6. Hold Onto Me
Several glasses of wine later, with the clock ticking into the early hours of the morning, Richard Castle sits leaning back, feet resting on his desk, fingering frantically typing away at his laptop, a story forming in his mind. He is enthralled in his work, unaware of the events taking place in the room, especially of the teenager who walks quietly behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Jesus," he says, the laptop nearly leaving his lap, feet falling to the floor. He turns around abruptly to find Alexis, his daughter, dressed in sleepwear, her features showing shock equal to his own.
"Sorry," she says, pulling her hands away from him, drawing her arms in to cross them at her middle. "I just came down to tell you how late it is."
"Oh," Castle says, reaching around to find his watch, "And how late is it?"
"Dad," she sighs, "It's almost 3. And you know how you need your beauty rest."
Castle smiles reaching out his arms, beckoning her to come near, drawing her into a hug. "You're going to make a wonderful parent one day," he says matter-of-factly, his head now resting against her.
"One day?" she questions, her eyes now drawn to the couch in his office, to a sleeping detective who is breathing softly.
"Dad?" she questions.
"Yes," he answers against her t-shirt, then leaning back to look at her.
Her eyes still focussed on the sleeping figure, "Is that Detective Beckett?"
Castle follows her gaze to Beckett who moves slightly in her sleep. His eyes open in slight amazement, as if he had forgotten the events of that evening. Case file photos of her mother lay on the table in front of her, scattered amongst other files and notes. Her coat now removed lays at the opposite end of the table.
Castle turns back to his daughter, "That is one Detective Kate Beckett."
Alexis' eyes open, a wide grin lining her face, "So did you two kiss and make-up?"
"In so many words," Castle says smiling looking back to Beckett who is motionless, breathing softly once more.
Alexis takes a hand bringing it to her father's head, and ruffles his hair, "Good father," she says as his hand flies up to catch her own.
"Hey watch it," he says, smoothly, "Don't mess with the hair."
Alexis' head cocks toward him, leaning down to him, "I told you the flowers would work."
"That you did," Castle says, reaching back around pulling her into him once more. He pats her on the back. "Now go to bed."
She pulls away from him taking initial steps out of the room, "But I wanted to say hello."
"You can see her in the morning," he says to which she turns, looking at her father in sheer delight. He smiles continuing, "To bed."
Castle watches Alexis climb the stairs until he cannot see her feet anymore, and with the closing of her bedroom door, he rises from his chair taking a few steps across the room. Carefully picking up a few photos, placing them into the folder as if they belonged to the victim herself, he finally takes a seat in front of his sleeping detective.
His eyes travel the length of her, curled, legs pulled into her chest, her boots now off. Her hands together, supporting her head under a pillow. He remarks at the smoothness of her skin, not a line in sight, as her features are allowed to rest. The chain around her neck hanging loosely, her mother's ring in plain sight. He refrains from leaning over to take it in his hands, having never seen it clearly before.
"Castle?" she says softly, eyes opening in confusion.
He, finally realizing how close he is to her, the scent of her perfume flooding his senses, as she sits up suddenly.
"Hi," he says guiltily.
"Where you watching me sleep?" She questions, hands coming to her face, rubbing some colour into her cheeks.
"No," he pauses, "Well Maybe." He nods his head. "Yes, yes I was."
"Do you realize how insanely creepy that is?"
"Maybe," his face turning a smile, "But you were so cute with your cooing and your little snorts and such."
A hand is drawn to her mouth, "I was not," shock resonating.
He does nothing but smile, leaning back.
"What time is it?" her eyes squinting in the dim lighting.
"We're almost at three."
"Damn," she is attempting to shake off the effect of the liquor, "I should be going." She gets up slowly reaching for her coat.
Castle reaches it before she has a chance to grab it.
"Castle..."
"I think it would be better if you just stayed the night."
"My coat please."
He stands, directly in front of her, drawing her coat behind his back, as her hands reach out for him to give it to her.
"I can't let you drive home detective. Not with a few glasses of wine in you, half asleep. I would feel a lot better if you just stayed." He motions toward the stairs, "There's a guest bedroom. You'd be no bother."
She sighs, letting her shoulders relax, nodding gently, "Alright Castle. That's fair. Lead the way."
***
It is a few hours later when Richard Castle is pulled from his dream, shaking the memory of the legs of Nikki Heat no longer wrapped around him, he looks over to the side of the bed. Alexis stands, worry across her face.
"Dad," she says shaking his shoulder again.
