Close Encounters 28
"I've got to find Sasha. Start getting her tamed."
He kissed Kate at the door, the leash in one hand and James in his arms. She patted his chest. "Good luck."
Yeah. No kidding. The wolf had been allowed to run wild these last few weeks, and now she'd forgotten she had ever been a dog. It made Castle think that the wolf in her was quite a lot more than they'd suspected, despite the vet's assurances.
"Sasha," he called from the path. On one side was the thick stand of birch trees that was the dense center of the island, and on the other was the meandering path down to the bay. They were still between the house and cottage, with the cliffside beach behind him. The dock where the boat put in was between the two beaches, on the most prominent point of the island.
The dog was nowhere in sight, but Castle had a trick for that.
On the front lawn, he set James down on his feet, releasing the boy's hand entirely. Castle had been trying not to carry James, allowing him to build up his endurance on the sand. His balance was impressive these days, but he still hated to walk on the beach. The sandy, grassy knolls around the house and cottage seemed not to bother him.
James cast a glance behind him, as if checking in with Castle, and then ran for the trees. Castle followed at a more deliberate pace, not surprised when Sasha came slinking out of the birches to meet James. The two of them had some instinctive connection, for sure.
"Hey, Sash," he murmured, approaching the two wolves with his palm out. Sasha allowed herself to be petted, and Castle kept it light, no sudden movements.
James, however, laid his cheek against the dog's head and draped himself down Sasha's back, baby talk humming in his chest. Sasha wriggled once as if shedding her wolf skin, turned her head and nipped at James's shirt.
Castle froze, but Sasha was just that good. James's red shirt caught in her teeth but nothing more, and the boy only chuckled and squeezed harder. Looked like this was an often-played game between them. Sasha licked along James's elbow and arm where she could reach and then turned her head to Castle as if to say, what can you do?
"All right, good girl," he murmured. He petted the dog between the ears and smoothed down the fringe of fur that had gone wild around her head. "You need a bath too. And a shave, I think. Matted."
Sasha gave a sliver of a growl, a little thing that rippled down her back and made James lift his head. The boy clutched handfuls of fur and got a hand on Sasha's muzzle.
Castle moved to intercept, but Sasha's growl turned into a whine and she licked James's fingers, snaking her tongue around her clamped tight teeth, barely opening her jaw for it.
"Good girl," Castle sighed. He never worried about Sasha, but it was in these moments where he felt the wolf in her that he wondered if James's approach might one day be too much for their dog.
He clipped on her leash without problem, though, and James gave Sasha a couple of hard pats to the back, shushing her, his way of calling her name.
"Come on, wolf. And wolf. Let's go get a bath."
Kate found Colin Hunt alone at the cliff side beach, his bare feet in the sand, shoes dangling from two fingers. She had James with her while Castle bathed the dog; she hadn't been expecting Colin down here, and now it was too late to go back. James had been promised the sand to divert his attention from the dog.
She set her son on his feet and he churned sand trying to rush off, fell to his hands and knees and stayed that way, content to push the sand into hills. She straightened up and saw that Colin had turned to look at them.
"You're leaving soon," she said, as if he needed reminding.
"I am."
She wasn't going to force him into conversation. She was tired of the ways they'd tiptoed around each other, making collisions all the more painful. She'd always thought that having someone love you should be a gift, unlooked for maybe, but a joy to know. This wasn't joy.
She nudged her bare toe into James's bottom; he flashed her a shy smile and ducked his head back to his sand mountains. He was going to be filthy by the time they made it back up to the house. Sandy and tired but happy. That was important.
"You look better. Blood stuff worked, I guess."
She glanced up from her son playing at her feet, saw that Colin had dropped his shoes in the sand and sank down on top of them. He had his arms hooked around his knees, but he wasn't staring at the water. He was staring at her.
"I'm better," she admitted, lowering herself to the sand beside her son. There was so much sky. The blue ached. The sunlight was a broad smear of bright white across most of the horizon.
"And he's fine. James."
At the sound of his name, her son looked up at her, guileless and waiting, a handful of sand clutched in one fist. She reached out and stroked her fingers over the dark hair beginning to hang in his eyes. Needed a trim. His first haircut.
"He's fine," she said finally, looking beyond her son to Hunt. "I don't like it, but it's life."
