Doomsday
He found out what they were doing, all behind his back. Kate didn't seem to know about it either; she looked just as suprised when Castle pushed past Ryan and into the bedroom.
"It's just - it's - I didn't want to worry you," Alexis said, trying to keep him out of what should have been his mother's room. Kids and adults had been going in and out all day long, braiding hair and getting something, when really, it turned out they were watching the news.
"There was an earthquake in Sri Lanka," Esposito said, looking not at all apologetic, still blocking the way. "And then the tsunami hit after that."
"What?" Kate pushed past them into the room.
He felt his chest constrict. "Ryan, your sisters' husbands are-"
"Not in Sri Lanka."
He heard Kate snort on a laugh, gave her a glare. "But they-"
"They're fine."
"They have the only garage door openers."
"I gave them to the guys," Alexis said, hanging onto his arm as he came into the room. "I thought-"
"No, it's not your fault. It's just. There's no way to get out without them."
"Oh. I didn't know that."
He winced and met her eyes; she looked guilty for it, and it wasn't her fault. "Hey, don't worry about it. They'll be back. We're holding their kids hostage, right?"
"That might be incentive to never come back," she sighed, rolling her eyes. Very much like Kate, who was currently looking at him with exasperation.
He cut his eyes towards the boys, staring them down. "Earthquake?"
Esposito and Ryan parted and let him see the television screen - CNN was reporting massive casualties in Sri Lanka, massive waves coming ashore in India, and billions of dollars worth of damage. Volunteers crammed into Red Cross vehicles, people set up in makeshift refugee camps, and officials giving status updates about power outages and unclean drinking water.
"Wow."
Kate was at his side suddenly, pressed into him. He glanced at her, not sure what he was seeng on her face, but she was tangling her fingers with his. And that was nice. That felt good.
"So. This happened when?"
"Sometime last night."
"Which was already December 21st for them, wasn't it?"
Ryan and Esposito exchanged looks, but said nothing. He knew anyway. He did a rough estimate in his head, figured Sir Lanka was 12 hours ahead. Roughly. Give or take an hour or two.
Yeah. December 21st. He was tempted to say I told you so but in the face of real world disaster, in the face of truly terrible events, it seemed petty and small-minded. The urge didn't fade entirely though.
It did prompt him to pull out his phone, shoot an email to his accountants naming a Red Cross donation. Later, there would be OxFam and other organizations working to rebuild the region, and he would do something about that as well, but for now-
He saw Kate at his elbow, realized she was doing the same. Texting to the Red Cross so that the donation would appear on her phone bill; the number was on the CNN report. It was like a sucker punch, seeing her serious and wanting to do something, just like Beckett, wanting to make a difference. And she was. She always did.
Castle slid his phone back in his pocket, saw his daughter watching him. He nodded and her face cleared; she slipped her arms around him and gave him a hug, her head under his chin.
"Thanks, Dad."
He hugged her harder, grateful she was safe, alive, not having to worry about earthquakes or refugee shelters. She'd told him one time, when she was about fourteen or so, that she wanted to volunteer for the Peace Corps. He - it still made his knees go weak to think about it, but her tender heart was a beautiful thing and he'd never discourage it.
Kate was already sinking to the bed, sitting in front of the television to watch, so Castle did as well.
He didn't want to be right.
"I can't believe everyone's been keeping that from me," he sighed, catching a moment with her in his bathroom. She was washing her hands; he'd followed her in after a respectable time following the toilet flushing, and now leaned against the shower door to watch her.
Kate turned and gave him a look, drying her hands, maybe rolling her eyes as well. "I can't believe you're surprised."
He huffed at her, waited until she turned around, then slid his hands along her waist and tried reeling her in. She resisted, studying him, but he hadn't expected it to be easy. He had ways around her natural isolation, though.
"Four," he said, quirked an eyebrow.
It took her only a moment. "Castle."
