Close Encounters 6

Kate sank to the edge of the bathtub and buried her head in her hands, took slow breaths. She was wearing his shirt, she was making love to him like he'd disappear at any moment, and yet-

He'd left her. He'd lied - or neglected to let her in on the whole truth - and hadn't that always been their issue? How he handled her, how he fed her information according to some arbitrary timetable in his own head, how he bullied to get his own way.

Wasn't anything new, was it, Beckett? So did she keep punishing him for it when she already knew he was like this? She'd gone into this relationship with her eyes wide open. She knew him, knew his job and the secrets, knew what he was like, how his love twisted into a need to protect, to control, and if she couldn't handle it, then. . .

Then she should've walked away a long time ago.

After he'd been stabbed, she'd been running on guilt and desperation, giving in to his way of doing things because - because he'd been stabbed for her. Her fault. And then she was shot and he was right most of the time about how she was pushing herself, and she'd given in to it - his handling, his bullying.

But now she was whole, he was his own man, and they had to find their balance. She had to reassert control over her own life. She couldn't go through something like this again; she couldn't be emotionally manipulated just for his father's plan. He'd panicked, really. Hadn't he? The bomb had gone off and he'd feared for her life, their life together, and he'd done exactly what his father wanted him to do.

She knew that feeling too - knew how Black could dominate and manipulate.

But no more of that. Time to break those chains.

When this - whatever this was - was over, she was going to insist he sit down and have a conversation with his mother, dig into those old wounds, start getting some real answers. It would help, she thought; it would give him explanations for his little boy hurts and a way to move past them.

She felt better just for having the plan, for having the resolve to do something proactive about the tangled knot of them.

Kate stood up and ran water in the sink, splashed it over her face. She glanced at herself in the mirror and winced. She needed a shower; she was starving; she looked wretched.

She scrubbed her face and ran her fingers through her hair, sighed to herself. Shower later. She needed clothes and toiletries; they should think of a plan.

They.

Them.

He was alive.

Kate pushed out of the bathroom and hurried back down the hallway, tripping over the threshold and coming back to the bed-

and he looked so miserable sitting there.

"Oh, Rick," she sighed. She went to him and caught the side of his face with her fingers and pulled his head against her stomach, cradled him there. He took in a gulping breath and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Rick. I still love you. I'm not going anywhere. You have me, love. You have me."

She carded her fingers through his hair until he seemed to ease, and then she gripped his ear and gently tugged him away. "Let's hit up the shopping center down the street. I need clothes and shampoo and stuff."

He nodded, and his eyes were hesitant, so she bent over him and kissed him softly, all the ways she'd missed him, all the relief at having him welling up.

When she lifted, he rose to his feet and chased her, cupping her cheeks and brushing his mouth against hers, tracing the outline of her lips before sliding his tongue inside. Tender, touching her like she was everything, all of it, and she circled her hands at his wrists and hung on.

"You're naked," she murmured, laughing a little even as she stroked her hands down his sides. His flesh shivered at her touch and she pressed the back of her fingers to his abs, feeling the flex and tension of his muscles. "I like it when you're naked."

"Kate," he panted. "I promise. Won't - won't ever do that again. Just. . ."

"What do you want, Castle?"

He closed his mouth and his throat worked, his head tilting back as if he was trying to get control of himself. She had missed him, she'd needed him and ached for him, and every time she felt so sick, so bleak and anguished, she'd had the wild, desperate thought that if she could just talk to him, she'd be okay again. But of course, she couldn't - she couldn't - he was dead-

Had been. He wasn't dead; he was here. And the heat of his thighs was scalding her, the clutch of his hands at her jaw and neck made her want to push him back down on the bed and remind herself how present he was, how strong and alive.

"Clothes," he ground out, his eyes flashing open and staring down at her. Wow. So blue.

"What?"

"I need clothes. And you need clothes. And a shower. And - and I'm not doing this again until you've had a chance to really sleep."

"You withholding sexual favors from me, Castle?"

He gulped and suddenly crushed her into a tight embrace; she felt the erratic and mad beat of his heart against her. "I'm trying to be a better man than I am, Kate. Better than this."

"I like this," she whispered, but she knew that wasn't entirely true either. She didn't like this, didn't like being kept in the dark or worrying about what he might do next. "Actually."

