can't help but show some of her exasperation.

"We're together," she explains with as much patience as she can muster, "in every way that matters. Every way you can imagine." Then, noticing Lanie's brow lift, she decides to toss a few crumbs. "And in a few ways I hadn't imagined," she finishes with a little eyebrow waggle.

Lanie's guffaw is all the louder for her effort to contain it with a stern look. She dissolves into hooting laughter, which manages to get Beckett chuckling, too. During this safe interval, they receive their coffees and place their orders, still chuckling as the waitress walks away.

"So, tell me all about…," Lanie starts to ask before Beckett answers.

"No," she says, shaking her head slowly. "I'm sorry, Lanes. I know I owe you for helping me get here, but that's… special," she says with a shrug after searching for the right word. "It's just taken us so long to get here that I need to guard it carefully."

Lanie, who'd initially looked incensed at her friend's reserve, sits back to think about whether this is something she's going to accept. "A few questions," she proposes with a smile. When Beckett looks exasperated, she offers a kind reminder. "I'm a brat, remember?"

"No kidding," Beckett laughs, taking a sip of coffee. "You can ask. No promises on any answers, though."

"We'll see," Lanie says gleefully as she rubs her hands together and thinks about her questions. "Okay. Okay. So, I take it he, ah, performed well?"

"Not wasting any time there, are you Lanes?" Beckett asks with a blush, switching from coffee to water. Pausing to consider a reply that's both honest and doesn't unduly encourage Lanie's inquisition, she quirks her lips when she realizes Castle's already given her an answer. "He's extraordinary," she whispers coarsely.

This time it's Lanie reaching for the water.

"Okay. So, tell me if the rumors…"

"No," Beckett answers resolutely. "Next question."

"C'mon Kate," Lanie wheedles. "Just an approximation." She knows from her friend's expression that there'll be no capitulation on this front, though. Lanie lets it go lest Beckett decide she's done with all of the questions. Time for a softball to keep her talking. "I take it his redheads know about what's going on."

"They do," Beckett answers softly, still marveling at how quickly she's been adopted, about how carefully and completely they've welcomed her into the household. "They've been wonderful."

"What next?" Lanie asks, catching Beckett by surprise. "Is he coming back to the precinct?"

Beckett's surprised by Lanie's question, until she remembers that she and Castle have been cloistered away since their big discussion of the future. "He's coming back," she says with satisfaction. "He finishes at the firehouse this week. Then he's coming back to the precinct. Well," she admits with a wink, "after our trip to the Hamptons this weekend."

"Yeah, I'm the brat," Lanie replies in a grumble. "Yes, Lanie, I'll have my lover there to dote on me at work, after he ravishes me at his beach house for a few days," she says in a falsetto approximation of Beckett's voice, which isn't exactly flattering. "Rough life there, Detective Beckett."

"I'll manage," she says with another wink, drawing a parallel to another conversation they had weeks ago in much less hopeful circumstances.

"Too bad he's leaving the firehouse, though," Lanie laments. "That carwash was fun," she purrs. "I was kind of looking for an excuse to visit him there."

"Well," Beckett offers, "it won't be at the firehouse, but there's a going-away party for Castle at the Haunt on Friday that'll have plenty of burly colleagues there to send off Mr. April. Castle thought you might like to attend?"

"Wait," Lanie says, thrusting out an open palm. "Just wait. You can't just throw all that stuff together and drop it on me. There's a party with firemen on Friday?" Lanie asks, addressing the item of most immediacy. "What time?!"

"Six," Beckett laughs at the eagerness in her friend's tone. "But it probably won't crank up for an hour or so, following the shift change."

"I'm there," Lanie replies happily, "and bless that man of yours for thinking of me. But what was that bit about Mr. April?"

"Castle's gonna be in the FDNY calendar," she replies with a blush. "Already had the photoshoot and everything."

Lanie looks oddly at Beckett, convinced that this is some kind of joke. Seeing the flushed cheeks, though, she starts down a different line of thought. "Look at you," she marvels, making Beckett blush even more. "Miss kick-ass, independent woman is all twitterpated with her man-candy! So, what's it like dating a model?" she asks wickedly.

