A/N: Thank you to those who took the time to review! Glad there's still some interest—I know every update of this story has been few and far between, but I plan on posting the final chapters before the end of the month, so that everything stays fresh in mind. That said, I recommend re-reading any odd-numbered chapters if you're fuzzy on the details. Timeline recap below, as usual.
Previously on…
June 25, 2010 - Castle and Beckett step into an elevator in Harlem, traveling to the past and then, a Parallel timeline, where they were married, had a kid, Beckett was the District Attorney, and her mom was alive, before eventually returning to their own timeline on the same day they left. The couple visit Jim at Remy's and he confirms he met them in '77, showing them photos of their mugshots and gives Kate a sealed letter from Johanna. Beckett gives him a photo album, revealing they went to a Parallel timeline. Back at the loft, Beckett officially cancels her date with Josh and Castle asks her to go to the Hamptons.
June 26, 2010 - July 5, 2010 - Castle and Beckett go to the Hamptons, while news of their relationship spreads at the precinct. Alexis returns from her Princeton program to spend the Fourth with the couple and her grandmother. Beckett finally decides to read the letter her mother left behind.
July 6, 2010 - The couple returns to the city, where Beckett finds out what her mother wrote to her. She and Castle discuss possibly moving in together, and Beckett confronts Montgomery about his involvement with her mother's case.
July 25, 2010 - Beckett arrests Bracken along with Montgomery, and she and Castle visit Johanna's grave, finally receiving closure.
August 25, 2010 - Due to the media attention from the Bracken case, Castle sends Alexis and Martha to Europe, while he, Beckett, and her dad retreat to upstate New York. The couple rents a cabin across the lake from Jim and while they're unpacking, they're visited by a familiar face.
Castle & Beckett
August 25, 2010
"You know who I am," Hunt says, not surprised.
Castle joins Kate by the door.
"One might say, in another world, we're well-acquainted, Theodore," the writer snipes.
Hunt's expression is unreadable. "Mind if I come in?"
"I do, actually," Castle says firmly. He gently moves Kate behind him. "You're with them, aren't you? The TTB?"
"It'd really be better if we could discuss this inside."
"We don't have anything to discuss. You knew about me all these years and you never tried to get involved. You knew what would happen to her mother and all those people and you did nothing to stop it."
"We don't interfe—"
"Forgive me if I don't give a damn," Castle says and slams the door in his father's face.
He turns toward Beckett and she looks at him, wide-eyed.
"What? You think I should've let him in?"
She shakes her head slightly, speechless, her chest flushing with heat and her pupils dilating. The writer notices, his sudden fury quelling and a knowing smile curling over his lips.
"You're looking a little flustered, Detective," he says, crowding her against the door. "Anything I can help you with?" he asks, sliding a thigh between hers and she gasps, her body taut. His mouth ghosts over hers. "You like it when I get angry?"
"He's still right outside," she whispers, breathless.
As if on cue, a white business card shoots out from under the door and they hear the tread of footsteps creak on the porch, heading away.
"Now, where were we?" Castle asks. His fingers feather her jaw line, followed by the press of his mouth.
"Rick."
He sighs at her tone, retreating.
"It never ends, does it? Do you think we'll ever get some peace and quiet?"
She palms his cheek, soft and warm. "How would you write the next part?"
"I've already got the girl. What else is there?"
He says it with such sincerity, such certainty, that it stuns her. It should overwhelm her. But not anymore. Through it all, there's always them. She smiles, big and wide, her heart fluttering happily. She circles her arms around his neck.
"How about girl officially moves in with boy?"
He searches her eyes, hopeful.
"You're serious."
"I barely sleep at my sublet as it is and I never really looked at other options with everything going on."
"What about trying to be normal?"
"Normal is overrated," she hums, kissing him. "And I don't think we could be normal, even if we tried."
She leans down to pick up the business card, handing it to the writer.