"Yeah?"

"I don't. I want you to talk to your mother when we get finished with this."

He choked on something she thought was a laugh and Kate finally let him go, turned around to find his pants on the floor. She handed them over, regarding him carefully.

"I'm serious."

"Well, that definitely killed the mood. Thanks, Beckett. One way to do it."

She pushed on his shoulder, felt the tug of her scraped hands and curled her fingers back into a loose fist. "You need to talk with her, Castle. You have - we have issues. Both of us. Because of what happened with our moms. I'm trying to deal with mine; the least you can do is try to deal with yours."

He growled and shoved a foot into his pants. "I don't see how Martha has anything to do with us."

"You let your father blindside you and lead you around like you're still that little boy, Rick. . .And you hurt me."

His head snapped up to hers, a grief-crushed look on his face. "Kate."

She didn't like putting it out there quite so baldly, but there it was. "I know it's going to happen. Two people. . .bound to hurt each other. I know I've hurt you. But there was no reason you couldn't have told me. Except your father got in your head and twisted everything. You've spent long enough warning me about him, Castle."

"I know," he gritted out, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed and buttoned his jeans slowly, put his hands on his hips. "How does - talking to Martha won't suddenly make me. . ."

"Knowing. Just knowing why," she insisted, drawing his shirt from the chair and holding it out for him. "Knowing the reasons, whatever they are, can only help."

"I don't need the reasons."

"You act like your father has been the only person to ever want you. But you don't know the whole story yet. You haven't given her a chance. And if Black is your measuring stick for how love is supposed to work. . .Castle, then. . ."

She trailed off, no words left.

"He's not." Castle said suddenly. "I know that much."

"Then stop treating me like he treats you."

His jaw dropped.

She took a deep breath and began buttoning his shirt, giving him a moment to come back from that, keeping her fingers on him and trying to soothe that statement with her presence.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm not going to keep you for a few years and then abandon you to your father. But you have to work on this, Castle. You have to stop doling out information as you see fit, keeping me in the dark, protecting me by not telling me the whole truth."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I said enough with being sorry. It's not about sorry. And I know I have problems letting go, and wanting to be in control, and obsessing to the point of darkness. So it's not all your fault. I get sucked down a rabbit hole, Rick, and you're just trying to keep that from happening. I see that. But we work better together. As partners."

He nodded and his fingers came to cover hers over his last button. He brought her palms in for a kiss to each scrape, clasped them over his heart. "I know. Partners. I learned that lesson, I really did. But I panicked when it came to risking your life."

"We risk it together."

"I don't like it-"

"You think I like it any better that it's your life at risk too?"

"No," he sighed.

"No. And now you see why. I don't - I don't do things by halves, Castle. I've never been able to hold myself back when it comes to. . .to this. It's not just going all in, not just diving into the deep end and hoping I swim, but it's consuming. All consuming."

"I saw," he murmured and reached out to cup her cheek. She came when he tugged, let herself be pulled right up against him, a shivery breath escaping her. "Kate, I never want to see you like that again. I work on me, on being a damn bully, but you gotta - you have to find something to hold your head above water."

"I know," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly. She wasn't proud of the wreck she'd been in, though it hadn't entirely been purposeful. It had just. . .she had just. . . "It hurt."

"I'm sor-" He cut himself off and pressed his lips to her temple, a breath in and then out against her hair. "I can't be the thing that holds you up, Kate. Not the only thing. Because when I finally don't come back-"

"You came back."

"But you know it's not a promise I can make," he murmured.

She clutched him tighter, realized she was at an unfair disadvantage in just the tshirt, no underwear, while he had his clothes on. "After these past few days, believe me. I know you can't promise to always come back to me."

"But I'll always love you, Kate. I'll always want you. Need you. Find you amazing and breathtaking and strong and intelligent and resourceful and beautiful and-"

"Castle," she laughed a little, sliding her arms around his waist. His shirt felt warm and soft at her cheek. "I can hold on to that."

"Even if I don't make it-"

"You'll make it."

"Even so."

"I'll hold on to that," she said quietly. He was right. She'd only find herself right back on the kitchen floor, blackout drunk and bleeding, unable to even take care of a dog, if she didn't get a grip on her addictive tendencies. Stop building her very self around these things and instead use them as fuel.

