Close Encounters 7
His mother looked so blank at the news.
Like she hadn't any idea how to compose her face to reflect anything of what she felt. Or maybe she felt nothing, he mused. Maybe it had been too long and buried too deeply.
"I don't want you to worry about him any longer," he said quietly. "Whatever he did to you then, he can't do to you now."
"He was a spy," Martha stated flatly, her eyes curiously, frighteningly, empty.
Kate was patting her arm and holding her up, and again, again, Castle was so thankful for his wife.
"Martha. I'm a spy as well. He groomed me for it. For this life. That's why he wanted me."
Martha seemed to shrink before his very eyes.
"It's okay, it's okay," Kate was saying, soothing but strong, her arm around the older woman now and swaying with her.
"Oh, God," Martha keened. Tears had sprung to her eyes and her exclamation had people turning to look at them.
"Hush," he muttered, a strange sense of panic welling up in him. "Kate, make her stop crying."
Kate shot him a dirty look and rubbed his mother's back.
"Martha, do you want to have this conversation back at our house?" she murmured. "Or maybe even tomorrow after you've had some time? We can get breakfast."
"She's not a morning person," Castle said dryly, but his chest was clenched too tightly for the nonchalance to exactly sound real.
His mother's head lifted, something burning in her eyes. "You remember."
Castle's mouth opened but nothing came out.
"He remembers," Kate said quietly. "It comes out like that when he's not thinking about it. I think he just didn't want to let himself remember. What he'd lost."
Martha let out another choked sob, like an animal in distress, and his panic crested, made him clutch at the table and beseech Kate.
"Please make her stop," he hissed. "Kate. She's-"
"Calm down, love." She shook her head at him, her arm still around his mother. "Jeez, you two. Drama llamas."
"What?" he choked out, staring at her. Drama what?
"Melodramatic. You know, I thought when I first met you that you were just very serious. But it's all drama, Castle. You take yourself too seriously, but it's this right here." She gestured to his mother and he stared at her.
"What."
She was grinning at him. Martha was chuckling now; her laughter had a hysterical tinge to it that he didn't like, but Kate was right. And she'd broken the tension.
"Oh, darling. She's got us pegged."
Kate was right. His mother was being dramatic. Overly so. It was real, of course it was, but it was also. . .just how she did things. He remembered that too - the all-day productions over one tiny incident.
And how his father had beat that out of him.
So yeah. He took himself too seriously and Kate had been the one to make him ease up on himself, on all of this, and now. . .
Now he saw where loosening that tight control had given him the freedom to be a little-
Melodramatic?
"Oh, Richard," his mother sighed. Happily, it seemed. "You know I named you for the play - Richard III."
"The. . .hunchback?" Kate laughed. "Oh, that's adorable."
"No, his nephew - King Edward's son," Martha sighed out. "The lost prince."
Castle sucked in a startled breath and his eyes flew to Kate's.
Drama llama. That was all. Just - drama.
But it affected him nonetheless.
She was his mother. And she had loved him.
They walked his mother back to her apartment and when Martha lifted a trembling hand to blow them kisses, Kate gathered her up into a hug once more, tried to put as much feeling into it as she could.
Martha had been hurt by Black as well. Blackened. It wasn't the woman's fault; she'd loved the man once and had mistakenly assumed Black would love his son the way he should, if he didn't still love his son's mother.
"Thank you, Katherine," Martha whispered fiercely.
"My pleasure," she hummed back and then let go. She turned to Castle but he was moving in, pushing past her, and then his arms were coming around his mother as well.
Kate watched in silence, stunned by the gesture but so proud of him for it. He released Martha all too soon, but she could see what good it had done the woman. Martha smiled tremulously and patted Castle's arm, said a stronger good-bye.
When Martha disappeared inside her door, Kate took Castle's hand in hers as they turned on the sidewalk, laced their fingers together.
"You okay?" she asked finally.
He shrugged, and she was content to let the silence remain. It was a shared silence, a shared emotion between them, and she didn't need to dissect it.
Kate laid her cheek to his shoulder for a moment, closing her eyes and letting him lead before straightening her spine once more and facing the night. Castle let out a long sigh and fished his phone out of his pocket; she saw he'd missed three calls.
The Director, no doubt.
But Castle hid his phone away and didn't speak.
When they got home, he took Sasha outside while Kate mounted the stairs for their bedroom. She undressed in silence and slid on pajama pants, a soft cotton tshirt that had been his, and then she heard him coming back inside.