"You're gonna want this for later," she says.
"I am?" he asks.
"It's who you are," she says. "You need to know the story."
He stares at her, wonderstruck.
"What?"
"Have I told you I love you lately?"
Hearing those words used to scare the shit out of her, but now, they send a thrill through her, a sort of heady rush. One that she doesn't think she'll ever tire of.
"Not since ten minutes ago," she quips. "Have I told you I love you lately?"
"Not since nine minutes ago."
"Hmm, seems far too long."
"Eons."
She grins, completely besotted.
"Love you," she whispers.
"Love you, too."
September 2010
"I didn't know you drew," he says, holding a tray of lemonade and joining her out on the porch. Kate lounges in one of the Adirondack chairs with a pad of sketch paper, surrounded by sticks of charcoal.
She shrugs.
"I've never really tried before," she says. "I came across some pieces my Parallel did when we were over there…and I was curious to find out if maybe I had the same skill. Mom said she was considering art school before she decided on pre-law."
"Huh," he contemplates, "Wonder if I have any hidden talents I should be exploring."
He leans down for a hello kiss and she smiles into it. "I know a couple things you're very talented at."
He chuckles into her lips. "Mhm, and you should also consider exploring gymnastics. You're very flexible."
She pushes him away with a laugh. He takes a seat next to her and passes her a glass of the cool, summer drink. She sips from it, enjoying the sweet, sugary taste. "Mm, thank you."
"This is pretty good," he assesses, eyeing her surprisingly artful markings of the treeline. "You've got quite the creative side."
"Can't let you be the only artist around here," she says, smirking.
"I'd be happy to pose for you, you know," he says. He arches a suggestive eyebrow. "In the nude, if necessary."
"Are you offering to be my muse?"
"Consider it payback."
She bites her lip and flips to a fresh page in her pad.
"Take off your shirt."
Her dad lays out strips of salmon, and they sizzle loudly as they hit the grate of the fire pit in the backyard of their cabin, dots of cooking oil sparking out in a wide arc.
"Careful!" Patty calls out.
Jim had invited the blonde from Remy's Diner up for the weekend. As a friend, he insisted. Whatever you say, the couple had said, poking fun. Kate was just glad to see that he was trying. Turns out, Patty was also a widower. Her husband had passed from an unexpected brain aneurysm a couple years back.
"It's okay. That's supposed to happen," Jim explains patiently.
"You don't want to know the amount of grease fires I've had to put out. Oil burns are no joke," she says, "You should really be using tongs. Not your bare hands." She picks up the cooking tool from a nearby wooden picnic table. "Here," she says right before pitching the tongs, sending them in a perfect arc toward him. As if they practiced it, he neatly captures them mid-air with one hand. He blinks in surprise at his own dexterity.
"Nice catch, Yogi," Patty laughs.
Jim smiles hesitantly. "Nice throw, Goose," he returns.
"When did they start using pet names?" Castle whispers. "I'm missing something."
"No, no," Beckett murmurs, "Yogi is Yogi Berra, a Yankees catcher. And Goose is Rich Gossage, a—"
"Yankees pitcher," Castle puts together. "Ah ha. So she fishes and knows baseball…how much do you wanna bet she's not really staying in the guest room?"
"Castle!" Beckett gasps. "So not funny."
"Oh, c'mon. You can't tell me something hasn't happened. Quiet guy like your dad with that firecracker?"
"I'd rather not think about it," she warns, "Besides, we both know he has terrible game. Bet it takes him three years just to muster up the courage to say he even likes her," Beckett mutters.
"Yeah, but who's to say he's going to make the first move? My money's on Goose."
She snickers at that.
"What are you two lovebirds twittering about?" Patty shouts.
"Nothing!" they say in sync, their cheeks heating with embarrassment.
"Babe!" she screeches as Castle splashes water at her. They had spent the morning hiking to a cluster of natural springs tucked away on the mountainside. The writer, hot and sweaty, had immediately stripped down to his swim trunks and jumped in. She was still shucking off her shoes.
