A/N: It has been brutally cold where I live, which given the weather everywhere lately can only mean I do not live in Florida. Please let me know what you loved, what you liked, and what parts were so horrible you want to revoke my fan fiction writer status.
Thanks to Star90 for pointing out that Capt. Gates already knew they were engaged. Oops! Nothing a little rewrite can't fix.
The alarm clock on the night stand was set for 7:00 AM, but at just past five, Kate found herself sitting in bed, wide-awake, replaying the events from last night. Next to her on the bed Castle was sound asleep. Every now and then she'd hear him quietly murmur, stirring ever so slightly from sleep, as he shifted his body close enough to hers that she could feel the heat radiating off. She wondered if his dreams were being tormented with the same worries as her waking thoughts.
Their departure from the club had been quick, forgoing small-talk and formal goodbyes. The only thing she remembered from her conversation with Daniel Henry after seeing the Page Six headline was verifying a time for him to meet her at the precinct the following day. Her strong emotional responses to things may sometimes be a detriment in her personal life, but professionally, they helped her focus and get the job done—they helped her remember what she was there to do.
Out on the sidewalk, camera flashes reflected off the swirling snow and no matter which way they turned an extended microphone blocked their exit. Kate felt like she was trapped inside a glittery, nightmarish snow globe. Even if the media weren't initially there to snag an interview with the newly engaged couple, they didn't waste the opportunity.
"Mr. Castle," a reporter shouted. Kate recognized the blonde as the same woman who had tried to flag him down earlier. "Have you set a date yet for the wedding?"
Another person yelled out, "How does it feel to be marrying the real Nikki Heat?"
"Rick, so is the third time really the charm?
"Are the exes invited to the wedding?"
The questions flew at them in rapid fire succession, the last one hitting Kate right in the gut, momentarily knocking the wind right out of her. She wished they made insensitive question-proof vests that could stop the hurtful words, because she could feel what little was left of her calm resolve crumbling. Like vultures circling their prey, the reporters pressed in, looking for weaknesses to exploit.
Holding her hand up to shield her eyes from the blinding camera lights, she glanced over at Castle to gauge his reaction to the barrage of questions. Instead of looking angry or frazzled, he was sporting a relaxed posture and flashing the cameras his best smile—one that seemed far more suited for a book signing than fielding questions about his ex wives.
Castle reached over, wrapping his arm around Kate's shoulder, and pulled her close so that they were standing hip to hip. Then, sounding like a man who had spent hours rehearsing his responses, he answered each of their questions.
"We haven't set a date yet, but only because we are so head over heals in love at the moment that we can think of little else." He leaned over and kissed her on cheek, then directed his attention to the next reporter. "How does it feel to be marrying the real Nikki Heat? I still can't believe it. When I first met Kate, I knew there was something amazing about her—the dedication she had for her work, the tenacity, the brilliance, the empathy she extends to the victims she fights for, not to mention how breathtakingly beautiful she is. The woman you read about in the books, that only scratches the surface of how amazing the woman standing before you is. I'm a very lucky man."
Despite the cold, Kate could feel her face flush at his declaration of love. She knew he felt all these things; he'd told her before in the quiet, privacy of his loft, but to have them spoken so publically was like hearing them with new ears. It made her heart race and head spin; she wrapped her own arm around his waist to steady herself, curious to see how he'd tackle the other questions.
"I know it may seem like I'm a fool for love, like maybe I should just resign myself to sitting on the sidelines, or at least not push all-in, but when you meet the right person, the person that hits the reset button on your life and makes it all feel new again, it's like doing everything for the first time—only with a lot more wisdom and insight than you had before." The look on his face was a telling 'you know what I'm talking about.'
Castle spotted his red Ferrari coming up the road and watched as the valet pulled to a stop right in front of them. He used the distraction to push through the wall of reporters and guided Kate to the passenger side of the car. Just before sliding her into the seat he turned back toward the cameras. The reporters perked up, eager to hear whatever gossip he'd throw their way.
In classic Richard Castle style he responded to their last question. "And if you can tell me what wedding gifts my exes will spring for, I'll tell you if they're invited to the wedding." With that he shut Kate's door, walked around to the driver's side—ignoring the new flurry of questions flying at him—and headed toward home.
Sitting inside the warmth of the car, Castle tried focusing his attention on the slippery road ahead but all he could think about was the stunned look on Kate's face when Daniel showed them the Page Six headline. When he proposed to Kate, it had occurred to him that eventually their private life might become public domain, but he had always imagined being the one to orchestrate the announcement. More importantly, he had planned on having a serious conversation with Kate about what a life in the public eye meant for them long before they had a life in the public eye. The Page Six outing left him feeling like he was doing damage control, although whether it was damage control over their public image or Kate's emotions he wasn't sure.
