A/N: The middle of this one is angst and I know not everyone is into that. But have no fear, we come out the other side before it's all over.
Chapter 5:
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The next day was Saturday, but weekend or not there was a lot of paperwork to finish filling out that Beckett had blown off the previous evening.
7:30am found her sitting in her parked cruiser with her fingers pressed to her lips, desperately trying to swallow down tears born of the unexpected dose of emotion she'd received when she slid into her car. She was grinning and sniffling and looking around the vehicle's interior with watery eyes.
The windshield, the dash, the gear shift, and the steering wheel were covered in post-its. Everyone was green and held a short description, sometimes including a location. With trembling hands, she peeled one off and held it protectively in her hands to read it.
Starbucks
Coffee, raspberry muffins.
I liked them, you didn't.
I held the door.
She grabbed another, carefully aligning it with the first so that the sticky parts matched up.
Remy's.
You let me buy
You twirled your hair.
Beckett pursed her lips at that, rolling her eyes even as she was eagerly reaching for the next one.
We attended two weddings together.
And another.
I brought you flowers.
And another.
I brought a bottle of wine.
We discussed theory.
You let me spend the night.
(On the couch. Still counts.)
She laughed.
We watched Forbidden Planet together.
They went on and on. Each note was placed fastidiously into her growing pile. Some were vague but some were very specific, bringing her back to some of the more cherished moments of their friendship. She read them all and when she was done she wrapped a rubber band she found at the bottom of the cup holder around the little stack. She cradled it sentimentally to her chest, fingers stroking tenderly over the words, the evidence, before slipping the pile into her coat pocket.
The warm feeling in her chest only grew stronger on the drive to the precinct. By the time she was stepping off of the elevator she was practically bursting with it, beaming out a smile that left some officers frowning disapprovingly at her while some smiled reflexively. When she saw Esposito he raised his eyebrows.
"What, you win the lottery or something?" He asked, smirking. Nothing had been said between them, but Espo knew Beckett better than almost anyone. He knew why she had been so happy these last few days, and he knew why she'd been trying to leave at a reasonable hour the night before.
"Sort of," was all she said, shooting him a victorious smile when he turned down his mouth in repulsion.
"You make me sick, Beckett."
She shrugged unapologetically, still grinning, and moved toward her desk where Castle was sitting nonchalantly in his chair. She met his amused gaze with a big broad smile, so happy, and sat. Castle drummed his fingers along the edge of her desk and held her gaze, both cheerful and intent, and she tried to form words in her suddenly dry mouth. Unsuccessful, she pulled out the neat little stack of post-its and waved them at him.
"So," she managed, then found herself at a loss.
"So," he echoed, "Kate. I was thinking that last night was nowhere near our first date."
"Oh." Words had left her completely, replaced by the giddy, contented delight that he added to every time he said her name or smiled at her.
"I mean," he leaned closer and dropped his voice, tapping one finger on the pile of notes still clutched in her hands, "here is some pretty damning evidence."
She nodded, gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips to his hands. Her head tilted slightly and her lips parted before she caught herself, realizing too late that she was hoping he'd kiss her. Instead he dropped his voice to a lower, dirtier note, and nodded toward her desk.
"But it looks like you missed one."
There she found a last note.
I'm going to seduce you now.
"Um." She moved her mouth a few times before she was finally able to ask with wide eyes, "Right now?"
"Hmm," he frowned and rubbed his hands together as if thinking it over. "I think I can start now." He pressed his knee into hers so their calves brushed, and held her gaze while he added the last note to the pile she was holding; caressing her fingers more than was necessary. She swallowed.
"And then later," he continued, leaning even closer so he could whisper his plans to her, "after work, I'm going to take you out. Somewhere intimate."
She found herself nodding too many times and grinning at him, clutching at his fingers until the seriousness left his face and he was smiling affectionately back, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Sounds good," she managed.
"Good, it's a date," he said and sat back. "I didn't do the math, but it's basically our 300th date. We should make it special."
"Yeah," she said breathlessly.
"Yeah."
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The day went downhill the minute Lanie said the victim was killed by a "long range shooter". Beckett felt an immediate pang centered on the tiny scar on her chest. The pain was probably imagined, she didn't know, but she lifted a hand to press into the discomfort anyway. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Castle noticed her movement, and she knew without looking that he understood it.