"You're no fun," he whines playfully.
"Last time you said that, we ended up in 1977," she says, removing her shirt and pants and examining the deep pool trepidatiously. She wears a sporty black bikini.
"Are you getting superstitious on me?"
"One of us has to be on alert," she says, carefully slipping into the spring water. It's pleasantly cool. He swims to her, trapping her against a wall of rock.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," she responds with a playful grin, wrapping her legs around his waist.
"You know…" His fingers trail to the back of her bathing suit, feathering over the clasp. "Since we're all alone, it would be a shame if we didn't skinny dip."
Her mouth quirks up. "It would be, wouldn't it?"
Without further ado, her top comes off and they fuse to each other, kissing urgently, hands eager and roaming.
Castle suddenly pulls away.
"If you could travel anytime, anywhere, where would you go?"
Beckett fixes him with a glare. "Are you seriously asking me that right now?"
"If this is a portal to somewhere, and we get sucked in, we have to set our intentions. Make sure we end up somewhere cool."
She scoffs. "We are not getting sucked in. And I think I'm full-up on time-travel for the foreseeable future," she says, "I intend on staying right here." She sweeps some wet strands of hair from his forehead. "What about you?"
"Right here sounds perfect."
She smiles and simultaneously shoves his trunks down.
"Now, where were we?"
"Do you think Fitz is walking?" Castle asks, tracing mindless patterns on her arm.
They're cocooned together in a hammock strung between two pines, sunshine filtering through the branches, enjoying a warm, lazy afternoon, their limbs intertwined.
"He's not old enough yet."
"With our genes, I bet he starts early. He's a really fast crawler," the writer says.
Beckett pushes out a laugh.
"Yeah, almost too fast. Did I tell you about the time I thought I lost him?"
"What?"
"It was my night with him, but my parents were out. It was my first time with him completely alone, and I felt like I was in way over my head. I've never been much of a baby person, but I was determined to get it right with him. Since he was kind of ours, and…anyway, I'm watching him, and he's just staring at me."
"He did that with me, too. That kid never blinks. He's gonna be a killer poker player."
"Shh, I'm not done," she says, "Do I interrupt you when you're in the middle of spinning some yarn?"
"Sorry, sorry. Spin away, my love," he says, laughter in his voice.
"So the staring was beginning to freak me out, so I figured I'd give him something to play with. And I go to look in the toy bin, but by the time I get back, he's gone. Poof. Vanished into thin air," she says. "And now, I'm actually freaking out. But he can't have gone far, so I start searching everywhere, turning everything upside down. The whole place is a mess and I've looked in every room, under every bed, and he's nowhere to be found. I start thinking he must've somehow escaped, got out. I'm a total wreck, on the verge of calling the police, when my parents come home. My mom's trying to calm me down, and as she's putting away her coat, she opens the front closet, only to find him right there, snuggled safely inside, napping away."
"No!" Castle gasps. "The whole time?"
"The whole time," she confirms. "I felt so stupid for not checking in there."
"It happens to the best of us," he offers up. "I lost Alexis at a department store once. Same thing. I turn around for a second and then, poof, she's gone. I actually did call the police and it took us four hours until we found her under a coat rack. She'd crawled inside for a nap."
"So it must be a Castle thing—crawling away to nap with coats."
"Are you saying it's my fault?"
"Can't be coincidence, can it?" she says.
"You shouldn't be making such accusations when I'm in tickling range."
"Don't you dare," she says. "Or the family jewels get it," nudging her knee below his pelvis in warning.
"You'd put our future children at stake like that?"
She tenses.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"No, uh, it's just…" she shifts so she can look up at him. "You still wanna make babies with me? Even when I'm such a terrible mother?"
