Heartlines
He messes with her during the drive. It's his car; he can mess with her. He's absolutely refused to drive anywhere with her in the Crown Vic if it's not police-related, and sometimes even then, he makes her take his instead.
She drives of course. Even his car. She's got the keys to everything, of course, every car, the loft, his storage in the garage. She was a little overwhelmed with it when he started putting keys on her key ring last Christmas, but now she seems to be totally cool with it. And she likes this car. It's not the Ferrari, but it has plenty of horsepower.
Castle flips the radio station again, but she still won't rise to the bait. She's preternaturally calm this morning. She's smiling. She's been smiling. He's not sure he understands why.
"Are we there yet?" he asks.
"Almost."
"Really? You just answered the most annoying car ride question on the face of this planet like it was both the first time you'd ever heard it and also, wow, a really great question. What is *up* with you?"
She glances over at him, and he's immediately struck by the depth in her eyes. Shining and tender. Whoa. Whoa, wait. This is. . .something is going on here.
He thought, kinda, she was taking him to an especially crazy or goofy murder scene. Which, okay, yes, sounds twisted. But that's kinda how they roll. Still. No. This isn't that. This is-
Big. Big time stuff.
Kate is being patient and *tender* - almost sweet. And cute. She was cute earlier.
He wonders for half a second if she's dying. Has cancer or something. But no. No, if that were the case, she'd be halfway to her father's cabin-
Oh, wait. This is the route to her father's cabin.
"Kate!"
She startles, the wheel jerking; she casts panicked eyes to him. "What?"
Kate would be berating him for yelling in the car and scaring her. Kate would be bad-ass and mean and threatening. Kate would not be looking at him as if-
"You're not dying are you?"
"What?" she hisses, her eyes luminous and incredulous and pissed.
Yeah, pissed, there she is. Okay. It's okay.
"Never mind. Stupid question. Never mind."
"Castle, what the hell-?"
"No. Sorry. I just - this is the way to your dad's place, and you've been all sweet and nice and cute this morning, and I've been messing around with the radio station for-"
"The last thirty-eight minutes-"
"Heh. Yeah. Um. Never mind me."
"Castle. I'm not dying. Jeez."
"Just checking."
"And what? I can't be sweet and nice and - and cute?"
"No, you can. You are. Not. Just. Not together at one time?"
She presses her lips together, but he can tell (even just looking at her profile) that she's not angry or annoyed, she's. . .amused.
"Only you," she sighs, biting her lip.
Only him what? Spoil the moment is what it sounds like. But what moment? What moment are they having here that he seems to not be privy to?
It's not much longer before Kate's turned into the gravel drive leading to her father's cabin. The trees are already brilliant golds and reds and yellows, as if sunset got caught in the branches one late afternoon, and the trees never let go.
Castle gets out of the car after her, waits until she starts walking before he follows. She takes his hand; he realizes she's not wearing her father's watch this morning. She usually doesn't when she's not at work, but she wore it nearly every day out here.
At least, the days she let him stay.
He squeezes her hand and she glances back at him, half a smile on her face. She digs the key out of her back pocket and steps up to the front door, unlocking it quickly.
"Come on in," she invites.
She pushes him in ahead of her, so he steps directly into the small living room, dark and closed up for the season. He knows that Jim does some hunting and woodworking out here in the winter, but not often. He and Kate lived here in the summer for six weeks, and when Castle finally wheedled a reluctant acceptance from Kate for living in the Hamptons to continue that healing, Jim remained.
Kate doesn't stop to uncover furniture or turn on lights. She leads him to her own little bedroom, with the two twin beds. His back twinges in protest just seeing that narrow, short mattress.
Castle glances over at her, but she's lost in thought, standing at the foot of the bed she slept in for six weeks. Alone. He was right beside her in the other bed, but for all she really looked at him, he might have not been there.
"I never said thank you," she murmurs.
"What?"
She turns her head slowly. "Still not saying it, am I?"
Castle shrugs, a grin lifting one side of his face.
"Thank you, Rick." Sorrow swallows her face.
The grin drops. She's standing in a patch of morning light, her left cheekbone, her left eye, the line of that half of her jaw lit pure yellow and white. The other side of her face is in deepest shadow.
"You're welcome."
She nods, as if that's the answer she was looking for. As if it's a good answer. It's not. He's not sure what the thank you is for, except maybe for coming with her today.
"The bed wasn't nearly big enough for you," she says softly. "You were supposed to be finishing your book. I know Alexis was left alone, and how that must have torn at you."