He loosened his arms and drew back with a soft, proud grin. "I love you, Kate. I love how you never give up. You just keep going. I want you to never give up. Even so."

But she squeezed him tighter and said the thing that still haunted her, let it come right out. "It was because it was my fault," she whispered. "Because you - my mother's case started all of this and you were gone because of me."

He stared at her for a long, terrible moment, and then he caught her back up into his arms in a crushing embrace.

And he said nothing.

Because they both knew there was nothing to say to that.

Sometimes she didn't take care of herself the way she should, the way she ought to. It was like she was always trying to prove something or she was trying to not be a disappointment. And so while he really was going to keep his mouth shut about it, not bully her, he did think that being her partner in this meant saying no.

No.

He wasn't ignoring all self-restraint and human decency to have her again when she'd been blind drunk and bleeding just hours ago. But damn, she was really brutally honest about. . .when he'd ripped her heart out.

Hadn't he?

He'd ripped her heart out.

But he didn't think grief could be like that. Heart broken, yes, oh yes. He'd be - yes. Heart broken, lost. Grief couldn't be measured or arranged or even limited. But not. . .it couldn't eviscerate her. She couldn't be - not when she knew what kind of work he did and the work she did as well, and having her own mother-

She couldn't be gutted out by their love. That wasn't okay. That wasn't healthy. And if their relationship could do that to her, then what did it say about him as her partner, her lover, her husband?

He was doing a fucking poor job of it, that's what it said.

So when she twined her fingers through his and led him through the racks of clothes at the Wal-Mart down the street from their bed and breakfast, he blurted it out pretty poorly. Because it was killing him.

"I don't want to be bad for you, Kate."

She stumbled to a stop at a display of slinky looking tops, all metallic and shimmery, and he was distracted for a moment with the sudden image of Beckett dancing in one of those coppery shirts, the way her body-

"You're not bad for me."

He jerked his eyes up to hers and struggled back to his train of thought. "I want to make you laugh."

"I laugh."

"Are you happy?" he asked, squeezing his fingers in hers.

She came at him, wrapping her body around his and kissing him breathless. He panted against her cheek as she stood there in her damn funeral dress and heels, her fingers running through his hair, her words so low and murmured he could barely hear them.

"Rick, you have opened me up and poured so much. . .life into me. You don't even know. How bad it was before you. How dark and narrow and mean my life was. Until you. I only hope I do half as much for you."

His chest broke apart, his whole body stripped and rebuilt stronger just with those words. He curled his fingers at her neck and stroked his thumb at her jaw, kissed her in the middle of Wal-Mart under the blue-tinted florescent lights because she was so beautiful she made him ache.

Everything was at rest inside him. For the first time ever, the constant and endless maelstrom of his psyche was quiet.

"You make everything go still," he sighed into her mouth. "You give me peace."

In the car once more, she used the pre-paid phone they'd bought inside Wal-Mart to call Ryan. He sounded frantic when he answered.

"Beckett, where are you? We can't-"

"I'm in - safe. I'm safe. I can't say; I shouldn't say, Ryan. But-"

"Beckett. This is-"

"I know," she interrupted, turned to look at Castle as he waited at a stop light. "But I can't. Not right now. Ryan, where are we on the - confetti?"

"The conf. . .oh. Still with Espo's guy."

She nodded to Castle in confirmation and he gestured for her to go ahead.

"It's important that absolutely no one knows we have that. I need you to baby-sit that thing like. . .like it's me."

"Beckett. Are you even. . .are you sure you're. . ."

"I know," she said quietly. "But I'm - it's different now. You and Espo need to do this for me. I'm trying to stay out of sight until we get somewhere on Bracken."

"All right. Okay. Just - check in with us. Every day."

"I can do that," she promised, taking a deep breath and feeling her head swim. She pressed her hand to her eyes and swallowed through the rush of nausea. "I'll call at this time tomorrow."

She heard him let out a long breath. "We'll see what comes of the confetti. Let you know, boss."

Kate felt the car surge forward and then turn; she opened her eyes to see Castle pulling into a sandwich place. Her stomach growled angrily and she felt his hand come up to catch in her hair, his thumb at her jaw as if in a kiss. He let go to park the car in the lot, and she watched him absent-mindedly as he took off his seatbelt.

