Doomsday

"It's not alive," she said again.

It's not alive.

"Unequal cooling of its surface," the radio announcer reported. "Nothing more. Although the metal casing is definitely extra-terrestrial."

"Oh my God."

"Castle," she growled, turning her head to look at him. "Of course, it's extra-terrestrial. It's a meteorite. By definition, it is not from this planet."

"But the metal is-"

"Not from aliens," she insisted, giving her father a swift look to shut him up as well. Her dad wasn't a big believer in anything like this, but he did love to antagonize, stir things up, play devil's advocate. "Whatever metal it is - just a rock that fell-"

"-from the sky. A rock that fell from the sky," Castle said intently. "How can you-"

The grating noise that came from the radio stunned him into silence; Beckett found herself holding her breath as they listened.

Metal against metal.

Castle was gripping the wheel too tightly and Beckett could feel the car picking up speed. She reached out and closed her hand around his forearm, squeezed until his shoulders dropped a little.

"Castle."

He glanced at her quickly.

"You need to drive. Safely," she said. He was nodding back at her.

The radio flared loudly between them. "Keep those men back. It's flaking off - the metal is flaking off - keep those idiots back!"

Her heart was not pounding. This wasn't - this wasn't aliens, that was ridiculous, this was-

"Oh my God," Castle breathed. "What in the world? Well, no, not in the world, right? That's the point. It's not from this world at all. It's - it's the end of the world, just like the Mayan calendar predicted-"

She squeezed his arm harder, wanted to punch him in the shoulder - she was so close to it - for letting his imagination run away with him when clearly, clearly, this was nothing more than-

"War of the Worlds," Jim said quietly, and reached past her over the center console to snap off the radio. He sighed.

Beckett froze.

"What?" Castle said harshly.

"It's a modernized version of Orson Welles's broadcast from 1938-"

"I know what - are you - we were listening to-"

"You were," Beckett interrupted grimly, dropping her hand from him. "You were listening and jumping to conclusions-"

"But you believed it too," Castle insisted, glaring at her. "In fact, it was only when I got back in the car and you were so certain that it made me-"

"Panic?" she said. "You panicked. Like a girl."

"Like you," he put in. "You panicked too."

"Okay, all right, break it up," her father said. She glanced back at him and he was smirking. He'd known all along what it was, had only let it go on for as long as it did because he was having fun.

"Dad-"

"It's fine. We're all fine. There's no meteorite in New Jersey. Honestly, Katie, I'm shocked you were taken in. I thought, for sure, when I said it was only on NPR, that you'd figure it out."

She blushed furiously and turned her head to stare out the window at passing scenery. And then realized - they were still headed to Castle's bunker.

"No. Wait. Turn around, Castle. Take me home. Take my father home. This is-"

Her dad's hand on her shoulder made her stop, stare at him in surprise. He shook his head at her.

But.

Dad.

Castle gave her a sharp cut of his eyes, back to the road, again to her, trying to gauge her reaction maybe or trying to figure out what she and her father weren't saying.

And she knew. Even if NPR was parodying the doomsdayers, even if her father was having fun at their expense, it didn't mean that Castle didn't think they might not survive December 21st.

"Zombie hordes, huh?" she said quietly, resigned to it.

Castle sighed, a long sound that echoed in her chest and ached. "Yeah. I've even got a manual. 'How to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse.' You could read it when we get there."

"How much longer?" she asked, tracing her finger over the condensation in the glass. The heater blew forcefully across her cheek and neck, drying out her skin.

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes," he answered.

"Okay," she said. It was nearly eleven o'clock.

"Leather," he stated matter-of-factly, using his key in the steel door.

He'd driven them underground into a kind of parking garage - five cars already here - and then helped unload their stuff from the trunk and led the way to the door set into the concrete.

It truly was a bunker built into the ground, state of the art he'd promised, and entirely unlike him. While also being exactly like him.

"Why leather?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

The door turned and he grinned, then stepped aside to let her and her father go first. "Because the only things zombies have as weapons are their teeth and claws - rotting teeth, mind you, and fingernails that are ripped to shreds. Can't puncture leather. All you need is a leather outfit-"

"I think this is a wild and crazy excuse for you to see me all in leather, Castle."

Her father chuckled at the look on his face, shook his head at her as he moved further into the space. The garage door led to-

his loft.

"How? Did you-?" Kate slowly turned around as Castle shut the door behind them. "Castle. This is creepy. Even for you."

"I was severely lacking in imagination at the time."

"I find that impossible to believe," she shot back.

"I bought it when Alexis was a baby. I was still in my wild spending phase - to an extent. I just spent it all on her. At least she was too little to be spoiled."

"But why?"

Before he could explain, a horde of people (not zombies) stampeded towards them, leaving Kate gaping. Ryans. All Ryans, had to be. She remembered most of them from the wedding, and there were the twins, oh no, no, those holy terrors-

"Ryan," she said evenly, glaring at the detective. He detached himself from the crowd and slipped up to her and Castle.

"Sorry. I - I couldn't not tell them."

"Of course not. And they're all completely welcome," Castle said, and Kate was impressed that his voice held no ire, not even a trace of discomfort, all warm invitation and strong conviction.

He was a better man than she gave him credit for.

Alexis broke through the crowd to hug her father, Martha trailing behind; Kate found herself shifting closer to her own dad, his hand coming up to rest at her back, that single touch, connection, which made her both stronger and more vulnerable at the same time.

"Hey, Dad," Alexis said, her cheek to her father's shoulder.

"You find places for everyone?"

"Yeah. But it's going to be tight."

"No problem. What's left for Jim and Kate?"

