Disclaimer: Characters remain the property of AWM and ABC.
What If…?
Chapter 10: Learning to Let Go
Kate makes them a light brunch of eggs and smoked salmon, sautés some spinach in a pan with red peppers and onion, turning it into a frittata.
Castle stares at her from his nearby perch on one of her kitchen stools while she pretends not to notice, watching her deftly crack eggs into a bowl and whisk them up, the twist of her wrist when she adds salt and pepper. He could go on all day, for a lifetime even, watching this woman's hands, the way she moves, her grace and fluidity performing the most mundane tasks and never get tired of admiring her. Hell, he's sat in the world's most uncomfortable chair for over four years, flattening his ass, just to be close enough to witness her breathe in and out.
"Everything okay?" he asks at length, watching her face in an attempt to read her mood, since she seems calmer now. But he wants to be certain. "You're quiet."
And it's maybe not the best icebreaker, given recent events. But hey, he's concussed, so he feels he due a little slack today.
"I could say the same about you," she teases back, slowly lifting her eyes from the pan to smile at him, her confidence coming back.
"In fact, don't think I've ever seen you stay this quiet for this long, Castle," she teases. "Should have guessed that's all it would take to shut you up."
She's full on flirting with him now, if he's not mistaken. His mind isn't that muddled.
"Brain injury?" he asks dryly, kicking himself when her faces clouds over with guilt again and his joke falls flat.
"No, I…I meant me, actually," she sighs, lifting her lips in a half-formed smile, blushing attractively. "Us."
"Hey, look, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. Just ignore me, Kate," he says, coming round to give her shoulders a squeeze and kiss her still-damp hair.
She gives him an apologetic smile and shrugs.
"First I jump you, and then…then I let someone else do the same. You must be wondering what the hell you've let yourself in for," she says, avoiding looking at him, biting her lip while she concentrates on plating up their food.
"No. Not exactly what I was thinking," he says, sitting back down opposite her.
She gives him a questioning look, accompanied by a lift of her eyebrows that says 'spill'.
"I…I'm actually thanking my lucky stars that one of us, namely you, was brave enough to make the first move last night," he confesses, giving her a sexy, lopsided grin.
Kate stops what she's doing to look up at him again.
"Is that so?" she asks slowly and deliberately; the sun coming out from behind a dark cloud.
"Yes, that is definitely so," he nods, grinning back, pleased to have finally put a smile on her face. "But you do lose points if you burn lunch," he adds, pointing to the slice of frittata still sitting in the pan.
"Shoot. Right," she laughs nervously, sliding it out onto the second waiting plate.
They sit at her counter to eat, angled slightly towards one another, Kate swinging her legs between his, letting her heels bump off the stool's wooden footrest again and again while she chews thoughtfully, her make-up free face making her look so relaxed and so young.
"Doesn't that hurt?" he eventually asks, looking down at her sock-clad feet with amusement.
"Nope," she grins, resuming the pendulum action, until he traps her legs between his and stops her.
They stare at one another for a long moment and the air around them is becalmed, the atmosphere suddenly so heated, electric, vibrating with portent; every heart-stopping cliché you could come up with.
Kate drops her fork onto the plate with a clatter, and then she hesitantly leans in to slide her hand behind his head, her fingers slipping through his hair as she draws him close for a soft kiss.
He lays a hand on her thigh, fingers ghosting her cheekbone, and he can feel her trembling when they begin to deepen the kiss; lips brushing gently then parting on a sigh, the tip of her tongue just barely stroking his until she slides inside to caress him fully, sparking an impressive light display behind his eyes, flooding his bloodstream with desire for her, making his heart race against his ribcage, sending a shiver down his spine that radiates out through his entire body.
Fluidity, after so much rigid, careful withholding.
And all he can think is golden. This one word stuck in his brain, with so many half-formed, potential meanings, so many images he can conjure up, all of them warm and precious and special.
When they part, they rest their foreheads together, both staring down at the tangle their fingers have suddenly become all of their own accord.
Everything feels overwhelming - their closeness, their need for one another, this letting go to come together – and terrifyingly slim; the margin by which they barely made it here.
Kate's phone ringing forces them apart with a single, combined sigh of regret.
"Beckett?" she says, shaking her head at him, reaching for his hand again, fingers stroking his palm until he captures them, squeezing tightly to make her stop tickling him.
"Great. Thanks for letting me know, Espo," she tells the detective, winking at Castle. "So he's slated for transport later today? Good. Make sure they keep him apart from Santos in holding. I don't want those two getting wind of the fact they're even in the same building. Understand?"
She listens for a bit while Esposito talks some more.
