All my love to Cartographicals, Sandiane Carte, SparkleMouse, chezchuckles and shimmeryshine for looking over this one. I just. I loved this episode. Kevin Ryan saying "boyo"might be the greatest moment in human history.
Chapter 38:4x14, The Blue Butterfly
That's the stuff dreams are made of.
They leave Vera and Joe and go back to the precinct.
Kate actually gives Castle free reign over the radio, biting back her smile when he finds a station playing "The Humpty Dance" and crows in delight. Her mind is going. It's whirling and turning and somersaulting so quickly she almost feels dizzy. Joe and Vera got to her. She'd never admit it to Castle, but...they did. They'd narrowly escaped death, left behind troubled pasts, dove in and built a life together. They'd moved on. They'd chosen each other.
They just looked so happy.
Back at the precinct, she settles at her desk as Castle ducks into the breakroom to get her coffee. She's clearing out her email inbox when he reappears and hands her a cup. She reaches for it but pauses, wrinkling her nose skeptically. "This is your cup."
"Your cup was dirty." He grins. "Besides. I don't have cooties. I swear."
She rolls her eyes but accepts the coffee, takes a long sip. Mmmm. That's the stuff.
His eyes get linger on her, and for a second she doesn't understand. Castle looks away, his face a curious mix of - of something, something she doesn't -
Oh. His cup. She's drinking from his cup.
It shouldn't mean anything.
But it's so strangely intimate, this innocent press of her lips where his have been, and her cheeks get warm as she remembers this is actually the second closest their mouths have ever been.
Castle, studiously avoiding her eyes like he's afraid she'll catch him staring, is flicking through his phone, eyebrows drawing together, until it buzzes violently in his hand with an incoming message. His eyes light up. He catches himself, though, schooling his face into a careful expression as he looks up at her. "I, uh. I'm gonna go."
"Really?" It's early. He's - why is he - she sternly tells herself to stop feeling disappointed. "Um. Okay."
"See you later, Beckett."
Castle all but bounds away, hands in his pockets, leaving Kate to stare at her desk. This is different. This isn't like him. He doesn't get mysterious messages and hide them from her and then leave her without explanation.
Her hands curl instinctively around the cup, which is still warm. Comforting. Soothing. She bites her lip, running her thumb idly over the smooth, curved porcelain handle. It's not - she's -
It's just a cup.
(His cup.)
She'll give it back later. She's just going to...borrow it for now. Just borrowing. That's all.
There's a knock at her door that night, and as she sets down her wineglass and tucks a bookmark into the novel she's reading, she knows exactly who she's going to find.
Sure enough, it's Castle. His face lights up when she opens the door, his eyes sparkling. "Hi."
"Hi, Castle." She opens the door. "Come on in." She likes this, the way he feels comfortable coming to her. Even if it's something small. If he feels able to approach her, then that means she's doing something right, that he understands -
She shuts the door, telling herself slow down, Kate. You don't even know why he's here.
When she turns back to face him, she finds him staring at her with a look that's really almost shy, like he's not sure about something.
"What's up?"
"I, uh. I got you something."
He what? He - "Castle - "
"Beckett. Please." He fixes her with his most boyish, adorable look. "Humor me? I think you'll like it. At least, I hope you will."
Kate eyes him semi-suspiciously, but the energy he's giving off isn't guilty. In fact, if anything, he seems - nervous? "Castle, this is sweet, but you can't just show up here at any hour with random - "
"Kate. Please."
Oh, that's - that's different. That's not like him. Whatever this is, it means something to him.
"All right." She shrugs. "I trust you." Three words she can say.
He pulls a narrow silver box out of his jacket and presses it into her hands. It looks - she doesn't -
"What - "
"Open it."
She has to look back down at it because his eyes are too much, the look on his face openly saying I love you I love you I love you. So she's reduced to staring at what she's almost certain is a jewelry box, and this is too much, it's too much because all she can hear is I love you and - and -
His fingers cover hers briefly. "Just open it. Please."
He's too earnest, too gentle, and she's worried but she just can't not. Kate takes a deep breath. Swallows. Slowly opens the box.
Her heart stumbles in her chest.
It's -
"Castle - " Her throat closes up. Her eyes are stinging. "Castle - this is - how did you - "
"I, uh. I know a guy. He looked at some photos of the original, and he designed this."
She knows, she knows perfectly well that he threw a small fortune at someone to create this for her, and she thinks she can't possibly accept it but her throat is so tight she can't get the words out. Because this delicate little butterfly necklace nestled inside the box she's holding is the most exquisite thing she's ever seen. "Castle. It's - it - Castle, I can't - "
"Here. Let me."