"Shut up," Beckett groans. Then, looking around quickly, she dissolves into smiling giggles herself. "It's fantastic," she confesses.

"I bet," Lanie replies with a perched brow, looking a little jealous again. "So, any more earthquakes?"

Knowing she should refuse to answer this question, Beckett's feeling so giddy that she just can't help herself. "There might've been a reenactment," she says gleefully, watching Lanie's look become one of certain jealousy. "And this time the earth did move."

"Now you shut up," Lanie grouses. "New world record holder for the fastest time from dejected mess to gloating, oversexed braggart. You're probably just making this up to tease me," she pouts.

"Making it up?" Beckett bites, while Lanie hides her triumphant smile. "I'll show you making it up. Here," she says, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "I took some pictures at his photoshoot, and not all of them with their camera," she adds devilishly. Flipping through her photos, she finds one suitable for sharing (barely) and proudly holds the phone toward Lanie.

"Damn," Lanie gulps. "They can't put that in a calendar. That's even better than in the hospital."

"I know, right?" she laughs in reply, distracted by her recollection of that first awkward meeting with Castle after the fire.

Taking advantage of Beckett's woolgathering, Lanie darts out a hand, quickly flicking a finger across the screen of Beckett's phone and advancing to the next picture. "Aha!" she cries in delight as Beckett whips the phone back almost immediately, but still too late. "There's his fire pole!"

"Ah, should I come back?" their waitress asks, her radiant blush (which almost matches Beckett's) proving that she overheard the comment and the context. Ignoring her friend's humiliated groan, Lanie waves the waitress forward.

"No, now's perfect," she says, pushing her coffee mug to the side to make room for her breakfast plate. "I'm starving and I know my friend here needs some protein."

"I am going to kill you," Beckett vows as the waitress departs, cheeks still flushed even as Lanie happily chomps into her omelet. "You do realize that soon we'll have embarrassed ourselves at every restaurant in the city?"

"Who's embarrassed?" Lanie asks with perched brows. "I'm not the one who's…"

"Lanie!" Beckett cuts her off. "New topic of discussion," she demands. "Or silence. We can do silence."

"No way, girl. You invited me out, so we're gonna talk," she replies with authority. "About your man or about what's going on at the precinct. Pick your poison."

Her reply is to lean back and rummage in her pockets. Lanie's not sure what her friend is up to until Beckett slaps her hand on the tabletop, pulling it away to reveal several coins. "There's a machine outside," she manages to say. "Go get today's Ledger and we'll talk."

Uncertain about whether this is a legitimate suggestion or just a way to get some private time, Lanie shrugs and walks out to the machine, figuring she's good with either answer. Walking back inside to their table, she reads the headlines of today's paper: 'Senator's Fundraising, Financing Under Investigation.'

"Oh, look," she says sarcastically as she drops the paper onto their table before taking her seat. "Another corrupt politician. Stop the presses."

"Have you read that article?" Beckett asks, catching Lanie's attention with the seriousness of her look. "Do," she says simply after Lanie shakes her head.

Beckett eats quietly while Lanie scans the article. Her friend looks up and is about to ask a question before she decides to finish the article. Following the page-break, she follows the jump to the article's conclusion before re-folding the newspaper and setting it down.

"Was I reading that for the reference to that guy you shoved into the interrogation glass," she asks following the article's reference to Vulcan Simmons, "or because our corrupt pig of a DA had dirt on the Senator before his accident?"

Both of those aspects of the story were unexpected, Beckett admits to herself. It looks like Montgomery really unloaded, looking to apply more pressure in the hopes of ending his exile quickly. But she's not going to share details with Lanie, not yet. Now it's just time for the big picture. So, instead, she simply shakes her head and points to the paper. "He did it."

When Lanie looks up in confusion, Beckett holds her hand out and waits until Lanie reaches out to meet it. Flipping her friend's hand, Beckett traces the same letters, M-O-M, that Lanie had traced in her palm just days ago.

Lanie looks confused, then fearful. "No," she whispers. "Not…," she trails off.

Beckett shocks her friend by nodding sadly. "It's how those troubles started," she explains tersely with a nod to the paper. "She was working a case that would've revealed where his money came from."