"I'm just finishing lunch. Then I'm gonna sit down and draft it. I'll email it to you when I'm done. Appreciate that, Javi."
Castle watches her eyes shoot up from caressing the back of his hand to find his face again in response to something Esposito obviously asked her.
"He…uh…he's doing fine. Head's still sore, but it seems to have shut him up for a little while," she jokes, her cheeks pink and eyes bright from Esposito's assumption that her partner is indeed still with her, and she laughs when Castle clutches at his chest, miming being wounded by her remark.
"That's sweet. Thanks. I'll tell him," she nods, as Castle leans in to kiss her cheek, before rising to begin clearing away their plates.
"What was all that about?" he asks, once she hangs up.
He has her 'Home Sweet Home' kitchen towel slung over one shoulder, and the sight of him in her apartment, looking so sexily mussed and domesticated, makes her breath catch in her throat. And somehow it is better than she ever imagined it would be, having him here, far easier too.
Comfortable.
"Ryan's making you a get well card," she laughs, shaking her head, trying to cover-up the flush of arousal she knows can't go anywhere while he's still recovering despite how good he looks.
"Original," says Castle, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, and Javi asked for a draft of my report so that we can…"
She looks guilty or embarrassed for a second, hesitating to say anymore.
"So you can what?" he asks, putting down the towel and drawing her into his arms, fingers walking around her waist until he has her wrapped up entirely.
She instantly molds her body into his - hips, stomach, chest all meeting – they fit so well together. He feels it too, and he holds her even tighter, resting his chin on the crown of her head while she burrows into him, soaking up his warmth and comforting solidity.
"So that we can get our story straight," she admits, with a sigh.
"Nothing wrong with that," he reassures her. "The guys have your back, just like you've had theirs plenty of times before."
"I know. I just don't want you thinking I'm making light of this, or…or trying to avoid taking responsibility for a string of bad judgment calls. You got seriously hurt today because I made stupid mistakes out there."
"Kate, you need to stop beating yourself up over this," he tells her, taking hold of her shoulders and leaning back a little so that he can see her face.
"We had a pretty big night last night. In fact, I'd go so far as to say momentous. Neither of us slept. We had nothing to eat. You did the best you could with a fluid situation on the ground. How could you have known that the guy was going to stay out all night?"
"I suppose," she admits reluctantly.
"And the layout of the club…not knowing that…? Because that's what really got us," he points out.
"Yes, but you already raised that issue before we went in. And I wasn't listening – to you or to Ryan. He wanted to wait for backup. He said it several times. You heard him yourself."
"So…okay, so maybe you made a couple of mistakes," he concedes, dropping his arms back to her waist. "You're only human, Kate. It happens. And nobody died."
"This time," she says quietly, laying her head back on his chest and letting out another long sigh.
He rubs his hand up and down her back for a few seconds in an attempt to relax her. When he feels her muscles loosen and her fingers begin to tease his sides, tangling in his t-shirt, he lets her go.
"Right. We just raked over it. Go write your report while it's still fresh, and I'll clean up in here. Go," he tells her, kissing her cheek and smacking her on the butt as she reluctantly leaves him cleaning her kitchen to go into her office.
Twenty minutes later, Kate comes round the corner to find him sitting on her couch with his feet up, his laptop balanced on his thighs, and she stops by the wall while he's still unaware of her just to watch him work.
She's never really had a chance to watch him write before, despite the thousands of hours he has spent watching her do her job. And it's like witnessing another facet to the Richard Castle that she knows so well: another card in the deck.
She's seen daddy Castle many times before, admires his skill, maturity and ceaseless devotion to his daughter. In fact, this was one of the first things that drew her to him in their early days together, that helped her see beyond the playboy persona he hid behind back then. She also knows how patient he is as a dedicated son to Martha; has watched him face down dangerous felons in his role as loyal protector and partner to her; has enjoyed watching him play poker with his writer buddies and bond with her work friends as Castle the man. And she's just beginning to learn how wonderful he can be as a lover - how skillful and generous, sensual and loving.
But now there is this revelation - the writer - the facet he most often uses to define himself; one that she has rarely seen.
The light from the laptop screen illuminates his face, throwing ghostly, bluish-white highlights across his features. She can hear his fingers tapping a merry little dance across the keyboard, even though she can't see them move from this angle. Fingers she has long marvelled at and has very recently become so well acquainted with.
"Staring, Beckett?" he asks, breaking her out of her little fantasy stroll down memory lane with a trademark smirk.
Busted.
"Just…uh..tea?" she asks moronically, walking away without waiting for an answer to fill the kettle and put it on the stove, while dealing with her own embarrassment. "Did you want tea?" she throws over her shoulder, closing her eyes and shaking her head at her own ridiculous behavior.
