Close Encounters 23

Kate Beckett was in the back of an ambulance, on the run from the Collective, from the world it seemed, but she was proud of herself. She was proud because she could stay mostly conscious; she was able to stay with him. Castle looked better because of her continued presence, which made her feel better too, and they'd managed a few conversations about Mitch and logistics: what town had the most permeable border, where they could get supplied, how Mitch could come in.

Four days of chelation/dialysis and she could feel the difference. Her body was still heavy with exhaustion, with the wreckage of toxicity, but she could string together her thoughts, she could follow his conversation, she didn't feel like crying for once.

Helped that Black was out of sight in the front seat.

But she was getting better. The chelation itself might make her sick, like she'd been ground down to nothing, but on the whole, her good times were longer, stronger in between. There'd be setbacks, of course, because the program wasn't half-figured out, because Black was going to resist where he could, because stabilizing her electrolytes and blood count and everything was going to take a balancing act, but she was on her way.

Living felt possible again.

Sitting up wasn't smart. She was learning that too. She stayed down this time, the sounds of ambulance tires against the wet pavement filling up the small space. Castle had his elbows on the gurney and he talked to her like a partner, like he relied on her.

She really loved this man. If she felt anywhere close to capable, she'd make him go home to their son. But she wasn't. And she couldn't. Absolutely couldn't. Just the thought of him shifting away from her on the gurney set her heart to pounding and made her palms sweat. She recognized the triggers for a panic attack, and exhaustion was high up the list, but she couldn't do much about it.

It was raining past the two little windows of their world, and they'd dimmed the lights in the back so no one could see inside. One small glow up near her head bathed the side of his face in yellow light. The shush of rain and the strokes of his fingers up and down her arm had her drowsy, though she was trying to keep up with his conversation.

After a little while, they both fell silent, Castle answering texts from Mitchell about the plan and where to meet, details, and Kate watching his face as he worked. He had deep lines around his mouth, more than before, frown lines, worry lines, while the smiling crinkles at his eyes were smoother, unused for too long.

But still there. She had put those lines there, all of them, happy and sad, and she knew it. It was the cost of a fulfilling life, and she didn't regret them. She just wished the smile would come a little more frequently.

She would make him smile. She was determined. A deep smile, with relief in it, with joy. Amusement even, or hell, surprise would work. Jolt it out of him. She was going to do it; she needed him smiling as much as he needed to smile. They fed into each other, their own parasitical relationship, and if she showed a little backbone and strength, he'd be able to do the same.

Castle finished his text and dropped the phone beside her hip again, steepled his fingers under his chin, watching her. He was silent, maybe not even consciously aware of how he studied her, and she only lifted her hand and wound her arm through his.

He did smile briefly at that. He tilted his cheek to knock into her hand, and then righted his head again, thinking hard about something. Mitch and mission parameters, she had no doubt, but she also felt a curious disregard for whatever those details might be.

Obviously she wasn't totally up to par. Normally she'd be all over that.

Castle had narrowed his eyes while he thought, mouth pressed in a line, and she straightened her fingers under his chin, brushed at the growth of scruff along his jaw. Rough, and abrasive on the sensitive pads of her fingers. Made her shiver hard, sensation like slices along her nerves, surprised by how visceral her reaction was.

But it wasn't arousal. It was pain. Stole her breath, how that stimulus flayed her nerve endings. A kind of deferred pain, borrowing from what she was consciously shutting down and giving it to her where she wanted only to feel good.

He had noticed too, and his hand released from its perch and wrapped around hers, a kiss pressed to her wrist that made his cheeks scratch her skin. She sucked in a breath.

"Kate?"

"Just - sensory overload," she got out. Like she'd been in a damn deprivation tank or something. In training, they'd done that to the CIA recruits, had them undergo sensory dep in a tank. So dizzying at first, so confusingly bewildering, and then it had bloomed hard and fast into a natural panic and thrashing if you couldn't get it under control. She hadn't had any trouble then but now it might be crashing down hard on her.

Castle reached out and with a click he turned off the last of the light. She let out a heavy breath, surprised again, but already the pain was fading. Less. Less of all of it. She couldn't take too much, clearly, or it would overwhelm her system. She was a shaky construct right now; one stiff wind would knock her down.