"So damn true," he muttered, shaking his head.
Was this going to be their last conversation? All the things that didn't get said. She couldn't say I'm sorry because she wasn't actually sorry. Maybe for him, but that was pity and he would despise it from her. She wasn't sorry she didn't love him back, because she loved Rick Castle and it was - everything. She wasn't sorry Colin had stayed with them on the island, wasn't sorry they'd saved his life or he'd returned the favor. Everything that had happened had been good, necessary even.
"Look," he started. He planted his hands in the sand at either side of him. Like he needed support. "I need to say it. I just need it out there, the flattest way I know. I love you. I do. I know it's no good. Don't say anything. Don't answer me. Just know that I do."
Kate kept her mouth closed, but icy needles pierced her chest despite the sunshine on her face.
Colin had his head bowed to his clasped knees.
James startled and brought up a black seashell, showing it to her with radiant surprise. Broken at one end, grimy with wet sand, but clearly a treasure. She reached out and took it from him, smiling through the numb ache. "Oh, thank you, love. I'll keep it forever."
Colin sucked in a breath she could feel over the roar of the ocean against the tiny strip of sand. The cliff side beach was dangerous and powerful, the currents strong. She never took James here but she had today. Maybe she really had known.
Colin got to his feet and dusted the sand off his shorts, picked up his shoes. She watched him go back up the steep path along the cliff, the weight of her son's black shell in her hand.
When Hunt was gone, she looked down at the gift, carefully brushed the sand from its grooves, dug dried seaweed from the hollow bowl. James crawled over to her and in her lap, watching her work at it. When it was nominally clean, she saw it had a pink sheen to it that had been hidden by the sand. Almost like a pearl.
Castle loaded the last of the bags into the storage locker beneath the cabin seat, closed the lid on it. The cushions formed a near-seamless joint over the wood, obscuring any trace of the cargo below. It was a beautifully made boat; he was proud of it, even if he'd spent very little time on it.
There was Reese, the driver, and a man hidden. Plus Colin Hunt. Those were her only passengers this trip, and then the driver and Reese would come back for himself and Kate, James and Jim. They'd put in at the mainland harbor, a carefully chosen spot and not the same as where they were dropping Hunt.
"Thanks, Castle."
He turned and found Colin Hunt standing in the open doorway of the main cabin. Castle straightened up and came to the man, offered his hand.
Colin stared at it half a heartbeat and then finally shook hands, nodding slowly. "What you told me that first day. Or - I don't know, probably wasn't the first day. I was out of it. But you gave me what-for."
Castle nodded, waiting for Hunt to say whatever the man felt like he had to say. He could take it; he didn't even mind it.
"Thank you."
Castle blinked. That hadn't been what he was expecting.
"Seriously, big brother," Hunt muttered, fist coming out and smacking Castle's shoulder. "Don't look at me like that. I bloody well-"
"No, right. Of course. You're welcome." Castle let out the laugh that had caught sharply in his throat. What was this? Pity? Something else, something fraternal maybe?
Fucking hell. Castle did not need to start feeling for the man.
"I'm out of your way now, at least," Hunt said, hands on his hips as he surveyed the cabin. "I've already said my good-byes. I won't prolong it."
"Colin," Castle sighed. "You were never in my way to begin with."
Hunt flinched, and Castle realized how that sounded to a man in love with his brother's wife. Impossible. Desultory. Dismissive.
But what else was there? Fuck, he was gonna have to-
Castle gripped Hunt's shoulder and hauled him in for a fast embrace. Pounded his back with a palm, pushed him away with a fist in the man's chest.
Brother.
"Fuck." Castle wiped his hand down his face, shook his head as if he could dislodge the feeling.
Colin looked ready to do battle, spoiling for a fight, his face thunderous and churned up. John Black had done a fucking number on them both, hadn't he? Abandon one, tyrannize the other. Grass was always greener.
"Fuck," Castle sighed. "Just - don't be stupid. Kate would absolutely be wrecked if something happened to you, you know. And I - hell. I don't want her hurt, but more than that. More than that, you're in this family now. My son has an uncle. Fucking hell, man. You're my kid's family."
Hunt lifted his eyes, and Castle finally saw it - what he'd wanted to see all along, had been trying to cultivate this whole time.
