Cheers to Cartographical. *raises glass*
Set post-ep, after the long ordeal is over and Beckett finally takes Castle home.
Chapter 33: 3x6, 3XK
I'm so glad that you're okay.
The drive back to his loft is silent.
She drives, occasionally sneaking a quiet glance at him, but doesn't push him. Castle doesn't know what he'd do without Beckett. She's a rock.
It takes him a few minutes to realize his leg is shaking. Dammit. He presses his palm to his thigh, tries to be subtle about stopping. Derrick Storm never freaked out over near-death experiences.
Derrick Storm was not a real person.
Castle feels unsettled, more than anything. Jittery. Restless. His heart rate is up, his blood racing, and he has energy but it's nervous energy. He's not focused. He's hollow inside. He doesn't know what to do.
She pulls up to his building, and to his surprise, stops the car. Gets out. Walks with him. She doesn't say anything, but a wave of warmth floods his chest.
They make their way to his door silently. He casts a sidelong glance at her. Her head is down, hands in her pockets, face grave and quiet. But the silence is good; it floats between them. It's soft, easy. They don't need to talk. He just wants to breathe. And feel safe. And get rid of the cold that's been seething through his skin since he told his mother I love you and prepared himself to die.
Stop. It's done. You're alive.
He takes a long breath, digs into his pocket for his keys. Almost there. He needs to get inside, back into his home, where everything is safe and he's in control and he can get over this odd, hollow, jerky feeling in his chest.
"You okay?"
He nods, unlocking his door with oddly steady hands. "You, uh, want to come in?" He might offer her a drink. They've both earned it.
"No thanks. I'm just going to head home."
He nods. It's late. He didn't really expect her to stay. Besides, she might not be going home to an empty bed. That hurts.
"Night, Castle."
"See you tomorrow."
He takes one last look at her face before he makes himself go inside.
He finds a note by the door. Richard – I'm going to bed, but wake me when you get in. Want to make sure you're really okay. Alexis only knows you're out working. Wanted to let you tell her what you think best. – Mother
He can't help but smile, even if it's a little tight. Good. He doesn't want them to worry. They know he's safe and that's what matters. And when he tells them everything in the morning, he'll tone it down as much as possible. He doesn't want to do this now, in the darkness, while he's so close to it. He'll – he'll check on them now, let them sleep, and deal with it in the morning.
The hollow feeling in his chest is nothing. It's just the crash from the adrenaline. He ignores it.
He's reaching for the lightswitch when he hears a soft noise outside. It sounds – almost like –
His stomach drops.
He knows what it is.
His throat aches. He opens the door.
And she's there.
Kate is a few feet down the hallway, slumped against the wall. Her fist is pressed to her mouth. She's crying quietly, trying to muffle the raw sobs that shake her shoulders, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her whole body is crumpled in on itself. She looks like she's broken.
His heart clenches hard. "Kate – God, Kate – "
He can't even manage anything else. He sinks down onto his heels, pulls her into his arms. She's shuddering, trying to hold herself together but she's failing, her body crumpling against him like a broken doll, and he's terrified because she doesn't do this, she doesn't lose it, she doesn't cry, and this is because of him and God it was so close.
She lets out this choked noise, the raw, keening sound of a sob she's trying to choke back. His eyes sting and he presses his face to her hair, lets his body mold to hers, takes deep hitching breaths that slowly end up in time with hers. Her slim shoulders under his hands. The scent of her hair, the scent of her, the warmth of her body and the tang of her grief and terror. He needs her. He needs her closer.
He clutches at her blindly, desperate, his throat so tight he can't form words. Her hands are on his face, tracing the line of his jaw, like she's trying to convince herself that he's really here, that she didn't lose him. He swallows, his heart pounding hard in his chest as her thumb trails lightly over his bottom lip. It feels so much better than it should and he should stop this, stop her, but he can't, he just can't, not when the only human contact that's given him any warmth tonight has been her, her fingers twined in his outside the motel, her body shaking against his now, her hand tracing lines of shocking heat over his cheek.
He's trying to muster up the fortitude to pull away, to resist this unexpected moment, when suddenly he absolutely cannot breathe because her fingers on his lips have been replaced by her lips and there's no way to stop now.
Her mouth is hot and wet and open under his and the kiss goes from tentative to frantic in seconds as his tongue traces her lips and her fingers curl around his neck and oh Kate it's all too much and too fast and not enough and fuck suddenly he's pressing her up against the wall and she's arching into him and whimpering into his mouth as he kisses her hard and deep and desperate and he wants her, wants all of her, wants to devour her mouth and take her body until she's his and oh she's in his lap and he's sucking on her lips and she's trembling against him and it feels so right and Kate, Kate –
The elevator chimes behind them.
She jerks away from his mouth like she was shoved, and for a long moment he can't open his eyes. Her breath is still hot on his face, her hands still on his shoulders. His face is still damp from her tears.
He licks his lips. Opens his eyes. She's scrambling off of him. He makes an unconscious move to follow her but she presses her hand to his chest. "Castle. We can't."
She's right.
He sits there dumbly as she gets to her feet, wipes her eyes, runs a hand through her hair, steps onto the elevator, and finally, finally, she gives him a last I'll see you tomorrow before the elevator doors close, leaving him alone in his hallway.
He goes back into his apartment to check in his mother's and daughter's rooms before going to bed himself. Gina's away, meetings in Chicago, and has no idea any of this happened. She never asks about his work at the precinct anyway. He doesn't think he's going to mention tonight to her. Any of it.
He doesn't feel cold anymore.
He still feels hollow.
The next morning he gets to the precinct a little later than usual. Gets clapped on the shoulder by several uniforms on his way up to homicide. It amazes him, the family here, and it's humbling to become a part of it. Even if they mostly do seem to regard him as the crazy uncle.
He finally gets to the fourth floor and earns a friendly punch on the shoulder from Esposito. Ryan's out for the morning. Montgomery nods to him from inside his office.
Of course, there's only one person he really desperately needs to see.
He sets the coffee beside her computer and takes his seat before actually meeting her eyes. Normal is good. Normal he can handle. Normal means he doesn't have to go over and over the memory of that desperate moment, the exquisite heat of her mouth, the frantic clutch of her fingers, the unmistakable need surging through his veins that –
He clears his throat. "Hi."
"Hi."
Her voice is softer than usual, a shade gentler than the usual clipped tone she adopts at work. She's glancing up at him like she's shy. And all his good intentions about forgetting that last night ever happened are gone, over before he can start, and really, did he ever have a chance?
Castle finds that he can tell himself to be reasonable as the day passes.
When she turns to answer a question and her eyes linger on his lips far longer than they should, he tells himself she's not thinking about last night. Because it didn't happen.
When she shoots him a long, dark look after telling Esposito she's going to pull some things from the evidence room, he tells himself she isn't telling him to follow her.
When she kicks the door shut behind him and drags him back into a dark corner, he knows this can't be what it looks like.
But when she buries her hands in his hair, forces her tongue into his mouth and hooks her leg over his thigh, he gives up. Because it's wrong. But he can't stop.