Close Encounters 16

Castle watched her shift awake on her own, not more than fifteen minutes later. He had the secure laptop perched on his knees; he'd meant to check in with work but instead he'd wandered off into google searches.

As she blinked with awareness, she seemed to forget what had happened because she curled up as if to stretch and instead gasped, stiffening.

"You okay?" He hesitated, concerned by the pain rippling behind her eyes.

"Shit. Ow. Ow, ow, ow."

"It's only eight o'clock," he said. "You had forty more minutes."

"I feel like one big bruise. Help me move? I can't lie down another second."

Castle put the laptop on the bedside table and leaned forward. "What do you need me to do?"

"Lift me up." She was already wrapping her hands around his biceps, so he slid an arm under her neck and half-carried her up to the head of the bed.

She'd squeezed her eyes closed at the jostling, but she cracked one eye open now, let out a breath. Castle eased her slowly back against the pillow he'd been using.

It took her a second, but she straightened her spine and pointed at the laptop. "What're you doing?"

He brought the other pillow up to her, brushed the hair back off her forehead where it had dried all crazy. She looked cute, if knocked around.

Knocked around - and knocked up.

"Holy shit," he whispered, staring down at her.

Her face cracked open on a grin and she worked a shoulder against the padded headboard. "Yeah, hits me like that too. We're responsible for a whole other person."

He sank down beside her, laid his hand over her knee and squeezed. "I was really starting to think the regimen - maybe it was making it difficult for us. That it had done something and it'd be - maybe it'd be impossible."

She laid her cheek against the pillow and gave him something like a wince. "Well, I'd wondered about it too, but three weeks means - well, that was right after you got the full dose, Rick. If anything, having it helped?"

He choked on a laugh, rubbed his hand down his face. "Super sperm."

"I didn't say it," she chuckled. He glanced over at her and she was holding her arms tightly against her sides, bracing herself against the laughter.

"Hey, let me go round up some more pillows. The blankets got kicked off onto the floor, too."

"Where's Sasha?" she said, even as he slid off the bed.

"In the baby's room."

They both froze, his words echoing.

"Wow. That's-" Kate made a noise. "The baby's room, huh?"

He turned back to see her; she had the look on her face that he figured was on his as well. Really close to panic.

"I - it kinda came out."

She stifled a laugh but groaned, tilting her head against the headboard. "Yeah, okay. Get me some pillows, Castle. I'm awake for a while."

He headed out the bedroom door and opened the linen closet, grabbed the extra pillow still in its plastic. Kate had bought it for his mother, insisting they have the guest room available in case Martha had to stay the night.

It'd never happened; he wasn't giving out his address to a woman he couldn't trust. But now. Now there'd be a grandchild for her to visit, and he just...

Shit, this was more than he could handle right now. Castle ripped open the plastic, stuffed the package into the trash in the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and the day was telling on his face. A mixture of stress and bewilderment, blind fear and stupid joy.

He shook his head at himself and grabbed a pillow case, slid the pillow inside as he moved back into the bedroom. He really wanted to talk to her dad about this, have that conversation where he could admit how much responsibility this was and how he hadn't been prepared for that.

When he came inside the bedroom, she was straining her fingers for the laptop.

"Hey, stop that. I got it," he said, grabbing the computer and putting it on the mattress at her side.

"What were you working on?"

"Wasn't work," he admitted.

She gave him a quick look and opened the laptop even while he propped her up with the pillow. He kicked up a blanket with his foot, snagged it out of the air just to avoid her eyes.

"Castle."

He ignored her and tucked the blanket around her back, careful not to hit her ribs. She reached back and caught his arm. The laptop was open in front of her.

"Castle, what's this?"

He shifted on his feet and sank onto the mattress behind her, eased himself into position at her back. She let him arrange her body carefully against his chest and then he dragged the computer onto her propped up knees. He took a breath and pressed his nose to her jaw, swallowing.

"I couldn't help thinking," he said softly. "What if it's a girl?"

Her finger stroked along the side of the laptop. "You're looking at baby names. You know it's only three weeks, love. We can't..."

But she didn't finish it and he was never - he was never going to utter that fear aloud. Never admit it could be true. He didn't want to lose what they'd worked so hard to find.

"Girls' baby names. In case."

"In case it's not a James?" she murmured. Her head turned and her lips brushed his jaw. "This is sweet. You have any favorites?"

"Yeah," he said, feeling strangely shy. He reached around her and clicked on the title bar for the open document hidden behind the browser. "See? All those."

He watched her profile as she read the names, her lips lifted into a little smile. "I like these. Beautiful names."

"But?" he asked softly, tucking his chin on top of her shoulder.

"No but," she sighed. Her hand came up slowly and cupped the side of his face, her fingers scratching through his hair. "Though I can't help calling it James - just to myself."