Oh. For that maybe.
"But I got shot and I reverted back to the only coping mechanism that I had the strength for."
"Solitude," he says. Because he knows. He's always known. Doesn't make it hurt less, doesn't make him love her less. Actually, sometimes it's easier, knowing that she just needs it. The way he needs people; she needs to not be around people.
She nods, then gives him a tentative, blushing smile. "But I like being alone with you. I love being alone with you."
Castle grins back at her, stepping farther into the room, lifting a hand to caress the side of her arm, curling his fingers around her wrist. "I love being with you too."
"You're part of what I need to cope," she answers back. "And I didn't realize that until you convinced me to go to the Hamptons. It was just as. . .good there as it was for me here. As good as recovering from a bullet in the chest can be, I guess."
She's saying it lightly, with a smile, but he doesn't feel like laughing.
Instead, Castle leans in and brushes his hand back up her arm, catches her mouth for a kiss. He traps whatever she might have said next, working at loving her - here in this room where she so carefully kept him from loving her at all. He likes irony. He likes poetic justice.
He loves Kate Beckett.
He cradles her head in his hand, his palm gentle at her jaw as he strokes his tongue across hers, sucks on her lower lip, comes back for more. He can feel her blood pounding, her hand in his hair as if to hold on.
She breaks the kiss first, breathing noisily against his mouth, half-laughing. Happy. He likes to hear that in this room. He spent a lot of nights lying awake next to her but not truly beside her, lying awake listening to her sleep, making sure she still breathed.
She didn't want anyone or anything touching her; she shrank from every chance encounter of their skin. At least at first. She had a few nightmares but woke herself before he could get out of bed; she would only let him go get her a glass of water and then let him watch her drink it slowly until she closed her eyes again.
"I have something for you," Kate says, violently pulling him from memories.
He glances down at her beautiful face, surprised to see his Kate and not the Kate of four months ago, the Kate who couldn't stand anything to do with the real world. His Kate is here now, back, and even though he sometimes still sees lingering remnants of that other Kate, she's aware now. She knows. She gets it.
"What do you have?" He tries to grin and make it sound naughty, but all he can really do is watch the flicker of joy come alive in her eyes.
She bites her lip and reaches into her back pocket. For a second, he thinks she's giving him the key to her father's place, and he's ready to be touched, ready for the symbolism of that act, but it's not a key.
It's metal, and it's shiny, but it's not a key.
It's the ring he saw at Robin's studio.
"You got me the crown?"
She curls her fingers back around the ring in her palm and takes him by the hand, chewing like mad on her bottom lip. Back to the sexy but slyly shy Detective he watched walk away from him that first case.
He lets her lift his hand up, spreads his fingers for her, and then watches Kate slide the metal band down snug to the base of his ring finger.
On his right hand.
"It's a. . .promise ring," she says softly, then glances up at him, that crazy beautiful smile all over her face. "That sounds stupid now that I've said it out loud. But. It's just that when you got all excited about it last night, I knew that I wanted you to have it, have what made you happiest. And then I. . .I knew that you made *me* happiest."
He laughs, catching her by the cheeks to press a kiss deep into her mouth, the cool metal warming between his finger and her skin.
"Because I love you, Castle," she murmurs, pulling away a little. "And maybe I might seem like the kind of girl who wouldn't let you get a ring like this, a goofy ring shaped like a crown, but I don't want to be that girl anymore. I want to be this one. The one who deserves you."
He can't listen to any more, can't do anything but seal his mouth to hers and take all she offers, all the beautiful things she's trying to do just for him, the ways she lets go or holds on, and most of all - the love that stands like a bedrock beneath their feet.
She rests her cheek against his, her hands brushing up and down his back. "I promise. Never to shut you out again, never to act like I can do it alone when it's so very clear that I can't."
He shakes his head. "That's the amazing thing about you, Kate. You can. You did. But I think you forget that it's easier when you don't have to do it alone."
She nods against him. "Except it. . .seems harder to me at first."
Kate just gave him a ring. He can't quite fathom it. No matter what happens after this, he's not sure anything she could do could hurt him again. Because she loves him. She gave him a ring.
He feels like a high school girl wearing the quarterback's class ring. And now he feels disturbed that he feels like that.
Castle hugs Kate tighter and drops a softer kiss to her downturned lips, teases them up into a breathy smile.
"You do realize, don't you Kate?"
"Hmm?"
"You just crowned me King."