5 o'clock came and went, buried by the intensity of their work, and then 6, and then 7. As 8 o'clock approached, Beckett jerked out of her research with a start and glanced over at Castle. His jacket was off, draped over the back of his chair, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow. His bangs were swaying in front of his eyes as he leaned over the files he was working through. Beckett felt overwhelmed, not for the first time, by the kindness of the man throwing himself into a case he knew meant so much to her.
"Castle," she said softly, reaching over to wrap her hand around his exposed forearm. He looked up, his eyes taking a second to adjust from his reading, and then he quietly met her gaze. "I... I'm sorry. Our date."
Castle shook his head without breaking her gaze, and covered her hand with his free one. "Don't, Kate. I get it. This first."
"You're sure?"
"Of course," he said, voice still low. "I get it."
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On Sunday, when Beckett dropped to the ground at the sound of a passing siren, she could barely hear the professed concerns of Lanie and Esposito over the roaring sound in her ears and the hammering of her heart. It was Castle's voice that eventually broke through the din, and his hands prying her fingers from where they were still gripping the newspaper rack she was cowering behind. She murmured consent when he asked if he could help her up, keeping her eyes on the ground. Castle kept his hands on her shoulders and guided her away from the worried looks of their friends until they were somewhat isolated behind a nearby hotdog cart.
"Castle, I'm fine."
"Just take a breath, Kate."
"I don't need to take a breath, I need to catch this guy."
"Okay, good." Castle released his hold on her as her breathing came back down to normal levels, and then he shrugged, diplomatic. "Listen, it was just a startle response. It could have happened to anyone."
"Yeah, well, I'm not anyone."
"I'm just saying-"
"Just don't, okay?" she snapped, suddenly furious. Castle stopped speaking but didn't move away. Instead he moved closer and pulled her into a fierce hug. Beckett tried to pull away instinctively before dropping her head to his shoulder, deflating rapidly. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. He just squeezed her tighter, rocking a little from side to side.
"Promise me something," he said.
"Okay."
"If it gets to be too much, you let me know. You tell me, or you call me, or you come to the loft and surprise me, okay?"
She hesitated, but in the end she realized she felt safer in his embrace than anywhere else, and relented. "M'kay." She pulled away. "Thanks, Castle."
"Always."
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She called him that night, far enough into a bottle of Jack that she could barely stand but not far enough to keep her demons at bay. When he knocked on the door she startled badly and knocked her end table and whiskey glass to the floor with the bang and tinkle of shattered glass. She yelped at the noise, shying away again. She spotted her gun out of the corner of her eye and lunged for it, but felt strong arms wrap around her and pull her sharply away from the shards of broken glass. She fought the restraint in a blind panic until his words broke through once more.
"Beckett! Kate, it's me, it's me. Stop fighting! Stop. It's Castle."
"Castle..." her response was a long moan of his name that dissolved into gritty sobs. She turned in his arms to bury her face in his chest and grapple with his jacket until both of her hands were tightly fisted in the material, pulling him close with tense arms that showed every muscle and tendon and every meal she had missed in the last two days. "Castle."
He wrapped his arms around her as she pressed closer and drew her knees up until she was fetal into his lap. Castle's hands stroked from her hair all the way down her back over and over again until the last vestiges of panic were gone, leaving only the rawness of despair. Eventually, sometime after he repositioned them so that he was stretched out on the couch and she was wrapped up in his arms, even the despair dissipated and she was completely empty. Or rather, she might have been, were it not for Castle's presence. Instead of the expected emptiness, she felt affection (love?) and even the barest ghost of mirth tickling at the back of her brain.
"Castle?" Her voice was raw and gravelly and it hurt her throat to speak.
"Yeah?"
"Are you counting this as our date?"
He laughed, his relief palpable. "Well, no. This isn't the date I had in mind."
"Good," she mumbled into the safety of his chest.
"But," he continued, "I guess it does count as a date, technically, because I'm definitely spending the night."
"You don't have to." Her protest was purely instinctual and she didn't bother to put any force into her words or release her hold on him.
"I know. That's what makes me great."
She smiled then, and relaxed into him even more, nuzzling against the soft fabric of his shirt. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. "You are great. But Castle?"
"Yeah?"
"You have to sleep on the couch."