"Oh, Kate," Lanie shudders, eyes tearing. "How can I help? What can we do?"

Tearing up at her friend's unflinching support even in the face of a fearsome and established adversary, Beckett clings tightly to Lanie's hand. "We can stay safe. We can protect each other."

"What?" Lanie asks in surprise. "You're not going after him?"

Beckett pauses to consider her answer, wanting to include her friend but shield her from details. "Not right now," she says, squeezing Lanie's hand. "We're being careful. He's dangerous," she says with another nod to the paper, "and he also has dangerous friends. Some of whom might not wait for an investigation to play out."

"So this is why you're staying with Castle?" Lanie asks shrewdly.

"In part," Beckett answers honestly. "I went to see Bracken. I had to tell him that I know what he did, just in case it goes sideways from here."

"What were you thinking?" Lanie asks. "You talk about staying safe and you walked up to him and told him you know he's a murderer?!"

Beckett looks around quickly, making sure that they're not being overheard. "Lanes, you've got to stay quiet about this. This goes higher than him, and if his bosses decide to cut their losses with him, they'll hardly care about taking out someone like you or me," she admonishes, her eyes boring into her friend's to drive the point home.

"I want to move on, Lanie," she admits, squeezing her friend's hand again. "I don't think his bosses will let this drag out in public, much less the courts sometime in the future. So, I had to confront him before he's gone. Maybe then mom can rest in peace and I can start to look forward rather than back."

"Seems to me you've already started looking forward," Lanie replies gently, letting her nodding friend know with these kind words that she understands. "Be careful, Kate. Be happy."


"Thank you so much for your help, Detective Beckett," Acting-Captain Murray says as he rises from his seat behind Montgomery's desk. "I know you've got a full plate, but I really appreciate your guidance in keeping this place running."

"No problem, sir," Beckett says, taking her cue and rising from her chair, turning toward the door and missing Murray's quick efforts to straighten his tie and tug his shirt down to smooth any creases.

Coming around the desk to walk her to the door, Murray reaches for a friendly tone. "It wouldn't be appropriate while I'm here, but I was wondering if maybe once I'm back at my precinct…," he trails off, distracted by the radiant smile blossoming on Beckett's face as she looks out of the office to see Castle sitting in the chair beside her desk. She's so irrationally happy to see him back where he belongs that she stops in place, apparently oblivious to everything else.

Murray's stuttering steps call her back to the present. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm afraid I tuned out there for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Nothing of consequence," he assures her, knowing that any efforts on his part would be futile and awkward. "Thanks again for your help," he says, turning back to his desk after Beckett steps through the doorway.

"What, no coffee?" she says with a smile as she forces herself not to bounce over to Castle. "Have you forgotten how this works?" she laughs. "And what do you think of your new chair? What'd I tell you, Castle? Like before, but better," she assures with a smile.

Her smile falters once she gets a good look at his grave expression, though he tries to adopt a cheery demeanor. "Sorry, Beckett, I can't believe I forgot your coffee. I could make you one," he says with a nod to the break room, "or we could pop out to the café if you have a few minutes." The look on his face clearly suggests that the second option is preferred.

"Hey guys?" Beckett calls out to Ryan and Esposito, both of whom were shamelessly eavesdropping while pretending (pathetically) otherwise. "I'll be back in fifteen, okay? Call me if anything pops."

Not waiting for an answer, Beckett leads Castle to the elevator, both of them acting as normal as possible, with Castle returning the greetings of those who call out to him.

"What's wrong?" Beckett asks as she wraps him in a hug in the empty elevator, not caring a whit about the security camera above them.

"Let's get outside first," he replies calmly, though his voice is tight.

They step apart as the elevator slows. When the doors open, they look as they have in any of the times they'd ridden together in the years before today. But a keen observer would make note of the frequency of the looks that dart between them, the concern each demonstrates for the position of the other. But the hands that fidget to keep themselves from where they'd prefer to be are the biggest giveaway.

Minutes later, they're tucked into an alcove in a coffee shop a block away from the precinct, not even bothering to order. Beckett's about to ask what's going on when Castle pulls out his phone. Attaching headphones that he offers to Beckett, he opens the web browser and starts the live stream.