Alexis exchanges a glance with Alex when the discussion over seating arrangements takes a heated turn; he's pressing his lips together, holding back a smile, and Castle's daughter firmly puts a lid on the laughter bubbling inside her.
It's not like they're yelling – both Elise and Lucie are far too polite to just have at it. It's one nicely-put comment after the other, but basically they could just be telling each other Go to hell.
"Think they're going to make it out alive, both of them?"
"Don't know," Alexis answers, fighting a grin. "Maybe you should do something. Be the white knight here. Seems like one is needed."
"Are you crazy? I'm *so* not interfering. This is dangerous. I'm not risking my life. I'm getting married next week."
Alexis was going to make a comment about cowardice, but she just can't now. Her whole being softens when he says the words "getting married."
"Are you scared?" She asks, a little shy, unsure that this is an okay question to ask.
But Alex laughs, leans back into his seat, seriously considering his answer.
They're both sitting on the couch, checking the wedding menus and programs and making sure there are no mistakes. Well, to be honest, they finished a while ago, but they've been. . .reluctant to attract attention.
The thing is, both Elise and Lucie seem to have very determined opinions about who should sit where, and neither is ready to let go, obviously. And Beth is just standing there, a hint of despair in her green eyes when she looks from her friend to her future mother-in-law.
Alexis feels a little sorry for her. But not enough to stand up and, like Alex himself put it, risk her life.
"Not. . .scared, exactly," Alex answers at length, tilting his head pensively. "More like, nervous. But the good kind of nervous. Like, when you have a test that you've studied hard for? And you walk into the room, and you're almost excited, because you're going to get a chance to show what you know, what you've learned."
"Yeah," Alexis smiles, surprised at how well she understands what he means. "Yeah, I know exactly the feeling."
Alex looks at her, his blue eyes so warm and friendly, and she feels affection rushing through her, tingling in her chest. She snags his hand impulsively, squeezes it.
"You're so good for Beth," she says, waves of joy and gratitude crashing over her.
He laughs, throwing his head back against the couch, and he pulls her to him, an awkward, sidways hug that feels wonderful.
"Oh, Little Castle, I don't know about that. I feel that, if anything, *I* am the lucky one. She's too good for me," he murmurs with a soft smile, turning his gaze to Beth who is looking at the plans drawn by her bridesmaid and mother-in-law.
"I think you're just right for each other," Alexis decides, giving him an approving little pat on the shoulder.
The vibrations of her phone distract her – it's sitting on the coffee table, sliding towards her as it rings and rings.
She detaches herself from Alex and grabs it, sees Ashley's picture on the screen.
"Excuse me," she tells the groom to be, before standing up and making her way to the kitchen for more privacy. She pushes the door closed behind her, and takes a deep breath as she answers.
"Ashley, hi!"
"Hey, Alexis! How's it going?"
He doesn't leave her time to give a proper answer, and something twists in her stomach. An anxious, bitter feeling, that sends a wave of nausea to her mouth.
"Look, uh, about next weekend –"
When he's read the wedding menu for the fourth time, and drawn a couple flowers around Beth's name (thank god, it's the sample version), Alex stands up to stretch his legs, stifles a yawn.
He's getting hungry. Maybe he can go out and buy pizza for everyone. His mother will argue that it's not healthy, but he really wants pizza. And from the look on Beth's face, she could use a distraction right now.
He manoeuvres his way to his lovely bride, careful not attract his mother's attention, and presses a kiss to Beth's neck.
She shivers against him, lifts anxious eyes to his face.
"What do you think?" she says, pointing out to the pictures she's studying. Flowers. Both arrangements look very pretty, one red roses and white lilies, the other white roses and deep purple...something.
"Which do you like more?"
"I – I don't know," she says, biting her lip. "Your mom likes the red and white better, but the deep purple lisianthuses are gorgeous. And at the same time, maybe we should go for green and white, because, really, the bridesmaids' dresses are green and –"
She can't finish because he's turned her chair to him and covered her mouth with his, kissing her softly, gently, before he rests his forehead against hers.
"Relax, Beth. They're just flowers," he murmurs. She sighs and gives a reluctant little laugh, bringing a hand to his cheek and caressing his skin.
"You're right. God. I need food."
"Speaking of which," he says, delighted that their minds are so alike, "I was thinking of getting us some pizza. What do you think?"
"Oh, yes, pizza," she moans against him, making him laugh. "Pizza. I want pizza. You, Alex Conrad, are an amazing man."