Investment.
Colin Hunt was invested in this.
"I, uh, yeah," Hunt scratched out. His eyes flicked away and back again. His kicked dog expression had gone, Castle saw now; it had been missing when the man had stepped onto the boat.
I said my goodbyes.
Meaning Kate. Well. Good. If it had put some fucking steel back in Colin Hunt's spine, then good. Whatever the hell he'd done, whatever goodbye had encompassed, that was - not exactly fine but necessary. Necessary. Colin Hunt had to waltz back into the belly of the beast like he fucking owned the place, and he needed all the steel he could get.
They were sending him back to the Collective.
Castle reached out and gripped Hunt's hand again, squeezing hard. "I'm damn serious, Colin. Do not be stupid." He swallowed past the lingering mistrust and reached into his pocket. Ten minutes ago, he hadn't thought he was going to do this.
He pulled out the black felt-tip he kept for marking the tides against the dock - a project to keep the caretaker busy while Reese and Jim had taken out the boat. He reached for Hunt's wrist, but the man stepped back.
"What are you doing?" Hunt said.
"Give me your hand."
"What are you-"
Castle grabbed and hauled Hunt into him, opened the man's palm to his pen. He wrote two names, two addresses, keeping Hunt's fingers pried open until the ink was dry.
"You wash your hands, and this will be gone," Castle said. "So fucking memorize it. These two. These are your contacts if all else goes to hell."
Hunt's face washed out.
Castle ignored it. "If there's even a hint of you not pulling this off, you fucking bail."
"I'm not some green agent. I can do this-"
"It's not about you. It's about Kate," he said grimly, a line he'd used so many damn times now it was starting to sound trite. "Something happens to you-"
"Bloody hell," Hunt muttered.
"These two names. Mitchell. Mason. You know Mitch," he went on. Fuck, was he really doing this? "Mason is CIA. Not in the loop. But fucking excellent at extraction. If you're blown, and it's bad, Mason. You go here." Castle tapped Hunt's palm. "Don't fuck around. You go here."
"Mason," Hunt repeated, studying his hand. Hopefully memorizing it. "Czech?"
"No. But yes."
"You're blowing a CIA cover of one of your best?" Hunt said, staring at Castle.
"Yes."
Hunt closed his eyes, opened them again with all that emotion completely closed off, shut down.
And that was what Castle had wanted to see. The man in fucking control of himself once more.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and he punched Hunt in the shoulder as he moved out of the cabin. He didn't say another word, he just left the British agent alone.
"Sasha is inside," he told her.
She nodded, swaying with James in the living room, not speaking in case the boy woke again. Almost, almost fast asleep.
"She doesn't like it," Castle warned quietly. "She might drive us crazy all night trying to get out."
Kate lifted a hand from James's back and pointed at the baby in her arms.
Castle's face lit with her idea and he nodded. "Got it. Put her in his room, smart. She'll behave." He turned and headed back for the kitchen, calling softly to the wolf-dog as he did.
Kate put her hand back over James, rubbing softly. She dipped her lips to the top of his head, loving the smell of him, the weight of him in her arms.
Colin was gone; the boat had left while Kate had been giving James a bath, washing the sand out of every little crevice. When she'd carried James out to his bedroom for clean clothes, she had seen the boat leaving the dock from the window.
Just like that it was over.
Or really, just begun.
Kate sighed and rubbed her lips over James's sweet skin. Time for bed. They'd played all afternoon in the strange, quiet emptiness, despite the fact that the island was still stationed with most of their security team but for two. James had wrestled with his daddy on the living room floor, giggling at the game as Castle had pretended to be knocked down. It had been sweet, a special time, but now that she thought about it - it could have been any of their days, any moment.
Castle liked to be with his family. He'd always been down on the floor with James as a newborn, seeing what James had seen, and then recently, running after the boy as he chased down Sasha or sitting him in the high chair and talking to him as he made dinner. All of that before they'd hidden away on their island. The free time, the down time they'd had here had only emphasized Castle's natural inclinations.
He loved his son, wanted him around. And Kate thought that was really beautiful.
Special. He was a good man, she'd known that all along, but he was such a good father. Joyful about it, really, even goofy. He made himself a fool for James and the boy responded. Their time here had been wonderful.