"Terri—where'd you get that idea? You're an amazing mom, Kate. The way you went all Mama Bear when you couldn't find him? You can't teach that. That's pure instinct. You're a natural. Plus, you've helped me more than you know with Alexis, and you were always able to get Fitz to sleep faster than me. Especially when you sang him that Russian lullaby."
"You heard that? I made sure I turned the monitor off," she says, her face reddening.
"You could never figure out how to work that thing," he chuckles. "What's it about?"
"The main concept of it is preparing your child for war and promising you'll always be waiting for them to come home. It's called the Cossack Lullaby."
"Only in Russia would they have a nursery rhyme that braces your baby for war," he says, a laugh rumbling in his chest.
"But it's also about how even when he's off in a far away land, his mother will always be thinking of him."
He quiets, pressing his lips into her hair. "That's beautiful," he murmurs.
"I only ever really sang him the first verse though. It's the nicest part."
"Would you sing it for me?" he asks softly.
"Seriously?"
"Just the first verse."
God, he's ridiculous. But she can't deny him. Can't deny him anything.
Not when he's everything.
"Okay," she says. She settles further into his arms, threading her fingers with his, and then, in Russian, she tenderly croons:
Sleep, my beautiful good boy,
Quietly the moon is looking
Into your cradle.
I will tell you fairy tales
And sing you little songs,
But you must slumber, with your little eyes closed.
She finishes, her heart beating fast, prepared for a teasing remark, but there's no response.
"Castle?" she whispers.
But it seems she's lulled him straight to sleep.
She smiles, snuggling in closer to his chest, her own eyes coming to a close as she drifts off, dreaming of the pitter-patter of little feet.
September 15, 2010
"So what's the plan?" Jim asks, lifting one of her bags into the trunk of Castle's silver Mercedes.
"We're gonna hire movers and spend the week settling me into the loft before I'm officially back at work," she says, packing in the writer's duffle with a grunt.
"No, I mean. The autumnal equinox is coming up. And you'll be in the city; notorious for elevators and what have you. Aren't there precautions you should be taking?"
"Oh, um, yeah. Shit, I hadn't thought—babe?"
Castle walks down the porch step with a box of things, and pokes his head around it. "Yeah?"
"Autumnal equinox next week. City. Elevators."
"Shit," he says, plopping the box down. He rubs the back of his neck. "Well, we're not intending on going anywhere. We should be fine."
"I know, but it's not like we really intended it the first time."
"And what about Martha and Alexis? Shouldn't you tell them they might have this gene? What if something happens to them by accident?" Jim adds.
The couple stare at him, speechless.
Her dad shakes his head, mutters something like, "Love haze," under his breath as he walks off.
Castle and Beckett share guilty looks.
"He makes a good point. I think we have to tell them," she says.
Castle sighs. He zips open the outer pocket on his duffle and extracts the white business card his father slipped under the door three weeks ago.
"Guess it's time we call in for backup."
September 20, 2010
"Oh, what a wonderful surprise," Martha crows, gathering Beckett into a tight hug. "I'm so glad it's official."
The redheads had just returned from their Europe trip.
"Are you sure it's okay? I meant to consult you both before—"
"Nonsense. You're practically family at this point," Martha tsks.
"And I prefer your pancakes to Dad's," Alexis answers simply.
Beckett grins so wide, her cheeks hurt, and her heart swells.
"See if I ever make you breakfast again," Castle says, frowning.
"That's not the threat you think it is," Alexis says. She addresses the detective, "Has he made you—"
"A S'morelette? Oh, yeah. Total abomination."
"Total," Alexis agrees, smiling.
"I'm suddenly having a frightening visual of what my future looks like…I'm never going to win an argument again, am I?" the writer comments.
"Were you ever really winning them in the first place?" Alexis asks, arching an eyebrow.
"Nice one," Beckett says, holding up her hand. The young redhead steps in, slapping her palm against hers in a high-five.
"I have feelings, you know," Castle grumbles.