"I love you," he replies, struck once again by the truth of that statement, by the light and warmth that surround it.
He kisses her again, deeper this time, his tongue teasing her lips before sweeping inside her mouth, tasting, taking. She lays herself open, rich and beautiful against him, her fingers folding on the collar of his shirt; he almost forgets that they're not alone, but his mother's voice breaks his trance.
"Alex, don't distract your bride," Elise says gaily. "We still have work to do."
He groans, hangs his head. Beth laughs, this lovely and soothing sound, and he feels his whole body lifting up.
"Well, I'll get us supplies then," he offers. "Lucie, do you have anything against pizza?"
"Oooh, no I don't," Beth's friend says with a hungry look. "Pizza sounds perfect to me."
"A-lex," his mother sing-songs in a gently reproving tone.
"I'll get you a salad, mom, don't worry," he promises, and he moves fast, grabs his jacket, because he knows his mother won't be put off for long.
Beth catches him in the hall when he's about to step out, her eyebrows knit. He wants to kiss her, run his tongue over that tiny part of her mouth that she's worrying.
"Do you know where Alexis is?"
"Oh, uh."
Actually, now that she mentions it, he hasn't seen Alexis for a while.
"She went into the kitchen to take a call. Her boyfriend, I think. Haven't seen her since."
"Oh." Beth looks vaguely worried, and he can't resist. He presses his lips to hers, traces her jaw with his fingers.
"I'm sure she's fine, honey. But go find her, see for yourself."
"I will," she murmurs, giving him one last kiss before she steps back. "And you, go get my food. I'm starving."
"Yes, your majesty." He mock-bows, and retreats, but not before he catches the glimmer of desire in her eyes.
And that – oh, that just makes him hungrier.
But not for pizza.
Beth knocks softly, and when no answer comes, she pushes the door open cautiously.
"Alexis?"
The first thing she sees of the girl is her red hair; Alexis has her back to her, but the way her shoulders are trembling is unmistakable. Beth's heart twists in her chest.
"Oh, Alexis, baby."
She wants to gather the girl in her arms, console her, but Alexis turns to her and wipes her cheeks impatiently, forcing a smile.
"It's nothing."
"Lex."
Castle's daughter sighs, gestures at her phone on the kitchen counter.
"It's just. Ashley can't make it. He can't – come to the wedding."
Her voice is raw, tears shining through.
"I...I don't care," she goes on, biting her lip. "It's fine. I don't care."
"Trust me, no matter how many times you tell yourself that, it won't be enough to make yourself believe it," Beth says with a sad smile.
Alexis meets her eyes; she looks so fragile, so vulnerable. A little girl rather than a young woman.
"How do you do it then?"
Beth lets out a slow breath, weighs her words.
"There's no miracle cure, Alexis." She steps forward, lets her fingers curl around the girl's forearm, and tugs her closer. Alexis comes, rests her head on Beth's shoulder. "You just...go on living, focus on the little things, and then someday – you find that it doesn't hurt so much."
"It's just. . ." Indignation gathers in Alexis's voice, sparks of burning anger. Good. Anger is good, easier to manage than pain. "I never come first, Beth. He *never* puts me first. When he's supposed to Skype with me, he always has a game to go to, a dinner with his friends – I –"
"You feel like you count for nothing."
"Yes! Yes, exactly. And then, the only thing that really matters to me, your wedding, that we talked about weeks ago, that he promised me he would come home for, fly back to the city for the weekend –"
She stops, shakes her head furiously, lips pursed.
"He says he has to study."
The words come out as a snarl, contempt and disbelief laced together.
"He never said anything about studying before. It all sounded like fun and games and parties. And now he has this big exam he should study for?" Alexis swallows, dabs at her cheeks for the few tears that squeezed out. Beth looks at the girl, her sister, her adopted little sister, and she feels infinitely sad. Alexis deserves better than this.
"Do you believe him?" She asks gently.
"I don't know," Alexis sighs. "And even if I do. It doesn't change anything. He should have organized himself better, so that he could keep his promise to me. He should have..."
"Yes," Beth agrees quietly, kissing the girl's temple. "Yes, he should have." She hesitates. "Alexis. Did you guys break up?"
A small sob escapes Castle's daughter, but she quickly pushes her emotion back, stiffens her spine. "I...guess so? I yelled, and he yelled, and –"
She closes her eyes, rubs a hand over her forehead.
"Did you say it was over?"
"Not...exactly, no. I told him that if he couldn't put me before his friends and his parties and his exams, then there was no point in us being together. If he won't make the slightest effort..."
