"Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it

My love

They are the hunters, we are the foxes

And we run"


Just as she suspected, he's a mess of jittery nerves on the plane - knee bouncing, foot tapping, hands twitching around the armrests - and she sighs, finally covers a set of the dancing fingers with her own after two straight hours of watching him fidget mercilessly.

Castle's head jerks towards her, a sheepish look on his face once he realizes the reason behind her touch.

"Sorry," he murmurs, but Beckett shakes her head, an immediate dismissal of his unwanted apology.

"Don't be. Never apologize, for any of it," she murmurs, only loud enough for them to hear as she presses against the armrest to be closer. "Just tell me how to help."

She watches his Adam's apple bob while he thinks, his pupils still dark and dilated with the barely subdued panic that will likely fail to receded until they're locked up in the safety of their new home in Russia.

"Tell me about where we'll be living," she prompts, smoothing her thumb over his knuckles, the way he always does when he's trying to calm her down from one of her own panic attacks. "You said it was in the mountains?"

"Well, kinda," he nods, rubbing at his eyes when they blink a little too rapidly. "It's a fifteen hour drive to the Altai mountains, just outside of Nov-" He clears his throat when his lips stumble over the name of the Russian city. "Novosibirsk."

"So we're really moving to Siberia? When you said seclusion, you weren't joking," she mutters, grinning when a strangled noise that passes for a laugh escapes his lips.

"I figured we could stay there for a couple of months and then transfer to this apartment I got us in Nizhny Novgorod," he explains, his voice slowly but steadily flowing into its normal, smooth tone.

"Have you been practicing the city names?" she asks, impressed with his pronunciation, and he nods quickly, that proud little boy look sparking and filling up his eyes, washing out the hysteria.

"Google translate is a lifesaver," he grins and she laughs into his shoulder. "And I can always rely on you to teach me."

"That didn't do us too much good in France, babe," she reminds him, gripping his fingers a little too hard when they encounter a brief bout of turbulence.

Ten more hours, not including the layover they have in Munich, until they reach the Tolmachavo airport in Novosibirsk, Russia, and once they finally arrive, it'll be a similar process to their arrival in France. They land, grab their bags, take a taxi to the nearest car dealership, and then drive for a handful of hours to a secluded location.

Their first time making a transfer to one of the safe houses had been exhausting, but there had been an element of exhilaration to the journey. Castle had felt like a spy and it had amused her to watch him pretend to be his own goofy version of James Bond. It wouldn't be that way this time around.

"French is hard," he whines and Kate smirks at the petulance he rarely displays much anymore. Over the course of the last six years, she's watched him mature, but he never lost the childlike charm. Not like he has in the last six months.

"And you think Russian will be easy?" she counters, scratching her thumb along the rim of his wedding band.

He shrugs, but his shoulders remain tensed and hunched to his ears when the flight attendant passes by. Beckett bites her bottom lip and reaches for the pack at her feet, retrieving her tablet from the side pocket.

"Hey," she murmurs, placing the device in his lap. "I have a few books loaded on there if you want to read," she suggests, hoping to distract him from the flaring paranoia and inner turmoil that she's sure is raging inside of him, but he's already shaking his head.

"I should write something," Castle sighs, more to himself as his eyes fall to the messenger bag at his feet. She's seen him writing quite a bit in the last few weeks, always in the pages of his moleskin journal, never on a laptop anymore.

"Are you still in contact with Paula?"

"No," he answers without hesitation. "Paula, Gina, everyone is just as clueless, except for your dad, my mother, the boys, and Alexis. They're the only ones we can trust and I can't risk exposing us through anyone else."

"But what about Nikki and Rook?" she questions in a whisper, her heart slowly beginning to crumble in on itself, atrophying. Not only has she taken him away from his life, but she's taken his career, his passion, from him as well. "Castle, what about the books? Your contracts and-"

"Kate." His hand slips from beneath hers to rise and curl at the back of her neck, thumb sweeping over the top of her vertebrae. "Nikki and Rook aren't going anywhere. Maybe once we're settled somewhere, I'll get in touch with someone from Black Pawn, work something out, but for now, I'm just going to keep writing. If not for anyone else, then for you."

She drops her head to his shoulder, taking a deep breath to calm the familiar swell of panic in her chest. The scent of his aftershave, the traces of baked bread and crisp pages, coffee grinds and wood, reminds her of home.

Breath comes easier.

"Can I read what you have now?" she asks, lifting her head, and Castle gives her a small smile while he nods, handing her the tablet while he takes his notebook from the carryon at his feet.

"You can read the adventures of Nikki and Rook while I play Angry Birds," he decides, trading the objects between them and her lips crack into a smile for him.

Kate holds the notebook to her chest as he powers on the handheld device, but she stretches across her seat to dust a kiss to his cheek before she opens his moleskin.

Castle glances to her in question, but she merely shakes her head. She doesn't have the words, but he seems to understand and reclaims her hand once more, holds tight to her fingers for the rest of the flight.


He had never pictured them living in a log cabin. Granted, the two-story home was more like a log mansion and it had all of the modernized features he could ask for, but it was still quite the culture shock.

The entire town is a culture shock.

"Castle." Rick turns in the middle of the kitchen at the sound of her voice. She's been exploring the place since they arrived, even after they had walked the house hand in hand. Kate had loved the place the moment they turned in the driveway, her dull irises coming alive at the sight of the wooden architecture that matches the majority of Suzdal, Russia - not their original destination, but still safe. For now.