"Pumpkin," he says, bringing his hands to his face, "What's the matter?"
She sighs heavily, unsure of what to say, "It's Kate. I can hear her."
Castle sluggishly raises from his bed, turning, letting his feet touch the floor. "You can hear what?" he asks, looking up to her.
"I think you should go to her. Talk to her." Alexis hands are together, grabbing her fingers twisting.
Castle reaches over to grab a t-shirt, putting it on, he treads heavily toward the door.
It is not long before he is standing outside the door to the guest bedroom, muffled sobs coming from inside the room. He breaths a heavy breath before entering, contemplating his actions but wanting so badly to be the hero. He opens the door slightly without making a noise and quietly edges toward the bed.
Her back is to him, she lies curled, hands covering her face. She cannot hear him approach until he places a knee on the bed, quietly drawing the sheets. He manages to sit on the bed before her hands draw from her face and she turns around to face him, black smudges circling her bloodshot eyes. With the little light there is in the room he can make out her face, dark and red.
She rolls her eyes back, looking away again, "Damn it Castle. Go away."
He pulls her sheets up further around him, drawing nearer to her, "Nope. I'm not going anywhere."
Her body pressed against the edge of the bed, he pulls alongside her, close enough to draw his body in line with hers. He brings a hand to her shoulder, gently running his hand down her arm.
She contemplates flight but before she has a chance to act on it, his fingers find her own entwining together. He pulls her body back against him, their bodies fitting together perfectly. He brings his head to rest against hers, her scent again, intoxicating.
"Rick. Please," she begs, her fingers pushing against his own, attempting to free themselves.
But he is unrelenting, holding her tighter he whispers into her ear, "It's ok Kate. It's ok to feel this way."
She shudders slightly, letting go of her quivering lip, another hot tear running down her sore face.
"I'm going to hold you. You don't really have a choice in the matter." His words smiling.
"I don't need you to hold me Castle. I'm a big girl. I can cry on my own."
He releases his grip on her, running his hands up and down her arms gently by the tips of his fingers.
"You don't need to. I'm not going anywhere. So you can stop trying to push me away." His lips reach her brow placing a gentle kiss there and at his touch her shoulders loosen, her frame melting into his own once more, giving into him far less challenging than the fight. The bait set, Beckett turns around to face him, their eyes meeting for a moment, her own dark and troubled; his caring and soft.
"Ok," she says quietly, "You win."
She brings a hand to his chest, fingers lightly toying with his t-shirt, her other arm reaching around his waist, encircling him. Carefully she pulls her eyes away from his, placing her head under his to rest her forehead against his chest. Softening her breathing, she inhales deeply, stifling back a few sobs.
"Tell me Katie, when's the last time someone held you."
"I can't remember," she says honestly, remarking how Will had never offered to do this.
"You see, that's not good," he pauses, kissing her forehead once more, "That most definitely should be changed."
She takes a moment to look up at him and he smiles down to her, at her smudged make up.
"What?" she asks, taken aback, her brow furrowing.
"Stay right here. I'll be back."
He escapes to the ensuite returning with a warm washcloth, showing it to Beckett. She rolls her eyes slightly, curling the corner of her lip with her teeth.
"Castle..." she begins again as he brings the cloth to her face, gentle, caressing.
"Shh," he offers, "Let me do it for you."
The warm cloth is run over her features, and she closes her eyes at the sensation, remarking on his careful technique on her rough skin, raised and irritated from her tears. She sighs, giving into him, her hands unknowingly coming to his chest, to claw carefully at his shirt, pulling the fabric in her fingertips.
When he has finished he places the cloth aside, his hands returning to her face, brushing aside an errant strand of dark hair. Her eyes open slowly for him. His Beckett stripped of her detective-ness, lying dressed in his buttoned shirt, her face void of everything he has known her to be. But she is beautiful in this moment, relaxed and comforted, as his arms reach out to encircle her once more pulling her into his chest. And finally for a moment, he has seen it quickly flicker across her face, a smile, genuine and careful.
As she curls into him, she can feel the tension escaping her, can feel her succumbing to his grasp. Her head beneath his chin, she sighs again, warm breath against his t-shirt.
"Thank you," she says softly, against him, a hand returning to his side.
"You don't owe me any thanks, Kate," he says delicately, pulling the duvet around them. "But if you promise to close your eyes and get some sleep, we'll be even."
His hand moving steadily on her back, it is not long after he offers a kiss to her forehead, that Kate Beckett succumbs to sleep, the muse safe in the arms her writer.