He grinned, turned his head to kiss her jaw. "Me too. But I don't want her to think we weren't ready for her."

"If it's a girl," she said softly. "We could still call her James. Just make it sound like a last name; girls are given family names like that. Jameson or something. We can call her Jamie."

"Oh," he murmured, a smile lifting his lips. Jamie? "But then we can't use James if..."

Her fingers tightened and squeezed his ear. "If we have another?" She turned her head to glare at him. "Who said anything about two?"

He chuckled and darted in for a quick kiss. "We'll see."

"We will not see. Two is not in the deal."

"Hmm, let's revisit this deal," he murmured lowered his mouth for another taste of hers.

She pressed her fingers to his jaw and pushed him away. "Slow down, super spy. Let's handle one first."

He laughed and cupped the side of her face, took his kiss from her anyway, sweet and rich, relishing the tug of her teeth and the way she leaned into it. After a moment, he could feel the stiffness in the way she held herself, so he stopped, cradled the back of her neck.

"How're the ribs?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "They hurt. Where's my ice? You're falling down on the job, Castle."

"Wow, how fast they turn on you." He untangled himself from her, being careful of her positioning, and then searched the foot of the bed for the ice packs. "Want me to bring Sasha back in here with us?"

"No, that's okay. She can - stay in the baby's room." Kate gave him a long look as she said it, her smile tilting her mouth. "Let her have it all to herself while she still can."

Castle leaned back in to kiss her; he just couldn't quite get enough of her. "Back in a second. Check out the other tabs on my computer."

Kate skimmed the article he'd left open on the browser, smiling. The next was similar, more stuff about how to prepare and what to buy, and a few consumer reports ratings on cribs and the accoutrements, but the last one made her laugh so hard she gasped and had to brace her ribs, groaning into the pillow.

"I got your ice - hey, what's wrong?"

"You made me laugh," she grunted, opening an eye. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move but it hurt not to move and she didn't know which way to go. Up, down.

"How'd I make you laugh?" He sat beside her on the bed and helped her shift onto the pillows. "I was downstairs in the kitchen."

"That Pregnant Kama Sutra website."

He lifted an eyebrow. "That is no laughing matter."

She groaned and slapped his shoulder, tried desperately to smother the urge to laugh. Her ribs were killing her. Shit, it hurt. It hurt, but that was funny, and sexy, and the idea of doing any of those pregnant was - oh, shit. Her ribs were going to break.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll stop," he promised, grinning at her. "Don't laugh, Beckett. You're making it worse. Let me ice you down. Come on, open up."

Castle pried her arms away from her torso and settled the ice packs along her ribs and hip even as she tried to stifle her amusement - and her arousal.

She caught his hand with hers, kept him from moving away. "I liked number thirty-five, in case you were wondering."

His face, oh, priceless. That had been worth it.

He cleared his throat and nodded. "I'll make a note of it. Any others?"

She hummed and rubbed her thumb along the inside of his wrist. "What about... all of them?"

He blanked. His mouth opened and she saw the arousal flare in his eyes. "All. Of them. Kate, there are a hundred. It's the Kama Sutra for-"

"We've got nine months. Should give us time to find a way to do each one twice."

Castle sank down on the mattress beside her, gave her a long, hard look. "Yeah, we gotta change the subject."

"Why?"

"Cause you're getting me hot and bothered and you're not going to be able to follow through."

Kate shifted forward, thinking maybe she could - but, ow, no. No. She could hardly breathe, let alone be seductive. "All right. Subject change. We need to find an OB - and we need to decide how many people are going to know about this."

Castle stiffened like she'd dumped cold water over his head. "I don't want anyone to know. Kate. This is going to be difficult right now; the timing is a little precarious. Someone in the Office leaked information to Bracken or the Westies about the investigation; they knew you'd be at the grand jury testimony. We have to keep this very quiet."

"I agree," she said, wrapping her arm around her torso to protect her ribs. And maybe the baby too, stupid as it was, as if her arms around her middle could protect the little seed-sized thing they'd created. "But Mitchell, Espo, Ryan - they were there for it today. They all know."

"We'll need their help to keep you - this - under wraps for as long as possible anyway. But anyone else?"

"No one," she said, felt her throat closing up. "No one else can know."

"Your dad-"

"Not-" She shook her head and closed her mouth, took a slow breath. "Not yet. I want to be sure it - that website you were reading said after the first trimester. We can tell him then."

When we can be sure.

He nodded, but he didn't say it either. How tenuous it was. Three weeks. She'd nearly been killed today and it would have taken everything from them - and he hadn't even known. He'd only been coming after her like he usually did.

"After that," Castle agreed. "And I guess Martha will have to be told."