But time for bed. Time for bed.
Kate walked slowly down the hall for the boy's room, heard Castle tugging Sasha by the collar towards them. She turned in the doorway and saw the poor wolf trying to resist, that low whine in her throat - but she wouldn't say no to Castle.
Kate moved inside the room with James, rubbing his back as he sighed in his sleep. Dinner had been easy, quiet, kind of lonely with just the three of them - her father had gone out walking, had a later meal. James had eaten leftover fruit salad, some spaghetti, the bread he loved. She'd forgotten just how self-contained he was, how much he observed and watched and didn't need. He just didn't demand a whole lot, and with the usual crowd of people at their table now absent, James's solemness had been so apparent.
But he wasn't unhappy, he wasn't sad or morose or moody. He was just - James.
She lowered him to the crib, finally releasing him to sleep. He mewled something and rolled over on his belly, his breathing evening out as he sank deeper into sleep. She tugged his blanket up over him and smoothed elephant down under James's chin. He was holding it tightly.
Behind her, Castle gave Sasha a stern word of command, and when she turned to leave, the dog was slinking to the crib and settling down, mournful eyes on them. She needed to be tamed though; she had to be ready when they returned to New York. She had to be the dog who could live with just that scrap of a back yard and leashed in the park.
Castle followed her out, his hand on her back as they moved, without speaking, to their own room. She mechanically took her earrings out, slipped them into the little travel box where she kept her jewelry - items she'd had on her when they'd left. She unclasped the necklace - she'd been wearing his thumbprint under her shirt for so long now, she didn't know what it was like to not wear it.
Her wedding ring. Kate watched the stone flare blue in its grey depths.
"Colin said good-bye. Said he loved me," she said. All at once, for no reason except she had to. "I..."
Castle touched her shoulder and she turned into him. His arms were warm, undemanding. One of hands rose and combed through her loose hair, collected it off her neck so he could put his palm there, cradling her.
"He's in love with me," she said, her mouth at his jaw like her words were endearments. But they weren't. "He loves me and I'm using it against him, using it selfishly. So selfishly. Sending him out there to - to what could be his death."
"It's not you doing the sending, Kate. It's me."
They hadn't talked about this, not so blatantly. She hadn't wanted to, hadn't known what to say. Not when she faced her husband with a thing like this, another man in love with her, with them because she had insisted on it, she had taken him home with her.
"It's me too," she said finally. "He loves me and I've let him."
"But I showed him how," Castle sighed. "I showed him how."
She brought her arms around his torso and clung to him, breathing fast, not wanting to feel so much, hating how it stuck in her soul like a burr.
"I showed him how, Kate, because I love you. I do. Me."
Some of his jealousy showed through, like the original paint showing through the whitewash of this past month. Jealous for her, of her. He had bought her an island - a secluded place, a private place - because he wanted her to himself. Hadn't he? She'd seen it in him before, had battled it in the beginning but so half-heartedly because in the end, in the end, she wanted him just the same. All to herself.
She drew her arms in and ran her hands up his chest, cupped his jaw so that their foreheads tilted together. They shared this responsibility, this weight of love, between them, just like this.
Colin Hunt was going back to the Collective to save her life.
She touched her lips to Castle's cheek, wanting him to hear her. "And I let him, I let him, Castle, because I love you."
The next day, as Castle scrounged up items for lunch, he decided that dinner would be a strange combination of things pulled from the freezer. Everyone would have milk to use up the last of it. Now he checked the canned goods and left them on the pantry shelves for the next time they made it to their island.
Kate had James on the couch with her while Jim brought out presents he'd picked up over the last few weeks. He'd been waiting until Colin had left to bring them out. Castle put the finishing touches on lunch - a stir fry concoction - and dished it out into bowls for them.
With the pan still sizzling in the sink, Castle placed their bowls on the coffee table and went back for their cups. He shut off the water and scraped the dish with the scrub brush, left it to collect their drinks. The fridge was emptying out, sure enough, and it made him a little sad.
He didn't want to go. Well, no. He did want to go, now was the time, but the bare fridge and the massive laundry they were cleaning to fold and pack away, and the furniture covered in the rooms not in use... it was depressing.