His fingers stroked her hair off her forehead. "Better?"

"Better," she whispered. Her hand was still against his cheek; she could feel individual bristles, feel the abrasion to her skin. Transmitting all that information up her body, awareness turned on like electricity making contact. Painful.

Maybe necessary.

"What do you need?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Feel sick?"

"No, no."

"IV line okay? Catheter-"

"Fine, it's good. It's not that. Think my body is just - catching up. I don't know. A rush."

"A rush?" His lips were chapped; she felt them, felt the catch of skin on skin. Her stomach shivered in place, caught between churning and butterflies. Strange. So strange.

"I don't know," she murmured. "I don't know. It's - sensation. Stimulation. I don't feel quite so damn heavy now, but it's - things hurt."

"Am I hurting you?"

Maybe she took too long to frame an answer because his hands were gone immediately, he was lifting off the side of the gurney, sitting up straight, away from her.

"No," she called to him. "Not hurting me. Don't."

He came back, but hesitantly, and she fought the sensation of ants crawling under her skin as his hand found hers again.

It was - strange. From everything dull and leadened and heavy to this. Her body maybe was bouncing between extremes. She'd felt like this to some degree when she'd been pregnant, the heightened sensation, the prickling at her scalp and the sensitive-

"Castle," she said, blinking through the muted darkness. He was already right there, waiting on her. "Remember how it was, right before we found out, even right after. Those first few weeks."

"I - yeah? When you were pregnant?"

"Feels like that," she said, a little quick breath to get herself together. Her fingers were tingling, a little hot, sweat touching her forehead.

"You're - aroused?"

She snorted, breath caught at the end of it. "No. Not - no. God, I'm exhausted. No, it's - that heightened-"

"The response, the increased blood flow. Boyd said that, remember? The blood carrying more oxygen, more nutrient-rich."

He stopped, and she realized she was hot, the sweatshirt and pants too much, her breath fast, extremely uncomfortable, like the stuff inside her was burning inside out.

"Kate."

"Yeah, yeah, that," she muttered, licking her lips. "I'm - burning up."

Castle yanked the zipper down on the hoodie, already maneuvering her arms through the sleeves and off. She let out a breath and closed her eyes, sweat breaking out.

"Increased blood flow," he said, struggling for calm, she could tell. "That's all it is. Like a panic attack, remember? That's what Boyd said, back then. Course, back then, we just fucked it out, didn't we? Used that burst of energy in some really creative ways, sweetheart."

"Yeah," she laughed, but this wasn't funny. God, she felt bad now. Really bad. She was prickly-scalped hot, and dizzy again, and her skin felt tight; the extremes were going to break her apart.

"I got you. You're okay. I got you, Kate." He was skimming the pants off her legs now, throwing back the thin blanket, giving her some room, some air. "Can you drink water? Or do I need to put in the IV?"

"Water," she agreed. She could. She thought she could.

"It comes in waves, remember?" He was busy at her side and she heard him unzipping a bag, but she closed her eyes, riding that wave.

Waves of awareness. She'd laughingly called it a hot-for-him flash, but this wasn't arousal. Maybe if she were feeling a hundred percent, less like she'd been run over by a truck, maybe it would be, but this was that saliva-in-the-back-of-the-throat feeling, that almost-going-to-throw-up feeling, too much blood rushing too many places, surface and away from organs, gearing up as if to run. Fight or flight but she was entirely too sick for either.

Had to calm down.

"Here, Kate. Water." He had his fingers under her neck, tilting her head. She touched her lips to the bottle and sipped and she felt better for that cool relief. Better. "Little more, hon. Your heart is racing."

She took a longer swallow, lifted her chin to make him let her go. He was still hovering but already the wave had broken, already she could breathe without having to think about it. He was blowing softly over her forehead, her cheeks, and goose bumps shimmied across her arms.

"Hey, you're okay, you're okay. More water, Kate."

She let him push it, drank what she could before she had to turn her head to the away. "Thanks. This was a lot more fun when I was pregnant." She opened her eyes, resigned to facing his concern, but he wasn't half as bad off as she'd expected.