He smiles to himself at her discomfort at getting caught watching him, since that's usually his thing, and then he goes back to writing.
A few minutes later, Kate brings a tray over and settles on the other end of the couch, enjoying the quiet and this time they seem to have been granted to learn to be just them.
Castle offers to move his legs, but she tells him to stay where he is, that it will do him good to rest. And he'll take a blow to the head any day of the week, if it means he gets this level of care from her and the chance to work while watching her curl up by his feet, quietly sipping a cup of Earl Grey, sending him curious glances every few seconds.
"Hit on some inspiration?" she finally asks, nursing the warm cup against her chest and watching him figure something out, his eyes downcast, mouth working slightly in time with his thoughts and fingers.
"I…uh…mmm-hmm," he hums absently, backspacing the cursor to edit the last sentence he just wrote.
He looks up from what he's doing to find Kate looking a little concerned.
Inspiration.
"Oh! Oh, no. No, Kate, this is not what you think," he shakes his head vigorously. "The basement today, that vicious dog, what it felt like to be whacked on the head with a .45. That's all I'm… I mean you have to know that I would never…" he trails off, dragging a hand over his mouth, because this is one important point he has to make before they go any further.
"You and me: that is sacred. Not for print. Not for any books. Private, you understand?" he asks, watching her listening to him carefully.
"I know," she says, trying to keep her voice light, but sounding as if she actually, really isn't that sure.
He nods, deciding to believe that she gets this; how special their time together is to him.
"Good. Because anything Rook and Nikki get up to is…"
"Strictly from your imagination. I know. I heard you tell my dad once, remember?"
"Oh shit. Yes, that. Oh god, your dad," he says, looking around as if her father might magically materialize at any moment.
"Relax, Castle," she grins. "I'm pretty sure my dad's been rooting for us for a while."
"You do?" he sounds surprised.
"Mmm-hmm," she smiles, hiding her admission behind her mug.
"What about you?" he asks, nudging her knee with his toes.
"What about me?"
"Has your inner cheering squad being rooting for us too?"
She looks down at her lap and then pulls her knees up to sit crossed legged on the couch, drawing the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands.
"I think my inner cheering squad disbanded for a time back there. They got fed up waiting for something to happen and they deserted me," she says solemnly, finally looking up at him abruptly. "And…I'm sorry. You didn't deserve the way I treated you, Castle. That whole mess with Josh and… I never meant to hurt you. You do know that, right?"
"I know," he says lightly, placing his laptop on the table.
But he doesn't give her an easy way out, like he usually would. He wants to let her talk about this, because he is actually aching to hear what she has to say about that time.
"When you came to visit me in the hospital…after…" she tells him, and then she looks away, playing with the stretchy fabric that covers her knuckles, hiding her face with her hand to stifle a yawn, which Castle instantly mirrors, both of them pretty much exhausted by this point.
"Look. Do you want to take a nap?" she asks, able to look at him to ask this at least. "I mean, if you've got everything down that…everything from this morning?" she says, pointing to his laptop where it idles on her coffee table.
"A nap? Sure. A nap sounds good," he says, surprised, and actually a whole lot disappointed that she's dropping the subject she was just embarking on.
But Kate knows that she hasn't dropped it, however. Not by a mile. Just that she wants to postpone it until they can get a little more comfortable, closer. Because she has so much to make him understand, and she wants to get it right first time. He's the man of words. But he seems to want to hang on every one of hers when it comes to that period in their history, since he still understands so little of what went on with her back then. That mysterious blank space in their personal timeline, when she dropped out of his orbit and disappeared out of sight, when he imagined her walking off into the sunset with Dr. Josh Davison, surgical superhero, tending to her every need and saving her in ways Castle could only dream of.
She needs to disabuse him of these detailed little scenarios she's sure he's concocted to torture himself using the full arsenal of his writer's imagination; scenarios she is certain he has locked away as canon in his mind, despite, or perhaps because of, the paltry amount of evidence to the contrary that she has drip fed him thus far.
The secret between them is weighing round her neck like a stone, far heavier now that they have unburdened themselves of their physical reserve. And it feels like she's cheating, the longer she holds this back from him.
So she has to get this right. Nothing was ever more important than this to make certain that their foundation is strong.
A/N: Good episode, despite the lack of Caskett. Though I hope we don't have to wait too long for some more. (my Oliver Twist impression is being polished for AWM as I speak).
Thank you for all of the entertaining, rousing, insightful reviews. I'll stop saying 'just one more' because I'm obviously useless at sticking to it. So, on to the next chapter… Liv