James chortled from the living room, and Castle looked up to see his son standing on the cushions with his head peeking over the back of the couch. Watching him.
"Hey, JP," he called, bringing their drinks with him as he came. "What're you doing?"
"He thinks I'm a jungle gym," Kate said with a laugh. James was standing on her thigh, bouncing a little, something in his hand. "Dad got him a new toy. A wolf. See?"
She nudged James's hand and the boy lifted his arm as if to show it off. A chunky black toy with yellow-gold markings, robotic, fierce.
Jim winced. "Hope you don't mind. It's kinda bristling with weapons. I wasn't thinking."
"Why would we mind?" Castle said, glancing at the toy again.
"Dad's worried it's too violent," Kate murmured at him, a tug on his pant leg as he passed.
"Too violent. Right. What exactly is that thing?" Castle chuckled. He deposited their drinks on the coffee table and then realized he'd forgotten utensils. "Hang on, I gotta get silverware. James, buddy, what've you got there?"
James barked. Like a wolf-dog. Sasha, from the back bedroom, barked in response and came running down the hallway.
"Oh, my God," Kate cracked up, laughing hard as Sasha joined them in the living room.
Castle shook his head and just collected their forks. He came back, nudging his knees into Sasha's body to move her. He sank down on the couch between Jim and James, handing out utensils to his wife and her father. "Hey, wolf, you could call out for your dog, you know."
James gave him a shy grin and ducked his head into Castle's side. Kate took his fork from him, freeing up his hands, and Castle gathered James into his lap.
"Hey, show me your robot wolf thing here." He wriggled the toy in James's clutch until the boy released it. "Yeah, wow. Looks like Papa knows what's cool. How great is this, huh?"
James wriggled down into him and reached for his toy, taking it back into his arms, cradling it against his chest. Kate was already eating, her bowl tucked under her chin. He grinned, nudging her.
"Good?"
"Yeah, good," she said, nodding around another mouthful.
"After I bought it, I was afraid it would be too much." Jim gathered his bowl and fork, but he was sitting carefully. Like it was some kind of touchy subject.
"I don't get it," Castle said finally. "It's a robot wolf. With - okay, yeah." He twisted the wolf thing in James's hand and saw the spikes and cannon and the guns. "It's seriously armored. That's badass, right, buddy?"
Jim chuckled. "Well, yes, you say badass in front of him. What was I thinking?"
Castle lifted his head to look at her father, surprised, and then he glanced over at Kate for explanation.
She was smiling, lips pressed together, the bowl in her lap now. She lifted her hand and laid her arm on his shoulder, caressed the back of his neck with her fingers. "Dad forgot who we are, babe."
"He did? Seems kinda impossible a thing to forget."
Kate grinned, but he was hypnotized by her touch. He might have to close his eyes; her fingers at his neck were alluring. "Rick, honey. You're cute. I think a lot of regular parents don't give their kids violent toys, and Dad was worried that we were normal."
Castle grinned back. "We ain't normal, Beckett." He shot a glance to her father. "Papa Beckett."
Jim shook his head, but he was smiling too. "All right. I've been told. I won't worry about it." He stood up and took his bowl with him. "I'm going to add some cashews from the pantry. Glad you don't mind the robot wolf."
He moved to the kitchen, still chuckling, leaving them to the couch.
"No point in worrying. This kid is already doomed, genetics-wise," Castle muttered.
Kate twisted his ear.
He yelped and James lifted his head, clutching his robot wolf, looking back and forth between them. "Mama?"
"Daddy is being morose," Kate said, leaning in to kiss James's cheek. The robot wolf came up and nearly smacked her in the cheek, but Castle caught his wrist.
"Careful, buddy. This one is hard plastic, not stuffed." He curled James's arm back down to his chest and nudged Kate. "Not morose - I'm not sad. Just being real."
"You paint a dour picture for our son," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Dour," he echoed. "I just don't see the point in worrying about whether or not his toys have guns when his parents are spies. I mean, you said you didn't want to lie to him about who we are. That he wouldn't be the cover. A badass robot wolf doesn't change the basic nature of his family life, does it? We love him and that has to be enough."
"I did say that," she smiled. "It's enough, Rick. You're very right." She leaned in and touched a kiss to his jaw, her fingers smoothing his stinging ear. "We love. It's everything."