She noticed that although he said it reluctantly, he didn't look that put out about it. She thought maybe some part of him, deep down, wanted to tell his mother, wanted to share it with her, his pride.

He looked so proud.

"We'll tell her and my dad at the same time," she said softly. "What about a doctor?"

"Yeah, let's look right now. Outside the CIA. I can't trust anyone in the service - I don't know who might be working for my father."

"Dr Boyd - he asked to see me too."

Castle went still; she stroked his forearm and waited him out. When he spoke, his voice was tight. "Boyd wants to see you?"

"I think it's a good idea," she told him. "He'll be able to monitor the baby, do a genetic profile on him - to be sure."

Castle rubbed the back of his neck. "The baby could inherit this stuff, you mean."

"Maybe. We don't know. But Boyd will be able to help us find answers." She leaned in slowly and pressed her mouth to his cheek. "It's going to be fine. You told me - whatever happens. Whatever happens, remember? We have to hold on to that."

He lifted his head, giving her a crooked smile. "Whatever happens, Kate." His fingers reached out and touched her hair, brushed it back over her ear. "Whatever happens, I love you."

At ten that night, she made him carry down the box springs and mattress to the panic room; she said she was too tired to stay up with him any longer. He set the alarm on his phone and placed it on the floor beside the mattress, and then he made up the sheets and blankets, her little nest so she wouldn't have to lie on her hip or ribs.

Sasha had come downstairs with them, roused by Castle's lugging the mattress down the steps, and she curled up beside Kate, her nose in the crook of Kate's arm. Castle watched them for a moment, and then sat down on the office chair that pulled up to the bank of security monitors.

"Do you want me to shut us in?" he murmured.

"No," she sighed. "Don't need it. You do - whatever."

Sleeping down here was more for him, and he knew it, but he couldn't find it in him to say never mind, this is stupid, we'll sleep in our bedroom like normal people. He wasn't normal, neither was she, and this was what he needed to calm the gut-twisting adrenaline that still dumped into his bloodstream every time he thought about how close it'd been today.

One afternoon, and his world might have ended.

He was going to have nightmares about seeing her collapse against that tree.

So no. He wasn't going to close them up in here while he was still awake, but when he went to bed for the night, he'd probably have to do that just to sleep at all.

He watched her from the chair, letting his mind drift and wander through channels both dark and bright. Bracken had been pointing a gun at her - he hoped that the crime scene people that the Secret Service had called in had been thorough, documenting everything as it had been. Pointing a gun at her, Bracken had crumpled, dead, and then Kate had fallen, but she'd been breathing - kicked but breathing - and what if-?

Was that a loss she could come back from? Castle shivered and pressed his palms into his eyes, tried to shake the sick feeling that welled up in him at the thought.

The darkness behind his eyelids gave him the memory of a dream: a little boy climbing through a window and helping his father escape. It was only the form of a boy with no real details, just that impression of young fingers untying a father's hands, the kid's joy at being able to help.

He didn't want the life of a spy for his son, but now that he was dwelling in the memory, Castle realized he'd been having the dream for decades.

It wasn't James - not at first. It was Castle's dream, the dream of himself, wanting desperately to be good enough for his own father.

Castle dropped his hands and opened his eyes, ravenous for the sight of Kate, his wife, the woman who loved him, who thought he was everything.

She was asleep, and beautiful in her stillness, and her lashes painted shadows above her cheeks.

Whatever happened. He loved her. No matter what. She would never be made to feel she wasn't good enough.

Kate had panicked and run off to Tunisia to find Black and the regimen, but that was done. It was over. For the first time, Castle could let it go.

He let it go. She'd been hurt, she'd nearly died, but the pain and those close calls would happen no matter what. They happened in New York as easily as they happened in Tunisia, and he was done holding her love against her. Love had made her do some extreme things, but it was love of him.

She loved him. Like his dream of trying to impress his father, it had been Kate's hands that Castle had untied, crawling in to save her when she'd needed him, and she had loved him back. Kate loved him back.

Nothing else mattered.

He woke her at midnight to check the concussion; she answered in a mumble and swatted him away, dropped right back into sleep. After that, Castle knew he had two hours to get some work done; it was, after all, no longer their celebration night.

He eased off the bed and put a hand out to keep Sasha from following. "Stay there; stay with Kate."

The dog lowered her head and Castle took his phone from the beside the mattress, already calling Mitchell as he headed up the stairs. He closed the door to the basement and went through the house to the entry. He made it fast up the stairs and into his office, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

Mitchell answered on the fifth ring. "I'm glad you called. It's a mess. This is all fucked."

"I thought it was contained," Castle growled. He opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out his clean laptop, powered it up as he settled it on his desk. "Mitch. We have the affidavit from one of the guys. We-"

"No, we do. We do. That's solid. But this is a US Senator, Castle. We are - we are in deep. We covered our bases doing this so clean from the beginning, but McCord is telling me that there's a guy - a bureaucrat - making noise about this."