Beckett looked over at Castle and saw that his hands, clenched tightly around the wheel, were visibly trembling. With his confident performance back there, she hadn't stopped to think how the news might be affecting him just as much as it was her.
"Rick." She was the first to break the silence. He winced slightly at the sound of his name and she wished she would have just let the silence carry them home.
"Kate," he breathed out her name. His face was a mix of regret and exhaustion. "I'm so sorry."
Sorry? That wasn't what she was expecting. Anger? Yes. Frustration? Sure. Maybe even amusement; it was Castle after all. But apologetic. What did he have to be sorry for?
"I think it's my fault that the news leaked."
"Wait, what?" Beckett bit back her urge to yell at him, to scream 'what were thinking' and 'how could you.' She wanted to hear him out first.
"Last week, I went to pick up our wedding bands. While I was waiting I ran into…" Castle paused trying to choose his words wisely and decided to start over. "Do you remember that case last year at the WHNY news station, local weather girl gets murdered?"
Beckett thought for a moment. "Yea. Mandy Michaels. I remember." She wasn't sure where he was going with this.
"Well then do you also remember a certain celebrity reporter—Kristina Cottera?"
"Kristina doesn't take no for an answer Cottera. Can't say I remember her, but her boobs, those I can see quite clearly." In any other context that jab would have come off as innocent teasing, but with her anxiety rising by the minute, the harshness cut through her voice.
"Yea, that's the one. When I went to pick up our bands she was there trying to get a scoop from the jeweler on some upcoming celebrity wedding. Well one thing led to another and I let it spill that I was getting married." Castle got really serious. "I swear Kate, she said it was just between us."
Beckett wanted to be angry. She wanted to yell. She wanted to feel something, anything besides the overwhelming fear that was making her stomach turn inside out.
"Castle," she said softly, her voice not giving away the emotions festering just below the surface. "I'm worried that this will change things—for you, for me, for us." Castle inhaled deeply, held it for a moment, and let the air slowly escape from his lungs—a sigh of resignation.
"Kate, I'd be lying if I said nothing is going to change, but not in the ways I think you fear."
"And what ways would those be?" she asked, wondering if they were on the same page.
Castle thought for a moment and then began. "I think you worry that your credibility at work will be questioned, maybe not by your peers but by the people you are fighting for and the people you are fighting against. I think you're worried that this will impact your ability to do your job at times. Maybe going undercover becomes harder. Maybe people have more ammunition to fling at you in the interrogation room." He stopped to see if any of what he was saying was registering with her and watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek.
"Go on," she pressed.
"I think you're worried that this small bit of fame will crowd out other elements of our relationship. That managing a public persona could interfere with living a life, or worst case, take over our lives" He instantly thought of his second wife Gina. Their relationship had always been centered around his work and the highs and lows that went with a having career in the spotlight. As much as his relationship with Kate had been founded on his professional pursuits, it was when researching Kate became secondary to getting to know Kate that he really fell in love with her.
Beckett sat in stunned silence, blankly staring out the window as his words ran through her mind. Sometimes Castle could seem so clueless when it came to her emotions, but tonight it was like he was reading her thoughts.
"And what do you think?" she asked.
"I think with all the hurdles we've already jumped and all the obstacles we've overcome to get where we are today, a Page Six headline will end up just being a footnote in our long amazingly complicated history."
Arriving back at the loft, Castle pulled the car into his parking space, assisted Beckett in getting out, and they walked in contemplative silence until they were in the familiar surroundings of the bedroom. From the time they left to go to the club until the time they walked back in the door couldn't have been more than an hour, but it felt like a lifetime ago.
They both barely made it out of their outfits and into pajamas before collapsing into bed, completely exhausted by the emotional ride of the evening.
"How about we talk about this in the morning," Castle proposed. "We're both tired, and could probably benefit from a solid night's sleep." He rolled over toward her, gently brushing the hair off her face, and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you Kate. We'll figure this out I promise."
His words sounded so certain, so comforting. She was almost willing to blindly believe him, but the uneasiness still sitting in the pit of her stomach told her it wouldn't be that easy. She reached up and cupped his check with her hand, looking sincerely into his eyes. She wanted to make sure he heard her—she wanted to make sure he understood that despite everything that had gone on tonight, one thing would always be true. "I love you too Rick."