"Ryan, I gotta go. But tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow," he said, and her heart caught at the despondency in his voice.

"I promise you," she said fiercely. "It's going to be okay, Ry. I'll call you."

Maybe it was using the nickname that Castle had given him, maybe it was the certainty in her voice, but she heard his sharp, indrawn breath and she realized he knew.

He knew.

"Yes," she answered slowly. "But."

"Oh my God."

"Ry."

"Right. Right, no. I know. Yes. Okay, tomorrow."

"If you tell Javi. . .find someplace crowded, lots of people, ambient noise. Got me?"

"Got you, boss. Got you. Be safe."

And he hung up. She turned to Castle with a grimace, an apology on her tongue, but he shook his head and leaned it to catch her mouth in a fierce kiss. Her hand clenched around the phone and she pushed up into him, that wild and abandoned part of her struggling for more, for forever, for him.

He gentled her and put her away with his palms at her ears and his fingers in the tangled mess of her hair. She was wearing the dark-wash jeans and white tshirt they'd bought in Wal-Mart; she'd just changed in the dressing room and brought the tags up to the register with the other stuff.

His hand dropped down to the v-neck of her shirt and skimmed the pads of his fingers against the line of material and skin. Her heart tripped and she struggled to catch her breath.

"Ryan knows."

"They're detectives. Should've seen it coming."

"Kiss me again," she whispered, needing it more than food or air or anything.

He pressed in softly this time, little kisses again and again, coming back for more, lips meeting and brushing and glancing, and her blood pushing through her veins until she wanted to crawl over the console and press her body against his.

And then her stomach growled nastily and ruined it.

Castle laughed and combed his fingers in her hair, pushed it away from her face. "Food, Kate. You need to eat."

They had a back booth and the chill from the window seeped in and settled in her bones. She hunched into the cheap sweatshirt jacket and took another bite of her sandwich; she was practically finished and they'd just sat down.

Castle's knee nudged hers and she looked up at him. "You cold?"

She nodded and he was pushing his drink and meatball sub over to her side of the booth and then coming around. She scooted over and eyed him, but she had to admit that his solid bulk next to her began to thaw her bones.

"Look at you eating a meatball sub like the rest of us yahoos," she laughed, nudging his side.

"Just trying to keep my survival on the down low," he grinned back. "When in. . .Connecticut, eat meatball subs."

"Speaking of Rome," she murmured with a grin. "You know that's good enough for me, right? I don't need-"

"I want to file the paperwork," he insisted once more. "Don't take that from me, Kate."

She couldn't help the way that settled in her, made her stupidly happy even though she didn't need it. She didn't have to be married to him in the state of New York to know what they meant to each other. But it was - a new life. It was starting a new life with him and the paperwork was just the first part of things.

Kate took another bite of her sandwich and felt the cold climb up her spine again.

"Get closer, Beckett. You're shivering."

She chewed slowly and couldn't resist wedging her body tighter against his. Castle dropped his palm to her knee and the heat of his hand burned straight through.

"That helps," she said slowly.

He wriggled his fingers on her knee and she cast him a sly look, saw him grinning beside her. He was beside her. She was sitting next to him again, feeling his warm skin through his shirt, his hand on her and teasing a line up her thigh. She had him back, and she'd thought it was impossible.

She dropped her sandwich and just stared at him a moment, at the line of his jaw and the work of his muscles, the way the hair dusted across his forearms and the flop of bangs in his eyes where it had grown out again.

"You're staring, Beckett."

"You're resurrected, Castle."

He startled and turned back to her, mouth open, sandwich hanging. Regret shimmered in his eyes and she winced. If he said, I'm sorry, one more time, she might hit him.

So instead she leaned in and kissed the soft side of his cheek, dragged her lips to the corner of his mouth before sitting back.

"After this," she started and waited until he caught up with her. "We need to come up with a plan. With the contract out on us. . .it changes things."

He nodded slowly. "And I need to fill you in. It might change things as well."

She studied him a moment, the shame tight in his mouth and the way he was avoiding her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"We had a plan. It's set to go into motion later today. With or without me, at this point. They'll get someone else in there if I don't show up."

"A plan," she repeated. "You. . .what are you doing, Castle?"

He pointedly didn't look at her, his sandwich dangling from his fingers. "Eat first. I'll tell you everything, but not here."

That did not sound good.