The dog's collar rattled as Sasha made for the extra bedroom, still filled with boxes, and then Kate could feel the change in the air as Castle brought summer's humidity into the room with him.
She turned and she was in his arms, his mouth slanting over hers and sealing in her words. She took his kiss, stroked her tongue inside the heat of him, and swallowed his groan. She skimmed her hands down the taut line of his abs and to his pants.
He grunted and walked her backwards. "Undress me," he said with a gruff, pushed them both to the bed.
Kate snagged him by the tie and pulled him down into her, his body heavy over hers, her legs hooking around his hips to anchor him. Castle groaned and shoved his hands up under her shirt, stroking hard, kneading her hips. She arched and worked at the knot of his tie, maddening in its construction, and then she gave up.
"Fuck it," she muttered. "Essential pieces only."
He laughed, but it strangled in his throat when she went straight for the zipper of his pants.
Beckett luxuriated in the soft satin of his skin and the bedsheets, took in a deep breath before opening her eyes.
Dusk had fallen. Sasha had - at some point - crawled into bed with them as well, which tamped down on Kate's lust but really didn't extinguish it. She slid an arm up and found Castle's-
um.
Ass?
Kate lifted her head and laughed, blushed hard as she realized they were flipped head to toe in the bed after. . .yeah. That. Her feet were on the pillow, his were hanging off the bed, and she leaned in and put her mouth on his ankle for a kiss.
She turned it into a bite and he jerked awake, so Beckett slithered the right way up and shifted to lie down over his back, pressing her body against his. A dark chuckle vibrated through him, made her insides turn to liquid, and she kissed the warm skin at his shoulder blade.
"You have absolutely worn me out," he muttered.
"I'm good like that," she smiled. He laughed again and an arm came back, clumsy and groping, to find her ass. She wriggled against him and rolled off, let him turn in bed to cuddle her at his side.
"You're good. Period."
"I've heard that before."
"Better only be hearing it from me."
"Hmm, actually. . ."
"No. Don't tell me if it's not."
She grinned again and he looked like he was bracing himself, gripping her upper arm and wincing. So melodramatic.
"Actually, yes. Only you, Castle. Only heard it from you. You do like to lavish me with praise. You're quite wordy."
He grinned at that, brought her in so close that their skin sealed together, still warm and humid. "What a good word. I like to lavish," he murmured, rolling it around. "I love to lavish."
"And I love that tongue," she sighed.
He laughed again and snuggled into her, soft and tender where their language was rough and crude. It was ridiculous how her heart fluttered and her very soul trembled before him. Ridiculous.
And necessary to life.
She sighed and brushed her lips against his. "I don't know how exactly we got here, but wow."
"I think it's because you said lie down and then I said-"
She slapped his shoulder and he laughed, his grin infectious. Then she was grinning back and rolling her eyes and suddenly he tightened his arms around her and buried his nose at her neck, all humor gone.
"I know what you mean," he muttered. "With my mother today, Kate. . .I'm amazed at the depths of your intelligence, your compassion. . ."
She pressed her lips to the side of his face and he lifted his head from her, let out a long sigh. His eyes were that blue she loved which always ran to grey. His lips quirked.
"And the depths of your hotness."
She chuckled, skimming her fingertips up his jaw, caressing his ear. He was grinning, a wink as his hand came up between them, their arms tangling for a moment, and then he stroked down her nose.
She felt her lashes fluttering shut and then the soft pressure of his mouth over hers for a kiss.
"Wow is right," he murmured.
She answered the phone half-asleep and from underneath Castle's broad furnace of a body.
"Beckett."
"Detective. This is Director-"
She jerked upright. "Sir." Kate tried to untangle herself from Castle, but the man was like an octopus in his sleep. "Sir, I relayed your message."
"You have?"
"Yes, sir," she assured him. "I have." Castle's arm had fallen across her waist when she sat up and now his palm - oh, whew, not good.
"I've tried calling him a few times-"
"Sir, I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I think Agent Castle is waiting until after our wedding reception. A family thing."
"Ah."
She winced and took a deep breath to explain, but it caused Castle's fingers to hit - oh, shit, she could not be having this conversation like this. Kate reached down and curled her hand over his wrist, eased his arm up. . .
He resisted.
"Detective Beckett?"
She snapped her head to Castle and saw his eyes were wide open and treacherously, evilly amused.
"Sir," she got out.
"I believe the wedding reception is this Friday?"
Castle's fingers curled and skimmed her bare flesh; she locked her arm muscles to keep him from going any farther.
"Yes, sir. Friday."
"And I can expect him. . ."