His heart breaks as he watches his love listen to the news report of Bracken's 'suicide.' He's already listened to the report several times, has it memorized. How the senator was found in his idling car in the townhouse's closed garage, drifting peacefully into a sleep from which he'd never awaken, a copy of the Ledger on the seat beside him. There've been no new developments in the last 45 minutes, so the only change is the slight variations offered by the newscasters as they stall for more information. Castle watches as Beckett's eyes widen and fill with tears that she refuses to let fall. After hearing the report, she tugs at the cord, the earbuds falling haphazardly to the table as she rises.

Castle tries to stand to join her, but is held in place by her hand on his shoulder. Wordlessly, she sits sideways in his lap, lowers her head to the crook of his neck, and lets her tears fall.

After several minutes, a discreet server approaches with a napkin extended. Castle waves off the napkin with a hand that already contains a ten-dollar bill and holds up two fingers, buying coffees he knows they won't drink for the right to sit at the table for a while. The young man nods in understanding, backing away quietly.

Beckett breaks her silence after several more minutes, though she doesn't move from the shelter of Castle's arms even after she accepts his handkerchief. "We should go to the hospital," she says with a voice rough from disuse. "Check on Turner."

"Coincidentally," Castle says gently in a voice that belies his disbelief, "Turner died right around the same time as Bracken."

"Another 'suicide?'" Beckett asks, clearly showing her doubts about the official story on Bracken.

"Massive pulmonary embolism," he replies, knowing that she's wondering the same thing he is – whether this was a medical development or a clever homicide.

"They're tying off loose ends," Beckett observes, still from the protective cove of his embrace. "You don't think Bracken really killed himself, do you?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure it matters," Castle answers honestly. "To do what he did – I'm sure he knew the stakes, knew the people he was dealing with. And if he didn't, your visit opened his eyes," he adds with a note of pride. "I'm not sure they would've needed to do anything other than say 'it happens today – either you do it or we do.' Faced with something like that, he might've gotten in his car by himself. Or maybe he knew what was coming and left on his own terms. Is that suicide?" he asks philosophically.

"I doubt Turner injected an air bubble into his own IV," Beckett notes, though her comment lacks its usual heat after hearing Montgomery's comments about the DA.

"No," Castle admits, "probably not. Still, I don't think I'll lose too much sleep about him."

"That's pretty callous," she answers, and he can hear in her voice that she's thinking about both of them, wondering if they should be more upset.

"Perhaps I should feel bad about not feeling worse for them," Castle offers while nuzzling Beckett. "But the only thing that really bothers me is that they got off easy. They might be dead, but their victims were robbed of their chance to see justice. The women Turner abused won't be sad about his demise, but they didn't get to see justice, just karma."

"I need to tell dad," Beckett agrees, stiffening in Castle's arms. "He has to know. Will…," she trails off until he rubs her back. "Will you come with? Tonight. I should tell him tonight."

"Of course I'll be there," he replies, lightening his tone to make it sound like her question was ridiculous. "And if you think you're getting rid of me today, you're crazy."

That comment forces Beckett to bolt upright in his lap. "You're not supposed to be here! You were supposed to work today! And your quarter isn't done yet," she reminds him.

"Hush," he answers simply, tucking her back in. "What're they gonna do, fire me?" he laughs.

"Castle, you spent twelve weeks as the perfect employee," she grouses. "You can't go out on a sour note."

"I talked to Ben," he assures her. "He doesn't know the details, only that it was an emergency. Sal might be annoyed, but he can…," Castle trails off, unwilling to articulate his exact suggestion for what the Commissioner can do with his discontent. "He can deal with it," he says diplomatically, pulling a huff out of Beckett.

"Thank you," she says as she squeezes him tight, before sitting upright. "We need to get back. I don't need another reason to offend Murray."

"You're already giving him trouble?" Castle laughs. "It's only been a week!"

"Your timing was impeccable," she praises, kissing his cheek. "He was just about to ask me out when I saw you waiting for me."

This time it's Castle who's stiffening in his seat, and not in a playful way. "Relax," Beckett soothes, using a hand to rub his chest. "Having you there meant we didn't even need to talk about it, but we've got nothing to worry about. We're finally together, right?"