Before she can collect herself enough to tell him no, he takes the necklace, stepping behind her. She holds her breath as he gathers her hair, tucks it carefully over her shoulder, his touch so gentle, so reverent. Her eyes flicker shut. She can feel his warmth, his presence just there behind her. He's - he's -
His fingers brush over her throat and she catches her breath, sparks dancing through her skin at the careful, knowing intimacy of his touch. Maybe it's just her imagination, but it feels like he lingers there, hovers, like he's hesitant to let go. He clasps the chain, and she bites her lip as his hand ghosts over her shoulder before he turns her gently, until she's facing him again.
Kate chances a look up at him, and oh God, the way he's looking at her, she just can't handle it, that look in his eyes, it's all she can do to keep herself from just leaning in and kiss -
"It, uh. Looks good on you," he says softly.
"Castle, it's - it's so - " There's a catch in her voice; she has to take in a breath. Her heart is pounding in her chest. But she doesn't know what else to say. "Thank you."
His eyes beam, his whole face lit up in a smile. "You're welcome."
He looks so happy, so utterly delighted, and for a second she doesn't understand. All she did was -
She accepted something. He gave her something, something precious, and she accepted it. Oh, Castle -
Her heart swelling, she bites her lip, stands on her toes, and stretches up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, her lips just barely catching the corner of his mouth, the crease where his face always turns into a smile. She whispers in his ear. "It's beautiful, Rick."
When she stands back, he's watching her, his face cautious. "You really like it?"
She smiles at him. "I do."
There's no scale, no discernable path set up for her to achieve her ultimate goal. There is no set of twelve steps to prepare herself for life with Richard Castle. It's frustrating. She's – she trying to get there. Sometimes she feels like she's drowning, like there's a crushing weight on her chest and she's struggling to get out but she doesn't know how, she doesn't know where to go, how to move forward.
But the look in his eyes, the warmth unfurling in her chest, the smile that won't be stopped, the lightness that fills her body -
- maybe this is how it ends.
Not with a bang.
With a whisper.
After he leaves, Kate doesn't take the necklace off. It's silly; she knows that. But she finds her fingers creeping up to trace the smooth, curling edges of the butterfly's wings. She can still feel the phantom pressure of his fingers at the nape of her neck, the warmth of his breath at her ear.
When she was a little girl, Kate spent a year poring over books of Greek mythology. She loved the stories, the gods and goddesses so human, so petty and jealous and always squabbling. It's been years. She's forgotten a lot. But she remembers Psyche, the human princess who unknowingly married the god of love. Psyche didn't trust him. She burned him one night, a drop of hot oil that hit him accidentally. Psyche lost him. She lost everything. She wandered over the world in lonely misery; she ended up a slave before she was finally reunited with her love, and the two of them spent eternity together.
Psyche means soul. Her symbol is the butterfly.
Kate pulls on pajamas before finally reaching behind her neck to undo the delicate clasp. She takes off the necklace, holds it in the light for a second. The butterfly is tiny and delicate, gleaming gently under the rich lamplight. Elegant whorls of silver, rich blue enamel, the same fanciful swirling shape of the original piece, but in miniature. Oh, he's smart. No diamonds, no jewels, nothing that could convince her to give it back. It's gorgeous, like the original blue butterfly, but this one isn't extravagant. It's careful. It's deliberate.
She sets it in her jewelry box, beside her mother's necklace, and even as she shuts the lid, there's a smile tugging at her mouth. She can feel it. She doesn't even try to hide it.
Kate wakes with a gasp. Her heart is pounding, her face hot, her fingers clenched in the pillow so tightly they're almost sore.
She's still half-caught in the dream, the hazy play of light and shadows, the crumbling, ivy-covered walls, the high arched windows. Silence. Soft, echoing silence.
And Castle. He was there. His eyes - so blue, so deep, so warm and gentle and so loving it still makes her heart flutter. Because no one has ever made her feel so unbearably precious with just a single look.
It was all very misty, very blurry. So quiet. But she can still feel the warmth from his hands on hers. And when he slipped her mother's ring onto her right hand, she knew, she knew he was telling her, This is old, Kate. Someday, when you're ready, I'm going to give you a new one.
Everything was glowing, rich light warming her skin, and it was all safe and perfect and him and she didn't question, wasn't afraid, because it was finally right.
She runs a hand through her hair, presses her fingers to her lips. He kissed her. She dreamed that he kissed her, his fingers tangling in her hair, his mouth warm and gentle on hers. It was dangerous. It made her want. It made her want everything, want it now, and the words he whispered into her mouth made it even harder.
Kate. I've been waiting so long.
Oh, Castle.
She dresses as quickly as possible, slips her mother's ring over her head, buckles her father's watch on her wrist. She stares at the butterfly necklace for a long moment before shutting her jewelry box – it's beautiful, but it's too precious for work. She wants to keep it safe. She'll save it.
Pulling a jacket out of her closet, Kate throws it on quickly, grabs her keys and phone and leaves. She has to hurry if she's going to get to the coffee shop in time to meet him there.
Something old and something new
something borrowed
something blue