The doorbell rings and the couple exchange a weighted glance.
"Are we expecting company?" Martha asks.
"Uh, yeah. Another surprise," Castle explains, reaching for the door handle.
Jim stands on the other side with a familiar manilla envelope tucked under his arm, Johanna's photo album, cradled in hand, and Hunt right behind him.
Martha's face drains of color when she spots the white-haired man.
"Mother, this is—"
"You—" the actress says on an exhale.
"Hi, Martha. Long time," Hunt says, giving her a two-fingered wave.
"I don't understand. What are you doing here?" the elder redhead asks, a hand coming to her chest, pressing over her heart in shock. "Richard, you know who this is?"
"I was getting to that," Castle says, slightly exasperated. "Alexis, meet your grandfather."
"Woah, what? My—?" The young redhead's eyes expand. "So that means, he's your—?"
"Father? Biologically speaking, yes," Castle affirms.
"But how—?" Alexis starts.
"Why doesn't everyone come inside?" the writer instructs, "And we'll explain further."
"I need a drink," Martha announces, retreating to the kitchen while the two men enter, Castle directing them toward the couch.
"Do you know what this is about?" Alexis asks Beckett, her smooth face pinching with worry.
The detective slides a comforting arm around her shoulder.
"Why don't you take a seat?" she says. "It's kind of a long story."
December 25, 2010
She hadn't celebrated Christmas in over a decade. Always alone. Always keeping watch on the night shift, while her dad withdrew to the cabin as soon as the chill of winter rolled in.
But this year, this time…everything's different.
She, Castle, and the redheads all wear matching Tungsten-made bracelets—a Gateway deterrent, Hunt assured them. Something about the metal acting as a counter-conductor, preventing any possible time-travel triggers. She still took the stairs when necessary, not fully trusting it. But it seemed to work, nonetheless, everyone blissfully stuck at home.
And that's another thing...she has a new home, a new family. She still can't believe it some days. Her breath catches slightly every time she passes by her Alex Gross painting, Matasaburo of the Wind, in huge display above the stair landing. Castle insisted it should feature somewhere prominent. He'd even gone so far as to have some of her sketches professionally framed and a cluster of them were hung up in their bedroom.
In his office, he'd set up another desk for her, in case she ever decided to do her paperwork from home. He'd also bought a replica of her favorite comfy chair from the Hamptons house, and constructed a whole reading nook just for her.
When she'd shown him her guitar, he brought out his drums, proclaiming they should start a band. Only when hell freezes over, had been her response.
He pouted, but she knew just how to cheer him up, her bra landing on one of his drum cymbals as she performed a strip tease.
Life was loud again.
She never imagined it could be so…extraordinary. Never thought her heart could feel this full. And never in a million years did she think she would be at a Christmas party in Richard Castle's loft, let alone hosting it with him.
Her dad approaches her with a glass of Eggnog.
She takes the proffered drink, and they survey the scene in front of them together, basking in the warmth and richness of it all. Javi and Kev are singing carols with Martha by the piano, while Lanie and Jenny dote over Alexis, asking her about her boyfriend, Ashley. Patty is in the kitchen with Castle, ordering him around while he wears a ridiculously frilly apron.
"Is it too much?" she asks him quietly.
"Nothing I can't handle," he says, winking. "I forgot how nice it is—the togetherness. Your mother would've loved it."
Tears shimmer in her eyes. But they're not sad, no, more bittersweet and proud. Happy, even. She didn't think she'd ever feel like this, not after being stuck in anger and despair for so long. And now, they were both more than their grief, looking forward to the next day's adventures and embracing all the wonderful, terrible chaos of life.
"Oh, Katie," her dad rasps. He sets his drink on a nearby end table and gathers her into a hug. She releases a watery huff.
"Good tears, Dad," she whispers, squeezing him close. "Good tears."
A knock on the door interrupts the tender moment and she peels away.