"Monday morning," she promised, an eyebrow raised at Castle.
"All right. He and I are going to have a talk about this lack of communication."
Kate stifled a growl. "He and I are going to have a talk about this too."
The call ended and Kate tossed her phone lightly to the rug, turned in bed to glare at him.
He was still grinning. "You gonna punish me for-"
She slapped a hand over his mouth and leaned over him, glittering with furious arousal. "Punishing you would only be like rewarding you. Instead, you get to reward me for running interference with your boss - three times now."
"Only three? I bet I can make you-"
"Try it," she growled, and slid her thigh over his.
She propped her chin on her fist and watched him sleep, the deep rise and fall of his broad chest and the harsh jut of his ribs. He'd lost weight, and while she knew that was partly due to his renewed training, she also knew it was the sleeplessness and the nightmares and the last few months.
Kate herself was worn out; it'd been one of those weeks that had seemed non-stop, but they hadn't really done anything. Just the therapy and his mother, but the emotional issues, the work of sifting through it all - that had taken it out of her.
Still she could see that the therapy had already been good for them; it'd been a long time since he'd fallen asleep after sex, dropped right off like this. A long time since he'd felt safe enough, a long time since he'd been able to let go so completely.
Kate brushed her fingers through the hair on his forehead, stroked her thumb at his cheek. She trailed her touch down to his ribs and the muscle rippled under her hand. But he stayed asleep.
Certain of that at least, she slipped out of bed and pulled the covers up to his waist, leaned in to kiss his forehead. He smelled of shampoo and sweat, a strange and lovely combination that made her stomach flutter.
Kate wanted so much for him, so much for the both of them, and it would take time. But he could laugh with her father and gut fish calmly on the back porch, he could even attend his mother's play and have drinks with her afterwards, have a real conversation. It wasn't going to be smooth sailing from here on out, but it was progress.
It gave her hope.
There were many things about his job that she found disconcerting, a handful that she thought were appalling. But he'd presented a good case for her working from the inside, trying to effect change in the ways she could.
Kate shrugged on a shirt - it happened to be his - and tugged a pair of pajama pants over her hips. Her bare feet made no noise on the carpet runner down the hall, and she brushed her hair back from her face, pushed it behind her ear. The house was warm but quiet, and the early morning light made delicate patterns on the hardwood.
She stepped into the foyer and took a deep breath, remembering how Castle had stood there in the stained glass mosaic of light and how beautiful he was. A beautiful man. He always struggled so hard, to be more than just a man following orders, more than the CIA's machine. He fought against the training and the code instilled in him by his father, and he fought to be that better man.
She could fight for him too. Even if it meant going to the CIA and no longer being an NYPD detective. She could partner him in the work of national security, so long as they did it together. So long as they fought for the good and for truth.
The light was heating her skin, touching her hair with warmth.
She had to tell him her decision.
She grinned and followed the path of the sunlight along the floor of the dining room and into the kitchen.
She'd tell him after the reception; that could be his wedding gift.
He woke from that sluggish dream of freezing to death in a boxcar only to find that the sheet was twisted around his ankles, the bed was empty, and he was naked.
He smelled coffee.
Mmmm, that was good.
He glanced around the room, still mentally challenged after that nightmare of ice, but he had no idea where Kate had gone. If she was even here. What the hell time was it?
Shit, he hated that dream. The way her hands had felt tucked against his ribs, the desperate choke in his throat, the slump of her body into his as she lost consciousness, knowing that was it - they were done.
Castle scraped a hand down his face and then reached for the covers, tried to untangle everything. Goose bumps raced across his flesh and then died down, some remnant of ice, and he tried to wake up.
Just then the door cracked open and the smell of coffee magnified in the room. There was his wife, sauntering into the bedroom with a mug in her hands and her eyes on it to keep it from spilling.
She got to the side of the bed and glanced up at him with that sexy, shy smile she had, hair falling down and tumbling at her shoulders, the pajama pants so loose that he imagined all it would take would be a sharp tug of his fingers.
He reached out for the coffee instead, taking it from her, and she grinned wider and sank to her knees on the mattress at his hip, sitting back on her feet.
"Morning, honey."
He choked on his first sip of coffee, laughing at her, eyebrows raised, and she just bit her lip and grinned back.
"Oh no, not-uh. I'll let you get away with 'sweetheart' because you sound adorable when you say that, but honey?"
"In case you forgot, love, you started sweetheart." She laughed as she leaned in, kissed his morning-coffee breath regardless, lingering, her fingers drawing down his jaw, and then she was back on her feet again, watching him.