"It was a clean shoot," Castle hissed. "She was fucking kidnapped. How can some asshole think-"

"I know, I know. I'm just saying that we're getting flak for this. You just can't sweep this one under the rug. Have you seen the nightly news? It's gone national; everyone knows a senator was shot and killed."

The computer loaded and Castle set up the secure IP, opened an incognito browser that Malone had once created for him. Malone. "Bracken wasn't the only one shot and killed today," he rasped.

"I know, man. I know. But the senator is who they're focused on. His public reputation is impeccable - that's why we had to keep the investigation under wraps for so long."

"What's McCord saying about the grand jury now?"

"It's all falling apart. Plus we got Finn Rourke crying to the reporters that it was police brutality and a perversion of the Patriot Act and all this shit."

The grand jury hadn't even gotten to the most damning testimony today, Castle realized. They had all the evidence still at the Office, everything they'd collected for years now, but no one was ever going to hear that. Unless.

"No one knew," he mused thoughtfully. Castle typed his password into the CIA database, ran a search for the list of evidence they'd logged. It was quite a lot of material, hours of work that Malone had put into cataloguing everything.

"No one knew," Mitchell said. "No one wants to know, either. There's a senator on CNN right now, talking about how if the Secret Service can't guarantee protection to its elected officials - more shit like that."

And in the snow storm of media coverage, the truth was going to be buried if something wasn't done.

"Publish it," Castle said firmly. "Everything. We leak all of it, Mitchell."

"Are you serious? You're kidding me."

"Not kidding. This is my wife we're talking about. If the truth doesn't get heard, then they're going to take her into custody, Mitch. That can't happen."

"That won't happen," Mitchell said. "None of us are going to let that happen."

"Because we're publishing every bit of evidence. Get me a list of reporters we might be able to approach. I want to narrow it down to three by tomorrow morning."

"I can't believe you're doing this. You're willing to jeopardize your lives for this?"

"We're going to have to be careful about it; I know. I'll be the contact person for the reporter-"

"No," Mitchell said. "You absolutely cannot be the one to do this. You come out to the media and you've got a target on your back. Every fucking mission you've done, every enemy you've collected along the way - they'll find you."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Castle stared at the massive list of names, dates, transcripts, pieces of physical equipment they'd recovered, fingerprints, database searches - everything here. "If we don't let the world know what kind of person Bracken was, Kate's going to get buried."

He'd have to go dark - deeply under - and keep this away from his home. Sleep at the Office to protect her; he might have to leave the country for a while, just in case.

He might miss his child's birth.

"I'll do it."

Castle went still, breathless, and then his heart started beating again. "No. Mitch, you've got just as many people out for your head as I do."

"Malone was my friend. My handler. He was the one who got me out of every tight spot when I was on a mission. Malone took every single one of my desperate calls. He had to extract me from some serious situations. He deserves to be remembered as more than just a damn footnote on a case brief. I'm doing it."

Castle went silent, guts churning with relief. But, oh, how it soured in his mouth. "Mitchell. This was my call. I'm the one who takes responsibility-"

"Not this time. Besides, Beckett's - you know. If you put your face out there, even if you went dark, completely off the grid, you leave her exposed."

Shit. There was no way in hell Beckett would let him do this alone either.

"I got this, Castle. This is what I get to do - to make up for a lot of things. A lot of things I did. Times I sided with Black over you."

"No. Mitchell."

"Plus - I have a friend. A reporter friend. She's... actually, she - uh - she reminds me of Kate. She's a little hard to handle but I keep trying to handle her."

Castle grunted on a laugh. On a hunch, he clicked on the user statistics in the command window, saw that someone else was accessing the evidence database right this moment.

"Mitchell. You're in the database, aren't you?"

"I am. Proof of what's going on here - I'll give it to her. She'll - well, she'll be pretty suspicious at first, but that's the kind of reporter we need. Plus, I am so gonna get laid when I tell her I'm a spy. She thinks I'm just flaky."

Castle couldn't help but laugh, even though the mirth was dark and the despair was close to the surface. "Mitchell, you do this and I don't know that I can get you back. You'd be - if not completely retired - on a desk job for the rest of your life. I couldn't put you back in the field."

"I know that," Mitchell said. "But maybe it's time. For all of us, you know?"

The idea of not doing this made his mind blank. But Castle couldn't let it go. "Mitch. Give me a day to get this thing handled, to create a cover story for Beckett, for all of us, and then if it still looks bad for Kate-"

"I'm doing it. End of discussion. I'll come over tomorrow and we'll go over the cover story. I'll keep you in the loop, but this is what I have to do."

And then Mitchell hung up on him.