He grinned, and tugged his fingers through her messy hair. "Sure thing, Beckett."
"Might stay 'ere wi' you, though." The words were slurred with the alcohol and the fast onset of sleepiness, and they were the last thing either of them said that night.
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By the next evening they were sitting casually at her desk, the gunman dead, a weight lifted from their shoulders. Beckett was playing with the same coffee she'd been nursing all day, running her fingertips over the words he had written on the cup that morning.
This one is for the strongest person I know.
His had said This one is for the writer. He had bought them and returned to her apartment before she had woken, groggy and head aching and confused. He had offered her the coffee on the condition that she also drink a bottle of water and take the proffered ibuprofen. He hadn't asked any questions or even looked at her sideways. He had just been there for her, and she was so grateful she could feel it like a physical presence inside of her. So much had happened since that morning, it seemed like a lifetime ago. A serial killer silenced, the victims avenged in the only way she knew how.
She smiled at him now, a little sad and a lot relieved.
"I'm looking for my partner," he said. Beckett raised her eyebrows curiously. "Pretty girl," he began, "thinks she can leap tall buildings in a single bound, carries the weight of the world on her shoulders."
Beckett lowered her gaze, the imitation of a smile playing at her lips.
Castle continued, "She even manages to laugh at some of my jokes."
"She sounds perfect for you."
"Tell me about it. Anyway, if you see her, tell her she owes me about a hundred coffees."
Beckett smiled. "I bet she's hoping she can pay you back some other way." The flirty words earned her a grin and a bump of her knee with his. "Castle," she continued more seriously. "Thank you. For not pushing, and knowing when to give me the space to just... get through this. And knowing when I needed you to help me through it."
He smiled, genuine unguarded affection written all over his features. He scooted to the edge of his chair and took both of her hands in his, glancing around briefly to make sure they didn't have an audience. "All I have ever really wanted is for you to ask me to help you through it. I'm so glad you did."
She leaned forward then and pressed her lips chastely to his, right there in the middle of the bullpen for everyone to see. When she pulled away she bumped her forehead to his and smiled at his wide-eyed surprise.
"Oh my God, guys, get a room," came Esposito's voice across the room. Beside him, Ryan was laughing delightedly, miming applause.
Beckett rolled her eyes at them, gave them the finger, and sat back. "You know, Castle, this week has been exhausting."
"Oh, I agree."
"And I don't really feel up to much; I don't think I can handle a real date right now."
Castle held up his hands to stop her. "I get it, Kate. Take a few days to recover. I'll be here when you're ready."
"That's just it," she said, squeezing his hand and biting her lip. "I am exhausted, but I don't want to go off and recover and then come back to you when I'm ready. I just want to spend time with you. I just want... this. Us."
His expression was more of a reward than she could have imagined. He smiled in a way she'd only seen from him when he was talking about his family; full of unconditional and unquestioned love and pride. He was proud of her.
"So, if you want, can we just go get some coffee or something? Just relax?"
"Better idea," Castle said, still beaming. "Comfort food truck. We both need it, and it is so relaxing it might relax you right into a food coma."
"That sounds perfect," she said, grinning, suddenly starving.
Castle tugged her up to her feet and helped her put her jacket on, earning more catcalls from the peanut gallery. Someone whistled loudly. When they looked, the boys were both leaned back in their chairs, watching them unabashedly. A few other detectives were watching as well.
"Quite the catch there, Beckett," Ryan said. "A real gentleman."
"Just don't believe everything he says," Esposito said. "The man lies for a living."
"Okay, boys," Beckett stopped them. "Knock off early, you've earned it."
And she took Castle's hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and swinging their arms slightly as they walked toward the elevator.
Castle squeezed her hand and grinned. "So, ready for date number three hundred and one?"
"Yeah. Hey Castle?"
"Hmm?" She saw him take a deep breath when he looked down and saw that she was holding her little stack of post-its, flipping them like a good luck charm in her hand.
"Why were all of the post-its in the car green?"
"Because, Beckett," Castle said, looking like he couldn't believe she hadn't gotten it. "Green means good to go."
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A/N2: So I deleted this whole chapter and redid the larger story, then changed my mind and re-wrote it. So if you like it, YAY! If you don't, I understand. :) One more chapter, and possibly an epilogue. Thanks SO MUCH for the support on this story.