Their flight had been a disaster. During their layover in Munich, their connecting flight to Novosibirsk had been delayed, and then cancelled altogether due to bad weather. He hadn't hesitated, hadn't allowed himself the chance to panic, booking the first flight to Moscow. Throughout their two hour wait time, he had researched smaller cities and towns on a phone he would have to discard before they boarded the plane. Suzdal was a near four hour drive from Moscow, a historic little town with a population of twelve thousand and a living but less than overwhelming existence of tourism. Exactly what he was looking for.

He found them a place they could rent for a month online, used one of the credit cards he had on hand under a fake name, and just fifteen minutes before they were due to board the plane, he was able to slump back against her in the terminal lounge and relax. Though, it wasn't easy knowing Kate was watching him with that clawing concern in her eyes, a look he's become all too accustomed to.

She had offered to drive from the airport after he caved and opted for a rental car instead of a taxi, too tired to find a dealership where they could purchase a more permanent vehicle, but the thought of sitting immobile with little to do while his wife took directions from the GPS had him feeling nauseous.

She had understood from a single look at him and handed over the keys to the sleek black Toyota SUV, and he was grateful, so grateful that she never judged him for the paranoia that had grown like a beast within the last 24 hours or the effects of the panic that sits upon both of their shoulders every single day. But it shouldn't surprise him, not when she's confessed to the exact same feelings and fears living inside of her.

Kate had slept during the last hour of the drive, but he had woken her once they reached the town, knowing she would want to see, and he'd been right. She had perked up, her eyes exploring the town with intrigue and simmering fascination that made him smile. Suzdal isn't a very modern area, still maintaining a Soviet-era undercurrent and the feel of a small village. The city itself is like a museum, the early Russian buildings all holding history, centuries of stories he can only imagine scattered through the town and waiting to be explored.

"Want to get married there next?" she had teased, flicking her eyes towards a magnificent cathedral in the distance, one of the many adorning the city, and he had smirked, reaching over to squeeze her knee while navigating around a horde of livestock roaming the streets.

Definitely not modernized.

"Don't tempt me," he'd warned and she had claimed his hand, bringing his knuckles to her lips for a nip of her teeth in response.

"You okay?" Kate asks, drawing him back to their small kitchen. She wanted to drive back into town tomorrow, roam the city, and he hadn't been able to deny her that, not when he was anxious to explore the quaint but beautiful little town as well.

Picturing themselves happy and thriving here was a dangerous idea. They needed to be more careful than they had ever been before, not out in plain sight, wandering through a city like tourists.

"I'm okay," he assures her, sweeping a stray strand of hair that's escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. "You like the house?"

"It's different," she muses, stepping in closer and hooking her fingers in his belt loops. "I like the bathroom a lot."

A laugh escapes his lips. "The bathroom?"

"It's the only room that isn't made of wood," she reminds him with a laughing grin of her own.

She did have a point. Every inch of their current home was covered in the log cabin style - the walls, the floor, even the furniture crafted from logs and smoothly carved wood.

"We can redecorate, right?" he whispers, staring at the wooden benches surrounding the dining table with an undisguised mixture of disgust and horror.

Kate chuckles as she nods and tugs on his belt loops.

"Definitely. But for now, I think we should test out the bed."

He arches an eyebrow at her, allowing her to guide him towards the stairs and feeling the final vestiges of his built up distress fade away.

"Ah Beckett, always making me feel so at home."

"I do what I can," she murmurs, throwing him a wink over her shoulder and a playful smile that has her tongue pressing to the barrier of her teeth. His favorite smile.

She presses him down onto the soft, unmade bed moments later, settling atop him and feathering her hands under his shirt, heating his skin with her touch while her mouth over his steals his breath.

"Mm, I love you," he murmurs around her tongue before she can render him totally speechless and Kate's eyes meet his with concern, but he doesn't want that, doesn't want every confession of his love for her to feel like last words. "I just - wanted you to know."

She shakes her head and lowers her mouth to the exposed skin of his chest, dusting a kiss to the pounding of his heart.

"I know you do," she mumbles into his flesh, sending a shiver rippling down his spine that has a wicked grin spreading across her lips, an interesting contrast to the tenderness in her eyes when she lifts her head. "I always know. And I love you back."

For the rest of the night, he forgets about everything except the taste of her skin and the dance of her body over his. He forgets about everything but her.


Their home in Russia is just as nice as the one in France, beautiful and as secluded as they could find in the outskirts of Suzdal, but not yet their own after only three weeks of living. There was no way to determine how long they would be here, if it would be another six months, less or longer, but she secretly looked forward to making this place a temporary home for them, just like they did in France. It keeps her mind off of things, focusing on something simple like what color their couch should be or what kind of rug should adorn the living room floor, and lately, while she's been browsing for furniture online, she's fallen into the habit of marking her favorite pieces. For when they find a home they won't have to abandon.

The knock on the door has her sitting up from her lounging position on the couch and placing the laptop on the nearby coffee table. Castle's already forgotten his keys to the place once, so she doesn't hesitate in rising with a smirk stretching her lips. She had been feeling sick all morning and even though they had been to the market only a few days ago, Rick had offered to return today to find her some medication for the unrelenting nausea. She would have gone with him if it weren't for the growing queasiness that threatens to send her light breakfast up her throat; she always has a good time when they venture into town.

The locals had welcomed her from the first day, smiling with excitement when she had spoken the native tongue with ease, laughing at Castle when he made an attempt to do the same. Unfortunately, the Russian translation app on his phone could only aid him so much.

Kate pads towards the front door, bare feet freezing over the hardwood floors, and curls her fingers around the handle of the heavy wooden door, expecting her husband to be on the other side.

But a glance through the peephole tells her otherwise and her entire body goes stiff. The unwanted visitors on the other side must sense her hesitation, probably having heard her approach, and she scrambles for the deadbolt, but it's too late, and then the door is swinging open.

"Well, Detective Beckett. It's about time."