"Right," Castle grumbles, still offended but mostly mollified.

"Besides, I'm sure I look like a raccoon now," she complains, dabbing at her eyes. "And I've ruined your shirt. Maybe you should go home and change before you come back to the precinct?" she asks, her reluctance clear.

"As if you could ever look anything less than gorgeous," he replies with a shake of his head. Then, shifting her around on his lap a bit, he manages to reach into the pocket of his blazer. Holding his stuffed fist out to her, he rotates his hand while he opens it to reveal a small collection of her makeup items from the loft. "I made my best guess," he shrugs. "Just because I've got a daughter doesn't mean I know how all this works," he covers for himself, sounding nervous and uncomfortable.

Beckett's not sure if his uncertainty stems from a fear that he overstepped or if it masks his knowledge, since his selections were perfect. "This is exactly what I need," she replies in a loaded voice, letting him know that she wasn't just talking about the items he brought from the loft. "I suppose you have a clean shirt back at the precinct?"

"In my gym bag," he confirms, unsurprised that she figured him out so quickly.

Beckett surprises herself with a chuckle, then manages to slide off his lap and head toward the restroom. While she's occupied, Castle approaches the counter and orders four coffees, figuring the boys could use a thank-you for covering for them. After tipping the thoughtful server generously, he's just finished adding cream and lids to the travel cups when Beckett emerges, looking calm and composed. Until she sees his efforts on her team's behalf, at which points she shakes her head, sidles up next to him and bumps his shoulder. "It's so good to have you back."


The cemetery is a bold place for a meeting between father and daughter, but perhaps it's appropriate. Castle walks in silence, one hand holding fast to Beckett and the other cradling a fragrant bouquet of lilies. He'd accidentally prompted tears even before they'd left the loft, after the delivery of the flowers shocked Beckett. He'd apologized profusely for his presumption, until Beckett wrapped him tight and murmured "They were her favorite" in his ear. The scene led to his fourth shirt-change of the day. He'd gladly go through his entire wardrobe if it affords her the opportunity to find some peace.

Two men in gray suits and somber demeanors wait on the path ahead. Castle recognizes Beckett's father, which must make the other man his sponsor. Beckett's effort to recall her father to the city for this meeting, and her request that he bring his sponsor, was responsible for the demise of another shirt.

"Katie," her father sighs into her hair after she lurched the final few steps and stepped into his embrace. They stand huddled together for several minutes, gathering strength for the discussion ahead. Castle and Jim's sponsor stand silent vigil, offering whatever quiet support they can.

Finally, the Becketts separate, with Kate pulling her father over to Castle. "Dad," she says with eyes that are already wet, "I'd like you to meet Rick Castle, the man I love." Having wondered how Beckett was going to introduce him, Castle fails to hide his shock at her declaration.

"Close your mouth, son," Jim Beckett suggests, extending a hand. As they shake, he looks like he's considering and discarding words for Castle. Finally, he opts for simplicity. "Thank you for loving my Katie."

"It's my honor," Castle stumbles in reply, his answer all the more powerful for lacking a smooth delivery.

"This is Andy Sanders, my sponsor," he continues, introducing Castle to the wiry, balding man that rounds out their quartet. As the men shake hands and introduce themselves, Jim puts a hand on his daughter's shoulder and encourages her to make the short trek to Johanna's marker.

Before they complete the turn, Castle steps forward to hand the bouquet to Beckett. With a soft kiss to her cheek, he whispers his love to her then steps back, watching silently as they walk toward the grave with heavy steps.

"Shall we?" Andy asks, gesturing to a bench on which they can wait. Castle nods and follows the older man. Normally not one for long silences, especially on meeting someone new, he finds himself unwilling to break the quiet tranquility of the cemetery. Instead, most of his attention is trained on the knoll tens of yards away, where Beckett is explaining to her father that Johanna's murderer is dead.

"So, Rick, what'm I looking at here?" Andy asks quietly after nearly ten minutes, eyes also trained on the pair.