Beth embraces the slim shoulders, hugs Alexis.
"And you're right, Lex. You're very right. I know it hurts, but it's the right thing to do."
Alexis's breath trembles against Beth's neck.
"I think I know that too. And that's what makes me sad, Beth. I don't even regret it, because I know it's the way it should be. I mean, I see you and Alex, and my dad and Kate, and I just –"
"You want someone who will respect you, and see just how amazing you are. Nothing wrong with that, Alexis."
The only response she gets is the girl's arms tightening around her, and that's all she needs. Beth rocks them gently, providing what comfort she can, waiting until Alexis's breath settles.
And when it no longer feels like one of them might break apart any minute, Beth suggests playfully, "Now. Do you think some pizza would help make it better?"
She gets a grudging laugh for her troubles.
"Can I get ice cream too?"
And Beth laughs, hugging the girl tighter.
"Anything you want, Lex. Anything you want."
"Walk with me to the lake," Kate asks, offers. No question in her voice.
Castle looks up at her, surprised. They made lunch together and she insisted on doing the dishes afterwards, so he's been sitting in the tiny living room, trying to read an old John Le Carré novel (which has proved nearly impossible since his eyes automatically drift to his crown ring every couple seconds).
But the lake. Wow. The lake is where Kate spent her time this summer, when she wasn't holed up in her room. A lovely path through the trees leads to a cute little pier with a small fishing boat tied up, bobbing picturesquely on a mirrored lake. All her father's.
She never asked him to come with her, not once. The first time, she sneaked off while he was sleeping, and it was Jim who nodded him towards the lake. He went, because he didn't want to leave her alone, didn't want her to be lonely, but after a few hours of feeling superfluous and of not getting answers when he ventured to speak to her, he gave up. And he didn't try to go back out there with her.
She knows it, of course.
It's all over her face, the soft apology, the spark of joy when she holds out her hand to him.
He takes it.
"Sure."
They walk side by side down through the wind-shimmered trees, the last of the afternoon light touching their skin. The Kate of today looks so much better than the Kate of four months ago; stronger, fitter, more meat and less bone.
"I missed you," he says suddenly, not sure where that comes from.
She turns her head, watches him for a moment. "I know you did." She hasn't said she missed him too. Because, well, he knows better. She needed that space. He's not the same as her; he works differently. He doesn't mean he holds it against her.
She hesitates and opens her mouth, but he shrugs and shakes his head. "I don't need an explanation, Kate."
"What if I want to explain?"
"I'm not sure I want to hear it," he says honestly. He really can't imagine listening to her carefully, patiently try to soothe his fragile ego. He's not fragile; he knows she loves him. There's some hurt, and yeah, a lot of grief, but that was because she nearly died and he-
"I know you think that you're okay with it," she says carefully. "But you're not, Rick."
There goes the carefully part. Next is patient. Then soothing. "I'm good. I get it."
"Yeah, and while that's sweet of you, it's not right for our relationship. I made a mistake."
"You got shot. I think that forgives anything."
Kate falls silent, but he can tell she's just brainstorming a new attack. He's determined to be good about this, to chill. Be okay. Because she nearly died. She loves him; he loves her; she nearly died. What else matters except the fact that Kate Beckett is breathing beside him?
"You got hurt," she says finally, just as they clear the trees and emerge at the shoreline. Kate pulls him towards the dock, their shoes echoing on the wooden boards. She used to sit out here alone, staring at nothing, hunched over because of the wound, sometimes leaning against the wooden piling where the boat was tied.
"*You* got hurt," he says back, already able to feel the wide black gulf open up in him. That's done. He doesn't want that anymore.
"And because I did, you did too. We're together in this, and I know that. I knew that then. But it hurt to see you hurt. It made it impossible to struggle through, with your broken heart in my hands."
He gapes at her. Kate Beckett isn't a poet but that was-
"So you gave it back?" he says, incredulous. Angry. Angry again at her. How heartless she was-
He clenches his fists, finds that his hand is still in hers; he's crushing her fingers.
"I gave it back?" she murmurs, looking ashamed. "I didn't mean to. But I couldn't. . .wasn't strong enough to both heal myself and also heal you. I don't know how to do that, Castle."
"Obviously not." No. No more anger. She's alive; it's not right to be so angry at her when she's alive.
"I didn't mean to give it back. Did I do that?"
Of course not. It's her. Always has been.