And he was smiling at her. "Next time, we'll see if we can't ride it out. You know, ride it out." His eyebrow raise was dramatic as hell, just for her, and she laughed just to see it.

"I got it. I'm in toxic shock, Castle, not stupid." But she knew she was grinning like an idiot at him, knew it was all over her face.

Relief.

They really could get through this. Both of them.

He tried not to touch her, because he remembered from her pregnancy how that affected her. How it flared everything to life. If she was feeling it now like pain rather than pleasure, then he wasn't going to add to those sensations.

Her heart really couldn't take it. Literally.

She did curl her fingers in the cup of his, just that touch, and he could tell she wasn't sleeping, just trying to keep still, not set things off. Back when she'd been four months, five months pregnant, holy shit, they'd been sneaking off on their lunch breaks, they'd invented fun new positions, they'd experimented with the limits of her response.

Damn, that thought scared him. Scared him to think maybe that was the beginning of this. Scared him to think of how perilous her body's systems might have always been, one step away from crashing, one imbalance away from failure. If it was the same feeling now, though without the arousal, then really, it wasn't any different.

But Kate was still here. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Kate was here, alive, she was hanging in there. She wouldn't stop - he loved that about her - she just wouldn't let go.

Their fingertips alone would touch. Her palms were damp, but she was breathing easier now. Her eyes were closed. She was awake, her fingers moving against his from time to time. She didn't ask for the blanket, didn't ask for clothes to come back on, so he didn't bother with that right now. T-shirt and panties, but it was dark enough that no one would see much.

He was texting Mitchell, and he read the last message and shifted forward. "I'm going to tell Hunt where to go," he said softly. "Stay right here."

She made a noise, amusement maybe, and he found he could smile. He let go of her hand and moved forward, sitting on the metal bench at the divider. There was no screen, just a kind of narrow doorway at hip height that would allow someone to go between. It took effort though, and guaranteed that a patient couldn't manage it, but the paramedic in back could if necessary.

He cleared his throat, got his father's attention. "Drive to Lontzen, in the province of Liege."

Hunt snarled something nasty. "That's the opposite direction. Black said Italy."

"Not going to Italy," Castle said. "Lontzen is a Belgian border town, it's German-speaking. We'll rent a place there and wait for back-up."

"Back-up," Black said quickly. He was playing the meek foot soldier, but Castle didn't believe it for a moment.

"My back-up. You have contacts, well, so do I."

Castle started to sit back but Hunt spoke up. "Your back-up, fine. What's the plan?"

"I told you the plan," Castle gave back. "Drive to Lontzen. Rent a place. Wait for back-up."

"Remarkably simple," Hunt muttered. His sarcasm was thick.

Castle couldn't care less, but Hunt was driving, and he was reckless enough to do something stupid. So Castle sketched out the plan: "There are about five thousand in town; a local chateau is just outside, nearly across the German border. It rents rooms, so that's a good place for us. Beckett and I will be in one room, you and Black in an attached."

And he'd have all the keys, that was for damn sure, but he wouldn't tell them that. Not yet. Mtichell had suggested the place because they could control the exits easily, because they'd be able to see people coming from a mile away, and because the place was known as a 'respite' - the kind of cure that the invalid took when they needed milder air and fresh produce and an easier time of it.

Genteel, that had been the word Mitchell had used. Whatever. It would work. It was slightly out of the trajectory Castle had been intending - south had been the idea (planted by his father, now that he thought about it) - but Mitchell had contacts in Cologne, and they could go there, ditch his father after Beckett was stable.

The other good thing about this place - Mitch said the doors locked from the outside with a maid's master key. Which Mitchell had told him how to get, of course, because master keys were how Mitch operated. That man could open any door he pleased. Mitchell had promised his old CIA cover ID would hold up, though it would take at least 48 hours for Mitch to gather up all his pieces and come to them. Meanwhile, Castle could lock Black into that room and set Hunt as guard on the connecting door.

