"Lights flash and we'll run for the fences
Let them say what they want, we won't hear it"
"Will you just tell me where we're going?" she sighs, keeping close to his side as they meander through the cobblestone streets of the village, breathing in the fresh scent of bread and pastries when they bypass one of the bakeries.
They come into the village once a week, twice at most, shopping for groceries and the occasional decoration for the house they're still making their own after six surprising months. Kate doesn't always come with him, their shared paranoia of being recognized sometimes keeping her from leaving the property for weeks at a time, but there's so much space, so much land to roam, that she doesn't mind being confined to their home most times.
"It's a surprise," he says for the third time since she's asked and she growls under her breath.
The village isn't very large and they spend only a few more minutes walking in comfortable silence before Castle is bringing them to a stop in the commune square, in front of the Mairie.
Kate shoots him a questioning look, but he only guides her inside the city hall-like establishment, speaking broken French to the man at the door. Something about documents, a scheduled appointment, and – did he just say civil ceremony?
"Castle, what did you do?" she whispers and he finally turns to her, cradling both of her hands in his.
"I wanted to do something special for your birthday," he murmurs, smoothing his thumbs over the concave bones of her wrists, but her heart is starting to pound, the blood rushing loud in her ears as one of his hands abandons her, reaching into his pocket and returning with two matching wedding bands. "I want to marry you, Kate. I want to call you my wife and I don't want to wait anymore."
The man comes back with paperwork, laying it all out carefully on the mahogany desk they're standing in front of, and shit that's the mayor. He's serious, this is real, and they're getting married right now.
"Rick-"
"If you don't want to do this," he husks, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "If you want to wait until we're back in the states, until we're… our old selves again," he shrugs. "I can do that, Kate. Whatever you want. But after what you said last month, I just thought…"
Oh – oh, she had said she wanted to call him her husband, hadn't she? They had been lounging in bed on a lazy Sunday morning and she had curled up against him, whispered the longing against the hollow, warm skin of his throat.
Kate bites her lip and leans into him, shaking her head.
"Okay," she breathes, watching the smile stretch wide across his lips, cracking his entire face open with light. "Marry me, Castle."
An hour later and she is officially Sara Rodgers.
The simple gold band on her finger enraptures her for the entire day, holding her attention with ease on the way home, stolen only by the man at her side.
Her husband.
Kate bites her lip and presses in closer to him, dropping a kiss to his bare shoulder while his arm curls around her. By the time they had finally made it back home, their first act as newlyweds had been to consummate their marriage, preferably in their bed, but they hadn't made it past the living room floor.
"Cold?" he murmurs, welcoming the drape of her leg at his thigh as she snuggles against his chest, an idiotic grin on her face, but she just can't help it. She's giddy with their three hours of marriage, drunk on the beauty of the tiny ceremony they had inadvertently shared with the town square and the devotion in his eyes as he had slid the ring onto her finger and whispered "I do".
"No," she hums even though the chill of the hardwood is seeping through the rug beneath them and the soft throw blanket covering them is doing very little to combat it. "You?"
"You're keeping me pretty warm," he admits on a chuckle and she nips at his clavicle, just to feel him shiver beneath her.
"Sure about that?"
"Calm down, Mrs. Rodgers, I need recovery time before I can do that again," he warns her and she laughs, lifting on her elbows to grin down at him.
"Mrs. Rodgers," she echoes, testing the name on her tongue. It doesn't sound quite as appealing as 'Mrs. Castle', but it doesn't sound wrong either.
"When all of this is over," he starts, raising one of his hands to her bare shoulder, curving his palm over the sculpted bone. "We'll get married for real, Kate, I promise, but I just-"
"This is real," she protests, defensive in her protection of their marriage as she sits up, brow furrowing with hurt when the weight of his words sinks in. "Isn't it?"
Castle follows her, using the connection of touch to keep her close.