"The Becketts are remarkably private people," Castle says quietly, still watching them. "Ordinarily, I'd never share their business with anyone. But Kate and I talked about this on the way over," he sighs, remembering the horrible ride here in the car service sedan. At least he'd had the foresight to have someone else drive, so he could sit in the back and comfort Beckett. "You need to know what's going on," he says with foreboding. "This conversation will either be the best or worst thing that's happened to him since Johanna died."

"God will see us through," Andy replies with a tone of quiet confidence. "He's already helped Jim become a stronger man."

"As have you," Castle replies, heartened that there's someone here to look after Jim so he can keep his own focus wholly on Kate. When Andy tries to wave away the compliment, Castle lets the man know what he's likely to face. "We know who killed Johanna," he whispers, still watching Kate but noting Andy's rigid shock in his peripheral vision. "We know who did it, and why. He died recently. His role in what happened will probably never come out, so this is it," he says with a nod. "Their first chance to say goodbye to Johanna with the knowledge that it's finally over."

The men lapse into silence following the terse but harrowing explanation. After a few, long moments, Castle worries that he's tuning Andy out until he realizes that the man's dropped into a mumbled prayer. After a quiet "Amen," the sponsor turns to face Castle directly. It might be rude, Castle admits to himself, but he's keeping his attention, and his eyes, on Beckett.

"You're sure?" Andy asks.

"Certain," he replies. "Beckett even confronted him, before he died. I think that's what's really eating her up right now – she had her chance at closure, but her father didn't." When Andy remains quiet, Castle feels obliged to explain, just a little. "It was a dangerous move for her, even with her training and position. She didn't want to subject her father to that. So, on top of the shock of finding out what happened, she's worried that he'll resent her for shielding him."

Andy nods, taking several minutes to think about what he's heard. While he's thinking, Castle continues to watch his love and her father. They're huddled together again, which he's hoping is a good sign.

Motion from beside him surprises him, finally succeeds in pulling his eyes to Andy.

"Here," the sponsor says, handing Castle a business card. "Jim and I will talk. He's survived worse than this and I'm hopeful that things will go well," he says with a nod toward the embrace between father and daughter. "But if he needs anything, call." Castle's about to reply when Andy speaks again, more hesitantly this time. "If you need anything, call," he says quietly. "Addiction takes many forms," he warns, nodding toward Beckett. "After the kind of trauma they've suffered, coping mechanisms don't just disappear."

"Thank you," Castle says, wondering about how Beckett might react to the absence of a central quest in her life. "I'll call if we need help," he promises. "Whatever she needs, I'll help her. As long as she'll let me."

"From the looks of it," he says with a nod toward the woman in question, who's returning from the grave with her father's arm around her shoulder, "she won't have any trouble leaning on you."

Andy's no sooner stopped talking than Castle's risen from the bench and opened his arms barely in time to catch a tearful Beckett. While they sway in place, he looks up to see that Andy's drawn Jim off to another bench, where they're engaged in conversation.

"Take me home, Castle," Beckett requests quietly.

They're quiet as they make their way back to the car. Once in the backseat, there's no reticence or shyness – Beckett crawls into Castle's lap and he wraps her tight. While he's curious about the conversation she had with her father, he's trying desperately to let her set the pace. She knows he's here, and he's starting to trust that she'll speak when she's ready.

They're nearly back to the loft when she breaks the silence. "Dad asked me to stay with him tonight. Would you mind?"

He's quickly embraced Beckett's presence in the loft, so the honest answer is that he'd prefer she stay. But Castle's wise enough to know the right answer. "Of course," he says before kissing her temple. "He needs your company."

"This is the part where we're supposed to be more direct," Beckett says as she slides off his lap and into the seat so that she can look at him more easily. "You're supposed to admit that you don't want me to go, and I'm supposed to admit that I want you to come with me."

"I don't want you to go," Castle says with a small smile, following the script.

"I want you to come with me," she replies with a small smile of her own.

"Seriously?" he asks, sure she was roping him into a bait-and-switch. When she nods, his smile grows. "Then I'm there."

"What?" Beckett asks, smiling for the first time he can remember since she learned of Bracken's fate. "No fretting about shotguns, no worrying about what my dad might think of you or our relationship?"

"You want me there," he answers with a simple shrug. "That's all that matters."