He was moderately sure that Hunt had protective feelings towards Kate. Moderately sure. Enough to allow Hunt to keep his gun and trust him to do errands. Colin 'Ethan' Hunt, whatever else had gone on, had made passes at his wife that Castle could trust would serve them now. He didn't like it, but it wasn't like Kate was ever in question. He could almost pity the man for the kind of attraction that drove him to work even against himself; Castle completely understood what it was like to be struck silly by Kate Beckett.

His sympathy stopped there. No one was going to touch his wife.

"Lontzen," Hunt echoed. "All right. I gotta backtrack a little ways."

"Not on the E," Black said. "Use alternates."

Hunt slid a look over to Black. "I have done this before, you know."

Castle suppressed a smile, glanced away from the two of them to study Kate. She looked to be sleeping, but it might just be the way she was riding it out.

The ambulance slowed and Castle took a quick look out the front windshield. They were exiting the highway, heading for the back roads, and Castle watched long enough to ascertain their new direction. East now, heading for the German border.

He shifted back to his seat beside Beckett, and she lifted her hand, fingers wriggling.

He took it, a brisk squeeze in case she needed pressure and not sensitivity, and her eyes opened to look at him.

She had a smile, and he smiled back, and at least there was a plan in place. They weren't on a flight back to New York, but they were making progress.

"How's it?" she murmured. "Everything ok?"

Castle leaned in and gave her forehead a smacking kiss. "We're good. Keep doing what you're doing."

When the overheated awareness receded, she slept.

Hard.

She woke for a moment when she heard the storm shake the roof of the ambulance, roaring overhead like a train bearing down on them. She must have startled, because Castle leaned in and said something to her, but she didn't hear it; she was already unable to concentrate, falling back asleep.

She woke again to an argument between them, Hunt's voice particularly discernible over the thunderstorm, and she turned her head to realize that it was because he was beside her. It wasn't Castle; it was Hunt right here.

Shocked, she missed a breath and it caused her heart rate to fumble, and then Castle was barking an order and she saw he was driving and now Hunt was reaching over her for something and she could hear the whine of the heart monitor as it read her unstable.

"I'm okay," she tried to croak, tried. Just surprised. It was raining still and it was dark; she could trace the path of the water as streamed down those two little back windows. Her heart was missing beats, her body was heavy. She was going to sleep. It was so dark.

Hunt did something and she grunted, turned her head to see her arm was velcroed to the gurney, the IV port was open, fluids going in.

She didn't know when that had happened. Maybe she'd been more unconscious than asleep.

"I'm okay," she tried to get out, but her tongue was thick and her mouth wouldn't move. Something drained in her head, like sinus pressure, or blood, and she coughed.

She heard his voice then, Castle, but she wanted him to just drive, drive them safely - to safety - drive, drive, drive.

The whine of the heart monitor dragged her along the rough edge of consciousness. Hunt was leaning in, so close she could smell him, the thick aftershave that clung to his shirt, the deodorant, the material of his t-shirt brushing against her exposed stomach.

Oh, God.

She couldn't breathe.

Her heart faltered. The machine screamed. Her heart wasn't beating; she could feel the dead weight of her body all over, dead weight, heart like a wet fish in her chest. Castle. Castle was yelling, Castle was-

A searing pain jolted through her body and she arched, crashing up - into Hunt, but he caught her. Castle was barking orders, Hunt was wild-eyed and hanging on to her, easing her down, a syringe rolling across her stomach.

Are you okay, are you okay, just breathe, Beckett.

Atropine?

Her nerves were shot, scattered across her body, scrambling to pick up, shaky and adrenaline-soaked. She gasped breath after breath, Castle was calling out from the front, her hands were in tight gripping fists around Hunt's arms. He was trying get her to let go, she thought, she thought, she couldn't make her hands work right.

Her heart pounded.

The machine was blipping with her arrhythmia, her eyes scrambled to find purchase, and then Hunt was gone and the ambulance had slowed down and stopped and then it was Castle.

"I'm okay," she finally rasped. She didn't sound okay, not even to her ears, but Castle was here. Castle was here.

Her heart had stopped beating but he was here.

They'd made it to Lontzen.

Fucking hell, almost not. But they were here.

Beckett had thrown PACs in the ambulance, which had sent her into atrial fib, and thank God that Castle, beforehand, had thought she felt too cold, thought maybe she ought to be on saline right now, because they'd had the port open and the IV already set up when Hunt had been back there with her. A push of atropine and she'd jolted right back to a normal sinus rhythm.