"You're really happy this morning," he noted, grousing a little because he had no idea what time it was and this was their last day off together before the wedding reception stuff. They had the weekend at the bed and breakfast, of course, but this was their last week day in their own home.
"I am really happy this morning," she agreed with a grin. Her hand came to rest on top of his bare thigh and her fingers did that playful dance up and in that had him choking on his coffee again.
"Jeez," he muttered, but he just stared down at her hand in his lap and made no effort to resist.
"I can make you happy too, Castle."
"I'm all for that."
She took the coffee mug away from him and put it on the bedside table.
And then she took up right where she'd left off.
The morning was cooler than she'd expected and so they kept walking, heading for the park so Sasha could run around for an hour or so. Kate pushed her hands into her pockets and couldn't help the smile that slid to her mouth, remembering how she woke him up.
"We're having a lot of sex for a married couple," he mused.
Kate tripped over the dog even as she choked on a laugh, reached out to grab his arm to keep her balance. He grinned and held her steady until she was on her feet, and then he switched the leash to his other hand and took hold of hers.
"Huh. You think so?" she asked, trying to go for serene. She struggled to keep the blush from her face, but it was a lost cause.
Oof. This morning.
"I'm pretty sure married couples are supposed to be old and stuffy."
"Well, we've always been different, Castle."
"I think you and I heal emotionally with sex."
She slapped at his ribs. He just grinned and shrugged.
"Heal emotionally with sex?" she repeated, scoffing. But it had some. . .merit. It actually made sense.
"You know what the worst was? The worst I ever felt. About all of this. It was after you were shot."
The smile dropped off her face and she glanced to the sidewalk, but his hand was still firmly in hers. "Yeah? I felt pretty shitty about everything then too."
"I don't mean - it wasn't a depression or anything. It was not knowing if I was any good for you. Thinking maybe my way of life was always going to hold us back. Not being sure I could even protect you after I'd opened up this can of worms with your mother's case. I'd made you promises, Kate, and I wasn't sure I could actually keep them."
She stepped a little closer to him as they walked; they were a far cry from the people they'd been then. She'd been that damaged, obsessive woman who'd needed someone to physically restrain her from plunging down a terrible, endless hole-
Someone had physically restrained her.
Castle.
"I felt like," he started suddenly, "I felt that when I couldn't touch you - when it just made it worse, put you in pain, that made everything so much darker, so terrible. But after we were up in the hayloft. . ."
She leaned into his arm and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "Yeah. I know." She'd been desperate for him, and she'd had to practically seduce him to do it, but everything really had been better from that moment on.
"We were back. Together again. It was okay - all the terrible things could be overcome when I could - when we connected like that."
She stroked her thumb over his and took a breath, watched the dog pulling at the leash to get at a fire hydrant.
"We started out like that, Castle," she said finally. "When we first met. We started out - connecting."
He huffed out a little laugh and they stopped on the sidewalk to let Sasha investigate a trash can, her nose to the plastic.
"We do some amazing connecting," Castle grinned.
She nodded, lifted an eyebrow, but she was serious. "And. It's kinda the thing that saved me. At first - with my mother's case - if you'd just been kind and tried to take care of me and been sweet like you are. . .it wouldn't have made a dent in me. I'd have dropped you so fast, run so far-"
"I think I knew that. On some level. And you responded to the sex," he added, a little shrug of his shoulders and a tentative smile. "I could find you again when we were in bed together. I could. . .love you. And you'd accept it."
She gripped his hand tighter, tried to make her eyes show him everything. "I did. And I loved you back. Did you. . .feel that? Did you know?"
His hand let go of hers and she sucked in a breath, but he was only reaching up to skate his fingers through her hair, push it back over her ear.
"Why do you think we're here?" he murmured. "If I hadn't known how much you loved me - even then - I'd never have stayed. I needed it too much. Need you, Kate. I've never had this before; it's everything."
She smiled back at him through the haze in her eyes, forced herself not to cry out in public on the sidewalk with the dog nosing at trash. She lifted on her toes and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, lingered there for a moment before touching her tongue there.
When she stepped back, she had to catch the leash right as he dropped it, her laugh bubbling out into the morning light.
"That connecting thing?" he rasped, blinking at her. "It helps that you're sexy as hell, Kate Beckett."
She tugged Sasha away from the trash can and hooked her arm through Castle's, leading him as well. "Helps that you're so good at it too."
"I am good at it. I really am. Actually, wait. I think I'm just really, really good at you."
She snorted.
But that was true.
Maybe that was they they were still here. They were good at each other.