The clock on the nightstand now read 6:10 AM. One by one the streetlights outside the window flickered off as the sun started to peak through the winter sky. Unable to just sit in bed any longer, Beckett made her way toward the living room windows, her bare feet softly padding on the cool hardwood floors. The overnight snow fall had blanketed the city with a dusting of white powder, hiding the dirt and grime New York City had become known for. She watched a lone car skid a couple feet down the street, bypassing a stop sign as the wheels glided over an invisible patch of ice. She hoped the salt trucks would make their rounds before the real rush hour traffic began.
Lost in thought, she didn't hear the quiet footsteps entering the room. "Having trouble sleeping?" Castle asked, causing Beckett to jump, momentarily startled by his voice cutting through the silence. Castle watched her muscles tense and her hand reach for a gun that wasn't there—a reminder that even after the heeling effects of time and lots of therapy, some ghosts never stop haunting. "Sorry, I need to start wearing a cow bell or something."
She laughed, knowing it was what he needed to hear. It was what she needed too after the night they just had. "Coffee?" she asked making her way toward the kitchen. Seamlessly maneuvering around the cabinets, she pulled out two mugs, cream and sugar, and coffee grinds from their respective places. They sat there together watching the coffee trickle into the pot, both hoping that the first sip would clear some of the haze from their brains.
Breathing in the aroma of the her first cup, Beckett felt her frayed nerves begin to relax. There was something about coffee-the ritual involved in making and drinking it—that had a calming effect on her. By the peaceful look on Castle's face she could tell it was having the same effect on him too. She wished they could just sit there all day like this, the pressing concerns of the outside world at bay, but she knew that whether you addressed them or not, the problems would still be there.
Castle could see the worry lines crinkling across her forehead, and he knew it was time to take action—stop that snowball before it got out of hand. "You know, I have to admit something to you. For a moment there last night, it felt really good to stand there with you as my fiancé—to not have to sidestep over the fact that I am deeply, madly in love with you." He twisted her body toward him on the stool, grabbing the cup of coffee from her hands to place on the counter.
"Yea it did feel good," she agreed. "Only one thing. This life in the public eye—the in-your-face reporters, the pictures on Page Six, the unwanted intrusions—I'm not sure I'm ready for all that Castle. I like our quiet, private life—"
"No," Castle gasped and covered his mouth with his hand, "you don't say." Beckett playfully swatted at his arm. "Kate, I figured that out the moment you pulled out all your guns trying to convince Montgomery to kick me to curb. Or how annoyed you got when my one-case consultation turned into shadowing you for a novel. Or how about the time you showed up at the Nikki Heat series launch party looking like a duck out of water. I'd never seen someone look quite so awkwardly beautiful, the way you bumbled around the room looking for a familiar face."
"I was trying to blend in."
"You looked more like an ostrich trying to hide by sticking his head in the sand." She furrowed her brow at him and he backpedaled a little. "Let's go with a very beautiful and confident ostrich then."
She dropped her face to hide the cheek-wide grin. Only Castle could call someone an ostrich and make it sound like a compliment. "So what do you propose we do then?"
"I think we should contact the post, maybe even Ms. Cottera if you're willing. That way we control how the information is presented. They're less like to let rumors fly if they've had a friendly chat with the source."
Beckett considered his suggestion—surprised that unlike his crazy murder theories, it was both realistic and insightful. Although she wasn't sure how friendly she could be if forced to talk to Ms. Boobs In Your Face herself. "Okay make the call." She forced a smile, trying to will herself to come to terms with the situation.
"I know how uncomfortable this makes you, and I want you to know that I will do my best to shield us from too much outside intrusion. But—"
"It's a big part of your life. I know." Beckett reached for his hands, pulling them onto her lap. "And as much as you want to protect me from it I want to support you in it." She gently squeezed his hands. "I know it won't be easy, but I don't want to run and hide. I don't want to start reconstructing a wall that we worked so hard on knocking down. I want to face this together. Whatever that means."
All night Castle had had nightmares about how this conversation could have gone. A fuming Kate slamming the loft door in his face. A distraught Kate curled up in bed, unwilling to talk. An unsupportive Kate who saw the public outing as a personal offense, instead of a situation that affected them both equally. But sitting in front of him was the absolute best version of Kate that he could hope for—a loving, supportive, and resolute fiancé.
He lunged at her from the stool, circling her in an embrace, and rested his head on her shoulder. She leaned into him, letting his torso support her weight, and rested her head against his. "Thank you, Kate, for everything."
"Always, Castle."