But God. Seeing that look on her face as the atropine had hit - that had been gut-wrenching. He never wanted to do that ambulance ride again.

Black had said electrolyte imbalance and Logan, via text, had confirmed something like that, more specifically, something off with her potassium. You're lucky you were giving her saline, that probably kept her heart from stopping.

Heart failure was a common symptom of an overworked heart. She had been headed that way, just the extreme changes in electrolytes and blood count and minerals. The chelation/dialysis therapy wasn't easy on her body, and Black hadn't looked surprised, but had his father ever told him that, Castle wouldn't have moved her. Castle wouldn't have risked it.

If Black had said, hey, this might make her heart stop, Castle was pretty sure he wouldn't have budged from that damn apartment - fire alarm or no.

Lontzen was charming. Kate would love it, if she were awake to see it - it had the German gusto for life, the kind of steady, plodding, red-cheeked determination to survive. He hoped it infected her; he hoped it infected him.

There were at least five breweries, and Castle wanted a beer. She probably did too.

Not happening this trip.

The chateau was a three-story house, basically, with a wide, double-door front entry and narrow, lead-glass windows, rather Gothic. It would be Black's job to get rid of the ambulance, which Castle trusted him to do because the man didn't want Collective following them here. Hunt would stay with them as they checked into the suite of rooms and settled Beckett in.

Castle had to go in and collect the keys by himself. He didn't like leaving Kate to Hunt and Black, but no one else could do it - not if Castle's plan was to work. He jogged through the rain, moderately assured that Hunt in the back with Kate at least knew what not to do, if Black tried to convince him of something. Still, Castle took the wide front steps at a run, splashing through puddles.

Snagging the door handle, he wrestled it open, heavy and ornate as it was, and came into the broad marble foyer. A staircase came straight down to meet him, and a front desk was set up below it, two men manning a computer. Castle rubbed water out of his hair, his five-days' beard, shook it out of his hoodie, and he made his approach only slightly soaking wet.

His German was natural; he used the accent more local to the Swiss border, indicating some travel. He explained that his wife was bedridden, sick, that traveling was hard for them even with the male nurse, that they needed to stop here for a few days before they went home so she could get her strength back.

The man was quite accommodating, listened to his needs, found them the adjoining suites without a problem. He turned over the keys before Castle had even given him the credit card, and Rick smiled and thanked him, and knew that the tension on his face was being attributed to the sick woman waiting, as was actually the case.

Third floor, it was, and the credit card went through without a problem - one of Castle's new IDs. Not their family emergency ID, but also not an official CIA legend; he'd at least had the forethought to gather unused IDs before they had left. He pocketed the keys and took a map of the chateau and grounds, nodded as the man pointed out their rooms.

Perfect.

Castle allowed the bellman to go upstairs ahead of them and open the doors, turn down the beds, saying he'd take with him a big pile of towels since the rain was such an inconvenience. Still in the lobby, Castle thanked him for the consideration, nodding as the bellman went up, and then he turned back to the wide doors and the night beyond.

He jogged back out into the darkness and the rain, and already Hunt was jumping out of the back of the bus.

They couldn't take her in by stretcher; the ambulance couldn't be seen. The IV would perhaps be too much, but there was little he could do about it. Hunt traveled forward to the doors, carrying all the equipment without a word; the man had been subdued ever since Beckett's heart had stopped on their drive.

Castle jumped up onto the ambulance's rear bumper, crawled inside the back. He had re-dressed her in those sweats just an hour ago, right before they'd pulled off the main road. She was unconscious, but looked to be stable; the heart monitor had already been disconnected and Hunt had it with the rest of their bags.

Castle wrapped the thin blanket around her, then draped another over her torso, cowling her head, and he slid her from the gurney to his arms.

Her cheek hit his wet shirt and she gasped, came awake, rigid for a moment. "Castle," she whispered.

"Sorry, we're going inside, but it's raining. My shirt's wet."

"Okay," she mumbled, and her eyes closed. Her body eased, no longer stiff.