Alexis shifted on her feet and shot Kate a look that seemed apologetic. "Um."

"I helped assign everyone," a voice rang out, and the crowd parted again to allow Lanie through. "It's on me. I'll show you."

Lanie.

Lanie, what did you do?

It wasn't exactly the loft. Only one floor of living space and a floor below them, accessible by stairs, which held canned goods, the generator, a walk-in freezer (which she was going to stay well clear of), and storage. The rooms on the main floor were spacious enough, but with Ryan's whole family crowding in, everyone had to double up.

Lanie, practical and devious, had made the room assignments. Her father was sharing space in what would have been Martha's room, in fact actually was her room here as well, with one of Ryan's sisters and her husband in the floor on a blow-up mattress. Martha's room, at least, had two single beds; she was grateful her father had a bed, since his back seized up on him from time to time.

Ryan and Jenny, Esposito and Lanie, plus another Ryan sister and her husband were all sharing what Kate normally thought of as the guest room, her room, and it looked smaller and more cramped than she rememebred. Alexis had given up her bed to the last Ryan sister and husband, and in her room were at least five of the youngest kids.

The rest of the kids were in the living room or camped out in his study.

Which left her and Castle.

And of course. They were sharing. A bed. A room.

Alone. It didn't seem fair, but a Ryan sister explained how they were all used to packing in tight and how it was Mr. Castle's place - he's being so generous - and how it was only right that they have a little privacy in his own home - bunker.

She stared at Castle; he stared at Lanie. The master bedroom was empty save for the three of them.

"What?" she asked.

"Lanie. Seriously," Beckett muttered, realizing with horror that she'd said seriously seriously way too many times. Even now. Still. Couldn't stop herself. It was all ridiculous.

"What? You said, right before this summer, that you and Ca-"

"Lanie," she growled. "That was before this summer."

Castle deflated, his shoulders slumping, his head turning away, and her guts dropped out of her at the look on his face.

Heart stinging, she shoved Lanie out of the room with a fierce and deserved glare, shut the door on her former best friend, and turned back to Castle.

"Rick."

"I - I can sleep on the floor."

Arg. "No."

There was a taint to the silence that she couldn't work her mouth around, didn't know what to say.

"Before this summer . . . we what?" he asked after a moment.

She swallowed. He wasn't looking at her. "Nothing," she said quickly.

He sighed, rubbed his hand down his face. "Yeah. That's - par for the course with us."

Nothing.

"I - it was going to be-" She stopped, her heart pounding, but couldn't admit it to him now, not after everything. Not after this summer. How she'd wanted him. Still. Par for the course.

He turned mournful eyes to her, lost opportunities written into every line of his face. "Yeah. I figured."

And then he walked away.

She waited for him; he stayed locked in the bathroom through a shower, through some noises that she couldn't identify, and then through a long silence that slowly turned her inside out. But she waited.

When he finally came back through the door of the master bath, his steps immediately faltered to find her standing there.

"All yours," he said quickly, gesturing for her to enter.

"Which?" she asked, stupidly, thoughtlessly, the word coming out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"Which-?"

You or the bathroom, but she didn't say it.

"Castle," she said, heard the soft reluctance in her own voice and winced. Not what she'd intended to sound like.

"I'm gonna check on everyone in the living room. It's late-"

"Wait," she implored, grabbing hold of his forearm and keeping him there. "Wait. We - there are things that ought to be said."

"No. No need. We both know - and - that's enough."

"It's not enough," she growled. "If this is the end of the world, then how can it be enough?"

She caught the flare of barely suppressed emotion in his eyes, both fear and need, lingering panic around the tight lines at his mouth.

"You don't think it's the end of the world, Kate."

"I don't. But you're halfway convinced."

He shook his head as if to refute her.

"Convinced enough to show up at my door and drag me out of my apartment. Convinced enough to make a fool of yourself to save my life - possibly save," she said. His eyes closed. "Castle."

"Yeah, I'm an idiot. I know. But if there's a panic, if stuff does happen, then I need-"

"Me."

He nodded and his arms were around her before she had a chance to even offer, and of course she was on her way to offering, she really was, of course she was, so she just wrapped herself around him and held on. Just held on.

Castle squeezed her tighter, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She stroked her fingers through his hair, wished they had the summer to do over again, but couldn't figure out how it might have gone any differently.

"You know I love you," she murmured.

He nodded.

"You know it doesn't change anything."

He nodded; his breath trembled against her skin.

"You know what I need from you."

But you won't give it to me. To save my life, like a fool.

He nodded again, started tangling his fingers in her hair so she wouldn't move away. She knew it for what it was, didn't try to scold him for it. She had no intention of moving.

"Sometimes it's a nightmare," he said then, and shuddered on a sigh that went straight to her bones, aching.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for loving me."

"I'm not," she admitted. She was sorry he loved her so much that he was selfless about it. She was sorry that he loved her enough to let her go, because she didn't want to be let go. "Are you sorry I do?"

"Of course not. But this summer, I-"

"Things would've gone differently, sure. Yes. But it wouldn't have been right. And you know that. It's why you told me."

"You aren't - aren't okay with it yet."

"No." How did she become okay with him betraying the very thing they'd built their relationship on? And persisting in that betrayal? Even still. "You have a murder board down here too?"

He stiffened in her arms and withdrew, and she hated herself for asking.

"No."

She bit her lip, tried to apologize for bringing it up when they'd agreed they'd never see eye to eye on this, she'd never be okay with him risking his life, his family, for her, and he'd never be okay with not having all of her if he didn't-

She had words for this apology though, this time at least, and so she'd say them.

"Come to bed, Castle."