"These are good conversations to have now," he said. "Important. Because you know, what if I only wanted two kids? And you're coming in here wanting four and-"
She shoved on his shoulder, but her cheeks were flaming and her eyes had a hint of barely restrained panic. He liked that, made her seem feral, like he was confronting a tigress. It was terribly sexy.
At least, that's what he was telling himself. Otherwise it might hurt.
"But we're kinda jumping the gun here," he started.
"Yes, exactly," she said, sounding relieved.
"What about the wedding? Big or small?"
She groaned and pressed her forehead against his shoulder, coming into his arms as she did. Now he could wrap himself around her, be extra clingy and needy and girly. He liked making her freak out, in small ways, when she was trapped here, because he knew she had nowhere to run. No place to hide.
"It's best to get these things cleared up ahead of time," he said. "That way they don't surprise us."
"Castle," she complained. But she said nothing more, wasn't exactly telling him to stop.
"How about a medium sized wedding. You know how beautiful Kevin and Jenny's was? Like that," he said softly, knowing it was too much, it really was, but unable to stop himself. "They both have big families, so I know that was a lot of people, but I think it was still intimate enough."
Her heart was beating hard between them; it made them both shake. But he held on, pushed through because this really was an ideal time to make her talk. Or at least listen.
He caught up her arm, smoothed his fingers over the soft skin at her inside wrist until he was holding her hand.
"Your dad would give you away. Even though no one could ever give you to anyone, I know," he murmured, felt her heat against him. "And I don't know anyone who would want to give you away; I only want to keep you with me."
Her groan was less mortified and more - he liked to think - seduced. He was seducing her with the picture he painted.
"I have no idea what style of wedding dress, but I think - I think I can imagine the way your eyes would look, searching for mine, coming down the aisle."
She lifted her face to him and there it was, the look he was picturing, tender and overwhelmed and maybe still a little fearful of the unknown but willing. Willing.
"I'd take your hand, just like this," he said softly, leaning in to brush his cheek against hers, fingers dappling the back of her hand, his thumb curling.
And then she spoke, a ragged breath in, the word on the exhale- "Yeah."
His heart pounded as it took off, took flight. "Yeah."
It took him a moment to catch his breath, to remember where they were in the story.
"I'd rub my thumb along your fingers, and I know that I wouldn't hear a word of the ceremony, watching you."
He couldn't see her face, but he could feel the haunt of her lips near his cheek, hovering. "I'd - I'd prompt you," she whispered suddenly, squeezing his fingers as she said it, letting him know, instantly, exactly how it would go, how it would feel to stand up with her in the church, her fingers squeezing his to get him to speak the words.
"Thank you," he said back. "I'd need it." You. I'd need you.
"What else?" she said softly, her lips brushing his ear as she spoke.
"I'd put a ring on your finger. And you'd be mine."
A nip of her teeth at his jaw for that, his body thrumming in response, words strangled suddenly in his throat.
"Or maybe you'd just be mine," she said back, her voice like steel wool - strong, so strong, but malleable, forgiving. Her hand twisted to clutch the knuckle of his ring finger, her fingers wrapped around his.
"I'm already yours," he admitted.
She hummed at that, but they both knew it to be true. No point now claiming it wasn't.
"Then what, Castle?"
"Then I'd kiss you."
"How?"
He showed her how, his mouth at first reverent, adoring, grateful for the chance to have married her, even in a story, and then it was more, then it was urgent and needful and her tongue blazing a hot trail along his.
When she broke roughly apart from him, she leaned away, not looking at him, three fingers pressed to her lips as she tried to catch her breath. But her hips were flush with his, her body wasn't going anywhere. She was just - taking a moment. She looked amazing; she looked like she was his.
He had more he wanted to say. "When we're up there, I'd have to promise you in sickness, for poorer, til death do us part, but not even death could do it, Kate. Death couldn't part us. Instead - instead I'd promise you forever."
By the look on her face, she believed him. She finally believed in his forever.
The fingers against her lips dropped. And then she completely unmade him.
"Castle, would you?"
What?
"Would you marry me?"