She's back in his lap in a heartbeat, kissing him fiercely until his chuckles interfere. At her growl, he feels it safest to explain his mirth. "If I knew this was the result, Beckett, I would've ignored your father's sensibilities long ago!"

She gives him the swat he was begging for with the intention of following up with another kiss, but by then the car is gliding smoothly to the curb in front of Castle's building. With a rueful look and a wink, she's off his lap and out the door in a blink, waiting for him to join her. Eduardo's already holding the door and welcoming them home and the elevator's already waiting on the ground floor. In mere minutes, they're back in the loft, alone thanks to a study group for his daughter and a performance for his mother.

Lacking the energy to cook, they make a small meal from their leftovers, passing the time quietly but with an unusually high number of touches, caresses, and glimpses at each other. It's been an emotional day, with more to follow, so they're each worried about the other.

The fragile sense of peace seems to break as Beckett stands in the bedroom with overnight bag in hand, trying to figure out what to pack for her time at her father's place. Recognizing her distress, Castle pads over and wraps his arms around her from behind, leaning down to rest his chin lightly on her shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"I just realized I should be packing it all," she answers, proud of herself for a completely true and direct answer. "If Bracken's gone then it's all over, right? Acting against us would only create the kind of attention his keepers are looking to avoid. So, there's no need for me to stay."

Alarms, warning bells, klaxons, and sirens all start ringing in Castle's head all at once, a discordant cacophony that blares "Danger! Danger!" In the best of times, the moving-in discussion can be tricky, and the day they've had has only sharpened the spikes beneath the tightrope they're walking.

But…

But Fred's advice comes back to him. Direct communication. If he can't express his feelings now, when she most needs to know of his support, then he's not treating her the way she deserves. So, ever so carefully, he frames his reply.

"I don't want you to leave," he says clearly and calmly, not begging but instead making his desires known. "Do you remember what you told me in LA?" he asks gently. "Because I'm going to repeat what you said there: I love you, Kate, and I know who you are. I know how private you are, how you like to have your time alone. So, if you want to leave because you need your space, or because you're not sure about us yet, or because you don't think we've earned this yet, then I'll respect your decision."

He can tell Beckett's about to reply, so he hurries to finish his thoughts.

"But," he adds in a more playful voice, "please don't go because you think you have to, or because you're worried that I'll be upset if you want to spend some time at your place alone. This isn't all-or-nothing, Kate," he assures her. "We've got time and can do whatever feels right."

Beckett spins in his embrace, wrapping her arms around him and burrowing into his chest. "You terrify me," she admits once she's tucked in, pulling a laugh from Castle. "I'm serious," she defends. "A dozen weeks ago we were so far apart. We could've lost this," she says with a squeeze. "I could look for the rest of my life and not find someone who understands me like you do, Rick."

With a gentle kiss to her forehead, he lets his arms fall. "Come on, Kate. Your dad's waiting and we shouldn't leave him alone. Just grab what you need for one night and we'll figure the rest out later."

Castle's just finishing the note for his mother and daughter when Beckett emerges from the bedroom, small bag in hand. Signing the note with a flourish, he grabs his bag and meets her at the door. After one more passionate kiss, he holds the door open and escorts her out of the loft. He can't help but feel good right now. Their discussion about living spaces seems to have gone alright, and even if tonight's stressful, it might be the first step on the road to recovery. He's feeling optimistic again, something he missed often in the last three months. The welcome return makes him almost jaunty, anxious to move forward as he bounces them toward the elevator.

"Oh, Castle," Beckett says as they step onto the elevator, "I forgot to tell you something." He looks at her curiously just as the doors begin to slide shut. "My dad does own a shotgun," she confesses with an eyebrow waggle before the doors slide closed to hide Castle's look of distress.


A/N: I felt bad about neglecting Jim, so I added the last scene in this chapter. That bumps the last bit to next week. The next chapter will finish the quarter.

Two quick rounds of thanks: First, a big thanks to everyone who participated in Castle Fic Stream Con (with special thanks to Griever11 for organizing and losing sleep to moderate!). It was a blast. The sessions are available online if you missed out.

Second, many thanks for the follows, favorites, reviews, and PMs. They provide fantastic encouragement.