"I'll get it!" she announces.
A huge smile springs from her when she opens it.
"You guys came!" she squeals in delight.
Roy and his wife, Evelyn, are followed by their young two daughters and older son as Kate ushers them inside.
"Castle, we'll need the extra table and chairs," she says.
"Sorry for crashing," Evelyn starts, "We usually head up to my mother's, but the roads are closed. And when Roy mentioned your open invitation—"
"No apology necessary," Castle says, wiping his hands. "We're happy to have you. Alexis, would you be a dear?"
The redhead jumps up from the couch.
"We can help, too," Lanie and Jenny chime in.
"Me, too," Jim adds. "Put me to work."
Beckett chortles at everyone's eagerness.
"Follow me. I'll show you where we keep them."
"Castle," she protests. "I told you not to get me anything."
They're all gathered in front of the tree, people stuffed into chairs and sandwiched onto the couch, kids sprawled on the floor, torn wrapping paper scattered everywhere. They had all opened at least one present, and now, it was her turn, apparently.
"There's no way I wasn't getting you something for our first Christmas," he argues. "C'mon, just open it already," he insists, sitting on his haunches. She's in front of him, her legs crossed, the gift in her lap. Ugh, fine.
She tentatively tears at the shiny silver paper, not quite sure what to expect. Underneath is a plain shoe box.
"Shoes, Castle? Really? You're gonna have to get me a bigger closet, too," she jokes.
"Richard, I raised you better than this. When it comes to women, jewelry never fails," his mother throws in. The crowd titters.
"Not just any shoes. Go on," he urges.
When she cracks the lid and sees what's nestled in the tissue paper, her pulse skyrockets and her eyes fly to his.
"Castle, wha—?" she asks, picking up the small black velvet box from within.
"And that's what we mystery writers like to call a red herring," he says, plucking the box from her grasp and propping himself on one knee.
Soft gasps permeate the room when he opens it, revealing a diamond ring.
She stares at it, dumbfounded. "You're proposing."
"An astute observation. You should be a detective," he says with a grin, reaching for her left hand.
Her right hand covers her mouth as a stunned exhale leaves her lips and her eyes water, overwhelmed with emotion. What the hell was happening?
"Kate, when we first met…I thought that you were a mystery I was never going to solve," he begins. "Even now, after spending all this time with you, I'm still amazed at the depth of your strength and your heart...and your hotness."
Their audience resounds with warm chuckling, while a choked laugh slides from her own throat.
His thumb circles the top of her hand soothingly, and the rapid beat of her heart slows.
"You inspire me every day to be a better man and whatever obstacles life throws our way—no matter the time, no matter the place—as long as you're by my side, I know we can figure it out together. Even if there's no script to follow."
God, she loves him. She didn't think she could love him more. But somehow, she's bursting with it.
"So, in front of our loved ones, I wanted to ask you a very important question," he says, slightly nervous now. "Will you—?"
"Yes," she interrupts, unable to wait a second longer.
"You didn't let me fi—"
"Yes," she says, interrupting again, "Yes, I'll marry you. Okay?" She smiles, radiant with it.
"Okay," he says, pure joy brightening his face. She surges into him, her lips meeting his in a fierce, passionate kiss.
Somebody wolf-whistles, and she breaks away, remembering they're not alone.
"Now, will you put the damn ring on, already?"
He complies, grinning like a fool as he slides the large diamond onto her ring finger.
"I told you jewelry never fails," his mother trills.
Her words trigger a dam break, everyone suddenly converging onto them like a wave, laughs, cries, and earnest shouts of congratulations washing over them.
"Was that alright?" he whispers in the shell of her ear when the crowd pulls back.
She thinks of her mom and their last day together on the beach. I bet he proposes within the year…and she can almost hear an I told you so filter through the air, like she's right there with her.
She kisses him, soft and sweet.
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
A/N: Two more to go! Looking forward to your thoughts.