She sighs; maybe she sees that on his face. "But I get it now. It's clear how this is supposed to work. I lost sight of that for awhile, how I-"
"But you came home with me," he says, clearing his throat, sweeping the anger away. "You finally came home with me."
"Because I needed you so badly," she whispers, turning her head. "I was being selfish."
Castle wraps his arms around her, burrowing his nose into her hair, this woman he loves and loves and sometimes finds so very frustrating. Insanely frustrating. He could kiss her neck or throttle her.
"Why did it take so long to give in?"
"It felt like I was making us unbalanced," she says immediately. So she's been thinking about it then. Asking herself as well. "I was taking too much and I had nothing at all to give. Everything hurt, Castle. Every part of me, inside and out, and I wasn't sure I was actually going to be able to stand on my own two feet if I didn't first stand alone."
"You never need to stand alone; I'm here-"
She curls her arms up his back, lifts her body into his. "No, I know. I meant literally, literally not be able to get up."
"Oh. Why-?"
"I spent most of my time out here trying to decide. It's. . .clear to me, Castle, what I've been doing. Trying to do."
"What do you mean?" He doesn't like talking to the top of her head; he lets go so he can see her face, but she seems to cling to him, staying with him, but he pulls back, combs his fingers along her scalp, down through her hair. She sighs and closes her eyes for just a second, her lashes looking like feathers on her cheeks.
"I've been trying to go after these guys behind my mother's murder even though every path I take ends in death. For the hired killers, the conspirators, for the Captain. For me. And if I'm going after them, then that means I'm also going after death."
"God, Kate. Don't-"
"It's death. I was blinded by this need for closure, but it's clear to me now. But at the same time, I'm coming home to you, to Alexis; I'm shopping with my sister in broad daylight. I'm taking this path - the one where we get married and have kids together and I-"
His whole body catches fire, a terrible and lovely burn, and he presses that heat into her with his mouth, both overwhelmed by visions of the future and terrified by the death that seems to haunt her.
When she breaks from his kiss, he can tell she's trying to keep it together, trying to remember the point. That strokes his ego enough to ease the anger that still gnaws in his guts like a malnourished beast.
"The two lives don't go together, Castle. Rick," she corrects herself softly. "I can't chase after death and also chase after you."
"When were you chasing me?" he grins, smiling into her chastised face. "I would've stayed still if I'd known."
Kate gives a laugh out into the golden air, puts her arms around his waist to lay her cheek at his shoulder. He slides his hands down to her waist, fingers at her curves, lets her rest for a moment.
"You're still enough now, aren't you?" she murmurs.
"I'm a statue. I'm frozen to the spot. I'm like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White and you have to come kiss me awake-"
She laughs and draws her hands back to his, dislodges them only to bring the hand with the ring up to his eyes. "You're no Sleeping Beauty. You're supposed to be the Prince."
"Prince Charming? Really, Kate? Cause that's the sappiest, syrupy, most romantic-"
"Shut up, Prince." She lifts on her toes and kisses him lightly, then opens her eyes and sighs against his mouth, long and melodramatic. "Still a frog."
Castle laughs, clutching her tight to him, dropping a kiss to her cheek, her temple, the flutter of her eyelashes. "So this is you chasing after me?"
"This is me chasing after you, Castle. And not death. Not anymore."
"Your mom's case-"
"I'll take what comes; I'll be careful. I can't abandon her. It. But it's a pitfall I'm going to walk around, avoid, go out of my way to not even go near again."
He wants to say Good with relish, but that sounds entirely too selfish even in his own head, so he doesn't. Still, he wants one more thing. Needs it.
"When you're hurt, Kate, when you're dying in my arms in the grass of a cemetery, the last. . .last thing I need is for you to try to protect me, my heart."
She sucks in a breath but nods.
"Healing my shot-up heart," - he starts, wonders for a moment if this is too soon, plows ahead - "all it would've taken is for you to show me yours. But you hid it away, something precious and vulnerable, and Kate, don't you know I'd never let anything happen to your heart? You never need to hide it from me; I know how precious it is."
She's got tears streaking her cheeks but she nods again, staying carefully in the circle of his arms but not stepping into his embrace, as if she's punishing herself. Castle draws her in, makes her come, kisses the wet slide of sorrow down her face.
"Don't be sad anymore, Kate. It's done. It's over. I don't want to be sad or angry or hurt anymore."
He can feel her swallow from where his fingers skim her throat; he leans in and takes a kiss, deepens is so she can taste how much new life he wants to fill her with.
In so many ways.