"Of course it's real," he says quickly, squeezing her hip in reassurance. "I just meant… I want to be able to call you by your real name when I put a ring on your finger. I want my daughter standing with us, your dad walking you down the aisle, the wedding we were supposed to have."
She deflates a little at the jarring jerk back from bliss, back into reality, and nods her agreement.
"You're right," she murmurs, scraping a hand through her tousled hair and tugging the blanket up to her chest. "Rick and Sara Rodgers are just characters. It isn't real."
"No," he growls, huffing in exasperation before catching her chin when she turns to look away, gentle in his touch despite the sudden aggression in his voice. "That is not what I meant, Kate. Not at all. The names may not be real, but this-" He motions between them. "is and so was that ceremony. That wasn't just some ruse to add to the authenticity of our aliases."
Kate sighs and ducks her head, sliding her thumb over the gleaming gold of the ring on her finger, watching from behind the curtain of her hair as Castle's hand slips over hers, his own ring clinking softly with hers.
"You are my wife, Kate. Now and even when all of this is over and we're back in New York."
"What if it's never over, Castle?" she questions, the fear that sticks with them like an unshakeable force twining around her chest, always constricting.
"Then we'll roam the entire world and I'll marry you in every country," he shrugs, but she knows he means it. He would marry her in every country under any name, and her lips quirk, the recently extinguished joy creeping back into her heart.
"Thank you," she says quietly, lifting her head, letting him see it all raw and open in her eyes. He hates it when she thanks him for much these days, for their life together, but he doesn't sigh or dispute with her now.
Castle's lips spread, a smile so tender it's contagious, and leans forward, knocking his forehead against hers, nudging her nose with his own.
"Toujours," he husks, the promise flowing from his mouth like silk, the one word of their new language he had memorized without trouble.
Always.
The call comes in a week later. The familiar number flashing across the screen of the burner phone instantly has her feeling nauseous. They only talk to Ryan and Esposito when necessary and the boys are never the ones to make the call.
"What is it?" she answers, abandoning the dough in the kitchen to head for the sliding glass doors. She had been trying to bake bread, like the woman at the bakery they both liked had shown her last week, but now her chest is tight, her scar throbbing beneath her circling fingertips.
"He's moving forward in the campaign," Ryan replies, his voice sounding strained, worn. "He has a good chance of winning, Beck- Sara."
Kate wraps an arm around her middle, cradling the cage of her ribs, forcing the panic to stay inside.
"And he's looking for you again."
She freezes, her eyes going wide, the phone nearly slipping from her fingers.
"How do you know?" she mumbles, pressing her forehead against the glass of the doors, training her eyes on the blue of the lake, timing her breaths to the rhythm of the small waves.
"Esposito has been keeping track of him, close track. He managed to bribe one of the security officers, had a bug planted in his office. He wants you gone. As soon as possible."
"Does he know where I am?"
"No, he's still blind," Ryan assures her and she drags in another ragged breath. "But I still - I hate to tell you this, but I think you have to relocate."
The breathless sob rips its way from her throat unexpectedly and she has to lower herself to the floor as her knees buckle.
"I'm sorry," Ryan whispers and she can hear the sorrow he holds for her, for Castle, for all of it. "I'm so sorry. I wish it was safe enough for you to come back-"
"Why can't we?" she manages to get out, swiping furiously at her eyes. "I know there isn't enough evidence yet, but we could still fight this, we could still-"
"He's running for president," Ryan reminds her in a hushed tone. "His protection is stronger than ever. I want this over as badly as… almost as badly as you do," he corrects and she wants to cry, wants this conversation to be over so she can let go of the thin strip of control keeping her breakdown at bay. "We want you guys to come home. But he'll kill you the second you're back in the city. Both of you."
Kate presses her forehead to her bent knees. "I know he will."
"We'll work harder," Ryan promises her, voice alight with a spark of determination. "He won't become president. He won't."
"He won't," Kate echoes, because there's nothing else to say, but they both know with damning certainty that there is a good chance he will.
Bracken will become president and they will never be able to take him down. They'll never be safe again.