He adjusted the blanket and then got his feet under him, started to move. He went fast, because he could, but the rain was steady and it sluiced down his chest no matter how quickly he moved, and she was dappled with drops by the time he got through the chateau's main doors.

There was nothing he could have done differently.

Oh, the rain had been invigorating.

Kate grinned against his shirt, shedding drops as they mounted the stairs. They followed a trail up into the respite home that Castle seemed to know without directions. Hunt was behind them, but not Black, and the lights in this old chateau were cheerful against the darkness outside.

"What are you smiling about?" Castle mumbled. She hummed and closed her eyes, his wet shirt under her cheek, the rain in her hair and the tips of her toes, a trail running down from his neck to her forehead.

"The rain was nice," she said finally.

"At least it wasn't that cold," he sighed.

"Felt good." Probably because it had been chilly, and the wind sweeping through the garden and across her body had done a lot to wake her up again.

"Feel good now?" he asked, moving down a long corridor.

She opened her eyes a slit to watch the doorways pass them, counting in her head. "Mm, not good exactly."

"But not bad?"

"Yeah." Tired, so tired, but at least she wasn't dizzy, despite Castle carrying her down the hall and her head higher than her heart.

Hunt moved ahead of them at some gesture from Castle that she felt but didn't see, and Hunt took the key and opened the door, pushing it wide. Castle carried her inside even as Hunt turned on the overhead light - a glass orb with painted scenes around its bowl - and then she was being laid on clean sheets in a huge bed, towels piled near her head.

"You're in there with him," she heard Castle saying. She turned her head and opened her eyes, saw Hunt opening a connecting door. Castle nodded towards the far room. "I'm going to lock him in with a key I'll get - which means you're locked in with him. At least for the night. In the morning, you get defensive duty at this door."

"I can run for supplies," Hunt said, crossing his arm. "You can't really show your face, you know. All over the news. Collective knows him, of course, so he can't either. But I can go."

"We'll see," Castle said, but it was his I've already thought of that voice. He probably had always intended for Hunt to do that. "I'm going to set up the equipment. You go back down and find a way to let Black into this place without going through the front door. You understand?"

"I got it. You want me lookout in the pouring rain."

Castle was suddenly at her side and he snagged a towel, tossed it in Hunt's direction. "Here."

"You're so generous. No wonder you and your father get along so well."

"Hunt. I'm not in the mood. Whatever it is you're doing here, whatever your agenda is, I don't think you're an idiot. But neither is he. In fact, he's probably smarter than both of us. The only one who's ever gotten the best of him is right here - and she's not exactly in a position to take him on. So work with me here. All right?"

Kate closed her eyes, wondered if that was true, any of it was true. She had no idea. She couldn't read the expression on his face while it was turned away from her, and his voice was in absolute control.

"Aren't I already working with you?" Hunt said, but then she heard the door open and close again.

"Hey, you okay?"

Her eyes startled open and she saw Castle easing down to the bed, sitting at her hip. He had a fresh towel in his hands and made a careful swipe down her face. She smiled, turning her head away from it.

"I'm okay."

"Safety check?"

"Mm, heart's a little fast," she admitted. "But it's not hard to breathe. Just really tired, Castle. I'm really tired."

"And wet," he said softly, a crooked smile. "Let me get those clothes off you and the IV running."

"The catheter can come out?"

He frowned.

She sighed. "I don't like it."

"You can barely sit up without passing out. How are you going to go to the bathroom?"

"You'll help me." Distasteful as that was. "And it gives me a goal to work towards." And she ached from sleeping on her back, needed desperately to turn over, though curling on her side might have to do.

"We'll see. Not tonight though, Kate. Too much going on."

Too much for her to add one more thing he had to be responsible for. She closed her mouth and stopped fighting him.

"Bed is better than a cot, though, right?"

She sighed and slid her arm along the mattress to hook her fingers around his wrist. He flipped his hand and caught hers, squeezing. "Much better," she told him. "But I'm tired. I'm sorry, I'm gonna fall asleep."

"Go ahead. I'll start the IV - trying to balance out your electrolytes - but you go right ahead, honey."

Her eyes were already closed; her consciousness already melting away.